“That’s all right,” Pearlie replied. “It’s been a while now.”
“Is that why you are here, and not with your friends? Because being with your friends brings too much sadness?”
Pearlie nodded, but didn’t speak.
“Senor Pearlie, I think maybe you should go to your friends now,” Rosita said. “I think if you were with your friends, things will be better for you.”
Pearlie was surprised by Rosita’s comment, but he knew as soon as she spoke that she was right. It was time to get back to his friends, to start living his life again, and to put the hurt and the sorrow behind him. He didn’t want to put Lucy behind him, not now, not ever. For the rest of his life she would occupy a part of his heart. But life must go on.
He finished his drink and put his hat back on his head. “Rosita, you are right,” he said. “I think soon I will go home.”
Pearlie could feel the young woman’s eyes staring at the back of his neck as he pushed through beaded curtains that hung over the door of the cantina.
It would be good to get back home. He would leave as soon as Montgomery could find a replacement for him.
Because the next day was Saturday, there was no stage run. Pearlie was having his lunch at the City Pig Cafe when two men came in. One of the men was C.D. Montgomery, the owner of the stage line. Pearlie had no idea who the man with Montgomery was, but the man was wearing a three-piece suit, so Pearlie assumed he was a man of some importance.
“There he is,” Montgomery said, pointing out Pearlie. As the two approached his table, Pearlie stood.
“Young man, my name is Kyle Abernathy. I’m with the New Mexico Mining Company. A couple of weeks ago, you saved our money shipment, and I want to thank you personally.”
Abernathy stuck out his hand and Pearlie took it. “Well, I appreciate you coming here to thank me, but I was just doing my job.”
“Yes, sir, and doing it very well, too, if I may say so,” Abernathy said. He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. “This is for you, Pearlie. A little expression of our thanks.”
Pearlie looked inside the envelope and saw several bills. “You—you didn’t have to do that,” he said.
Abernathy laughed. “It’s two hundred and fifty dollars,” he said. He reached for it. “But if you don’t want it, I’ll take it back.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t want to seem ungrateful. I’ll keep it,” Pearlie said, pulling the money back, and both Abernathy and Montgomery laughed.
“I’m sorry we interrupted your lunch, but I just wanted to see you to thank you,” Abernathy said.
“Anyone can interrupt my lunch anytime for something like this,” Pearlie said with a chuckle.
The following Friday, after returning from his run, Pearlie saw Montgomery sitting at his desk, working on a ledger book.
“Have you changed your mind?” Montgomery asked.
“No, sir,” Pearlie replied. “I think it’s about time I went home. And I’ll be honest with you. When Mr. Abernathy gave me that money, it made it a lot easier.”
Montgomery laughed. “I was afraid of that,” he said. “That’s why I almost told Abernathy not to give it to you. I wanted to keep you on. You’ve been a good man.”
“I appreciate that. But I think Tony will make you a good employee. And with a wife and baby, he needs the job.”
“You’re right. I’ve already told him to be ready to start on Monday.” Montgomery got up and extended his hand. “We’re goin’ to miss you around here, Pearlie. If you ever get back down this way again, drop in and see us.”
“I will,” Pearlie said. He took one last look around the depot, then walked outside, mounted his horse, and started the long trip back to Sugarloaf.
Chapter Twelve
Even though it was only mid-afternoon, the New York Saloon was fairly crowded. Mary Lou Culpepper, whose face, two weeks after the fact, still showed the effects of her encounter with Billy Ray Quentin, was standing at the end of the bar, having a beer with Lenny York, the young piano player.
At twenty-one years of age, Lenny was actually two years older than Mary Lou, but life’s circumstances had forced Mary Lou onto “the line” when she was only sixteen years old. As a result of her worldliness, Mary Lou seemed older than the young musician.
“How’s your ma doing?” Mary Lou asked.
“Oh, she’s doing fine,” Lenny answered.
“That’s good. Your ma is a very nice woman. Everyone in town thinks so.”
“Mary Lou, I wish you would quit your job here and go work with Ma. She would love to have you.”
Mary Lou smiled. “What? And leave you here in the saloon all by yourself? Why, who would look out for you? Besides, your ma runs a restaurant. What do I know about working in a restaurant? Bein’ a whore is the only thing I know.”
