“Money? They are doing this for the money?” Seamus shook his head. “They invite killers to come to town, invite killers to kill one another, and then your friends will put the dead killers on display for a measly dollar?”
“Not so measly,” Win said. “But maybe nothing will come of it. Maybe no curly wolves will show.”
“You better hope they don’t. When you have a wolf by the tail, it can turn on you.” With that bit of wisdom, Seamus clucked to his buttermilk and reined to the south. The Luces were staring at him. He smiled at them, a cold, bitter smile, and focusing on the woman, raised a hand in farewell. “I won’t shed a tear at your funerals.”
“I get the impression he does not like us,” Chester commented as the lawman reached the end of the street and spurred the buttermilk into a trot.
“Him and his expensive clothes and his ivory-handled pistol,” Adolphina said. “He is a fine one to criticize us for trying to make a little money.” She squinted at the bright sun. “I can use a nap. I will be upstairs if you need me.”
“Yes, dear.” Chester closed the door and crossed the street. “That was interesting, wouldn’t you say?”
Win was in his rocking chair under the overhang, slowly rocking. “I wish I could sell out and leave.”
“What? Where would you go?”
“Somewhere. Anywhere. Hell, I don’t know. But I don’t want to be here when the pistoleros and badmen start drifting in. It won’t be healthy.”
Chester settled into the chair he customarily claimed. “That is panic talking. You are letting Glickman spook you.”
“Listen to yourself,” Winifred said. “How can I have known you so long yet know you so little?”
Just then Sally Worth came out of the saloon. She wore a new dress cut low at the bosom to accent her charms. Stretching, she arched her back, then scratched herself. “I swear. I sleep in much too late. Half the day is gone and I am just waking up.”
“That is some dress,” Chester said, praising her.
Sally’s eyes twinkled. She turned in a circle while running a hand down her body. “You really like it? I bought it with my earnings from the three days we had those bodies on display.”
“Glickman was just here,” Win let her know. “He asked our illustrious mayor to change his mind about our invite to the lobos of this world.”
Sally put a hand to her throat. “You didn’t give in, I hope?” she asked Luce.
“I did not,” Chester said proudly.
“Not with his wife supplying the backbone he needed,” Win said.
Grinning, Sally bent toward Chester and winked. “You see, Your Lordship? Your missus is good for something, after all.”
Chester turned red. “I have never made any statements to the contrary, and I will brand as a liar anyone who says I did.”
Sally Worth laughed, and after a bit, so did Chester.
“At long last I understand,” Win said.
Both Chester and Sally looked at him and Chester asked suspiciously, “Understand what, might I ask?”
“When I was a sprout my ma used to read to us. She liked books about those old-time Greeks and Romans.”
“Yes. So,” Chester goaded when Winifred did not continue.
“One time she read about how Rome was set on fire, and while the city burned, their mayor or whatever he was played a fiddle and admired the flames.” Winifred sniffed. “I never savvied how anyone could do that until just this minute.”
“I thought we were friends. I take that as a slur on my office,” Chester said indignantly.
“Take it however you like,” Winifred responded. “Because there you two were, laughing, knowing full well we have unleashed the whirlwind.”
“You worry a thing to death,” Sally said.
“And you don’t worry enough.” Winifred resumed rocking. “But have it your way. All that is left now is for us to sit back and wait for the killing to commence.”
Chapter 11
Ernestine Prescott was a hundred yards from the schoolhouse when the brazenness of what she was doing brought her up short in breathless wonder. Stars sprinkled the heavens. Behind her, artificial stars twinkled the length and breadth of Dodge City.
Not ten minutes ago, Ernestine had snuck out of the boardinghouse where she was staying. She had been scared she would bump into one of the other boarders and they would ask where she was off to. Not that nine o’clock was all that late. But for a single woman to be abroad at that hour was most unseemly. For that single woman to be the schoolmarm was a notch below scandalous.
Thankfully, Ernestine had made it out the back and down the alley. To avoid Front Street she had gone half a dozen blocks out of her way. Now here she was, about to commit the ultimate folly. If she was caught, if any parents or civic or church leaders happened by and saw a light and came to investigate, she might well be summarily dismissed.
