I can but love you from afar
And hold you only in my dreams.
“Oh, Billy, it’s beautiful,” Kathleen said. “Nobody has ever written a poem for me before.”
“Please don’t tell anyone I wrote it for you.”
“Why not? It is beautiful, you should be very proud of it. I know that I am.”
“You don’t understand,” Billy said. “If my brothers found out that I wrote poetry, I would never hear the end of it.”
“Oh, pooh on your brothers,” Kathleen said. She sighed. “But under the circumstances, I will keep it quiet.”
“Thanks,” Billy said.
“Billy, I will keep it always,” Kathleen promised.
“Here comes your father,” Billy said. “It might be better if I leave now.”
“I will see you Saturday?”
“Yes,” Billy said.
“Mr. Clinton, are you not going to order dinner?” the waiter asked as he saw Billy leaving.
“Later perhaps,” Billy said. “I just realized there was something I needed to do.”
Billy passed Wade Garrison just as he was coming into the restaurant.
“Good evening, General,” he said.
Garrison nodded, but said nothing in reply. Walking to the rear of the restaurant, he pulled a chair out from his daughter’s table.
“I see young Billy Clinton was in here,” he said as he sat down.
“Yes, he was.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Briefly.”
“I’ve told you, I don’t want you to have anything to do with him,” Garrison said.
“Papa, he is not like the others,” Kathleen insisted.
“He is a Clinton and you are a Garrison. That should say it all,” Wade said, ending the conversation.
Kathleen did not respond. She was glad the conversation had ended.
Chapter Eleven
When Cletus and two of his cowboys came into the saloon, Cletus gave a loud whoop.
“Yippee, boys, Cletus Clinton is here, hang on to your beer!”
One of the cowboys laughed. “That rhymes,” he said. “Here and beer.”
At their table at the back of the room, Prentiss looked up when the three men came into the saloon. “Well, well,” he said quietly. “It looks like we are going to have the pleasure of Cletus Clinton’s company tonight.”
“Yeah, some pleasure,” Corey replied. He looked over at Falcon. “I believe you said you met him on the train?”
“Yes, I met him,” Falcon said. “But he was so drunk you could hardly call it a meeting. Who are the two with him?”
“Those two boys with him ride for his pa,” Prentiss said. “The ugly one, with the mustache, is Deke Mathers. The even uglier one, without the mustache, is Lou Reeder.”
Falcon watched Cletus as he went from table to table, greeting everyone.
“Hey, missy, a round of drinks for this table!” he called to one of the bar girls.
“Thank you, Cletus, that’s real nice of you,” one of the men at the table said.
“Well, sir, don’t let it ever be said that I ain’t generous to my friends,” Cletus replied. “What about you boys?” he asked the next table. “Would you like another round of drinks on me?”
“Why, yes, sir, that would be great!”
“Honey, when you finish with that table, take care of this one, too.”
“What about us, Cletus?” someone at one of the other tables called out.
“You, too. Drinks for everyone,” he said.
The saloon patrons let out a cheer.
“He certainly seems to be popular,” Falcon said.
“Yeah,” Prentiss replied. “Cletus’s funny that way. One minute he is everyone’s friend, the next he’s ready to fight.”
“I know what you are talking about,” Falcon said. “In the short time I’ve seen him, I’ve seen him both ways. Well, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I think I’ll find a friendly card game.”
Taking his beer with him, Falcon saw an open chair at one of the tables where cards were being played, and walking over, asked permission to join.
“Yes, sir, Mr. MacCallister, we’d be honored to have you play with us,” one of the men said. He stuck his hand across the table. “The name is Denham, Harold Denham. I’m publisher of the Higbee Journal.”
Falcon met the other players, then began playing cards. When the game finally broke up about an hour later, he was neither the biggest winner nor the biggest loser. The other players left, and Falcon, who remained at the table, had started to deal himself a hand of solitaire when Cletus came over.
“Do you want to play by yourself? Or would you like someone to play against?”
From the expression on Cletus’s face, and the tone of his voice, Falcon realized that Cletus didn’t even remember him from the train. Billy had told him that Cletus wouldn’t remember, and he was right.
“Sure, have a seat,” Falcon offered. “We’ll play. What will it be?”
“I don’t particularly like two-handed poker. You choose the game,” Cletus suggested.
“All right,” Falcon replied. “How about this one?”
Falcon took three cards from the deck, a jack, a king, and an ace. He put the three cards facedown. “Find the ace,” he said.
“What do you mean, find the ace?”
“It’s a simple game, like finding a pea under the shell,” Falcon explained. “Only in this case, you’ll have to find the ace.”
Falcon moved the three cards around for a few seconds, then took his hand away. “See if you can find it.”
Cletus turned up the ace.
“Ha, that’s not very hard.”
“I let you win that one,” Falcon said. “But if we do it for real, I don’t intend to let you win.”
“All I have to do is find the ace?”
“Yes.”
“Ha! You can’t stop me from winning. This is going to be the easiest dollar I ever made!” Cletus said. He put a dollar on the table; Falcon matched it, then moved the cards around, doing it much more quickly than he had the time previous.
“It’s right there,” Cletus said, reaching for a card. The card he turned over was a king.
“Damn.”
“Again?” Falcon asked.
“Yeah.”
Cletus lost another dollar, then another one.
“Wait, I’m going to get another beer,” Cletus said.
Falcon watched Cletus walk over to the bar and order a beer. While Cletus was at the bar, he spoke to one of the men who had come into the saloon with him. Then, carrying the beer, he returned to the table.
“I hear tell you are Falcon MacCallister,” Cletus said.
“Yes.”
“I’ve heard of you.”
“Have you?”
“My name is Cletus Clinton. I reckon you’ve heard of me as well.”
“I have,” Falcon said.
“Damn!” Cletus replied with a broad grin. “I figured you’d heard of me. I reckon all us famous people have heard of each other.”
Falcon suppressed a smile. At that moment, the man Prentiss had identified as Deke Mathers came over to the table. This was the same man Cletus had spoken to when he went to the bar to buy his beer.
“Mr. MacCallister, is it true they’s a whole town named just after you?” Deke asked.
“It’s not named after me,” Falcon replied. “It was named after my father.”
Cletus watched Deke engage Falcon in conversation. This was by design, for Cletus wanted Falcon’s attention diverted away from the three cards just for a moment.
With Falcon’s head turned, Cletus reached across the table and put a small, barely noticeable crease on one corner of the ace. Let Falcon switch the cards around all he wanted, Cletus would make no attempt whatever to follow them. He would simply select the card with the creased corner.
“You going to play cards, or are you going to talk all day?” Cletus asked.
Falcon turned back to the table. “Why, I’m going to play cards, Mr. Clinton,” Falcon said, smiling easily.
“Good,” Cletus said. “Only, this time, let’s bet enough for me to get even.” He put a ten dollar bill on the table.