“Cato and Rose,” I said.
“Yeah. I heard they can take over a town,” Redmond said.
“Heard that, too,” I said. “Tell me about your problem with Wolfson.”
“Well, you heard some of it when you run us out of the store,” Redmond said.
“Fella owes him money and don’t pay,” I said. “What’s Wolfson supposed to do.”
“That ain’t how it is,” Redmond said.
“How is it,” I said.
Redmond finished his second drink and poured himself another one.
“Most of us grow a few crops for the kitchen, but if we make any money it’s from cows. None of us got enough head to matter a hell of a lot, but we sort of pool them, let ’em graze over all our ranges, and then sell them, mostly to Fort Rucker and the reservation. But we don’t deal with the Army, or the Indian agent, there’s too many of us, and none of us got enough cattle by ourselves, and the government won’t deal with us except through a cattle broker.”
“Wolfson?” I said.
Redmond nodded.
“I’m sure he’s bribing the Indian agent, maybe the quartermaster at the Fort, too, I don’t know. But by the time the deal is done we ain’t getting much for our beef. And he’s the only broker around. And we got no choice.”
“And because you don’t have much money, and you got to buy things like flour and coal oil…” I said.
“And bridle bits, and horseshoes, and cloth, and nails, and needles, and everything else we can’t grow,” Redmond said.
“You have to charge it at the Blackfoot Emporium,” I finished.
“For way too much, and when we can’t pay he takes the land, and we’re tenants.”
“And there’s no other store around,” I said.
“Nope.”
I smiled.
“The company store,” I said.
Redmond nodded. But he didn’t smile.
“So what are you trying to do?” I said.
“Just like we can pool our cows, we want to pool ourselves. We ain’t big ranchers, but we could be like a big ranch, if we all associated. Then we could broker our own cattle, and maybe establish our own store, and maybe make a living.”
“Wolfson probably don’t want that to happen,” I said.
“’Course he don’t,” Redmond said. “He’s told us that. He says we try organizing like that and we’re headed for big trouble.”
“Where’s O’Malley stand in all this,” I said.
“He might help us, he’d do pretty much anything to fuck Wolfson up.”
“Why?”
“He wants to replace Wolfson.”
“Ah,” I said. “That explains Cato and Rose.”
“It explains Wickman, too, and it explains you.”
“I guess it does,” I said. “O’Malley hired Wickman to intimidate Wolfson. So Wolfson hired me to intimidate Wickman. So Eamon doubled down and hired Cato and Rose to intimidate me. Now it’s Wolfson’s turn.”
“If you won’t help us,” Redmond said, “I guess we got to turn to O’Malley.”
“And if O’Malley wins?” I said.
“Maybe it’ll be better.”
I shook my head.
“Still the same,” Redmond said. “Except Eamon be squeezing us ’stead of Wolfson.”
I nodded.
“Probably right,” Redmond said.
He looked into his nearly empty glass for a time, then finished the drink.
“So will you think about this?” he said.
“I wish you well,” I said. “But you need to understand. Fella like me got nothing much that’s worth anything, ’cept his gun and his word. When I hired on with Wolfson it’s like I sort of gave him my word I wouldn’t hire on against him first chance I got.”
“I just want the gun,” Redmond said.
“Sort of goes with the word,” I said.
Redmond nodded.
“I’ll talk with O’Malley,” he said.
“He’ll be no better than Wolfson,” I said.
“Can’t be worse,” Redmond said. “Step at a time.”
I nodded.
“You know,” Redmond said, “the only safe place in town right now is here?”
I shrugged.
“You seem like you’re a decent man, Hitch,” Redmond said. “I hope we don’t have to go against you.”
“We’ll see,” I said.
18.
Virgil and I took the horses out for a ride south of town on a bright morning.
"Ain’t good for ’em,” Virgil said. “Standing around in the livery all the time, eatin’.”
It was low rolling land where the small ranches were, and we let the horses amble.
“Lotta grass,” Virgil said.
“Government land mostly,” I said. “Ranchers are home-steading. ”
“They free-range the cattle?” Virgil said.
“They say that they graze them on all the homesteads,” I said.
“You believe that?”
“No.”
“Never saw government land people didn’t free-range,” Virgil said.
“Government’s a long way away,” I said.
“Enough land to support a lot of cattle,” Virgil said.
“Homesteaders are trying, I guess, but nobody got the money,” I said. “They’re talking about organizing.”
“Who got the money?” Virgil said.
“Wolfson,” I said. “Fella named Eamon O’Malley, runs a copper mine. Probably fella runs the lumber business, Fritz Stark.”
“Any of them interested?”
