“Coffee?” Ray offered.
“Yeah, I’ll take a cup.”
Ray got up, went behind the bar, and came back with another cup, which he filled from the pot already on the table.
“Anyway, I was askin’ some questions about your man Sweet—”
“I didn’t want you to get in trouble, Ray,” Lancaster said. “I just wanted you to see what you could remember.”
“Well, I was askin’ anyway, and apparently your boy Sweet’s got friends all over the place. These boys heard I was askin’ and they paid me a visit. Jumped me outside when I left for home. Said I better stop askin’ questions if I knew what was good for me.”
“Then what happened?”
“Well, I gave as good as I got, and they ran off. Guess they figured me for an easier mark.”
“Know who they were?”
“Strangers passin’ through,” Ray said. “Not even here for a day. You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think they’re on their way to meet Sweet,” Ray said.
“And you don’t know their names?”
“Sorry.”
“What’d they look like?”
Ray described two men who could have been outlaws or cowpokes. There was nothing unusual about them except for one thing.
“One of them was wearing a big silver ring on his right hand,” Ray said, pointing to his eye. “That’s how I got this.”
“Silver ring,” Lancaster said. “That’s better than nothing. Thanks, Ray.”
“I figure they stayed the night and left this mornin’,” Ray said. “You can check at the livery when you pick up your horse.”
“I’ll do that. Hey, let me give you something for that eye.”
“Give me enough to buy a steak.”
“To put on your eye?”
“No, for supper tonight,” Ray said. “I love a good steak smothered in onions.”
Lancaster passed over some money and said, “Here, have two.”
Lancaster picked up Crow Bait and asked the liveryman about two men leaving earlier that morning.
“Sure thing,” he said. “Looked like they been in a dustup, too. All bruised and such.”
“Did they say anything about where they were going?” Lancaster said. “Maybe something they didn’t know you could hear?”
“All I heard them say was that they better get their asses goin’,” the liveryman said. “They had to meet some other fella.”
“Did they say where?”
“No,” he said, “but they rode west.”
“West? You sure?”
“I know which way is west, young feller.”
“I’m sure you do,” Lancaster said. “Can you tell me anything about their horses?”
“Like what?”
Lancaster took a few dollars from his pocket and handed them over to the startled man. “Like anything that might help me track them?”
“Well, now that you mention it,” the liveryman said, “their horses coulda used some new shoes…”
Fifty
Lancaster rode out of Flagstaff, heading west. There was no guarantee that these two men were on their way to meet with Sweet, but he wasn’t losing anything by riding after them.
There were any number of towns in the Texas panhandle, but heading there usually meant Amarillo. Lancaster had been through Amarillo before, but he hadn’t been there long enough to make any lasting friendships. Actually, he didn’t make lasting friendships most places he went, but neither had he left behind any lasting acquaintances. He was going to be on his own when he got there, unless he once again tried to bring in the local law. So far, though, the local lawmen he’d encountered had not filled him with any sort of confidence.
It was also too much of a coincidence to think he’d find both Sweet and Gerry Beck in Amarillo at the same time.
So he figured to follow the tracks described to him by the liveryman as long as they kept heading west. In the event they veered off, he’d have to make a decision.
He found their sign not far out of Flagstaff. He could see what the liveryman meant about their horses needing new shoes. It made them easy to track. He took up a leisurely pace with Crow Bait, not wanting to catch up to the two men.
He camped each night, not bothering with a cold camp. He made sure he wasn’t close enough for the two men to smell his coffee. And even if they did, what would they care? As far as he knew, they weren’t running from anyone; they were simply riding, possibly to join up with Sweet. Besides, they’d be making their own coffee, so they probably wouldn’t smell his. He had some dried meat with him, and some canned goods, all in his saddlebags. In the old days he had traveled light, and old habits die hard. He usually restocked whenever he came to a large town, bypassed the smaller towns. By their tracks, the two men were doing the same.
He restocked after three days, and then four. Each time he discovered that the two men had come before him, purchased supplies, and caused no trouble. After the dustup in Flagstaff, maybe they were keeping their noses clean.
Amarillo was about six hundred miles from Flagstaff. He and the three men were keeping a sensible pace. They’d probably get there three full days ahead of him, according to the temperature of their camps when he reached them. But the entire trip would take a few weeks—perhaps a little less—unless they increased their pace toward the end.
Lancaster and Crow Bait were becoming fully bonded as horse and rider. He talked to the animal while they rode, and again at night when they camped. Crow Bait was responding to the sound and tone of his voice. The animal could sense when Lancaster was relaxed, or when he was agitated. The horse took on a similar mood.
In each town they stopped in, Lancaster had to listen to disparaging words about his horse. It was starting to grate on him. At some point some big mouth was going to have to pay for the insults of others.
So far he’d been able to hold his temper.
But who knew for how much longer?
Fifty-one
Amarillo, Texas
Amarillo was young, but already booming as the old West headed for the twentieth century. The site had been chosen by J. T. Berry along the tracks of the Forth Worth and Denver City Railroad, which extended through the panhandle. The town was already the county seat, and had become a fast-growing cattle market because of its railroad and freight service.
As Lancaster rode down the town’s main street, he saw that they had a Wells Fargo office. He bypassed it, but would stop in later to talk to the agent in charge.
The town had more than one livery stable. He picked one for no particular reason, withstood the eye-rolling of the liveryman when he saw Crow Bait.
“Got some nice horses you could look at before ya leave town,” the man said to him.
“No, thanks, I’m satisfied with my horse.”
“Really?”
“Just keep him well fed and cared for,” Lancaster said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Any other strangers in town in the past few days?” he asked.
“Lots.”
Lancaster gave what little description he had of Sweet.
“That could be a lot of men, mister,” the liveryman said. “Why you lookin’ for this jasper?”
“Friend of mine,” Lancaster said. “Supposed to meet up with him and a couple of other friends.” He described the two men who had fought with Ray, the bartender.
“Again, could be anybody, and they might not have left their horses here.”
“Yeah,” Lancaster said, “thanks.”
“Want I should recommend a hotel?”
“No, thanks,” Lancaster said. “I’ll pick that out myself.”
“Suit yerself.”