The gambler looked at the lawman, offered a
somewhat embarrassed smile.
“No, I think you would. Just that past experience
has taught me to be ready to grease the wheel to keep
it from falling off.”
“You hear anything from Baby Doe about that long
hair you think I should know, you’ll pass it along,
right?” Jake said, then threw back the other whiskey
and walked out.
The evening wind was cold and it shook itself
down inside a man’s clothes like icy hands searching
for his poke. I best buy a new coat, Jake told himself,
and crossed the street and went up the other side to
Otis Dollar’s mercantile.
Otis was leaning palms down atop the counter
looking glum. He looked up when Jake came in.
“Evening, Marshal.”
“Otis.”
“Was about to close up.”
“How’s Martha doing?”
Otis’s eyes were still black and blue and he had a
hard time talking too long at one time.
“She’s resting. I don’t know how to thank you . . .
and Trueblood,” Otis added.
“No thanks necessary. How are you doing?”
“Got headaches.”
“Go to the pharmacy and get some aspirin pow-
ders, stir a teaspoon in with a glass of water and take
it every four hours, it should help.”
“Appreciate the advice.”
“You want me to look in on Martha?”
“No. She’s sleeping, I’d hate to disturb her.”
“I’ll swing round tomorrow and check on her.
Right now I’d like to buy a new coat.”
Otis took him over to a shelf with coats folded on it.
“What would you recommend having lived on
winters on these prairies?”
“Nothing is certain,” Otis said. “I mean they ain’t
made a coat I know of that can keep the winter off a
man completely, but the best I carry is one of these
mackinaws.” Jake found one that looked like it fit.
Otis said he might want to go up a size in case he
wanted to wear a sweater under it.
“She can get so cold on these prairies she’ll freeze
the spit in your mouth,” Otis said. “Besides you’ll want
it loose enough to get to your gun in case you need to.”
Otis helped him on with a size larger—a nice heavy
wool double-breasted plaid. It had some weight to it.
“How’s that feel?”
“Peaches,” Jake said.
“You’ll want gloves to go along with it.”
“Pick me out a pair, Mr. Dollar.”
“You been out to Karen Sunflower’s place lately,
Marshal?”
“A few days back.”
“How was she?”
Jake shrugged.
“Seemed her usual self.”
“Oh,” Otis said.
“Toussaint’s out visiting her,” Jake added. Otis
nodded.
“None of my business, Mr. Dollar, but I think he
plans on getting back together with her.”
Jake saw how Otis flinched over the news, watched
as he picked out a pair of wool gloves and set them on
the counter. “That it, Marshal?”
“That will do.”
Otis toted the bill.
Jake put the gloves in the pocket of his new coat
and went out again. The sun set early that time of
year and already the sky was growing the color of
rust. He figured Clara had probably left the school-
house by now and had gone back to her place. He
planned on swinging by and taking her to see
William Sunday. He wasn’t at all sure why he felt
such an investment in her, or the gunfighter. Except,
he told himself, turning up the collar, it was his town
and it paid him to be in charge of what went on in his
town.
He saw then as he started up the street again Fan-
nie coming out of her new hat shop. She saw him, too.
“Evening, Mr. Horn,” she said, the tone of her
voice almost as icy as the air. Jake knew she was still
disappointed in him for not pursuing a relationship
with her earlier that summer.
“Evening, Fannie. How goes the business?”
She shrugged and drew her capote around her
shoulders a little tighter, as though his presence made
her more chilled.
“Business is fine. I was just on my way to meet Will
for supper.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, whether or not
she was trying to get a rise out of him, make him jeal-
ous that she was seeing Will Bird now. It didn’t trou-
ble him.
“Well, enjoy your meal,” Jake said and touched the
brim of his hat, then walked on. He could practically
feel her eyes staring holes in his back.