“In a cattle operation?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t know,” I said. “Ranchers say that Wolfson’s trying to run them off their land.”
“Tell me ’bout that,” Virgil said.
I did.
When I was done Virgil said, “Sounds effectual.”
I nodded. We let the horses stop for a time and eat some grass.
“This O’Malley fella,” Virgil said. “Think he’ll let that happen?”
I shrugged.
“He hired Cato and Rose for something,” I said.
“He did,” Virgil said.
We pulled the horses back up from the grass and moved on.
“We gonna look for Allie?” I said after a while.
“I guess,” Virgil said.
“When?”
“When you get through here,” Virgil said.
“I can get through when I want to.”
Virgil shook his head.
“Gonna be trouble,” he said. “You know it. I know it.”
“Might be,” I said.
“You ain’t going anyplace until that’s settled.”
“Why not?” I said.
“’Cause you ain’t,” Virgil said. “Neither would I. It ain’t how we are.”
“You gonna hang around and wait?” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
“’Cause you get lonesome without me?” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
“And I listen when you talk,” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
“And you don’t want me to have to go up against Cato and Rose alone.”
Virgil grinned at me.
“Uh-huh,” he said.
The sun was warm. There was a little breeze. We let the horses drink at a stream that wound down out of the high ground to the north. Then we moved on.
“We go looking for Allie,” I said, “where we gonna look?”
“Texas,” Virgil said. “She was always talking ’bout Texas.”
“Texas is big,” I said.
“It is,” Virgil said.
“What happens when we find her?”
“We’ll see,” Virgil said.
“You ain’t gonna kill her?”
“No,” Virgil said. “Can’t kill her. Why I killed him.”
I nodded.
“You take up with her again, Virgil,” I said, “she’ll probably do this again.”
“Maybe,” Virgil said. “Won’t know what’s gonna happen next, ’less we find her.”
“That would be true,” I said.
19.
I’m having a drink with Eamon O’Malley this afternoon, ” Wolfson said to me. “Two o’clock. I’d just as soon you were there.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Bring the eight-gauge,” Wolfson said.
“Sure,” I said.
The eight-gauge and I were in the lookout chair by quarter to two. The saloon was nearly empty. Couple of teamsters who had already unloaded and had time to kill until they were reloaded. A rancher whose wife was probably running up a bill at the Blackfoot Emporium. Three lumberjacks who weren’t working for whatever reason they had. Wolfson came in through the hotel entrance and went to a table in the front of the saloon two tables from me. He saw me and nodded slightly. There was no one else near us. Patrick brought him a bottle and two glasses.
At two on the hour, Eamon O’Malley came in through the street entrance and walked straight to Wolfson. He didn’t have an eight-gauge. But he did have Cato and Rose walking in behind him. Eamon sat down with Wolfson. Cato and Rose leaned on the bar. Rose winked at me. Cato looked at me without expression.
“Amos,” Eamon said.
Wolfson nodded.
“Eamon,” he said, and gestured toward a chair.
O’Malley sat across from Wolfson.
“Whiskey?” Wolfson said.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Eamon said.
He picked up the bottle.
“By God,” he said, “Bushmills.”
“In your honor,” Wolfson said.
Eamon poured a full glass.
“Ain’t seen whiskey like this since I was in Cheyenne,” he said.
“Been saving it,” Wolfson said.
He poured a splash for himself.
It was like watching two stallions pretending they didn’t want the mares.
Eamon drank some whiskey and smiled.
“Long time,” he said, “long time since Ireland.”
He looked around the saloon.
“Nice little business you got here, Amos,” he said.
“It’s a living,” Wolfson said.
“Damn good one, if I’m any judge,” Eamon said.
“Ain’t no copper mine,” Wolfson said.
Eamon drank some more whiskey.
“Ahh,” he said. “Mining’s all overhead until it peters out. This place… people keep coming. Town grows, you grow. You got the saloon, the store, the hotel, the bank. Wasn’t for me and Fritzie, you’d own the whole place.”
“I’d own a lotta headaches,” Wolfson said.
Eamon finished his whiskey and poured some more. Wolfson took another very small sip of his.
“Well, you know, that’s funny,” Eamon said, “funny you should say that. ’Cause I’m here to talk with you about selling to me. You make a nice profit, you don’t have any more headaches. You’re free to go where you want, do what you want.”
Wolfson stared at him.
“You want to buy me out?” he said.
“Yes,” Eamon said. “Fair offer.”
“Everything?” Wolfson said.
“Saloon, store, hotel, bank, cattle brokerage, everything.” Wolfson stared at him some more.
After a while Eamon said, “Fair offer, Amos.”
Still, Wolfson looked at him.
Finally, Wolfson said, “And if I decline the offer?”
