“Yes, and if he has his way now, he’ll put his brand on General Garrison’s railroad,” Prentiss added.
“Knowing the general, I think that may be a bit bigger project than Clinton can handle,” Calhoun said.
“It just might be,” Falcon said.
Calhoun studied Falcon for a long moment, then he laughed. “I’ll be damned, Falcon, I just figured out why you are here. You were with the general durin’ the war, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was with him for a while,” Falcon agreed.
“I thought as much. The general brought you out here, didn’t he?”
Falcon paused for a moment, recalling Garrison’s suggestion that he not tell anyone. But he knew it would be impossible to maintain that facade, so he just took a deep breath and answered truthfully.
“Yes, I got a letter from the general asking me if I would come.”
Calhoun nodded. “Good, good. The general is a good man, he needs somebody like you on his side.”
“You’re on his side,” Falcon replied.
“Yeah, I’m on his side. But only to the edge of town,” Calhoun said. He sighed. “Unfortunately, that’s as far as my jurisdiction goes.”
“Wait until the next election, Titus,” Corey said. “You’ll be the sheriff then.”
Calhoun chuckled. “I don’t know, I didn’t do all that well in the last election.”
“We’ve learned a few things since then,” Prentiss said.
“I appreciate your support,” Calhoun said. “But now, I guess I’d better get on down to the jail before my prisoner wakes up.”
“Good night, Marshal, thanks for responding so fast,” Corey said.
Calhoun nodded without answering, then pushed outside into the darkness.
“There goes a good man,” Prentiss said. “I don’t know where this town would be without him.”
“We would be run over roughshod by Sheriff Belmond more’n likely,” Corey replied.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, Billy Clinton came into town driving a buckboard. He stopped in front of the general store where Carl Moore, the proprietor, was sweeping off the store’s front porch.
“Mr. Moore, have you seen my brother Cletus?” Billy asked.
“Not since yesterday, Billy,” Moore answered.
“Do you mind if I leave the buckboard parked here until I find him?”
“No, sir, I don’t mind a bit,” Moore said.
“Thanks.”
Climbing down from the buckboard, Billy started up the walk toward Little Man Lambert’s Cafe. If Cletus was still in town, like as not he would be having breakfast, and given that the Calhoun brothers owned the Vermillion, it wasn’t very likely he would be there. And even if Cletus wasn’t in town, Billy was hungry, so Little Man’s was as good a place as any to start looking for him.
“Mornin’, Billy,” someone said as he passed Billy on the board sidewalk.
“Good mornin’, Mr. Clark,” Billy replied. “Say, have you seen my brother this morning?”
Clark shook his head. “Haven’t seen him this morning, but I saw him at the Golden Nugget last night. He was feeling pretty good, if you know what I mean.”
“Drunk?”
“Yes.”
“Did he get into any trouble?”
“Well, now, that I can’t tell you,” Clark said. “Seein’ as I didn’t stay too much longer after he got there. He wasn’t in no trouble last time I seen him, though.”
“Thanks, Mr. Clark.”
Billy left the sidewalk and crossed the dirt street, picking his way gingerly through the horse droppings. He pushed the door open at Little Man’s, and saw Cletus sitting at a table in the back.
Billy gasped. Both Cletus’s eyes were black and his nose was purple and swollen. He was also so drunk that it was all he could do to hold his head up.
Billy walked back to the table and sat down.
“What happened to you?” he asked.
“What do you mean, what happened to me?” Cletus asked.
“Your eyes are all black.”
“They are?” Cletus touched himself between his eyes and winced in pain. “Damn,” he said. “That hurts.”
