“Didn’t you?”
Sunset hoped she wasn’t the blushing sort.
“Now I know why she isn’t here,” Hillbilly said.
“Awful sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Sure of what I want, if I’m not sure of anything else.”
“Karen’s got a little crush on you. She’s acting a little too old for her age.”
“Is she?”
“Yes, she is. And that’s why she isn’t here.”
“That the only reason?”
“I’ll get the maps.”
The town was flying colorful streamers from derricks and rooftops and there was a big white banner stretched across Main Street that read in big blue letters OIL FESTIVAL, HOLIDAY, TEXAS. The streets were thick with people, cars, wagons, mules and horses. It reminded Sunset of ants crawling over a carcass.
Main Street had dried out after all the rain, but the drying had left deep ruts and rifts. On one side of the street, water had washed dirt up on the wooden sidewalks that had turned to mud and hardened. In some of the street’s deeper holes gravel had been tossed and had sunk in already, doing little to nothing toward repair.
Sunset bumped the car along, and they bounced past the picture show. There was a line at the box office going around the corner and partially into the street. Sunset looked to see what was showing, saw it was still the Marx Brothers movie. Memory of that brought back thoughts of sitting in a chair behind Smoky, waiting on him to finish so she could bring him out and carry him over to Tyler, only to have him lynched.
Maybe she didn’t want to see a moving picture today after all.
She drove over to the sheriff’s office, parked in front next to a sign that said NO PARKING. There was one large oak that grew by the sheriff’s office and there were ten colored men sitting on the ground, their backs against it. Sunset noted there was a chain around the tree, and all the men had on cuffs and these were attached to the chain. A tall man with black hair sticking out from under his hat, wearing a badge, toting a shotgun, was parading up and down in front of the tree in a nervous kind of way.
They went inside, Hillbilly carrying the tin box with the maps and papers.
Rooster was sitting behind his desk. His hat was on the desk in front of him and he had his hands on either side of the brim as if holding it down. His body was all sharp angles and thin pink flesh. The hair on his head was almost as red as Sunset’s hair, and it stood up toward the top and middle of his head like a rooster comb. Sunset thought: Now I get why he’s called Rooster.
He looked up at them, said, “Whole town is nuts. Ain’t a thing you can get done or keep from being done. It’s a mess.”
“Suppose money is being made,” Hillbilly said.
“Reckon so. That’s why they come up with this Oil Festival in the first place. Money. Wasn’t bad enough we got everyone trying to get in the picture show, now we got people from all over come in to hear music and see fireworks.”
“What’s with all them fellas chained to the tree?” Hillbilly said.
“Run out of room in the jail. Drunks mostly. And the white men in there don’t want to be jailed up with colored.”
“Nothing more impressive than a picky criminal,” Sunset said. “Where’s your partner?”
“He up and quit after Clyde hit him. I’m sheriff now. You know, one of his teeth finally come out from that smack. One in the back.”
“He don’t need that one,” Hillbilly said.
“I was just admiring the badge,” Sunset said. “How’s it feel to be sheriff?”
“Ain’t so sure I like it or want it. It was better when I was a deputy and had someone tell me what to do. You ain’t here on some kind of business, are you?”
“Maybe,” Sunset said.
“Maybe?”
Hillbilly put the box on the sheriff’s desk and opened it. He took out the maps and the papers. Rooster looked at them, said, “These look like papers supposed to be in the courthouse.”
“What we thought,” Sunset said.
“These are land papers,” Rooster said. “Survey papers. How did you come by them?”
“Found them,” Sunset said.
“Found them?”
Sunset nodded.
“Any idea about this stuff?” Sunset said.
The sheriff studied the papers for a while, shook his head. “Just what I told you. You’d need to go over to the courthouse to find out more.”
“What we planned,” Sunset said, “but I thought I’d make a courtesy call. Then we thought we’d stick around for the Oil Festival.”
“On business?”
“With our badges off,” Sunset said.
“Oh. Well. Okay. Me, I’m just gonna sit in here and wait till someone gets killed or something and someone comes to get me. I ain’t getting out there. It’s too damn busy.”
A man built like a stump wearing a white Stetson came out of the back. He had a badge pinned to his shirt.
Rooster said, “Oh, this here is my deputy, Plug. He just hired on.”
“Howdy, Plug,” Sunset said.
“Damn, you are one fine-looking woman,” Plug said.
“Thanks,” Sunset said.
“I got another deputy too. Tootie. He ain’t here right now.”
“We’re parked in the place says no parking out front,” Sunset said.
“That’s all right,” Rooster said. “That’s the business spot.”
“It’s a black Ford,” Sunset said.
“Lot of black Fords,” Rooster said.
“Should I make a note to put in the window?”
“Naw. We’ll figure it out.”
Sunset and Hillbilly went out, the box under Hillbilly’s arm. They left their car in front of the sheriff’s office, walked over to the courthouse, threading their way through people, many who stared at Sunset with her badge and gun as if she might be playing dress up and was part of the festival’s hijinks.
“What are you supposed to be?” a man said, grabbing her shoulder.
“A constable,” she said.
“Well, you look right cute. You don’t work out of Dodge Street, do you?”
“No.”
“Sorry, then,” and he went away.
“Dodge Street?” Sunset said.
“It’s where the whorehouses are,” Hillbilly said.
Sunset jerked her head toward the retreating man. “Well, that sonofabitch,” she said.
Hillbilly laughed.
“How do you know about Dodge Street?” she said.
“Word gets around,” Hillbilly said.
The courthouse was set in the middle of Main Street. The street forked around it and gathered together again on the other side. The building was made of smooth pink stone. It had long wide steps in front of its long wide doors, and it was the only large and only pretty construction in town, one of the few made of stone. All the windows on the street sides were scabbed in spots with dried mud.
In spite of the heat outside, it was cool in the courthouse, and when Sunset put her hand against the edge of the stone doorway, it too was cool, like a dead body. There were only the sounds of their
