It was Adolphina who goaded him into his political career by filling his head with visions of the greatness that awaited him if he would do as she wanted. He gave in. He always gave in. But all had not gone as she planned. Instead of flourishing as Dodge City flourished, Coffin Varnish withered on the municipal vine. Forcing her to work doubly hard to catapult Chester to higher office.
Now, sitting there listening to the schoolteacher prattle on, Adolphina had another of her marvelous inspirations.
“So you see,” Ernestine said, bringing her story to a close, “Jeeter and I are very much in love. He did not kidnap me. I want you to tell people that after we go. I want everyone to know.”
“Amazing. Simply amazing,” Adolphina declared.
“Love is like that,” Ernestine said.
“No. I meant it is amazing that a wonderful woman like you has taken up with a slug like him.”
“Hey, now,” Jeeter Frost said.
Ernestine shared her husband’s reaction. “There was no call for that unseemly remark, Mrs. Luce.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, dearie,” Adolphina said. “I am sure you adore him. I adore my husband, too. But let’s face it. Neither is worth much.”
“Hey, now,” Jeeter Frost said again.
Adolphina ignored him. In a very short while he would be of no consequence. She was going to dress and get the small revolver her husband kept in the nightstand. She would disarm the killer and hold him for her husband to turn over to the posse so Chester would get the credit. Word would spread of how he saved the schoolmarm. Were he to run for higher office, he would be a shoo-in. She became aware that the schoolmarm was talking to her.
“Do you hear me?”
“I am sorry, dearie,” Adolphina said. “I was distracted. What did you say?”
“I do not appreciate your insults. My husband might not be much in your eyes, but he is everything in mine.”
“They say love is blind and they are right.” Adolphina patted the other woman’s hand. “You are living proof. But don’t take what I say personally. I have your best interests at heart.”
Jeeter had been over by the door watching down the hall, but now he stepped to the cabinet that contained the pots and pans and selected a large frying pan.
“You confuse me, Mrs. Luce,” Ernestine said.
“Only because you are new to this,” Adolphina told her. “You are thinking with your heart and not your head. If you were thinking with your head, you would realize your husband is not much of a catch and you would be better served if you were shed of him.”
Ernestine gasped. “How can you say that?”
Adolphina was only trying to spare the woman’s feelings for when Frost was taken into custody. “Be honest with yourself and with me. If your husband were a pickle, he would be at the bottom of the barrel.”
By then Jeeter was next to the kitchen table. “Pickle this,” he said, and swung the frying pan. It connected with the side of the big woman’s head with a satisfying
“Jeeter, no!” Ernestine squealed. “What did you do that for?”
“If people don’t want to be hit over the head with frying pans, they shouldn’t call other people pickles.”
“Is she dead?”
Adolphina groaned.
“No,” Jeeter said, and hit her again. He did not use all his strength, as much as he wanted to.
“Oh, Jeeter,” Ernestine said softly.
“I didn’t kill the sow.” Jeeter set the pan on the counter. He clasped his wife’s hands, pulled her out of the chair, and embraced her. “I won’t let anyone, man or woman, try to break us apart.”
“She was only trying to—” Ernestine stopped and stared at the slumped form on the table. Spittle was dribbling from a corner of her mouth. “To be honest, I don’t know why she was being so mean.”
“From now on, no one speaks ill of you,” Jeeter said. “Not where I can hear. Not if they want to stay healthy.”
“My protector,” Ernestine said.
Winifred Curry was not in the best of tempers. He made money selling liquor. He did not make money selling coffee. Coffee he supplied for free, and so far the posse had downed two pots and Undersheriff Glickman had just asked him to make another.
“It is for a good cause,” Chester said when Win swore.
“I don’t see you making any,” Win criticized. “And what good cause would that be?”
“We are helping the minions of law and order.”
“We?” Win said. “When you make a batch, then you can say we. For now it is me, myself, and I, and I wish they were drinking whiskey and not Arbuckle’s.” He went through the door in the back into his living quarters.
Chester Luce grinned and walked over to the table occupied by the undersheriff, the journalist, and the old scout. “Mind if I join you gentlemen?” he asked, pulling out an empty chair.
“Why did your friend have that sour face when I asked him to make more coffee?” Seamus asked.
“We woke him too early,” Chester said. “He is always a grouch when he does not get his sleep.”
“I could use some,” Lafferty said, and yawned. “The coffee isn’t helping as much as I hoped.”
Seamus glanced at Coombs. “How are you holding up, Jack? You sure do fidget a lot.”
“I am wide awake.”
