Late in the afternoon, a man came in and introduced himself as Harlan Green, the owner of the Rocky Mountain Hotel. “Mankiller’s best,” he added with a wry smile, “which doesn’t mean quite as much when you realize that there are only two hotels in town.”
“Plus some flophouses,” Bo said as he returned the smile. “Or so we’ve heard.”
“What can we do for you, Mr. Green?” Scratch asked.
Green, who had graying, pomaded hair parted in the middle and a mustache, drew a couple of keys from the pocket of his coat and held them out. “It’s more a matter of what I can do for you, gentlemen. Two rooms in the hotel, for you to use free of charge as long as you’re working as deputies.”
“Lyle Rushford talked to you, didn’t he?” Bo asked, remembering what the saloon keeper had said that morning.
“Actually, Lyle and Wallace Kane both paid visits to me and explained the situation. I want to be part of the little group of concerned citizens that Mrs. Bonner has put together, and so does Jessie Haynes-worth, who owns the other hotel in town.” Green paused. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t see how two men can clean up the lawless elements in this town and also stand up to Pa Devery and his clan, but if there’s any chance of you being successful, I want to help as much as I can. Mankiller has the potential to grow into a fine town, but that’ll never happen like it is now.”
“We’re obliged to you, Mr. Green,” Bo said as he and Scratch took the keys.
“Now, those aren’t fancy rooms,” Green warned them. “And they’re on the ground floor, in the rear, as well as being rather small.”
“They’ll be fine,” Bo assured him.
“All we need’s a place to lay our heads at night,” Scratch added. He grinned. “Anyway, if Mankiller’s as wild a place as we’ve heard it is, we may not be doin’ much sleepin’ for a while.”
“It’s wild, all right,” Green said. “In spades.”
A short time later, after Green had returned to the hotel, the Texans walked across the street to have supper at Lucinda Bonner’s café. When they came in, all the tables were full, and so were the stools at the counter. But Lucinda’s daughter Callie met them with a smile and said, “Ma told me to tell you if you came in just to go around back. She and Uncle Charley are in the kitchen, and you can eat back there if you don’t mind.”
“We don’t mind at all,” Bo told her. He and Scratch did as Callie said, knocking on the back door they had gone in through for the meeting earlier in the day. Lucinda called, “Come in.”
They stepped into an atmosphere of warmth and delicious aromas. The room had two stoves in it, and both of them were going, Lucinda working at one of them and her brother Charley Ellis at the other. Lucinda smiled over her shoulder at Bo and Scratch and said, “Just sit down at the table. We’ll have food ready in a minute.”
Scratch returned the smile as he pulled back a chair. “Just like bein’ back home,” he said.
“And this way we don’t take up valuable table or counter space,” Bo added.
A few minutes later Lucinda brought them platters of thick steaks, fried potatos, biscuits, and gravy. After she had put the food on the table in front of the appreciative Texans, she reached into a pocket on her apron and brought out a small roll of bills.
“That’s the best we can do in the way of an advance,” she said as she handed the money to Bo.
“That’ll be fine, ma’am,” he told her. “What with Mr. Green giving us places to sleep in the hotel and the way you’ve been feeding us, I feel a little bad about taking wages from you folks as well.”
Lucinda shook her head. “Don’t feel bad about it, Mr. Creel.”
“Might as well call me Bo.”
“And I’m Scratch,” the silver-haired Texan put in.
“All right,” Lucinda said. “Bo and Scratch. I like those names.” She grew sober again. “But like I said, don’t worry about taking the wages we’ll pay you.”
“Why not?” Bo asked.
“Because if you stay in Mankiller for very long, I know good and well that you’re going to earn every penny of them!”
CHAPTER 16
Despite Lucinda’s pessimistic prediction, Bo and Scratch thoroughly enjoyed the meal, washing down the excellent food with several cups of coffee. When they were finished, they got to their feet and thanked Lucinda and Charley.
“What are you going to do now?” she asked.
“Well, I suppose we’ll go back over to the sheriff’s office and make sure nobody’s been looking for us,” Bo said. “Then I reckon we’ll get started on our evening rounds.”
“Where’s Biscuits?”
Scratch shook his head. “No idea.”
“You two are going to have to go it alone, you know that, don’t you? You can’t count on him for any help.”
“Never thought we could,” Bo said. “But maybe we can be a good influence on him and he’ll straighten up.”
Scratch snorted, showing just how much he believed that.
They left the café’s kitchen as they had entered it, through the back door. Full night had fallen while they were eating, so the alley behind the building was dark. The blackness was relieved slightly by the glow that came through the narrow passages between buildings from Main Street.
Even so, the shadows were thick back here, and Bo and Scratch were both wary and alert for trouble. Bushwhackers or some other threat could be lurking in the stygian gloom.
Nothing happened, though, as they made their way through the passage beside the café and came out on the boardwalk that lined the street. The settlement appeared to be as busy as ever. The boardwalks were crowded, and riders and wagons passed back and forth in the street. A blend of talk, laughter, and music filled the air. It should have been jarringly unmelodic, but somehow it wasn’t. It was the sound of life.
Bo listened for screams and gunshots, because those would have been the sounds of death, but he didn’t hear any. For the moment, at least, Mankiller was noisy but peaceful.
The sheriff’s office was still empty, with no sign that Biscuits O’Brien had even been there since the Texans left. Scratch looked around the place with disgust written on his weatherbeaten face and said, “You know, sooner or later we’re gonna have to go look for that sorry excuse for a lawman.”
Bo nodded. “I know. He’s probably somewhere either soaking up more booze or passed out from it, but I suppose he could be in real trouble.”
As if his words were a stage cue, the office door opened hurriedly and a short man in work clothes stuck his head in. “Are you fellas the deputies?” he asked in an excited voice.
“That’s right,” Bo said as he turned toward the door.
“Well, you’d better get down to Bella’s pronto! It looks like all hell’s gonna bust lose down there!”
“Hold on a minute,” Scratch said sharply to the townie. “What’s Bella’s, and where is it?”
The man looked at them like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but he said, “Bella’s is the biggest whorehouse in town. It’s a block over and two down on Grand Street.”
“Grand is the one that parallels Main on the north?” Bo asked as he and Scratch started toward the door.
The townsman nodded. “Yeah. You better hurry. Thad Devery’s on a rampage, and he’s got some of his cousins there to back him up.”
Bo and Scratch exchanged a glance as they went out the door. An urgent summons like this, with the Deverys involved, smacked of a trap of some sort. As lawmen, though, the Texans couldn’t just ignore it. It was possible that the madam and the girls who worked at Bella’s really did need their help.