By the time the election was only a day away, though, more people were saying that it might be better to vote for the Deverys. The excuse they gave was that Jackson Devery and his family had founded the town, after all, and so shouldn’t they be the ones to run it?
Bo didn’t believe for a second that people really felt that way. They were just afraid of what could happen if the Deverys lost. Mankiller might become a gun-blazing battlefield. Some of the citizens declared their intention to not even vote and advised their neighbors to do the same. That way, if anything bad happened, it wouldn’t be their fault.
Bo overheard so many conversations like that that he began to grow disgusted. It would serve those folks right, he thought, if the election were called off and he and Scratch just rode away and left the town gripped in the iron fist of Jackson Devery. Biscuits O’Brien would be happy if that happened. He could go back to drinking himself to death.
But Bo knew that he and Scratch wouldn’t abandon the town. They had made too many friends here in Mankiller, among them Lucinda Bonner. She had been deftly fending off Scratch’s romantic overtures, and Bo didn’t blame her for that. She had more than enough on her plate right now as it was. He felt sort of sorry for his friend, though. Scratch was a hopeless romantic and always would be, and any time a woman didn’t return his affections, he honestly couldn’t understand it.
The rally was still scheduled for that night. The speakers’ platform had been erected in front of the Colorado Palace Saloon, and the red-white-and-blue bunting was draped from the balcony railing. Bo was worried that the Deverys would do something to try to disrupt the speeches, but there was no way to protect against that ahead of time. They would just have to wait and see what happened and deal with it then.
Late that afternoon, the Texans dropped in at the cafe to see how Lucinda was doing. She was working behind the counter as usual, but she seemed nervous.
“I don’t know how in the world I got talked into this,” she said with a little laugh as she poured coffee for Bo and Scratch. “I never made a speech in my life, and at my age I’ve got no business starting now.”
“What do you mean, at your age?” Scratch asked. “A beautiful woman is eternally young, Lucinda, and you certainly qualify.”
“I don’t need any flattery right now, Scratch Morton,” she told him sternly. Then her expression softened and she added, “But I appreciate it, anyway.” She looked at Bo. “What time is all this silly hoopla supposed to start?”
“Around eight o’clock, as soon as it gets dark,” Bo said. “You know that, Lucinda. You helped work out the time.”
“Oh, I suppose I did. I’m so flustered I just can’t remember anything right now.”
“You’re going to do just fine,” Bo told her. “Remember, folks in this town like you and want to see you win.”
“Some of them do. The girls and I have heard a lot of people say that they’re voting for the Deverys.”
Bo couldn’t deny that, since he’d heard the same thing. So he just shrugged and said, “When it’s over, we’ll count up the votes and see what the outcome is. That’s the way it’s supposed to work.”
Lucinda planned to close the cafe early to give her time to prepare for the rally. She shooed everybody out a short time later, including the Texans. They went back to the sheriff’s office.
“You’re going to have to continue keeping an eye on things, Biscuits,” Bo told the sheriff. “Scratch and I will be making sure that nobody causes any trouble at the rally.”
Biscuits nodded. “I know. I’ve gotten used to it. I reckon if I was gonna be a real lawman, I’d be best as a jailer. I seem to be able to handle that job.”
“You are a real lawman,” Scratch said, “and you can handle whatever it is you need to handle. Why, it’s been a week since you took a drink.”
“Yeah, and it’s been one hell of a year.”
“I said a week.”
“I know what you said,” Biscuits replied, “and I know what it feels like.” He held out his hand, palm down. It still trembled a little, but not nearly as much as it had been a few days earlier. “Look at that. It hasn’t been long since that thing would bounce around like it was full of Mexican jumpin’ beans.”
“Pretty impressive,” Bo agreed. “We’re proud of you, Biscuits.”
The sheriff grunted. “Better wait until I’ve actually done somethin’ worth it before you’re proud of me.”
“Reckon we’ll be the judge of that,” Scratch said.
A crowd began to gather in the street as twilight settled over the town. A feeling of celebration was in the air, sort of like Fourth of July. Bo hoped that no kids would start setting off firecrackers. The popping scared horses and could be mistaken for gunfire, which might prompt some trigger-happy hombre to slap leather himself.
Carrying Winchesters, Bo and Scratch walked over to the saloon and took up positions on its porch. From there they could see the townspeople in front of them in the street. Bo glanced up the hill at the Devery house. It squatted there silently, a couple of windows glowing with lamplight so that they looked like the eyes of a malevolent frog.
Lyle Rushford came out onto the porch and hooked his thumbs in his vest. “Looks like we’re going to have quite a turnout,” he said.
“Close to half the town’s here already,” Scratch said, “and quite a few of the miners have come in from the hills, even though they can’t vote in the election. Can’t blame ’em for bein’ interested in how it all turns out, though. What happens here in town has an effect on them, too.”
“Have you spoken to Mrs. Bonner lately? I know she was nervous about making a speech tonight.”
“She still is,” Bo said. “I’m sure she’ll do fine, though.”
“Of course she will. Lucinda Bonner is a very intelligent and decent woman, in addition to being undeniably lovely.”
