“Anything else I can do?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “That’s it. Thanks.”
“Any time,” she said. “Come back and talk some more.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m leaving town.”
“Too bad.”
He started to leave but as he grabbed the doorknob she said, “Wait.”
“What?”
“He asked me a question before he left.”
“What question?”
She screwed her face up again. “He asked me if I knew a place called Peach…something.”
Thirty-five
As promised Lancaster stopped in at the sheriff’s office before leaving Henderson.
“Did you get what you wanted?” Carver asked.
“I’ve got a line on two of the men I’m tracking,” Lancaster said.
“Well, congratulations, then,” the lawman said. “I guess you’re on your way, then.”
“That’s right.”
“I’ll walk out with you.”
Out front the lawman saw Crow Bait tied off and was taken aback. “That’s your horse?”
“That’s right.”
“Couldn’t get somethin’ better?”
“This horse carried me out of the desert, saved my life,” Lancaster said. “I owe it to him to ride him for as long as I can.”
“Don’t seem it would be that long, from the look of ’im.”
“He’s better than he looks, believe me,” Lancaster said, hoisting himself into the saddle. “Thanks for your help, Sheriff.”
The sheriff knew he hadn’t done anything, but he said, “Any time.”
Lancaster knew he’d never be in Henderson again, so he just waved and turned Crow Bait east.
Next stop was Peach Springs, Arizona.
As Lancaster rode out of town, the sheriff went back into his office, took the cell key from the peg on the wall, and entered the cell block.
“He’s gone,” he said, while fitting the key into the lock.
In the cell Kent stood up impatiently.
“Come on out,” Carver said.
Kent followed the lawman out of the cell block to his desk. There Carver returned Kent’s hat and gun belt.
“You better warn Beck that Lancaster’s comin’,” Carver said.
Strapping the gun on, Kent said, “Don’t worry, Gerry’ll take care of ’im. I remember him now. Lancaster was a drunk for years. He’s lost it.”
“He took care of you and your partner,” Carver said. “You’re lucky you’re not dead.”
“Oh yeah? Well, next time’s gonna be different,” Kent said. “I’m gonna make him pay for killin’ Tyler.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Carver said, sitting down.
“You don’t think I can?”
“I’m just sorry I won’t be there to see you try,” Carver said.
“You got a big mouth, fat man.”
“And you’re about to talk yourself right back into a cell,” Carver said. “Look, I’m done with Beck and I’m done with you and your kind. Now get out of my office and get out of my town.”
Kent stood in front of the sheriff with his muscles bunched, his jaw twitching.
“Go ahead and try it,” Carver said. “I didn’t get to be this age by backin’ down from the likes of you.”
Kent stared at Carver with undisguised rage, but eventually his muscles relaxed and he backed down. “You’re lucky I want Lancaster first.”
Carver looked down at his desk and said, “I can’t even hear you anymore, Kent. You’re a memory to me. A bad memory.”
Thirty-six
Lancaster used the time it took to ride from Henderson to Peach Springs to bond further with Crow Bait. He spoke to him each night as he rubbed him down and fed him, and then made sure to give him some green apples for a treat. To his eye the horse did not seem to be putting on weight, but each day the animal seemed to be getting stronger. He still looked like a bag of bones, but he felt stronger.
And he swore the horse could understand him when he spoke to him. This was the most serene animal he’d ever ridden. Nothing seemed to faze him, whether they were on the trail or camped. They encountered a rattler at one point, and Crow Bait couldn’t have cared less while Lancaster shot the reptile. And nothing in the darkness ever rattled the horse. Although Lancaster felt certain that, if there were any danger approaching, the animal would have sounded the alarm.
Lancaster swore that, for the rest of his life, he’d never judge anything by the way it looked—man or beast.
Peach Springs was a small town—what some people would call a “one horse” town. As he rode in he saw only three buildings—one was a hotel, one a saloon, and one a livery. He reined in Crow Bait in front of the hotel. As he walked in he smelled food cooking. He wondered if this was the one place in town to eat.
“Afternoon, friend,” the clerk said. He was a man in his fifties with a smile that looked plastered on. Lancaster wondered if he smiled all night, while he was asleep.
“Good afternoon.”
“Do you need a room?” the clerk asked. “We’ve got plenty. We don’t get many visitors.”
“Who’s your kitchen cooking for, then?” Lancaster asked.
“Anyone who wants to eat,” the man said. “Folks around here don’t have any place else to go.”
“I see. Well, I’ll take a room, and then I’ll come down to eat.”
“Excellent,” the man said. He turned, took a key from the wall, and handed it to Lancaster.
“Do you want me to check in?” he asked.
“It’s not necessary,” the clerk said. “If you don’t like the room, you can try another one. We have plenty.”
“Thank you.”
“The rooms are upstairs.”
As Lancaster started for the stairs the clerk called, “What would you like to eat?”
“What are my choices?”
