gone.
Sally looked at Buck. A load seemed to have been removed from his shoulders. His eyes were shining with love as he watched the old man ride out. He seemed to stand a little taller.
He met her eyes. “It’s sad. When those men are gone, a…time will have passed. And it will never be again.”
“That is not entirely true, Smoke Jensen,” Sally said.
“Oh? What do you mean?”
“You’ll be here to carry on.”
12
The day after seeing Preacher, Buck was witness to a scene that lent credence to what MacGregor had said about the men and women who made up the population of Bury. Buck was sitting on the boardwalk in front of one of Bury’s hurdy-gurdy houses, leaned back in his chair, when a man and woman and three children walked up the main street. The man and woman wore rags and the kids looked as though they had not eaten in days. The ragged little band of walkers stopped in front of the large general store. Buck drifted over that way just as the red-headed cowboy, Sam, walked over from another direction. Buck and Sam looked at each other and nodded greetings.
“Watch this,” Sam said out of the corner of his mouth. “This might change your mind about the men you’re working for. And the sorry people in this town.”
“You get your money out of the same hand that pays me,” Buck reminded him.
“But I don’t have to like it…Smoke.”
“Do I know you from somewheres else?” Buck asked.
“I was in Canon City when you and that old mountain man drew down on Ackerman and his boys. Took me awhile to put it all together. But I knowed I’d seen you before.”*
“Why haven’t you tried to collect the bounty on my head, then?”
Sam hesitated. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “Mayhaps I’m havin’ some second thoughts ’bout the way my life’s been goin’ up to date. And then mayhaps I just want to hang around and see the show. ’Cause I know when the time gets right, you’re goin’ to put on one hell of a show.”
“You gonna watch my back?”
“I don’t know. Talk to you later. Listen to this.”
The ragged emaciated-looking man was talking to the store manager. “I’m begging you, mister. Please. My kids are starving and my wife is worn out. I ain’t asking nothing for myself. Just a bite of food for my wife and kids. I’ll work it out for you.”
The storekeeper waved his broom at the ragged man. “Get on with you. Get out of here. Go beg somewhere else.”
“I’ll get down on my knees and beg you, mister,” the man said. He was so tired, so worn out, he was trembling.
The man who ran the leather shop next to the general store stepped out onto the boardwalk to watch the show. “What happened to you, skinny?” he called to the ragged man.
“Indians. They ambushed the wagon train we was on. We didn’t have time to circle. They split us up. Most of the others died. We lost everything and have been walking for days. Brother, can you find it in your heart to give my kids and woman something to eat?”
“Only if you got the money to pay for it. If you don’t, then haul your ashes on, beggar.”
The man’s shoulders sagged and tears began rolling down his dusty face.
Buck could not believe what he was hearing and seeing. But he knew he could not afford to step out of character—not yet. He watched and waited.
Other shopkeepers had gathered on the boardwalk. The man who ran the apothecary shop laughed and said, “There’s a joyhouse down the end of this street. Why don’t you put your woman in there? Clean ’er up some and she’ll make enough to get you goin’ again.” The gathering crowd roared with laughter.
Sam explained. “Man poisoned his partner back in Illinoise,” he said. “Then stole his woman and come out here. Real nice feller. Name’s Burton.”
“Yeah,” Buck returned the low tone.
The hotel manager stepped out. He waved his arms at the ragged little band. “You ne’er-do-wells get out of here. That little girl looks like she’s got galloping consumption. No one here wants to catch that. Stir up the dust and get gone from here.”
“Morgan,” Sam said. “Ran a hotel in Ohio until he burned it down. Killed several sleepers. Another nice feller.”
“I just don’t believe the heartlessness of these people,” Buck said.
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, partner,” Sam said. “Stick around.”
“The Lord helps those who help themselves,” Reverend Necker said, appearing on the scene. “But He frowns on shirkers. Now be gone with you.”
“A minister?” Buck whispered.
“About as holy as you and me,” Sam said. “Come from Iowa, so he says. He’s a drunk and a skirt-chaser.”
