Scratch’s eyes narrowed. “You sound like you’re a mite sweet on her, Rushford.”
The saloon keeper chuckled. “Well, can you blame me? I’m not sure she’d ever have anything to do with an old reprobate like me, but I’ve been thinking lately that I ought to find out for sure.”
“I don’t know that I’d advise that—” Scratch began, but Bo interrupted him.
“Lucinda’s a grown woman. I’m sure she can make up her own mind about such things.”
“That’s what I thought,” Rushford said. He took out a cigar, lit it, and then sauntered back through the batwings into the saloon.
In a low voice, Scratch said, “Dadgummit, you know Lucinda can do better than a saloon man, Bo.”
“Yeah, like some old mossback of a fiddlefooted Texan,” Bo said with a grin. “We’ll be moving on one of these days. Rushford looks like he’s going to be here for a while. Maybe from now on.”
“Yeah, yeah, I reckon you’re right about that,” Scratch said grudgingly. “And you’re right about it bein’ up to her, too. But that don’t mean I’m givin’ up.”
“Never thought you would,” Bo said.
The candidates began to show up. Wallace Kane and Harlan Green were first, followed shortly thereafter by Sam Bradfield.
“Doc Weathers will be here in a little while,” the undertaker reported with a grin. “He’s got a baby he’s delivering at the moment.”
“That’s a heap more important than speechifyin’,” Scratch said.
Colonel Horace Macauley was the next one to join them at the steps leading up to the back of the speakers’ platform. The elderly lawyer was even more of a dandy than usual this evening, sporting a fancy vest and a silk cravat with a big diamond stickpin in it.
“I see that Mrs. Bonner isn’t here yet,” he commented. “No doubt like any woman, she wants to make an impressive entrance.”
“It hasn’t been long since she closed up the cafe,” Bo pointed out. “I imagine she just had a lot to do.”
Dr. Weathers showed up a few minutes later, passing around cigars bestowed on him by the proud new father of the baby he’d just delivered. “Mother and infant are doing fine,” he said in response to a question. “Mankiller has a new citizen this evening, a fine, healthy baby boy.”
That just left Lucinda, Bo thought as he slipped his watch out of his pocket and opened it. Almost eight o’clock, and there were at least three hundred people gathered in the street, waiting to hear what the candidates had to say.
A stirring in the crowd made him glance up. He snapped his watch closed and put it away as he saw Lucinda making her way across the street, with her daughters Callie and Tess following her. All three women wore simple gowns that they made look expensive and elegant. They looked lovely.
Someone began applauding, and a cheer suddenly went up to greet them. By the time the three women reached the back of the platform, Lucinda was blushing furiously.
“I’m not sure I can go through with this,” she said.
“Sure you can,” Scratch told her. “I got all the faith in the world in you, Lucinda.”
“So do I,” Bo added.
“We need to discuss the order in which we’ll speak,” Colonel Macauley said. “Why don’t I go first? I’m accustomed to speaking in court, so I can make a few opening remarks, then introduce the rest of us in turn.”
“That sounds good to me,” Wallace Kane said. “I don’t think it matters which order the rest of us go in, except that Mrs. Bonner needs to speak last, since she’s running for mayor.”
Bo wasn’t sure that was a good idea, since it would give Lucinda even more time for her nerves to act up, but the others all quickly agreed with Kane’s proposal.
Chairs had been set up on the platform, three on each side of a pulpit borrowed from the First (and only) Baptist Church. Macauley went up the stairs with a sprightly step and positioned himself behind the pulpit, raising his hands for silence as more cheers and applause came from the crowd. He let the noise go on for a minute, then motioned for quiet again. This time he got it.
“I guess we’re actually going through with this,” Lucinda whispered to Bo and Scratch.
“Yes, ma’am,” Scratch said. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Bo and me will be keepin’ an eye out for trouble.”
The Texans split up, going to either end of the platform as Colonel Macauley began his remarks in a booming voice that carried easily, having been trained in courtroom oratory.
“My friends and fellow citizens of Mankiller! I have unexpected but splendid news to report to you this evening! Our respected and beloved physician, Dr. Jason Weathers, has just told me that we have a newcomer among us this evening! A fine, healthy baby boy was added to our population a short time ago! Let’s hear it for the lad!”
That brought on a new round of whooping, hollering, and clapping. When it died away, Macauley continued, “Yes, a new baby was born in Mankiller today, which is always a cause for rejoicing!” The colonel poked a finger in the air dramatically. “But ask yourselves this question, my friends, for it holds tremendous importance! Ask yourselves…
The intensity of that question made the crowd remain silent. Macauley allowed that moment to stretch out for several seconds, then thundered, “Will that child grow up in a town ruled by gun and knife and fist? Will he grow up fearing for his very life because Mankiller is ruled by bloody-handed barbarians who utilize threats and intimidation and violence…even murder…to enforce their greedy, corrupt tyranny?” The colonel’s nostrils flared above his sweeping mustache as he drew in a deep breath. “Or will that child come to manhood in a community where law and order is the rule of the day, where justice is served, where people are free from the threat of wanton brutality? Think hard on each and every one of those questions, my friends, because the answers to them can be found in only
