“In that case, pour me a glass of whiskey and I’ll raise a toast to you for killing the two orneriest sonsabitches in town.”
Longarm grinned loosely. “Yes, ma’am!”
“Now don’t you go lookin’ at my girl thataway!” Bill said with a wink. “Or I’ll get out my whittlin’ knife and make sure you don’t ever come back here again.”
Longarm blushed, but the old man cackled and even Megan had to laugh.
“Pa! Did you burn the damned beans and bread again?”
“Afraid so.”
“Shit!” Megan stormed, marching over to the water pump by the kitchen sink and washing her hands, then her face. “I guess I’m going to have to go out in the cooler and cut us some pork off that butcher hog.”
She looked at Longarm. “That all right with you? It isn’t too green yet.”
“Sure,” he said, not sure if she was joshing him or if it was the truth and his gut would soon have to contend not only with too much whiskey but also bad pork.
“Good,” Megan said, grabbing a big butcher knife and disappearing through the door.
“Hell of a girl,” Bill said, a droopy smile on his lips. “Don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“I’ll bet.”
Less than five minutes later, Megan reappeared carrying a slab of pork, and damned if it didn’t have a greenish look to it.
“Be ready before you know it!” she called.
“Take your time,” Longarm said. “No hurry at all.”
Chapter 3
By nine o’clock that evening, Wild Bill had fallen asleep and was snoring heavily. As a result of the cooking, it was quite hot in the Riley house and Longarm, working on a full stomach and too much whiskey, knew that he had to go outdoors and get some fresh air before he also started to nod off.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” he said to Megan.
“I could use the air and the exercise.”
“Sure,” she replied. “What about that sorry excuse for a horse you’ve got tied outside?”
“We can lead him back into town.”
“But after that, where are you staying tonight?”
“I don’t know,” Longarm said.
Megan blinked. “Well, what about your bags? You must have some extra clothes and things.”
“I do,” Longarm said. “But they were supposed to be put on the eastbound train. I sure hope that the stationmaster had the good sense to keep my things and not send them east.”
“There’s always a telegraph operator on duty,” Megan said. “We could walk back into town and ask him. He’ll have a key to the baggage room and you could get your things.”
“That’s a good idea.” Longarm glanced at Bill. “He’ll be all right?”
“Yes. He’s had too much to drink, like he does most every night, but he’ll sleep well. He’s in considerable pain, you know.”
“No,” Longarm said. “He never said anything about it.”
“He’s got a cancer,” Megan said, her eyes misting. “His drinking doesn’t help.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Come on,” Megan said, heading outside, “let’s get that fresh air we both need.”
Longarm untied his livery horse, and then they all walked along in silence toward the town until they came to the livery. Longarm unsaddled the poor horse and then turned it loose in an empty corral.
They couldn’t leave until Megan was satisfied that the poor beast had plenty of hay and water. “Even an ugly horse deserves good treatment,” she explained. “After all, it can’t help the way it looks any more than we can.”
“I suspect that’s so,” Longarm said.
They continued on into town, and when they reached the Truckee River bridge, Megan stopped and picked up a pebble and threw it into the river. The surface of the water was burnished like copper in the moonlight, and they watched the ripple spread out across the surface, slow and lazy.
“A penny for your thoughts, Megan.”
Stirred from her reverie, she turned and looked at him.
“I was thinking of you, actually.”
Longarm grinned. “Good.”
“No,” she said, “not good. I was wondering if you will wind up like my father. Old and discarded. A man whose memories haunt him and who wonders if God in heaven will judge him harshly for all those that he has killed.”
Longarm took a deep breath. “If you’re talking about men like Fergus MacDonald, I’ll take my chances,”