“Beef stew.”
Lancaster waited, but when the clerk offered no alternative he said, “Beef stew will be great. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Is your horse out front?” the man asked. “I can have it taken to the stable.”
“That’d be helpful. Thanks.”
“What does it look like?”
“You won’t be able to miss it,” Lancaster said, and went upstairs.
The man who brought him his bowl of beef stew looked just like the clerk, only a few years younger.
“My brother said you wanted stew.”
“He didn’t say I had another choice.”
“He likes the stew,” the waiter said. He put it down next to the basket of rolls he had brought earlier. It looked delicious and smelled the same.
“This will do nicely,” Lancaster said.
“Enjoy.”
The man walked away and Lancaster broke a roll, dunked it in the stew, and tasted. It was just as good as it looked. For the next twenty minutes, all he concentrated on was eating that, and a second bowl.
“You were pretty hungry,” the waiter said, collecting the second bowl.
“I didn’t realize how hungry until I tasted your food,” Lancaster said. “Tell me, does everyone in this area eat here?”
“Unless they eat at home,” the waiter said.
“Who lives in the area?”
“There are quite a few ranches around us.”
“Why isn’t the town larger, then?” Lancaster asked. “Why don’t you have a general store? Or a trading post?”
“The ranchers usually go to Audley or Seligman for their supplies,” the waiter said.
“How far are they?”
“Thirty, and thirty-seven miles, thereabouts.”
“But they come here to eat?”
“Unless they stay home.”
“Yes, you said that.”
“Would you like anything else?”
“Some more coffee.”
“Comin’ up.”
A town this size didn’t have m
uch to offer. It didn’t offer much cover, either. If he started asking questions about Chet Adderly, word would get around. He was going to have to figure out a way to get answers without asking too many questions.
Certain questions were harmless, though.
“What’s your name?” he asked the waiter when he brought the coffee.
“George.”
“And your brother?”
“Which one?”
“How many do you have?”
“Well,” he said, “Harry is the cook, Fred is the desk clerk, and Sam runs the livery.”
“Four brothers? And you pretty much run the town?”
George laughed and said, “We are the town.”
“What about the saloon?”
“Our cousin Dan owns it, and he’s the bartender.”
“One big happy family, huh?”
“Except for our sister,” George said. “She’s not so happy.”
“Why?”
“She hates it here. Wants to leave.”
“Why doesn’t she?”
“She doesn’t have a man.”
“She needs a man to leave here?”
George looked shocked. “A young lady can’t travel alone.”
“Oh, right,” Lancaster said. “Uh, how old is your sister?”
“Hermione is forty.”
“Hermione,” Lancaster repeated. “Forty.”
George nodded. “Is that all you want?”
“Yes,” Lancaster said. “Everything was great. How much do I owe you?”
“Two bits.”
Lancaster passed it over and said, “And worth every penny.”
Thirty-seven
Lancaster found out the family last name of George, Harry, Fred, Sam, and Hermione was Dickson. Apparently, Hermione’s age of forty made her the baby.
After the beef stew he walked over to the livery to check on Crow Bait.
“Not many men would give a horse like that a chance,” the liveryman said as he entered.
“You’re Sam, right?”
“That’s right.”
“I met your brothers George and Fred.”
“You had the beef stew?”
“Yes, I did.”
“It was good, huh?”
“It was better than good.”
Sam wiped his hand on his trousers and stuck it out.
Lancaster shook it and said his name.
“Horse don’t look like much, but he’s strong,” Sam said. “What’s his name?”
“Crow Bait.”
That made Sam laugh until he was bent over double, choking. “That’s rich. You come to see if I’ll take good care of him?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, don’t you worry,” Sam said. “He’s in good hands. Why don’t you go over to the saloon and have a drink?”
“And meet your cousin Dan, huh?”
“Dan,” Sam said with a face that said he didn’t like his cousin, “yeah.”
“What’s wrong with Dan?”
Sam shrugged. “He’s a cousin, not a brother.”
That seemed to be reason enough for the dislike.
“Well, I think I’ll take your advice,” Lancaster said. “I hope he’s got cold beer.”
“He’s got it,” Sam said. “We may be a small town, but we got everythin’ you’ll need.” Sam raised his eyebrows, grinned, and added, “Everythin’.”
Lancaster left the livery, wondering if “everything” meant sister Hermione?
Lancaster was unaware that he was being watched from a window on the second floor of the hotel as he crossed over to the saloon. The white lace curtain was pulled aside, remained that way until he entered the saloon, then fell back across the window.
The saloon was empty, except for the bartender. If Lancaster hadn’t been told that Dan was a cousin, he wouldn’t have recognized him as family. He didn’t look anything like the brothers. For one thing, they all had gray hair, while his was pitch-black.
“Welcome to the Peach Springs Saloon, friend,” the bartender said.
“You’re Dan, right?”
“Ah, I see you met my cousins already.”
