Pearlie continued to stand there with his back to the bar, watching the exchange as he drank his beer.
“What the hell are you lookin’ at, you pie-faced weasel?” Dempster said to Pearlie.
Pearlie finished his beer before he replied.
“Mister, don’t try to draw me into all this. I just stopped in for a beer.”
“Yeah? Well, you finished it, so get.”
“Señor Dempster, to my customers like that, you no can talk,” the bartender said.
“I’ll talk to anyone any damn way I want,” Dempster replied belligerently.
“Dempster!” a new voice called out angrily.
Turning toward the door of the saloon, Pearlie saw a gray-haired, gray-bearded man, short, stocky, and angry.
“What do you want?”
“Where were you when the stage left this morning?” the gray-haired man asked.
“There didn’t nobody come to wake me up. If someone had come to wake me up in time, I wouldn’t have missed the stage.”
“It ain’t nobody else’s job to wake you up in the mornin’,” the gray-haired man said. “If you hadn’t been hungover, you would’ve been able to wake yourself up. And look at you. You’re drunk now.”
“Come on, Ben, I ain’t that drunk. I’ll be at work tomorrow mornin’, just you wait and see.”
“No, you won’t be there tomorrow or any other day. You’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me. You’re just a stagecoach driver.”
“I didn’t fire you, I’m just tellin’ you you’re fired. Mr. Montgomery is the one who fired you,” Ben said.
“Yeah? Well, who are you goin’ to get to ride shotgun with you?”
“We’ll find somebody before the stage leaves,” Ben said.
“You’re the one that talked him into firin’ me, aren’t you?”
“What if I am? You’re supposed to be riding shotgun guard with me. You think I want a drunk sitting beside me?”
“Montgomery is going to have to find a new shotgun guard and a new driver,” Dempster said. “Cause I aim to shoot you right between the eyes.”
“No, Dempster, Ben ain’t armed!” one of the other customers shouted.
Glancing toward the driver, Pearlie saw that he wasn’t armed. Looking back toward Dempster, he saw that the angry man was drawing his pistol.
Acting instinctively, Pearlie threw his beer mug at Dempster. The mug hit Dempster on the side of his head, and Dempster dropped like a poleaxed steer.
“Damn, mister, I reckon you just saved my life,” Ben said.
“I reckon I did,” Pearlie replied.
Ben sighed. “Now I’m going to have to find someone to ride shotgun with me tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t,” Pearlie said.
“What do you mean, I won’t?”
“You just found someone,” Pearlie said.
“You?”
“Me.”
“All right, I tell you what. I’ll tell Mr. Montgomery about you. You come on down to the depot before the stage leaves tomorrow, and you talk to him. If he’s willing to hire you, it’s fine with me.”
“What time does the stage leave?”
“It leaves at eight in the morning.”
“I’ll be there.”
Pearlie spent the night on the ground, just outside of town. When he rode back in the next morning, he saw the stagecoach sitting out in front of the depot. The team had not yet been connected, but hostlers were over in front of the barn, putting the team into harness.
The words on the side of the coach, painted in red and outlined in gold, read, SUNSET STAGE COACH LINE. Pearlie glanced around for the driver, but didn’t see him. For a moment, he considered waiting until he did see the driver; then he decided it would be best to just go on into the depot.
Inside, he saw a tall, silver-haired, dignified-looking man.
“Are you Mr. Montgomery?” Pearlie asked.
“I am.”
“Mr. Montgomery, last night I met a fella by the name of Ben. He suggested I come see you, to ask about working as a shotgun guard.”
“Oh, yeah, Ben talked to me about you. You’re the one called Pearlie?”
“Yes, sir.”
Montgomery chuckled. “Ben said you laid ole Dempster out with a beer mug. I sure wish I could have seen that.”
“At the time, it seemed the thing to do,” Pearlie said.
Montgomery whooped with laughter. “I don’t think I’ve ever met you,” Montgomery said. “How long have you lived in Los Brazos?”
“I’ll tell you that as soon as I find a place to live,” Pearlie replied.
Montgomery looked surprised for a moment; then he laughed again.
“Well, that’s a straight answer. Are you married?”
“No, I—” Pearlie paused. “I was married, but my wife died.”
“Oh, I’m real sorry to hear that, son. But, and don’t get me wrong but I have to ask this. Have you ever been in trouble with the law?”
“I’m not a wanted man,” Pearlie said.
“You’re not a wanted man?”
“No, sir, I am not.”
“All right,” he said. “I guess that’s a pretty straight answer, too. And because you gave me a straight answer, I won’t go any further into it. Ben tells me you were in the saloon when he told Dempster that he was fired.”
“Yes, sir, I was.”
“I don’t reckon it was any mystery to you why we fired him. He is a drunk. Now, let me ask you this. What were you doing in the saloon? You aren’t a drunk, are you?”
“I had a long ride, and for most of that ride, I was looking forward to a beer. When I rode into town last night, that was the first thing I did.”
“One beer?”
“One beer,” Pearlie said. “Well, that is, part of one beer. There was still some left when I threw it at Dempster.”
Montgomery laughed again. “All right, I reckon that’s good enough for me. Tell me this. If I hire you, how soon can you go to work?”
“When does the coach leave?”
“In about ten minutes.”
“If you hire me, I’ll be on it.”
Montgomery pointed to a cabinet. “There’s a twelve-gauge double-barrel and a .44-.40 Winchester in there. Take one or both.”
“I’ll take ’em both,” Pearlie said. He started toward the cabinet, then stopped and looked back toward Montgomery. “Mr. Montgomery, I think I need to tell you—I don’t plan to be here for a very long time.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“After my wife was—uh, after she died, I felt like I needed to get away. Everything back there reminded me of her and the hurt was just too much. But the time is going to come when I want to get back and be around my own friends and people.”
“I understand. Pearlie, is it?”
“Yes, sir, folks call me Pearlie.”
“Do you have a last name, Pearlie?”
“Do I need one?”
Montgomery paused for a moment; then he chuckled. “No, I guess not. All right, Pearlie, you can work for me as long as you want, as long as you keep your nose clean, and as long as Ben is comfortable with you. When the time comes that you feel like you want to go back home, tell me. There will be no hard feelings.”
“Thanks, Mr. Montgomery, I appreciate your understanding,” Pearlie replied.
Montgomery stepped up to the door, then called outside. “Ben?”
“Yes, Mr. Montgomery?” Ben’s voice floated in from the stable area.
“Come in here and meet your new shotgun guard.” “I already met him,” Ben replied. “If he’s been hired, tell him to get his ass out here and climb aboard.”
Montgomery turned toward Pearlie. “Oh, uh, I didn’t tell you. Ben is pretty much of what I think you would call a curmudgeon.”
“A what?”
“A grouch.”
Pearlie laughed. “That’s all right, I like grouches. You always know where you stand with a grouch.”
Pearlie grabbed the two weapons, then walked outside. The coach had been pulled into position and Pearlie put the two guns on the seat, then climbed up. Once up on the seat, he laid the guns down in the foot well, then scooted over to the left side.