by Walton Young
‘You’re no bother at all,’ Charlotte said.
‘No need to rush things,’ Silas said.
From the back of the house came Bobby’s shouts. ‘Bang! Bang! You’re dead!’
‘I wish he wouldn’t do that,’ Jennifer said.
‘He’s a boy,’ Silas said. ‘Boys like to shoot up the back yard. When they start shooting up the town, that’s when we have to worry.’
‘I know, but—’
‘He’ll be fine,’ Luke said.
Marcus maintained an uncertain perch on the porch bannister. He had wired his editor in Atlanta that he was still pursuing the story. It was not time to leave Cheyenne. Wilcox had wired a response: ‘I understand’. Wilcox probably wonders whether I will ever return, Marcus thought. He’s a damn good editor. Maybe he’s not Henry Grady. But he’s damn close.
Marcus kept thinking about the newspaper in Kingston. He kept thinking about Eloise’s encouragement. I just may buy it, he thought. I do love the Constitution, but I want to publish my own paper. That’s probably something Wilcox won’t understand. When I tell him my plans, I’m sure he’ll be surprised, but he won’t show it. In fact, I have a pretty good idea as to what he’ll say.
‘Just give me the McPherson story before you leave.’
Bobby circled the house, chasing desperadoes, firing his wooden rifle. He sought protection behind a bur oak. He fired his rifle again and again. And then he was gone.
‘Where’s our sheriff?’ Owen asked.
‘He’s looking in on Meta Anderson,’ Ezra said.
‘Does she need looking in on?’
‘Apparently Zeke thinks so.’
‘Zeke’s a fine fellow,’ Silas said. ‘I’m not sure if he’s cut out to be a lawman, though.’
‘He’s sure not much of a shot,’ Owen said. ‘If he shot straighter, that gunslinger wouldn’t have plugged me in the shoulder. That young lady he’s looking in on is a far sight better shot than he is.’
‘You’re a good one to talk,’ Ezra said.
‘When I shoot, I need to concentrate. And it’s hard to concentrate when I’ve got a bullet hole in me. This shoulder still hurts. I think Grierson did as much damage as the bullet did. Luke, did he seem to know what he was doing?’
‘He’s a skillful surgeon,’ Luke said. ‘You should have seen him. He operated quickly. He definitely knew what he was doing. Of course, he’s probably had plenty of experience with that sort of thing.’
‘I agree,’ Silas said. ‘I’m sure he’s seen his share of bullet holes. Doctor Tisdale, I believe you deserve some congratulations.’
‘Why is that?’
‘From what Jennifer has told me, you did quite a job on Andrew Swearingen. Of course, a lot of homesteaders would probably say they wished he hadn’t made it.’
‘Let’s not talk about . . . that,’ Charlotte said.
‘Well, it’s true. And then there was the hearing. I’ve already heard plenty of grumbles in the store. The homesteaders aren’t happy. They still talk about a war. Ezra, I’m sure you’ve heard the same thing.’
‘Would anyone like some coffee?’ Charlotte asked.
‘I’ll help,’ Jennifer said.
‘Marcus, what are your plans?’ Luke asked.
‘I’ll be here for a few more days.’
‘He’s waiting to see if there’s going to be a range war,’ Owen said.
‘After the gunfight, did you wire a story back to the paper in Atlanta?’ Silas asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Did you include your role?’ Ezra said.
‘I didn’t think it was important.’
‘Not important?’ Owen said. ‘That man you killed was about to shoot Ezra. One thing I learned was that Ezra can’t reload as fast as he once could. Anyway, whether you realize it or not, you saved Ezra’s life.’
Marcus had not thought about it. A man on a bicycle rode down the street.
‘When my shoulder heals, I’m going to get one of those things,’ Owen said.
‘When you’re ready to buy, come see me,’ Silas said. ‘I can order you one.’
‘Any word on Swearingen’s whereabouts?’ Luke asked.
‘Not a word,’ Ezra said. ‘I thought he might have gotten on the train with Ginevra, but he didn’t.’
‘You should have gotten on that train,’ Owen said. ‘You let Ginevra get away not once, but twice. How many opportunities do you think you’re going to have with that woman?’
‘I don’t need love advice from a Pinkerton detective.’
‘Well, you need it from someone. Luke, talk some sense into this man’s head.’
Marcus left the bannister and stared at the street. He smelled the coffee that was brewing, and the smell was good.
‘I’ve been curious about something ever since it happened,’ Marcus said, really to no one, for his eyes never left the street. ‘Curly Pike – why do you think he ran? I thought he wanted to help. Somehow I never expected him to bolt and run the way he did.’
Ezra flipped the cigarette onto the ground, and Owen leaned back in the chair.
‘I don’t reckon he had much fight in him,’ Owen said.
‘Well, at least he identified John’s killer,’ Luke said. ‘I came out here wanting to know what happened. For a while it looked like I wasn’t going to find out anything. It looked like John’s killer would go unpunished. I didn’t expect to find out from Curly Pike, but I did. Now I know. Curly told us who did it.’
Ezra stood and turned toward Luke.
‘Ezra, why do you have that strange look on your face?’ Luke asked. ‘You heard what Curly said. He told us who killed John. Ezra, what’s the matter? We know.’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ Ezra said. ‘We know.’