“I did.”
“Well, belly up and tell me what your pleasure is.”
“Beer,” Lancaster said, “cold.”
“Comin’ up.”
Lancaster took off his hat, set it on the bar, and ran his hands through his hair.
“Been ridin’ long?” Dan asked, setting the beer down.
“Long enough.” Lancaster took two swallows of the cold beer, closed his eyes as the cold ran through him. How easy it would be just to sit and drink, switch to whiskey, and just drift away…
“You must be passin’ through,” Dan said.
“Why do you say that?”
“That’s all anybody ever does, pass through here. Nobody ever stops for more than a day or two.”
“And if they stop for a day or two, what is there to do?” Lancaster asked.
“Nothin’,” Dan said, “nothin’ at all.”
“Your cousin Sam said I could get anything I want here,” Lancaster said.
“Yeah, well,” Dan said, “that depends on how bad you want it.”
“Well, the food and the beer are good.”
“If you like beef stew all the time,” Dan said.
“Is that all your cousin Harry can make?”
“No,” Dan said, “he can make bacon and eggs.”
“Bacon and eggs and stew? That’s it?”
“Rolls,” Dan said. “He can bake rolls.”
“Well, that’s food and beer, anyway,” Lancaster said. “What about…other things?”
“Can’t get no supplies,” Dan said. “I mean, we could probably sell you some cartridges, let you have some coffee and bacon for the trail.”
“And that’s it?”
“What else is there?”
“Women?”
Dan made a face.
“You can have a woman if you don’t mind my cousin Hermione,” Dan said.
“The boys pimp out their sister?”
“Don’t let them fool you,” Dan said. “Hermione is the one in charge.”
“Really? I heard she was the baby of the litter.”
“She’s also the only one with any brains.”
“What about you?” Lancaster asked. “You seem to have some brains.”
“I’m only a cousin,” Dan said. “Thank God.”
“So Hermione whores herself out?”
“Don’t let the smiles fool you,” Dan said. “Any one of them will do anything to make a dollar.”
Lancaster took another measured swallow.
“You want another?”
“No, this is good. So tell me, why would anyone actually come here? I mean, why would they purposely head here?”
“Here? To town?” Dan shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe they’d go to one of the ranches, but here?”
“Maybe,” Lancaster said, “I should meet your cousin Hermione.”
George turned to see who was coming down the stairs—not that it was any great mystery.
Hermione Dickson crossed to the desk and stared at her brother, whose smile seemed to freeze.
“Who’s the man who just rode in?”
“Henry says his name is Lancaster.”
“What did he want?”
“A room.”
Hermione was not a large person. In fact, all of her brothers were physically larger than her, but they were cowed by her intelligence and the force of her personality.
“That’s all?”
“That’s all he asked for.”
Hermione looked inward and said, “It don’t make sense. He must be here for somethin’.”
“Well,” her brother said, “we got all night to find out what.”
Thirty-eight
Lancaster nursed his beer.
Dan just stood behind the bar and watched.
“You ever get any other customers?”
<
br /> “Sure,” Dan said. “Some of the ranch hands come in once in a while, but there are a couple of saloons in Audley, more in Seligman.”
“That’s a long ride.”
“Some of the ranches are halfway between here and Audley. Just as long a ride either way. More beer and women there.”
That made coming to Peach Springs even more of a mystery. Maybe he was in the wrong place. Maybe there was another town with peach in the name. He posed the question to Dan.
“Not that I know of,” the bartender said. “Not in Arizona, anyway.”
“Why do you stay here?” Lancaster asked.
“Why?” Dan spread his arms. “I own all this. If I go someplace else, I won’t own nothin’.”
“I guess you have a point there.”
“Besides,” Dan added, “Hermione won’t let me go, and I’m as afraid of her as her brothers are. Maybe more, because I don’t think she’d hesitate to kill me.”
“I’m gettin’ more and more curious to meet this woman.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Dan said. “She’s probably been watchin’ you from on high.”
“On high?”
“Second floor of the hotel, front,” Dan said. “Hermione made sure she has the best room in the hotel.”
“Down the hall from me?”
“Probably.”
Lancaster pushed the beer mug away with a third of it still there.
“Somethin’ wrong?” Dan asked.
“I’ve had enough,” Lancaster said. “Since we’re bein’ so clear and honest with each other, Dan, let me ask you a question.”
“Go ahead,” Dan said, leaning his elbows on the bar. “Bartenders are good at answering questions.”
“Well, maybe more than one,” Lancaster said. “Have there been any other strangers in town in the past—oh, month or so?”
“Nope,” Dan said. “None.”
“You answered that one real quick.”
“I think I’d notice if any strangers came to town.”
“Yeah, I guess you would.”
“Are you here lookin’ for somebody?”
“I am looking for somebody,” Lancaster said, “and I thought they might have passed through here.”
“Why?” Dan asked. “Why would anybody come here?”
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