“I don’t think so,” he said. “Jonas brothers weren’t so dark and skinny, and younger.”
“They got the same first names, Foxy and Weasel.”
“Well, half the drovers I hire have got strange monikers like that. I’ve got a Tiger and a Blue and a Rabbit and a Bullwhip. No, Sheriff, these are not my boys.”
“Let me see,” Rosie said.
Crayfish handed the dodgers to her, and she studied them real good. “They all come in here sooner or later, you know. I see just about every drover and ranch hand in the valley. And I’ve never seen this pair of Ramshorns. But all I can see on these dodgers are the faces, and I hardly ever look at faces.”
She handed the dodgers back.
“I got wind somewhere that the Jonas brothers, they were picking off a steer now and then from you,” I said to Crayfish.
“From me? They were good men. Reliable men. I’ve felt the loss ever since the Bragg boy killed them.”
“You weren’t losing beeves to them?”
“Go talk to my foreman, Plug Parsons. Tell him I sent you. He’s in one of these rooms in here.”
“You’re pretty sure these Ramshorn boys in the dodgers got nothing to do with the Jonas boys?”
He sighed. “You’re interrupting my business conference, Sheriff. I hoped to find out whether to purchase this place.”
I guess there wasn’t much more to ask Crayfish Ruble. Them two was mighty eager for me to get out. The funny thing is, I didn’t believe Crayfish. It was two Colorado rustlers and train robbers we got in the Doubtful cemetery, even if Crayfish wasn’t admitting it. But there wasn’t much I could do about that. If Crayfish wanted some outlaws on his payroll, that was his business. I thought maybe he was using them two outlaws to lift a few beeves off of Admiral Bragg’s pastures. It sure made sense.
They was waiting there for me to get out, but just to be ornery I stuck around a little.
“Sure a sunny day,” I said.
Rosie, she caught me staring at her, and smiled. “I’d enjoy your business, Sheriff,” she said.
Well, I’d enjoy hers, no doubt about it. But right now there was this thing in my head. I wanted to find out whether Crayfish knew about them Jonas boys. In fact there was a heap of stuff I wanted to find out, and maybe I could worm a little out of Sammy Upward, even if he was some put out with me.
“I reckon I’ll let you get back to business,” I said.
Rosie, she winked at me, but Crayfish, he looked like he was just getting mad.
I sort of strolled slow to the door, not wanting them to think I was in any rush to get out of there, and at the door I turned for a last glance, and they was just staring at me. So I got out, and started looking for Plug Parsons to see what he knew about them brothers. He was still around Doubtful after all in spite of what Upward told me. But Plug wasn’t in the parlor house. I tried most every door, interrupting business here and there, but I never did find Plug. I thought he’d give me some straight answers on the Jonas brothers, and maybe he’d have a word or two for me about that other one King Bragg shot, the one called Rocco.
I got out of the parlor house and sucked in some fresh air. Too much perfume in that place. I headed for the Last Chance, hopin’ to find out a little more, and when I walked in, I knew I was real lucky, because standing at the bar and talking with Upward was Plug Parsons himself.
FOURTEEN
It couldn’t be better. There was Plug Parsons, the foreman, sipping red-eye along with Upward. Plug was the straw boss of the T-Bar, and also was one of the two witnesses that got hauled in to testify about the shooting.
Upward, he glanced at me like he was none too pleased to see me. But he gave me a fake smile.
“What’ll it be? Sarsaparilla?”
“Naw, Sammy, I’ll buy me a shot.”
“You must be off duty, eh?”
“I’m always on duty, Sammy.”
He set a glass in front of me and pushed the bottle toward me. It had been in front of Plug Parsons.
“Good to see you, Plug. Ain’t hardly seen you in town since the trial.”
Plug eyed me a moment, and then shrugged. “We’re here for the hanging,” he said.
I poured two fingers and sipped. That stuff, it was pure firewater, distilled maybe two weeks ago and left to cure maybe two days. That splash, it attacked my teeth, scraped my nostrils, sandpapered my throat, and needled me all over.
“Mighty fine,” I said. “Best sipping whiskey I’ve had in a while. Probably won some gold medals somewheres. Guess I’ll add a splash, Sammy.”
They smirked. Watering down the booze was a sign of being a sissy, but I didn’t care. Let them think I’m a sissy. It actually would give me an advantage if I needed one in a fight. I hardly had a hair on my chest neither. Not like Crayfish, who was the hairiest man I ever did see, with a mat of it all over his chest and arms and neck. I sure was glad I didn’t grow hair like that. Some fellers thought hairy men was meaner and harder than smooth men, but I never thought so. But I’m pretty smooth myself, and don’t need to scrape my face but once every two or three weeks. I like a little stubble anyhow just to keep the wind off my chops.
Upward, he added a little water while Plug got smirky.