Eamon drank some whiskey and glanced over at Cato and Rose.
“Then we’d probably have to insist,” Eamon said.
As quiet as I could, I pulled back both hammers on the eight-gauge. Cato and Rose both heard it. Rose smiled faintly.
“We?” Wolfson said.
Eamon rolled his head to include Cato and Rose.
“Me and some of my friends,” he said.
I don’t know how. He didn’t make any noise. But all of us became aware suddenly that Virgil Cole was standing in the doorway from the hotel. He was motionless, leaning his left shoulder against the doorjamb. Cato Tillson shifted slightly at the bar so as to face Virgil. Rose stayed where he was, looking at me.
“Well, bucko,” Eamon said, “who’s this?”
It was Cato who answered.
“That’s Virgil Cole,” Cato said.
The atmosphere in the room had changed. The way it does sometimes before a storm. The uninvolved bystanders in the saloon looked up nervously. Virgil neither moved nor spoke.
Eamon was a little drunk now, which always seemed to me a bad way to do business.
“Well, Virgil Cole be damned,” he said. “You want to hear my offer, Amos?”
Wolfson picked up the glass of whiskey and drained it and put the glass down carefully in front of him. He looked at Eamon for a moment without speaking.
Then he said, speaking carefully, “Fuck you, O’Malley.”
Eamon’s hands were resting on the tabletop. He looked down at them as if they were something new and interesting.
Without looking up, he said, “You don’t even want to hear my offer?”
“Fuck you,” Wolfson said.
“Onetime offer, Amos,” Eamon said.
Wolfson didn’t say anything. O’Malley turned and looked over his shoulder at Cato and Rose. He shook his head slightly. Rose looked at me and grinned, and barely shrugged his shoulders. Then O’Malley stood.
“More than one way to skin a cat, Amos,” he said.
“Fuck you,” Wolfson said.
Eamon nodded thoughtfully for a moment, then he turned and walked out the front door of the saloon, with Cato and Rose behind him.
20.
I let the hammers down carefully on the eight-gauge. Wolfson picked up the whiskey bottle and came to the bar. Virgil joined us. Patrick put up three fresh glasses and we drank some of the remaining Bushmills.
“This mean you’re willing to work for me?” Wolfson said to Virgil.
Virgil shook his head.
“Nope, just means I’m with Everett.”
“Everett works for me,” Wolfson said.
“Don’t need the money for now,” Virgil said. “But I’ll stay around, see what develops.”
“What do you think?” Wolfson said.
“Hired Cato and Rose for a reason,” Virgil said.
“Everett?”
“Agree,” I said.
“You’ll stick?”
“Yes,” I said.
Wolfson looked at Virgil.
“You?” he said.
“I’m with Everett,” Virgil said.
“How good are Cato and Rose?” Wolfson said.
“Very,” I said.
“Good as you and Cole?” Wolfson said.
“Yet to be determined,” Virgil said.
“You think he’ll hire some more?” Wolfson said.
“Might,” I said.
Wolfson looked at Virgil.
“Might,” Virgil said.
“You think I should hire some others?” Wolfson said.
“Going to war, good to have troops,” Virgil said.
“Can either of you help me with that?” Wolfson said.
“Probably,” I said. “But you got to understand, you hire a bunch of gunmen, you are not hiring from the top of the pile.”
“They be trouble?” Wolfson said.
“Sure,” Virgil said.
“Will I be able to count on them?” Wolfson said.
“No,” Virgil said.
“Most shooters ain’t too disciplined,” I said. “Where’s Stark stand in all this?”
“I think Fritzie just wants to cut lumber and sell it,” Wolfson said.
“And the ranchers?” I said.
“They don’t count for much,” Wolfson said.
“They might if they got together and took a side,” I said.
“Hell,” Wolfson said, “so would the chickens if they ganged up on the rooster.”
“Well,” I said. “First thing, I guess, would be to see if Eamon’s hiring.”
“And if he is?” Wolfson said.
“Maybe you start hiring, too. Virgil and I can sort of sift through them.”
“And if you don’t like them?”
“We’ll fire them,” I said.
“Where do I start?” Wolfson said.
I looked at Virgil.
“I was you,” Virgil said, “I’d see a fella named Willy Beck in Araby.”
“I say you sent me?” Wolfson said.
Virgil smiled a little.
“Sure,” he said.
Wolfson stepped away from the bar.
“You sure this ain’t just some kind of a business offer and that’ll be the end of it?”
“‘More than one way to skin a cat, Amos,’” I said.
He nodded.
“Bottle’s yours,” he said, and walked away.
We each added a little to our glasses.
“Elegant whiskey,” Virgil said.