“Oh, there ain’t a thing wrong with your liquor, if a man relishes corn whiskey. Just happens I’ve got a taste for rye.”
“Have what you choose,” she said curtly. “I don’t give a damn.”
Not wanting to offend her further by bringing his bottle of rye into the house, Longarm had a sip in the barn, lighted a fresh cheroot, and had a second sip before going back. Yazoo was there, and relatively sober. His eyes were rheumy, but his speech was plain and unslurred by liquor.
The old man nodded. “Morning, Windy. I hear things got sorta roiled up again down here last night.”
“A little bit,” Longarm agreed. “Maybe that’ll be the last of it, though.”
“It better be the last of it!” Belle said. Her voice was sharp with anger. “I don’t want Younger’s Bend getting a reputation as a place where people go to die!” She stamped into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
“Belle gets that way now and again,” Yazoo chuckled. He saw the whiskey bottle; there was only a half- inch of liquor left in it. “Just what I need to tide me over until breakfast.” He tilted the bottle and drained it.
“You make pretty fair moonshine up at your stillhouse, Yazoo,” Longarm observed. “Turn out a lot for sale, I guess, besides what Sam and Belle use around the place here—them and Belle’s guests?”
“Three barrels a week,” Yazoo boasted. “Got customers coming to get it from as far off as Shawnee and Pawhuska and Talequah and Talihini, and a lot from Fort Smith. Yessir! Belle’s got a real good business going here!”
“It’s a wonder the feds don’t come after you,” Longarm said. “At your age, I’d hate to face up to going to the pen.”
“Shit!” Yazoo spat. “I been turning out moonshine for a long spell, Windy, and I never spent a day in the pen for making it. Closest I come was one time up in Wyoming Territory. Had me a big still up on Horse Creek between Cheyenne and Laramie, and got hauled in. Didn’t do time, though. Judge let me go. I figured he’d drank the evidence, from the way he looked.”
Something clicked in Longarm’s memory. Now he recalled where he’d seen Yazoo before. He’d been waiting in federal court to give evidence in another case when the old man—younger, then, and looking a lot different—had gone on trial.
To get Yazoo’s mind off his story, he said quickly, “I looked for you to be drawn down here to the house last night, what with all the ruckus that was being raised.”
“I didn’t hear a bit of it,” Yazoo said. “Slept the night through like a baby.” He looked at the empty bottle that he still held. “I guess while I’m waiting for Sam to fix breakfast, I’ll go back up and bring down a few more bottles for the house. Walk along with me, if you want a look at my still.”
“No. No, thanks, Yazoo. I done all my running around last night.”
“Suit yourself.” Yazoo shook his head. “Damn me, every time I talk to you, Windy, it almost comes back to me where I run into you afore. I’ll recall, one of these days.”
Yazoo ambled out the door and headed for the stillhouse. Longarm felt like sighing with relief. He’d had a nervous moment when he realized that Yazoo’s memory of his old arrest might be all that was needed to remind him of the time when his track and Longarm’s had crossed before. He was almost glad to see Starr and Floyd come in. Starr went directly to the stove and began clattering pots and pans in preparation for cooking breakfast. Floyd picked up the empty whiskey bottle and stood looking at it for a moment, then he turned to Longarm, scowling.
“Damn you, Windy! You guzzled the last of the moonshine, and I was saving that drink for when I got back from carrying Taylor up the hill!”
Floyd drew back the hand holding the bottle, and was just about to throw it into the corner of the room when Belle came in.
“don’t do that, Floyd.” Her voice was low, but it had the lash of a whip in it.
Floyd lowered the hand holding the bottle. “Windy got the drink I was saving for myself!” he complained.
“No, he didn’t,” Belle said. “Windy told me he doesn’t especially like corn whiskey. He went out to the barn and had a drink from his own bottle of rye.”
“You don’t say! I guess you followed him and watched, since you’re so damn certain?”
“I didn’t have to. I heard Yazoo talking in here a few minutes ago. And I don’t want you to sass me anymore, Floyd. Just remember who you’re talking to from now on.”
Starr paid no attention to the exchange between Belle and Floyd. He brought a pan of water to the table and began scrubbing away the bloodstains left by Taylor.
Longarm said, “Yazoo’ll be back in a few minutes. He went up to get some more whiskey. You won’t have to wait long for your drink, Floyd.”
“Thanks for nothing,” Floyd snapped.
Belle stamped her foot. “Another thing, Floyd. I want you to stop trying to pick a fight with Windy. He’s been holding back, I can tell that, to keep from arguing with you. Now, I want you two to get along together, Floyd. Remember, you’re going to need somebody to take Mckee’s and Taylor’s places if you expect to pull off that job we’ve been working up.”
“Oh, now hold up a minute, Belle! You don’t expect me to take Windy in on that! Not after he killed Mckee!”
“It was a fair shootout,” Belle said. “And I told you right after it happened that it wasn’t any of your affair what kind of grudge there was between Mckee and Windy.”
“It sticks in my craw, just the same,” Floyd protested. “Anyhow, I thought it was all settled for you and Sam to fill in for Mckee and Taylor.”
