“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“I am awake and sober,” Jack Coombs said. “There is nothing to be happy about.”
Seamus masked a smile by taking a swallow of coffee. He had observed how the tracker kept gazing at the shelves behind the bar and licking his lips. “That’s right. You are not used to being sober, are you?”
“Don’t remind me.”
“The sun will be up soon,” Seamus said. “Then you can start tracking. A few hours in the heat and dust and you will forget all about whether you are sober or not.”
“I suppose,” Coombs said, with about as much enthusiasm as if he had been told he was to have a spike driven through his knee.
“I hope we can take Frost alive,” Lafferty said. “An interview with him would be carried by every newspaper in the country.”
Chester asked, “Is that all he is to you? A story?”
“That is all anyone is to me,” Lafferty said. “Dead or alive he is news, but alive I can milk it more.”
“How about you?” Chester asked Glickman. “What is he to you?”
“A pain in the ass,” Seamus said.
Jack Coombs was gazing at the long row of bottles again, his expression a mix of longing and pain. “It was downright dumb of him to kidnap the schoolmarm. It is the first dumb thing I ever heard tell of him doing.”
“You don’t call killing people dumb?” Lafferty asked.
“Not if they give cause,” Coombs said. “In the old days we did not make the fuss over it that folks make today. Sometimes it had to be done and that was all there was to it.”
“In the old days there was no law,” Chester mentioned.
“You say that as if it was bad,” Jack Coombs said. “But the less law there is, the more freedom you have. I miss those old days. The days when a man could do what he wanted without a tin star looking over his shoulder.”
“You mean drink?” Seamus said. “A man has always been able to drink as much as he wants.”
“I could use one now,” Lafferty said. “But we might have a lot of riding to do and I don’t ride well when I have had liquor.”
“I will treat myself to a bottle when this is over,” Seamus said. “There is nothing quite like the warm feeling you get when whiskey goes down your throat.”
“Quit talking drink,” Jack Coombs said.
“Sometimes I will have rye or scotch, but neither holds a candle to the best whiskey,” Seamus went on. “I could sip on a bottle all day and all night and not miss eating food.” He almost laughed when the old scout trembled and wiped a sleeve across his mouth. “Yes, sir. Good whiskey is better than a good woman or just about anything else any day.”
“Is there such a thing as a good woman?” Chester responded without thinking.
“You should know,” Lafferty said. “You are the only one at this table who is married.”
“There are good women, then,” Chester said. He stared at the bottles. “Hell, I could use a drink right now myself.”
Seamus rose and went around the bar. He selected his favorite label of whiskey, forked several glasses with his fingers, and returned to the table. Setting one of the glasses in front of the mayor, he proceeded to open the bottle so he could pour.
“What are you doing?”
“You said you wanted a drink.”
“I said I could use one,” Chester said. But when the glass was half-full, he raised it to his lips and gratefully sipped. “Mmmm. Nice.”
Seamus poured one for Lafferty and one for himself and made it a point to set the bottle near Jack Coombs. He swallowed and made a show of smacking his lips. “This here is fine whiskey.”
“I suppose one wouldn’t hurt me,” Lafferty said, and indulged. “You are right,” he told Seamus. “It goes down smooth.”
Just then Winifred Curry hurried from the back and over to their table. “I am plumb out of coffee,” he said to Chester. “You will have to get a can from your store.”
“Me?” Chester said.
“Who else?” Win smiled. “It is for a good cause. You are helping the minions of law and order. Isn’t that right, Sheriff Glickman?”
“What? Oh, sure,” Seamus said. He was only half listening. His main interest was in Jack Coombs.
The old scout was chugging whiskey straight from the bottle.
Chapter 28
Chester Luce was not smiling as he started to cross the street from the saloon to his store. He could count on one hand the number of times in his life he had given something away for free. Chester would be damned if he would provide free coffee for the posse. He would get a can of Arbuckle’s, but he would present Glickman with a voucher and demand payment. If the amount on the voucher was more than the amount he paid for the can, well, that was commerce.
The bell over the door tinkled. Chester debated on waking Adolphina and decided against it. Asleep, she could not cause him trouble. With luck she would stay in bed until noon and by then the leather slapper and his lady friend would be long gone.
Chester moved down the center aisle. He came to the shelf with the Arbuckle cans and kept walking. He would check on his uninvited guests in case they needed anything. Better to keep them happy and content until they left, he reasoned.
