that there's two bags of sugar in the whole damn territory.'
'You ain't got no Treasury agents?'
Longarm shook his head. 'No work for them.' He paused, wondering whether he should say what was on his mind. He decided to chance it. 'I understand you've got a couple of tame ones around here. I understand y'all get along pretty well.'
The old man narrowed his eyes again. 'That's what we keep Morton for, that's his part of the affair. He's supposed to tend to that business. The rest of us don't like that kind of work. Besides, it keeps Morton out of here, and I don't have to see him more than once a month, if then.'
Longarm said, 'Well, how come you're having to think about selling me whiskey? Why don't you just go ahead and do it?'
The old man said, 'Well, it ain't none of your business as to why I don't want to sell you whiskey or why I might be willing to sell you whiskey. The fact is, I don't sell to just anybody. I make the best damned whiskey in Arkansas, and I'm mighty particular who gets their hands on it. You understand that? I don't know you, young man. I don't know you from Adam's off ox. You ain't some kind of outlaw, are ya?'
Longarm laughed in spite of himself. He said, 'No sir. I think I can honestly say that I ain't any kind of outlaw.'
Colton said, 'I don't hold with outlawry. I don't hold with stealin' and robbin'. I'm again' it. Now, killin', sometimes it can't be got around. I don't hold with no careless or reckless killin', though. That was one of the things that got me down on Morton. He got down to where he liked it. Now, if killin's got to be done for family reasons or business reasons, I can understand that, but I won't hold with just careless killin'.'
Longarm shook his head and tried to look solemn. He said, 'No sir, Mr. Colton. I can assure you, I ain't never killed nobody carelessly.'
The old man took it all in thoughtfully. Finally he nodded. He said, 'We'll see.' He finished the rest of his whiskey in one gulp and then got up from the table. He said again, 'We'll see.' Then he walked off without a word.
CHAPTER 7
That night, Longarm sat in the cabin, wondering if Sally would slip in to see him. He desperately hoped that she wouldn't. He was fairly certain that he was being watched. How they had gotten away with that afternoon, he wasn't certain, but he had an idea that it would be pretty difficult for her to get into the cabin without being seen. It had bothered him that she hadn't shown up for supper that evening. Perhaps it didn't mean anything. Perhaps she didn't always come to supper. Perhaps she wasn't hungry. Perhaps it had nothing whatsoever to do with him. He knew he was jumpy and nervous and was probably reading more into the situation than was there, but he was in the midst of a dozen armed men, each one probably more ruthless than the next, and all he had for defense was a revolver with six slugs in it and a wall to put his back against. It wasn't a very advantageous position.
He wished that Frank Carson would hurry back. He did not know the man, and he did not necessarily count him as an ally. For all he knew, if Carson discovered what he was, he would probably lead the attack on him, but at least Carson talked, and at least he seemed to have a sense of humor. And they both agreed on how foul the green whiskey tasted. Longarm could see how very easily the potent, raw whiskey could be cut and then cut again before being aged for a time and turned into a very potable drink. There was a lot of money to be made off such a raw product, and he imagined that there were a lot of folks up in the East and other areas making a good deal of money off the corn squeezings coming out of the Colton clan.
Longarm finished the cigarillo he had been smoking and took one last sip of the watered whiskey he had been drinking. He thought longingly of the bottles of Maryland whiskey that were in his room and then began preparations for turning in. There was no lock on the door or on the windows. The only night watchman he had was himself. Fortunately, he was a very light sleeper. When he had undressed down to his skin, he slipped into the covers, his revolver handy under his pillow. He normally didn't take such risks. He knew of a man who had shot his ear off one time keeping his revolver under his pillow, but to Longarm, these were dangerous times, and they called for dangerous methods. Finally, when he could, he slipped into a light, fitful sleep, dreaming half about whiskey and half about Sally.
The next morning at breakfast, the old man told Longarm that he would be willing to sell him some whiskey. He said, 'You calculate that you be after two thousand gallons? I hear word is that you already got the price from Salem. He rode over when you wasn't looking and said it was all right with him. He'll be the one taking over most likely after I pass on.'
Longarm was eating ham and eggs and biscuits. Sally was sitting across the table from him. He saw a faint smile flick across her face; he halfway suspected that he had something to do with it. He gave her the barest of winks. John and Mark, however, were glowering at him. It seemed that they never did anything but give him hard looks--no words, just hard looks.
Longarm said to the old man, 'Well, I'm much obliged, Mr. Colton. I'd have hated to have come all this way and gone home with an empty wagon.'
The old man said, 'It ain't all as easy as you think. There's considerable work left to do. We've got more than a few orders to fill and damned little time to do them in. Mark has got a couple of boxcars ordered for three days from now. That means we got to get high behind getting this whiskey packed up and loaded onto them dray wagons so we can haul it to that railroad siding.'
Longarm said, 'Mr. Colton, where exactly is that railroad siding?'
From the other end of the table, Mark said with hardness in his voice, 'There ain't no call for you to know that. You'll know when you get there.'
Longarm gave him a mild look. 'I was just asking, Mark.'
'Who in the hell said you could call me by my given name?'
Longarm shrugged. He said, 'All right, I won't. But if I say Mr. Colton, there's about four or five of you that could answer. What do you want me to call you? I know what I'd like to call you.'
Mark Colton's face flamed. He half rose out of his chair. He said, 'You might better be explainin' what you meant by that.'
'I ain't in a mood to explain anything to you. Take it for whatever you want--whatever it's worth,' said Longarm.
