sound…”
Pretty soon Mayor Waller and half them businessmen in Doubtful was singing right along with her. It sure made the place seem holy, and put just the right mood on them when they took advantage of the half-price happy hour girls. I’d heard tell Mayor Waller sometimes performed temporary weddings, because sometimes a feller came in there that just wanted to be married for half an hour or so, so the mayor would do the ceremony and Big Lulu would play the wedding music, and off the feller would go with the gal, and everyone would be happy.
I got a couple of tumblers of red-eye and headed over to Carter Bell, who was sitting in that dark corner looking real blue.
“Maybe this’ll cheer you up, Carter,” I said. “I saw you sitting here looking like things ain’t so good, so I come along with a little liquid comfort.”
He eyed me with a faint smile. “I could use it,” he said, and swiftly drank the whole tumbler. That must have been a red-hot volcano going down, because the red-eye hadn’t been aged for more than a few weeks. But he just belched and patted his mouth. He was real genteel that way, not like the usual cowboy. I heard tell once he even used talcum powder on his cheeks after he shaved. I sure don’t know what a feller like that was doing around Doubtful, but there’s all sorts of strange types floating around.
“I’m pretty blue myself,” I said, “having to hang a feller in the morning.”
“Well, he earned it,” Bell said.
“Guess he did. Either that or he deserved a medal for bumping off some miserable specimens—like Rocco.”
“Rocco…yeah, he deserved it all right, trying to double-cross Mr. Ruble.”
“That’s what I heard,” I said. “Sure was fortunate for Crayfish that the Bragg boy come along and kilt off Rocco.”
“Just between you and me…,” he said, and then quit. He wasn’t gonna spill any beans if he could help it.
“Big Lulu says you’ve got Rocco’s job,” I said, fishing a little.
“Five-dollar raise and bring him women whenever he wants one. Yeah, I got the job even if I didn’t want it. That’s how he is. You do what he says.”
“You could always pack up and vamoose,” I said.
He stared hard at me. “Maybe I should. Sooner or later Crayfish…”
His voice trailed off again, and I felt like I was so near to something important that I could hardly stand it. But it just didn’t happen. Carter Bell, drunk or not, wasn’t going to spill his guts to the sheriff. He wasn’t going to say what happened that afternoon when they lured the Bragg boy in, knocked him flat, and someone, probably Crayfish himself, made use of the boy’s gun and then stuck it in the boy’s hand.
“You know what, Carter? My friend the judge, Nippers himself, really enjoyed that trial, and keeps askin’ about all the witnesses and how they’re doing. You want to share some real good bourbon with him? It ain’t red-eye. It’s good Kentucky. He’s a real good drinker, and likes company.”
“What are you talking about, Sheriff?”
“Old Nippers, he sure enjoyed that trial. He’d sure enjoy a little palaver with you.”
“I’m not inclined to drink with a judge, Sheriff. I’m not in that class of people.”
“No, not drink. Swap a few stories, tell a few yarns. I bet you could tell him some dandies.”
“Well, I could,” he said. He eyed me. “Lead the way. I don’t know if I’ll stay there. I’ve got a few stories to tell him, and I’ll just see what he thinks of some cowboy.”
I steered him out of the parlor, and got me a grateful nod from Big Lulu, who was plenty happy to see Bell out of her place, with no damage done.
She started in on “Onward, Christian Soldiers” as we slid outside. The shadows were growing long, and that kid was lighting her red lamp that hung on a bracket at the door.
“Is there something here I’m not figuring out?” Bell asked.
“If there is, I wish someone would tell it to me,” I said. “Nippers is the stubbornest mule in Doubtful, and when he believes something, there’s no way to shake him loose of it. He always said your testimony and Plug Parsons’ testimony was what put the noose on King Bragg.”
Bell wasn’t talking anymore, but neither did he quit me, so we hiked up Wyoming Street, toward the courthouse square. Nippers would be in; in fact, he’d be there all night, hoping as much as I was hoping that someone would give him a reason to call off the necktie party. Maybe Carter Bell would give him a reason. But it wouldn’t happen if the Sheriff of Puma County was hanging around listening to the pair of them drink and talk.
I steered Bell up the stairs and down a dark hallway to a lamplit open door. Just as I figured, there was old Axel Nippers in his swivel chair, about half asleep. He wouldn’t sleep this night any more than I would, and he wouldn’t budge from his office through the endless night.
“Ah!” He came awake. “You, is it? What you got for me, eh?”
“This here’s Carter Bell, Judge.”
“Of course it is. How could it be anyone else? Pickens, there are times when I wonder about you.”
I sure didn’t know what to say to that. “I wonder about me too, Your Honor.”
He motioned to Bell. “Pull up that stool and have a nip with me.”
Bell, he sort of eyed me, but he did it.
“The judge has the best Kentucky in the Territory,” I said.
Nippers handed Bell his slender bottle, and Bell took a nip.
