Longarm noticed that her eyes kept returning to his freshly lighted cheroot. He asked, “My smoke bother you, ma’am?”
“No. Just the opposite. I’m wishing I could have one myself. That’s the kind I smoke. I stopped at the store as we passed through Eufaula, to buy some, but Eleazar said he’d sold out.” Her eyes widened and she added “Why, you must be the one who bought them! You’re the man who was with Belle and Sam yesterday!”
Longarm nodded. He said, “Yes. Too bad about your cousin. I guess the other fellow was a cousin of yours too?”
“Yes.” She shook her head. “It’s a little bit unnerving, two funerals in two days, and the long ride out here. Even if I didn’t know Frank except to nod to, and met Sam just once.”
Longarm took a cheroot from his vest pocket and offered it to her. “Maybe this’ll help settle your nerves, then.”
“Are you sure you won’t run short?”
“Take it, ma’am. I bought all the storekeeper had. If you want another one or two, I’ll be glad to-“
“No,” she broke in. “This will be fine. Thank you.” She looked at Longarm questioningly. “I’m Jessibee Vann.” She waited.
Longarm hesitated. It went against his grain to lie, and so far his deviousness with the gang at Belle’s hadn’t extended to outright lying. Rather, he’d just let them draw a lot of mistaken conclusions without correcting them. He didn’t relish being called “Windy,’ but the name had attached itself to him and he’d been contented to let it stand. Jessibee Vann deserved better, though, he thought.
“Around here I’m answering to a sort of nickname,” he told Jessibee. “But my name’s”—he hesitated for only a breath—“Custis.”
“I’m very grateful to you, Custis,” Jessibee said. “Both for drawing the water and for the cigar. Perhaps we’ll talk again before I leave tomorrow.”
“I’d like that, Jessibee,” Longarm said gravely.
“I’d better hurry back now,” she said. “They’ll be wanting this water to wash up with.”
Looking at Jessibee’s retreating form, Longarm tried to figure out whether she was full Cherokee or just part. She walked with an Indian’s upright posture and straight-pointed steps, but there was something about her that didn’t jibe with the idea that she was a full Indian.
He tried to recall what he’d heard, in bits and scraps during his wanderings, of Cherokee history. It seemed to him they’d been early to intermarry with white settlers, in their ancestral home in Georgia. And there had been some kind of split in the tribe a long time back that had brought part of them to settle along the Arkansas, even before the Cherokee Nation was carved out of the raw Western land. But that was years before Longarm’s time, and history had never been his long suit. It had always seemed silly to him to study the past, when the present had so many things to keep a fellow busy.
After spending a few minutes trying vainly to recall things he’d never really learned, Longarm gave up. The day was dropping down into evening, and he’d started early and worked harder than usual. He didn’t have much taste for going into the barn; in fact, he had a feeling that he’d find himself an outsider at a family gathering. He wandered down to his cabin, slipped off his boots, and poured a tot of his own Maryland rye into the glass that sat waiting beside the bottle on the table.
Longarm had long ago learned the wisdom of the old Indian axiom, “Never stand up when you can sit down; never sit down when you can lie down.” He stretched out on one of the narrow bunks and lighted yet another cheroot, realizing ruefully that he’d been smoking a hell of a lot of the things ever since Billy Vail had put him on the case. He figured it was probably due to the strain of maintaining his facade as the close-mouthed Windy. Vowing silently to quit as soon as he’d wrapped up this whole nasty affair, he turned his thoughts to the business at hand. Sam’s kin would be gone tomorrow and he’d need to think up some pretty convincing reasons to persuade Belle to join with the gang when the raid on the bank was staged. As the sun dropped into the bare little cabin, he noticed, not for the first time, that the pleasurable combination of his favorite liquor and tobacco had taken a few of the sharp edges off the world. He decided that maybe he’d been a mite hasty in his resolution to quit smoking. He’d definitely cut down, though—just as soon as he got back to Denver. Having thus appeased his conscience, he stubbed out the cigar and lay back. Then, after a bit, he dozed.
Longarm woke with a start and rolled from the bunk to his feet. He’d taken off his gunbelt and put it on the floor beside him. His hand moved as if by instinct to scoop up the Colt as he left the bunk. He was facing the door when a soft voice from the darkness said, “I hope I didn’t disturb you, Custis, but you said to ask you if I wanted another cigar.”
“Jessibee?” Longarm asked.
“I hope you weren’t expecting someone else. If you are, perhaps I’d better go.”
“No, no!” he said hastily. “I wasn’t looking for anybody at all. And if it’s a cigar you’ve come for, I’ve got plenty. Wait, I’ll light the lamp.”
“Don’t,” she said. “The moon’s just behind a cloud right now. We’ll have all the light we need in a few minutes.”
“If you say so. Wait, though. I’ll guide you in and get you sat down. That is, if you’ve got time to visit a spell.”
“I’m not in any hurry, Custis.”
Longarm groped his way to the door, and extended a hand. He found her arm, warm and soft, and led her to the table, put her hand on one of the chairs beside it, and sat down himself in the other.
He said, “You sort of took me by surprise. But if you’ve come for a cigar-” He took two cheroots from his vest pocket and handed one of them to her. “Now shield your eyes so the match won’t blind you so bad, and I’ll light it for you.”
Longarm took his own advice and closed his eyes until the first white flare of the match had subsided. He cupped the match in his hands and leaned toward her. Jessibee was just opening her eyes. They danced in the flickering of the flame as she puffed her cheroot into light. He lighted his own and blew out the match. The glow of the two cigars gave the little cabin a sort of radiance, a faint glow that was saved from being ghostly by its pinkish
