'Get your own.'
'I'm not going to drink it.' Before Longarm could protest, Carson had raised Longarm's arm up parallel to the floor. Before Longarm realized what was happening, Carson was filling up the bullet holes with the fiery high-proof whiskey. It was all Longarm could do to smother a scream that started low in his throat.
Longarm said through clenched teeth, 'Dammit! That hurts!'
'Well, it's better to smart a little bit now than to have to get me to cut your whole arm off when gangrene sets in.'
'Hell, we don't need to sell this stuff to saloons. We need to sell it to hospitals. That stuff would cure pneumonia.'
Frank Carson finished his work and sat down across from Longarm. He said, 'You probably ought to let it alone for a while and let it bleed. We'll splash some more whiskey on it later on.'
'What do you think happens now?' Longarm said. He flexed his arm several times, making sure it didn't stiffen up. 'You reckon they'll be taking a dim view of this matter?'
Frank Carson shrugged. He said, 'They're fair people. I know they look a little backward, but they're still fair. Old Asa knows what Mark tried to do. He tried to bushwack you, and he got himself killed in the process. He knows you were defending your life. He knows that Morton Colton should never have come here, and that this situation should never have happened. That's why he was trying to make peace. He knew it would go wrong if y'all got guns in your hands.'
'What do you reckon will happen now?' Longarm said.
Carson took a drink of his whiskey. 'Let me finish this, and I'll go over there and see what the weather is like. If you see me coming on the run, you'd better go out the back door.'
Longarm said dryly, 'There ain't no back door.'
Carson finished his whiskey and then stood up. 'Then you better make one.'
Longarm sat pondering the situation while he waited for Carson to return. It could be that the gunplay had blown up the whole investigation. He might likely be facing an armed party of Coltons or the old man might simply order him off his property. Longarm had no idea what was going to transpire. He felt a good deal of satisfaction about Morton Colton, but not so much as to what he had been forced to do to Mark.
After about a half hour, Longarm saw Frank Carson walking back from the house. He was carrying some long, white strips in his hand. Longarm figured they were torn-up sheets that he was going to use to bandage up his shoulder. He realized that he had been lucky in this whole process. If Sally hadn't screamed, Mark would have caught him with the full spread of the buckshot. He wouldn't have just been hit in the right shoulder. He would have caught the load all through his upper body and his head. Most likely, if he hadn't been badly wounded, he would have been killed.
Carson said, 'Brought some bandages to do you up proper. First, splash some whiskey on them wounds.'
'You mean you want me to do that to myself?'
'You ain't got the nerve for it?'
Longarm picked up the glass of whiskey and poured it onto his raw flesh. It still bit him so bad, he had to grit his teeth.
Carson pulled a chair up next to Longarm's side and began wrapping the bandages around his upper arm and over his shoulder. It was a difficult job, and he made clumsy work of it, but in the end he tied it off and pronounced it the best he could do.
Longarm asked, 'What about Mr. Colton? What did Asa have to say?'
Frank Carson shook his head slowly. He said, 'He didn't really say anything to me. He's coming over in about a half hour to have a talk with you. It'll just be him and John.'
'You reckon talk is all they have on their mind?'
'If they were going to do anything about it, they'd have already done it. There'd be bullets coming through these windows, making both of us dance.'
Longarm gave him a look. He said, 'Mr. Carson, I want you to understand, this is not your trouble. It's mine, and I think you'd be well advised to stay out of it.'
'Have no fear, Mr. Long. I intend to stay out of it.'
CHAPTER 10
Asa Colton came over to the cabin, accompanied by his son, John. His manner was grave and reserved and sad. He and Longarm sat on opposite sides of the little table, facing each other. Longarm said, 'Mr. Colton, I want you to know that I feel mighty bad about what-'
The old man held up a hand. 'Ain't no time for words about that now, Mr. Long. Saying sorry don't bring the past back. Mark wasn't much account, but he was my boy, and I want you to bear that in mind when I tell you what I have to tell you. There ain't nothing personal in it, and I don't hold no grudge again' you, but it's just got to be the way it's got to be. I can't let you marry my daughter Sally. Not after you killed her brother.'
Longarm found his role very difficult to play. He had never intended to marry Sally, but if he was what he had presented himself to be, he wouldn't lose her without some argument. He had to play his string out as the Arizona cattle and land businessman who was trying to get into the whiskey business. Two men, neither one of which was of much account, had forced him to kill them. He didn't feel a damned bit bad about it, and he had no intention of not going through with his job. He felt sorry for the sad-eyed old man sitting across from him, but that wasn't his responsibility. He had been forced to kill the old man's son. If Mark hadn't been out there with a shotgun trying to kill him, he wouldn't have gotten himself killed. Longarm felt sorry for Asa, but he was still going to do his job.
He said, 'Mr. Colton, that ain't fair. You and I both know that Mark was trying to kill me. You can't take Sally away from me on account of defending myself. Now, you let that snake Morton come in here and cause me trouble. It don't seem fitting that you would hold me to account for what he and Mark got up to. I never set out to kill nobody.'
