“We’re going to need cartridges,” said Tom Hunter.
“What size you take?”
“Some .44s will do me all around.”
Longarm nodded. “Same for me. What about the Goodmans?”
“I’ll find out tonight.”
Longarm said, “Are you planning on getting them started tonight?”
“If they will,” Hunter said.
Longarm nodded again. “Here’s hoping that I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” He put the spurs to his horse and headed down the gentle slope that led away from the cabin.
In spite of pushing his horse on the return trip, he was late for supper. The other two boarders had finished and gone to their rooms. Mrs. Thompson served him ham with sweet Potatoes and rice and gravy. He asked her to sit with him while he ate. She got herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the far end of the table. Once again, he noticed how graceful and elegant she was, and except for the sadness around her eyes, her face would have been very attractive. He was eager to know what had happened to her husband, but he preferred to wait and let Mr. Hawkins tell him the story.
For a few moments, Longarm tried small talk, asking her where she was from before they had come to the town of Grit and to the hill country since she didn’t sound so much like a Texan. She was from Kentucky, she and her husband both, and they had come to Texas, first to San Antonio and then to Austin, where her husband had been involved in commerce and then in the wholesale livestock business and then the banking business.
He could see that she did not care to talk about her husband’s past, so he tried to turn the conversation more toward her. She had been a schoolteacher at one time and then had worked in a ladies’ millinery shop. He badly wanted to mention about her sending her two daughters off, but he figured the subject wouldn’t be welcomed, so he stayed away from that also. It seemed that with Mrs. Thompson there were too many subjects that were too painful to bring up. It made him feel sad and it made him feel angry. One thing he did manage to ask her was how she ran a boardinghouse with only two boarders.
She sighed and said, “Well, up until about a few weeks ago, I had five boarders, counting Mr. Hawkins, who is almost a regular since he’s through here so often. But then the feed store got taken over by the Myerses, and they fired the three men who were working there that had been boarding with me.”
Longarm looked down the table at her. He said, “It seems like these folks intend to take over the whole town. I’ve noticed a couple, three empty stores around here.”
She picked at the tablecloth and looked down. She said, “I would imagine that their intention was to run everyone off from here and close everything down, except for the saloons where their cowhands can chase their whores and drink their whiskey.”
Longarm looked up in some surprise. He said, “They got whorehouses in this town?”
Mrs. Thompson nodded. “Of course, Marshal. I’m surprised you’re that naive. There’s one over every saloon.”
Longarm was amused. “Well, I reckon if you’re going to keep the kind of hired help that the Barretts and the Myerses keep, you’re going to have to let them have some recreation.
“That’s my point. I would expect that their intentions, once they get through dividing this country up, is that there not be anything here that doesn’t support a head of beef or a cowboy that tends to that beef. I don’t believe that they intend for this to be a town with schools for children, or churchgoing people, or banks. They want to be able to control everything, and I don’t believe they’ll be happy until they do.”
Longarm looked down at his plate. He said, “Well, this is none of my business, but since Mr. Sims is your only star boarder, how can you make it here?”
She said, “I can’t, Marshal. I’m already making plans to move to my sister’s home in Austin. You probably know that my children are already there and you’re probably thinking that I sent them because your coming was going to cause trouble.”
“Did you?”
She gave him a look. “Of course. If they were your children, would you want them here in the middle of a gunfight? You’re down here to stop the Barretts and the Myerses. I think there’ll be a lot of trouble while you try, and I think a lot of people are going to be hurt. I didn’t want my daughters to be caught in the crossfire.”
Longarm nodded. “Can’t much blame you for that, Mrs. Thompson. When are you thinking about pulling up stakes?”
She smiled and it was a delight to see. She said, “I suppose when you leave. I’ve got a grandstand seat, and I don’t want to miss this.”
Longarm said slowly, “Might be, Mrs. Thompson, you don’t have as great a seat as you think you do. Might be that the horse race is going to be run someplace else—someplace completely out of sight of here.”
“Oh, I’m sure that at least I’ll be able to hear the sound of the race, if not actually see it.”
After a few more words, she took her empty coffee cup and went back into the kitchen and brought him a piece of peach pie. She said, “I’ve got work to do, Marshal. I’ll leave you to finish your meal.”
When he was through eating, he went upstairs to his room, got a bottle of whiskey and a glass, and then went down and knocked on Mr. Hawkins’s door. A gruff, “Come in!” came from inside. Longarm opened the door and looked in. Hawkins was sitting at a small table in his shirtsleeves, wearing sleeve garters. He was playing solitaire.
Longarm said, “Who’s winning?”
Hawkins looked up. “I would be, if I’d allow myself to cheat. Things have come to a sorry pass when a man won’t even allow himself to cheat in a game of solitaire.”
“Do you mind if we have that talk now?” said Longarm.
Hawkins ran his hand through his thinning hair. He said, “I was halfway hoping that we’d never get around to it. I was halfway hoping I had just dreamed that I had become … what’s the word … an assistant deputy marshal?”
“Auxiliary deputy marshal.”
“Well,” said Hawkins, “I was hoping that the whole thing was a bad dream, and that it all wasn’t going to take place. You might as well come in and sit down. I see you brought your supplies with you, so you must be going to make a stretch out of it.”
Longarm walked in, kicking the door behind himself, and sat down in the chair facing Hawkins. He poured himself out a glass and then put the cork back in the bottle. He said, “I take it you don’t drink out of preference.”
Hawkins looked up. He said, “I don’t drink because I can’t drink. I like it too well. You get me started with one, and two weeks later, you’ll find me in some town I don’t even know how I got to, lying in bed with some woman I’ve never seen before, and without a penny in my pocket. You follow what I’m talking about?”
Longarm laughed. He said, “Oh, yeah, I understand that.”
“So you just go ahead and guzzle all the firewater you want to. I’d just as soon stay in my right mind.”
“It doesn’t bother you if I drink in front of you?”
Hawkins said, “Hell, no. It just reinforces the idea that I’m doing the right thing. At least I know I’m sane. Of course, I’m not so sure about you, after you told me about that damned idea. Would you mind telling me what kind of saddle I’m supposed to lure Archie Barrett into town to see?”
Longarm took a sip of whiskey. “Well, now that you mention it, I have been giving that some thought, and I might have an idea on the subject.”
Hawkins said, “Well, it’s going to have to be one hell of a saddle. That’s all I can tell you.”
“You know, the president of Mexico got himself killed not too long ago. Now, what if your company just happened to have gotten a-hold of his number-one, main parade saddle. What do you think of that?”