She hitched her calico, Daisy, a ways down from it, then noticed a figure asleep under the boardwalk — that old drunk, Tulley, who’d made a mattress out of a long, plump feed sack he’d pilfered from somewhere.
She knelt by him, reached a hand in and shook him gently by a shoulder. “Tulley... wake up. Come on, Tulley — wake up!”
The rheumy eyes in the rummy’s white-bearded face fluttered open and shut, open and shut, and finally, like a window shade yanked too hard, stayed open.
“Well, Miss Cullen... good evenin’. What brings you to town after sundown?”
Ignoring the question, she pointed toward the dappled gelding. “That’s the stranger’s horse, isn’t it?”
Propping an elbow against the feed sack, Tulley grinned and said, “Shore is. Unusual-looking beast, don’t you think? Handsome in its way.”
She strove for patience, dealing with the chatty coot. “I thought he’d taken a stall for it down at the livery stable.”
“Oh, he did, he did, and I helped him do it. But also, he asked me to bring the steed down here around seven and tie it up for him. Said he’s goin’ out for a ride a bit later.”
“Where to?”
“Didn’t say.”
“When did you see him last?”
“Not in some while. Guess he’s still down at the Victory. Been in there pretty much all afternoon and up to now.”
“Sounds like you two have become real pals.”
“He’s a good man to know, Miss Cullen.” His eyes came alive. “You saw him in action this mornin’, better than just about anybody. I reckon that—”
“Is his name Banion?”
Tulley, eyelids getting heavy, said, “Banion?”
“Yes, Banion. Is that his name? Tulley!”
Tulley’s eyes popped open and she repeated her question.
He chuckled, but this time spoke only to himself as he said, “Banion... that’s rich... Banion...”
“Tulley!”
But the old desert rat was snoring now.
Shaking her head in frustration, Willa rose and began down the boardwalk, toward the Victory. She wasn’t about to go in that den of iniquity, but she could wait outside for him. She’d barely started when she saw that dance-hall female Lola step through the batwing doors, in her satin-and-lace finery, her bosom hanging half-out, legs above her ankles showing through a slit at the front.
Trollop.
Right behind her, having held open a swinging door for her, was the stranger, a real gentleman in his dudish apparel, hat in hand and everything. For some reason, Willa felt anger flush her throat.
She tucked into the recessed doorway of the mercantile shop, just to get out of sight, not really to eavesdrop. But she couldn’t avoid hearing, voices carrying on the clear, cool night...
The stranger and the dance-hall female were walking slowly toward her up the boardwalk. Strolling, the dude’s spurs jingling musically.
The fallen female said, “Would you like to walk me to the hotel, stranger? I keep a room.”
“I need to seek lodging there myself.”
Jingle jangle, creak of boards.
“You’ve made quite an impression around Trinidad, stranger.”
“I guess I make friends everywhere I go.”
“I’m glad I was able to provide a place for you to rest those weary bones of yours, this afternoon.”
What did that mean?
“Very kind of you, ma’am. Very generous.”
“I told you I prefer ‘Lola’ to ‘ma’am.’ Don’t you think I’ve earned the right to get a name from you?”
“I like the way you call me ‘stranger.’ Kind of has a nice ring.”
“Your name might have a nicer one.”
“Maybe it would...”
“So what is it?”
The jingle of spurs stopped.
The woman asked again, “What is it?”
But there was an urgency in the words that said the female was no longer asking about his name.
Willa froze, already plastered against the mercantile door, shadowed in darkness. She’d made no sound.
What might he have heard?
The spur jingle returned, making quicker music, and he walked right by her. Went over to his hitched-up horse and withdrew a shotgun from its scabbard, and a handful of shells from a saddlebag. He put three in a breast pocket, three more in the right pocket of his black cotton trousers.
The fancy woman was at his side now, concerned, touching his sleeve. Eyeing the shotgun, she said, “What’s that for?”
“I don’t like sudden silences.”
“... It’s a sleepy town after dark. You’ll get used to it.”
“You have to be dead to get used to it.”
Finally they walked on.
This gave Willa the opportunity to slip out of her hiding place. She moved quietly to her horse, disgusted that these two were headed to the hotel together, disgusted with herself that she’d volunteered to come to Trinidad and find the stranger, and what? Bat her eyelashes at him till he gave her his name?
That Lola creature was ready to give him much more than that for revealing his identity. Maybe the woman already had done so, getting nowhere for her trouble. Served the trollop right.
Willa approached Daisy, who whinnied just a little, and the stranger and his female companion turned immediately toward her, just one store down from where she stood. She hoped the red burning her face did not show in the moonlight.
The female smiled big and said, “Well! Good evening, Miss Cullen. Aren’t you afraid to be out in this chilly night air?”
“I am of the people out walking around in it,” she said, even chillier.
The dance-hall queen had the temerity to walk nearer. “Then maybe it would be better if you stayed out on that ranch of yours. Where it’s safe. Trinidad after dark is no place for a sweet young girl like yourself to be.”
Willa glared at her, but said nothing.
With a tiny, sneering smile, the female returned to her escort, offering her crooked elbow for his arm, and said, “Coming, stranger?”
He gave her a mild smile. “Do you mind walking the rest of the way yourself? I have to meet someone tonight, before I check into the hotel.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Nothing to do with you... ma’am.”
He tipped his Stetson.
The female shrugged and said, “Good night, stranger. And thank you for this afternoon. Thank you very much.” She reached her face up and gave him a quick kiss, then crossed the street, hips swaying — Disgusting! Willa thought — heading toward the hotel.
The stranger walked over to Willa, taking his time, glancing toward the retreating female, who was entering the hotel now.
“Well, you choose sides quick enough,” she said to him. “What kind of offer did she make?”
“Does it make any difference?”
Burning, she said, “Not to me.”
She started for Daisy and he stopped her by the arm.
“Let go of me!” she blurted.
“Try shutting up for a change.”
The surprising harshness of that made her draw in breath, but he held up a hand, palm out.
He said, in a near whisper, “I don’t like the smell of this.”
“Smell of what?”
“It’s hanging in the air like smoke.”
“What?”
He put his hands on the sides of her arms, facing her. “Listen to me now. Step back into that doorway. Stay in the shadows. Something’s going to happen and I don’t want you to be part of it.”
“Stop this,” she said through tight teeth, shaking free. “Do you think I scare that easily? Because I don’t.”