down.
Finally Longarm could see a light coming to the door from inside the house. The door opened and a Negro man stood there holding a kerosene lantern in his hand. He raised it until he could see their faces. He said, “What you gennel’mens be wantin’?”
Longarm said, “I’m Deputy U.S. Marshal Custis Long. I’d like to see Mister Dalton Diver. This is an official call.”
The servant said, “Why bless you, suh, he be right glad to see you. Ain’t had no company all day an’ he in heah drinkin’ whiskey by hisself and jus’ wishin’ fo’ some company, don’t you know. You jes’ step on down an’ I take you straight in to him. He in de parloah.”
Dalton Diver was a ruddy-complexioned man of medium height and weight, though Longarm noted as he got up to greet them that he had powerful-looking shoulders and arms. The top of his head was bald, with just a fringe of light brown hair mixed with gray encircling the rest of his head. He got up from a big leather easy chair to greet them as the servant showed them into the room. There was a small fire burning in a big fireplace, even though the night was not really chilly enough to warrant one.
Diver came forward with his hand outstretched. He was wearing a linen shirt with the collar open and a serge vest and serge pants. His black plantation boots were highly polished, and the chain that hung down from his vest watch fob was gold and heavy. He said in a hearty, welcoming voice, “Come right in, men. Did I hear one of y’all say you was a U.S. marshal?”
Longarm figured him to be five feet nine, maybe ten, shorter than himself. He said, “Yessir, Mister Diver, you did. But it’s deputy marshal for both of us. My name is Custis Long and this is, uh, Marshal John Smith.”
Dalton shook hands with both of them, and then indicated the sideboard, where there were a number of bottles of whiskey and spirits of different kinds. “What kind of poison will you take?”
Longarm hesitated. He said, “Mister Diver, this is by way of being a official call. You may not want us drinking your whiskey after we get down to our business.”
Dalton Diver waved away the thought with an airy movement of his hand. “One ain’t got nothing to do with the other. Besides, I couldn’t sit here drinkin’ alone in front of you, and I’m a man needs a few about this time of the evening.” He glanced at the Negro. “Robert, you left your manners outside again. Draw these gentlemen up a chair apiece right close to me so we don’t have to yell across the room. Then see what they will have to drink. My goodness, Robert, sometimes I despair of you.”
Longarm and Austin Davis waited while the servant put forward two comfortable-looking cloth-covered chairs placed to face Dalton Diver. Then he brought a Small table and set it between the chairs. After that he brought a tray and set it on the table. The tray contained glasses and bottles of whiskey, rum, and brandy. There was also an opened box of cigars on the tray. Longarm sat down in the left-hand chair, feeling slightly uncomfortable.
Diver motioned with his glass. “Fill ‘em up, gentlemen. Hell, don’t keep me waiting.”
Austin Davis poured himself a glass of brandy, and Longarm took a little whiskey. Diver said, “Them’s good cigars.”
Longarm shook his head, and Austin Davis got out one of his little black cigarillos and said, “I reckon I’ll have one of these instead.”
Dalton raised his glass and said, “To your health.”
They went through the motions, mumbling, “And yours, sir.” Then they all had a drink. Longarm was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the whiskey. He was regretting taking so little.
Dalton said, “Take a cigar, Marshal. Hell, that’s what they are there for.”
Austin Davis said, “Mister Diver, you may not enjoy our company so much in a little while.”
Dalton Diver had a big, hearty voice. He said, “Then so much the better we enjoy the time while we got it. Marshal, you look like a cigar-and-whiskey man. Quit piddling around with it. If you’ve got hard work ahead of you, why, it will go better with a good drink of whiskey and a cigar.”
Longarm stared at him for a second, and then nodded his head. “Fine. If that’s the way you’ll have it, so be it.” He turned to the table and poured himself a full tumbler of whiskey, and then took one of the cigars, bit off the end, spat the end in his palm, and dumped it into an ashtray.
Dalton Diver winked. “That’s the way. You gentlemen don’t happen to be hungry, be you? I just got up from the table myself. Got a fine ham and some other good vittles.”
Longarm was lighting his cigar, getting it drawing good. But he stopped to answer Diver before Austin Davis could say anything. “No, thanks, sir. We don’t want to draw this out any longer than necessary.”
Diver settled back in his chair. “Fine, fine. Well, I’m here. What have you come to see me about?”
Longarm took a long drink of whiskey. He said, “I will get to that presently, but I wonder if you might not have a family Bible about. I understand you are a religious man. Most such are in the habit of keeping a family Bible.”
Diver nodded. “Yes, sir. Certainly do. Started by my great-grandmother.” He motioned with his hand. “Right over there against the shelf of books. On the Bible stand. Thing is too big to hold in your lap. Nearly have to stand up to read it.”
Longarm looked over and saw a big book lying open on a wooden stand. He put his cigar in the ashtray, crossed the room, and came around behind the big bible. He saw that it was opened to Isaiah. He didn’t know if that was a coincidence or if it had been on Dalton Diver’s mind. But it didn’t matter to him. He turned the pages of the Bible back to the front, back to where families kept records of births and deaths and marriages and other special events. The first few pages were devoted to relatives of Dalton Diver who were long gone. Finally Longarm found the genealogy for Dalton and his immediate family. Opposite Dalton’s name were the names of two wives, and below them the children they had borne.
Under the name of Lavinia were ten children, all girls. Hannah’s was the sixth name down, and he noted that her full name was Hannah Rose. Her date of birth showed her to be twenty years old.
But it was the children of the other wife, the Shaker wife, that Longarm was interested in. Her name had been Ruth and she had died some six years past. She had had six children, the first two being male. The first was Dalton Diver, Jr., and his birth date would have made him thirty-four years old. The second name was scratched out with a
