Carson barely smiled. He said, 'You'll think fucking in a swing is a piece of cake next to this business. Let's get some breakfast and get on the road.'
'You mean there's a road?'
'You know what I mean.'
They arrived at Asa Colton's place about mid-morning. It had not been far, but the meandering around through the cuts and draws and around the craggy little hills and avoiding places that Frank Carson advised were best to avoid had all taken time. It had taken them better than two hours to cover the six or seven miles. They rode into the big clearing to the tune of the baying of a pack of hounds located somewhere beyond the clump of buildings that was the settlement of the head of the Colton clan. Since the hounds didn't materialize, Longarm figured they were penned. He figured they were probably coon dogs, taken out at night to run coon or fox or maybe even bear. As they came into the clearing and stopped, Longarm heard a man yelling 'Hush!' at them and they quieted immediately.
Asa Colton's place was much like Salem's except it was a great deal bigger. The house was more log than it was rock and was more rock than it was lumber. It looked to Longarm that, at one time, it had been a big log cabin that had just grown from there. There were quite a number of outbuildings, barns, and sheds, and the like. From over the roof of the house, the air was thick with steam and smoke from what he reckoned to be fifteen or twenty stills all going at once.
As they sat their horses, waiting about fifty yards from the house, a man carrying a rifle came around the corner. He stopped and shaded his eyes, apparently recognizing Frank Carson. He made a motion, waving them in. Carson started his horse in, and Longarm followed. They rode up to the porch and dismounted. Carson introduced the man as John Colton, one of Asa's sons. He was a big, burly man that Longarm took to be in his late thirties. On the ride down, Carson had told him that Asa was a man in his mid-fifties and widowed. He had two sons, Mark and John, and one daughter, Sally, in her mid-twenties. He gave Longarm a look. He said, 'Now, the first thing you're going to want to do is get a-hold of Miss Sally. My advice is not to try that. Asa's almighty proud of that girl, and he's discouraged any number of suitors. It's going to take somebody that Asa thinks is highfalutin and proper enough to win Miss Sally's hand.'
Carson had said there were a number of cousins and nephews also around the place, as well as some distant relations that were treated pretty much like hired hands. He said, 'All told, I'd reckon there's twelve or fifteen able-bodied men, not counting Asa. There's a clutch of womenfolk, and in the number of years I've been coming here, I've never quite figured out who belongs to who. The best thing to do about the womenfolk is to keep your hands in your pockets.'
Longarm could see for himself a number of children running back and forth, skylarking and playing. He said, 'The old man just had the one daughter, Sally?'
Carson shook his head. He said, 'No, he's got two others, but they're married and moved off the Place. He's also got two other sons, but that Sally, she's going as a prize.'
Just then, John came up. Carson shook his hand and introduced him to Longarm. The man eyed Longarm suspiciously, but Longarm had the impression that was the way he looked at everybody.
John Colton said, 'Y'all better come on in the house. Daddy's sitting in the kitchen. We'll go in and get us a drink or maybe y'all would like some coffee?'
Longarm said quickly, 'I could really use a cup of good coffee.'
'Well, it's this way,' Colton said.
They opened the front door and went in. The house inside was much like Salem's. John Colton led them through the big living room and through a door and then into a kitchen that was bigger than most houses. A couple of black women were working at a stove. A woman in her thirties with stringy hair turned around, gave them a glance, and then went on back to her work. Longarm guessed her to be the wife of one of the brothers or one of the cousins or perhaps one of the nephews.
At the big, long table, a man who looked much older than his mid-fifties sat saucering and blowing a cup of coffee. He had a cud of tobacco in his mouth. Without giving them much more than a bare glance, he nodded at the chairs sitting around the table. He said, 'Sit.'
Longarm took a chair that put his back to the front wall of the kitchen. Carson and John Colton sat across from him. Longarm was on Asa Colton's right. The old man raised his eyes and looked at him for a long moment. He said, 'Who be you?'
Frank Carson spoke up. He said, 'Asa, this is a man I've known only a few days. I want you to understand that. He's no old friend of mine, and I can't give him no bona fides.' He went on to tell how Longarm had gotten mixed up with Morton Colton and how he, Frank Carson, had helped to get Longarm out of town. He said, 'Morton was going to use the law to get him. I didn't much like the odds in the fight, so I stepped in. Turns out, he's from Arizona. Used to be in the cattle business and the land business and the timber business but claims that has played out. Says he'd like to buy some raw whiskey and carry it back to Arizona and sell it for a profit. Lord knows, that place is dry enough. I was there once, and it was plenty dry.'
The old man had been studying Longarm's face while Carson was talking. He said, 'So you comed all the way over here in hopes we'd sell you some whiskey. Mister, we don't sell whiskey to just anybody, in case you didn't have that information.'
Longarm said, 'I was getting that impression in town, and I guess I would have gone on back to Arizona if your kinfolk, Morton Colton, hadn't interfered with my life. As it was, I didn't have but one way to run and that was with Frank, headed up here. Now that I'm here, I was wondering if there ain't some way you and I could do some business.'
The old man sat there staring. He had coal black eyes and he kept them fixed on Longarm. The deputy marshal avoided looking him in the eye and instead let his own wander around the kitchen. The two Negro cooks looked clean but fat. The white woman who was supervising them had stringy hair, a gaunt face, and bony limbs. While the two sons appeared well-fed and chunky, the old man didn't look like he had enough fat on him to grease a skillet. Apparently, it was the kind of country that was hell on women and old folks. Finally, Asa Colton said, 'You got money to buy whiskey?'
'I was told the least you would sell is two thousand gallons. Is that right?'
'Yep.'
Longarm said, 'I ain't got that kind of money on me. The price I was quoted, that comes to twenty-five hundred dollars. Now, if we were in Little Rock, I could get a bank in Colorado to wire the money in here to one of the banks
