forward on the counter resting on his elbows, and chewing his toothpick. He had dark eyes and rough skin, and the expression on his face was a self-satisfied leer.
'May I help you find something?' she asked coolly.
He grinned at that, showing a mouthful of broken yellow teeth, and when he did the toothpick danced.
'I just love it when pretty ladies ask me that question.'
Marybeth shook her head. It wasn't often that a man was so pathetically transparent. She had no desire to engage in any kind of banter with him.
'Was that your mother you brought in here?'
He chortled. 'Shit, no. That's Miss Ginger.'
'Should I know her?'
'I'm surprised you don't. I bring her to the library once or twice a week. She's doing some kind of research for a book she claims she's writing.'
Marybeth looked beyond the man. The woman in the wheelchair, Miss Ginger, was parked in an aisle in the western history section. She had pulled a book from the shelf that was now on her lap. It was obvious to Marybeth that the woman wanted to go to one of the tables to read it, but didn't have the strength to push herself there.
'I think she needs your help.'
'She can wait,' the man snorted. 'My name's Buster, by the by I work out on the Vee Bar U for the boss. But instead of workin', I have to bring her into town and sit around on my ass in this place while she does research for a book she's never going to finish. I guess we've never been in here before when you were working.'
Marybeth nodded, ignoring the opening provided to reveal her schedule to Buster. She did her best to keep her reaction in check. 'You work for Jim Finotta, then?'
'Yup,' Buster said proudly
'Then she's Jim Finotta's mother?'
'She's his wife, for Christ's sake.' Buster laughed. 'Not his ma.'
Marybeth recalled Joe telling her about an old woman at the house, as well as about the stupid ranch hand who she now knew as Buster.
'What is wrong with her?' Marybeth asked gently
'You mean besides the fact that she's a crabby old bitch?' Buster asked, raising his eyebrows. He actually seemed to think he was charming her, Marybeth thought in amazement. 'She's got Lou Gehrig's disease. ALS or ACS or something like that. She's getting worse all of the time. Pretty soon, she'll be flat on her back and her speech will go away completely'
'Are you going to help her?' Marybeth asked archly.
Buster rolled his eyes. 'Eventually, yeah. When we're done here.'
Marybeth looked at him coldly 'We are done here,' she said, and left him leaning on the counter while she approached Ginger Finotta.
Ginger Finotta's face was contorted and her lips were pressed together in a kind of sour pucker. Her eyes were rheumy with fluid, but they welcomed Marybeth as she approached. Marybeth removed one of the straight-backed chairs at the nearest table and wheeled Ginger into the empty space.
'Did you find everything you need?' Marybeth asked over Ginger Finotta's shoulder. Marybeth noted the stiff helmet of hair and the woman's skeletal neck and shoulders, which couldn't be hidden by her high-necked print dress.
'Isn't Buster an awful man?' Ginger Finotta asked in a scratchy voice.
'Yes, he is,' Marybeth agreed. 'He is an awful man.'
Marybeth said 'Mmmingmmm' and walked around to the other side of the table so they could see each other. It took a moment for Ginger Finotta's eyes to catch up. When they did, Marybeth sensed the immediate pain that the woman was in.
'I'm doing research for my book.'
'That's what I understand from Buster.'
'How much do you know about the history of Wyoming?' Ginger asked. Her voice was not well modulated, and questions sounded like statements.
Marybeth said she knew a little from school, but wasn't a scholar or historian by any means.
'Do you know about Tom Horn?' Ginger Finotta asked.
'A little, I guess,' Marybeth said. 'He was a so-called stock detective and he was hanged in Cheyenne for killing a fourteen-year-old boy'
Ginger Finotta nodded almost imperceptibly 'But he didn't do it. He did so many other bad things, though, that it doesn't matter if he shot that boy or not.'
Buster had finally left the counter and was approaching the table. 'Mrs. Finotta, do you need anything?' he asked, and shot Marybeth a conspiratorial wink that she ignored.
'I need you to go to some other part of this building. I'll call you when I want to go home.'
Buster raised his palms and said 'Whoa!' before departing with a smirk on his face.
Ginger Finotta's attention remained on Marybeth. Marybeth wondered if the woman knew anything about the
