CHAPTER 20
Biscuits stubbornly refused to eat anything, but he did finally come out of the back room after Lucinda was gone and accept a cup of coffee. As he sat down at the desk to sip the strong black brew, he said with a bleak frown, “You know Devery’s gonna kill all of us, don’t you?”
“He might try,” Scratch said. “That don’t mean he’ll succeed.”
Biscuits shook his head. “I still don’t see why you’re doin’ this. What do you hope to gain from it?”
“They stole our horses and all our gear,” Bo said. “We have to do something about that.”
“So you’re gonna try to take their town away from them?”
Scratch smiled. “Somethin’ like that.”
“Plus it’s just the right thing to do,” Bo added. “Folks around here deserve better than to have the Deverys taking advantage of them. There’s a good chance they’ve gotten away with murder more than once, and that just can’t stand.”
“People get away with murder all the time,” Biscuits said. “You gonna clean up the whole world, Creel?”
“Nope,” Bo said. “Just this little corner of it.”
Biscuits sighed. “You’ve put me in a hell of a bind. Devery’s not gonna trust me now.”
“He never trusted you. If he did, he wouldn’t have tried to keep you drunk all the time by slipping you extra money for whiskey.”
At the mention of drinking, Biscuits’s tongue came out of his mouth and licked nervously over his lips. “Just a taste?” he asked. “Just one damned taste?”
“Not yet,” Bo said. “You need to be away from the stuff for a while before you try to handle it again. You may not be able to, even then.”
“You’re meaner’n a damn Comanche.”
“You’ll thank me later,” Bo said.
“Don’t count on it.”
It was time for Bo and Scratch to make the morning rounds, but before they left, they searched the sheriff’s office for more bottles of whiskey that Biscuits might have stashed here and there. They found several, and Scratch gathered them up in his arms as the Texans prepared to leave.
“What’re you gonna do with that stuff?” Biscuits asked. A pathetic whine came into his voice. “I paid for it with my own money. I need it. You got no right to steal it like this.”
“We’re not stealing it,” Bo said. “We’re just keeping it for you, for the time being. Maybe you’ll get it back sometime.”
“I’m your boss, you know,” Biscuits blustered. “I give the orders around here, not you.”
“If you have any orders concerning the law business, you go right ahead and tell us what they are. But we’re taking this booze away because we’re your friends, not your deputies.”
“I don’t remember askin’ you to be my friends, damn it!”
“Well,” Bo said, “sometimes friendship is forced upon us.”
Biscuits slumped back in the chair and shook his head miserably. “Go on. Get out. And if you really want to do me a favor, get on your horses and ride out of Mankiller and don’t ever come back!”
Scratch looked at Bo. “That reminds me. We’d best go talk to Edgar and make sure he got our horses back from his brother.”
“Good idea,” Bo said with a nod. To Biscuits, he added, “If the prisoners get restless, you can tell them that we’ll bring back some breakfast for them in a little while.”
Biscuits didn’t look up. He just waved a trembling hand to acknowledge that he heard.
Once they were in the street and out of earshot, Scratch said, “You know, it’s fixin’ to get a lot worse for that gent. He’ll be sicker the longer he’s without his tonic.”
Bo nodded. “I know. I wish one of those cells was empty. It would be better if we could just lock him up until he’s over the worst of it. Unless we stay there and watch him every minute of the time, he can slip out and find something to drink. We may not be able to help him at all.”
“But we can try, is that it?”
“I reckon it’s worth it to try,” Bo said. He nodded toward the whiskey bottles in Scratch’s arms. “What are you going to do with those?”
“Thought we might take ’em over to the hotel and see if Harlan’d lock ’em up in his safe for us,” Scratch said with a smile. “They’re valuables. At least, ol’ Biscuits thinks they are.”
“That’s a good idea. Come on.”
They went along the street to the Rocky Mountain Hotel, where Harlan Green was surprised but willing to lock up the whiskey for them.
“First time I’ve ever had bottles in my safe, I think,” he commented. “I’m not supposed to give these back to Sheriff O’Brien, is that it?”
“He shouldn’t even know that you have them, but if he comes asking about them, just deny knowing anything,” Bo said. “We’ll take the responsibility.”
Green nodded. “Fine.” He paused. “You know, after the attempt on Deputy Morton’s life, last night was about as quiet as any we’ve had around here for a while. I think maybe the two of you have gotten the town so shaken up
