bad. They want to know if I’m mad at them. They want to know if Daddy is mad at me.”
Nobody said anything. We wheeled our horses in behind the buggy and rode in silence back to town.
“How’s that mare doing,” Virgil said to the stableman while he helped Mrs. Redmond down from the carriage.
“Good, Mr. Cole. Swelling’s way down.”
“Keep an eye on her,” Virgil said.
“You bet, Mr. Cole.”
We delivered Mrs. Redmond to her hotel room and then went into the saloon. Wolfson was waiting for us.
“Well, here it is,” Wolfson said. “The fucking pistolero benevolent society. I hire you to take care of beat-up women and old nags, for crissake?”
“You hire us to keep the peace for you,” Rose said.
He spread his hands to encompass the saloon and the street in front of it.
“Look how peaceful,” he said.
Wolfson nodded.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I know. But sometimes I’m not so sure whether you work for me or I work for you.”
“We’re in this together, Amos,” Virgil said. “We all got collaborative goals.”
“’Less I don’t pay you,” Wolfson said.
“That might change things,” Rose said. “Right, Cato?”
“Sure,” Cato said.
“Well if you ain’t too busy with your fucking charity work,” Wolfson said, “maybe you’ll be good enough to ride out with me in the morning and foreclose on a bean wrangler.”
“Can’t pay his bill?” Virgil said.
“That’s right, so I’m taking his ranch in lieu.”
“Anybody we know?” I said.
“It ain’t Redmond, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s what I was asking,” I said.
43.
We rode out the next morning, past Redmond’s ranch, farther out along the creek, with the warm morning sun on our backs. Wolfson was with us, and his chief clerk, Hensdale. Hensdale didn’t seem too happy being out where Wolfson actually did a lot of his business.
“There’s any trouble, Hen,” Wolfson said to him, “these boys will take care of it.”
“So why do I even have to come along?” Hensdale said.
“Because I fucking want you along,” Wolfson said. “You understand that?”
“Yes, sir,” Hensdale said.
“Good,” Wolfson said. “What’s this fella’s name again?”
“Ward,” Hensdale said. “Stanton Ward.”
The creek curved a little west and straightened out again, flowing south, and in the bend was the Ward ranch. It wasn’t much, less than Redmond’s. But the land was good, right by the creek. In front of the house there were twelve farmers, many of them with Winchesters or shotguns.
“Jesus,” Hensdale murmured.
We rode in and stopped in front of the farmers. One of them was Redmond. He had his Winchester.
“Don’t shoot Redmond,” Virgil said.
Cato and Rose both nodded. I nodded.
Wolfson said, “What the hell?”
Virgil paid him no mind. Cato and Rose fanned out to the right.
“There’s any shooting,” I said to Hensdale, “lie flat over your horse’s neck and get the hell out of here.”
Hensdale nodded. Virgil and I fanned left. We left Wolfson in the center, in front of Redmond, with Hensdale unhappily beside him. I could see Virgil studying the ranchers on our side of the action, deciding who to shoot first. On the other side of Wolfson, I could see Cato Tillson doing the same thing.
“Fella with the straw hat first,” Virgil said. “Then the one with the blue striped shirt.”
I nodded. I didn’t know how Virgil decided these things, but he had a way, and I trusted it. I rested the eight-gauge across my saddle.
“Ward?” Wolfson said.
A short, round man with a sandy beard was standing beside Redmond.
“I’m Ward,” he said.
“You owe me money,” Wolfson said.
Ward didn’t answer.
“How much?” Wolfson said to Hensdale.
Hensdale gave the figure in a soft voice, meant to suggest that it wasn’t his fault, he was only the bean counter.
“You got it?” Wolfson said.
“How’s he gonna have it,” Redmond said.
He was talking to Wolfson, but I knew he was aware of Virgil.
“Not my problem, you owe me, you can’t pay. I collect my collateral.”
“For God’s sake, Wolfson,” Redmond said. “Man’s got four children.”
“Didn’t come here to argue,” Wolfson said. “If I had, I wouldn’ta brought my friends.”
He nodded in a way to include the four of us.
“We ain’t gonna let you take his house,” Redmond said.
“That the way you see it, Ward?” Wolfson said.
Ward’s eyes shifted from Virgil to Cato Tillson to Rose and to me. Then he looked back at Wolfson.
“I… I can’t pay you,” he said. “Maybe if you gimme time.”
Wolfson shook his head.
“Time’s up,” he said. “We’ll wait here while you pack up the family and go.”
“He ain’t going,” Redmond said.
Virgil nudged his horse forward at a slow pace and rode him gently between Redmond and Ward. Then he moved the horse sidestep and eased Redmond slowly away from Ward. On the other side of Ward, Cato did the same thing to the farmer on that side. Rose and I followed and eased the next couple of clodhoppers away from Ward, and from each other.
“Don’t let them move us,” Redmond shouted, and tried to step around Virgil. Virgil herded him with his horse, like he was cutting out a steer.
“Hold it,” Redmond shouted. “Hold it or we’ll start shooting.”
“No,” Ward screamed. “No. I don’t want the fucking property.”
Virgil stopped his horse and sat still. The rest of us did the same.
“I can’t live like this,” Ward said. “I can’t live here waiting for the next shootout. I’m a rancher. I don’t want this.”
No one moved.
Then Redmond said, “Stan, if we don’t stop him here, where will we stop him?”
“Don’t care,” Ward said. “Stop him without me. Ranch is yours, Wolfson. I’ll take the horses, the wagon, and whatever we can load on it. Rest is yours.”
“Wise choice,” Wolfson said. “We’ll wait.”
Slowly, watching Redmond as he did, Virgil backed his horse up. The rest of us did the same. Redmond half-raised his Winchester. Virgil had no reaction. The hammer was down on the Winchester. Meant that Redmond would either have to work the lever or cock it, and that, for Virgil, was an ocean of time.
