Besides, in kicking the cart Munver had nearly broken his big toe. He was in no condition to scrap.
“Shut the door,” Garrett said again. “The wind.”
“Sorry.”
Munver limped inside and shut the door, as Garrett opened the bottle.
Glancing across the room, Munver saw that his lady-box had been moved. For a moment he felt a little embarrassed, but then he told himself that Garrett had most likely simply kicked it.
“So,” he said, trying to sound calm and carefree as he leaned against the wall, “where are you headed?”
“Tulston,” came the gravely reply.
“And where have you been?”
“I already told you. Lordstown.”
“Is that where you picked up the… things?”
“I told you.”
“And you’re allowed to do that?”
“I am.”
“Seems odd to me.”
“Are you a man who concerns himself much with rules and laws, Mr. Munver?” Garrett asked. “Do you have a permit for what you’re doing out here? Is your name known to any courts, back where you come from?”
Munver opened his mouth to reply, but then he held back.
Garrett reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which he set on the table before taking a sip of whiskey straight from the bottle.
“See for yourself, if you must,” he muttered bitterly . “It’s all legal.”
He drank again.
Munver shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to look as if he didn’t care, as he ambled across to the table and looked down to see a document from the Lordstown Sheriff’s Office. He’d never been much of a reader, but Munver had to admit that the document looked very official, with lots of printed sections and annotations and signatures. There was even a fancy stamp. Munver picked the piece of paper up and pretended to read it at some length, even going so far as to murmur his approval at certain sections. In reality, as he set the paper back down, he still had no idea where the bodies had come from or why Garrett had purchased them, but he was too shy to confess his illiteracy.
“I can’t see how dead people are worth much money,” he grumbled. “How much’d you pay?”
“None of your business.”
“Who did—”
“That’s none of your business either.”
“But if—”
“Be careful,” Garrett growled, before taking another glug of whiskey and then wiping his mouth on his jacket sleeve. Stepping over, he picked the piece of paper back up and returned it to his pocket. “I only showed you that document so that you’d see I’m not a murderer. The rest of it’s my business and mine alone. A man has a right to keep things private, you know. I’m not hiding anything, but I’ll defend my right to privacy to the death. I’d advise you to ask me no more questions on the matter.”
“Of course not,” Munver replied.
“Drink.”
Garrett held the bottle out, and Munver took it gladly. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but he could handle a light tipple if he needed to appear friendly. He took a sip but surreptitiously spat most of the whiskey straight back into the bottle, and then he thumped his chest with his left hand.
“Now that’s good whiskey!” he exclaimed.
Garrett murmured something and walked to the window, where he stopped to look out at the darkening yard. The sun had almost set now and everything looked a dark shade of blue, except flakes of snow that fell real close to the window.
“Do you have wood?” he asked after a moment, still looking outside.
“Some,” Munver replied. “What exactly do you need?”
“Enough to make some repairs to the supporting beams on one side of the cart.”
“And how much is that?”
“Don’t you know anything, man?” Garrett sneered.
“I’ve got plenty of wood,” Munver said. “You can have it. If you can pay for it.”
“I’m paying you in whiskey, aren’t I?”
“I’m not sure that’s quite enough.”
“And you have nails?”
“Oh,” Munver said with a giggle, “I’ve got nails. Lots of ’em.”
“It shouldn’t take long,” Garrett replied. “I’ll be out there at first light and then I should be gone within an hour or two of that. I certainly won’t detain you long in the morning.”
“Don’t worry,” Munver said. “I haven’t got anything important to do.”
“Not going out to search for gold tomorrow?”
“No.” He paused, before realizing that maybe the answer was a mistake. “I mean, yes.”
“Haven’t made your mind up yet?”
“I’m going.”
“I won’t get in your way.”
Munver grinned, but suddenly he saw Garrett’s reflection in the glass and he realized that he’d been watched during the whole conversation. Even now, Garrett stared at him with relentless intensity, and Munver finally took a swig of whiskey purely in order to make himself seem more normal. Once he was done, he lowered the bottle and saw that Garrett was still staring at him. Reminded of all the people who used to stare at him in town, he felt a flicker of irritation in his chest.
He forced a smile.
Garrett’s gaze didn’t shift an inch.
“Here,” Munver said finally, stepping forward and holding the bottle out to him. “You should have some more.”
Garrett turned and took the bottle, and then he drank until whiskey began spilling out over his chin.
“You really like that stuff, huh?” Munver said nervously.
“Show me a man who doesn’t like whiskey,” Garrett said, wandering over to one of the chairs and setting himself down with force, “and I’ll show you a man I don’t like.” He took another long swig and then let out a heavy gasp. “So what’s your story, friend? How did you end up out here all alone, with no-one around you for miles and miles, following a map you bought from someone in a bar?”
“There’s nothing wrong with what I’m doing,” Munver said defensively.
“I never said there was. I just wondered how you ended up doing it, is all.”
“I told you, I met a—”
“I know that part,” Garrett said with a sigh. “You met a man in a bar, and he sold you a treasure map for the price of a drink.” He chuckled. “And now here you are.”
“I’ll find that gold. You wait and see.”
“You got any family anywhere?”
Munver paused, before shaking his head.
“Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“When I’m rich, I’m gonna—”
“Buy yourself a wife. I remember.” Garrett smiled. “And some fancy clothes. Why, Mr. Munver, I’m sure you’ll clean up just fine.”
“What does that mean?” Munver asked. “Clean up how?”
“Never mind.” Again, Garrett seemed amused. “You must get mighty lonely out here. Before I showed up this evening, when’s the last time you spoke to another human being?”
“A while ago. I don’t recall.”
“This year?”
“Maybe.”
“Only maybe?” Garrett broke into an out-and-out laugh. “Is there really no-one out there missing you, friend? Not even a dog?”
“I never had a dog,” Munver said seriously.
“I bet you didn’t.” Garrett took another long drink from the bottle, before setting it on the nearby table. “You could use one up here, though. To keep you from going crazy.”
“I don’t go crazy,” Munver replied, tapping the side of his temple. “I’m strong up here, you see. I’m a tough egg.”
Garrett chuckled and took another swig from the bottle, while glancing briefly at the foul little box under the chair.
Munver caught the glance, but quickly reassured himself that it must have been accidental. Still, something about Garrett was really starting to annoy him. The man reminded him of all the sneering, snobbish people he’d hated in town. He’d headed out to make his fortune, with the aim of one day returning all rich and mighty, and showing those assholes that he was a big man. Now here was Garrett, reminding him of everything he’d so deliberately left behind. Slowly, even though he’d never dare to use it, Munver clenched his right fist and tried to figure out how he was going to get rich from this visitor. Because if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was this: he, Stuart Munver, was not going to be denied.