Ellis Kansas shrugged, remembering the interest
of the marshal in this man, knew, too, who Clara
Fallon was.
“No. Don’t know of anyone by that name.”
“She has a couple of kids with her.”
“I’m somewhat new here myself,” he said. “You
might ask Marshal Horn.”
“Marshal Horn, huh? Where might I find him?”
“Keeps an office up the street.”
Fallon set the glass down and walked out.
27
The Stone Brothers made the town well after
midnight.
“My ass is so sore it feels like I been busting rocks
with it,” Zack said; he’d been riding double with
Zane while Zeb rode alone on Karen’s little horse.
The horses were sweated.
“You reckon this is it?” Zack said.
“What the hell you think it is if it ain’t it?” Zeb said,
his mood still foul in spite of the pleasure he’d taken
with the woman. Ever since that damn big Indian had
stolen their horses life had seemed a sour proposition to
him. It galled him no end that they’d been bamboozled
by an Indian. It was harder to swallow than a knife.
Zack shrugged as he slid off the rump of the horse.
A dog that looked like it was full of mange came
up and sniffed his heels and he said, “Git, guddamn
it!” and the dog scooted away but didn’t go very far.
They heard the laughter coming from the Three Aces
and Zack said, “We ought to go over to that tavern
and git us something to drink and something to eat.”
Zeb already was headed that way. He’d simply left
the horse standing with the reins dangling free and
entering the Three Aces, his mind set on liquor, food,
and maybe a woman; this time a woman who
wouldn’t fight him like a she cat and scratch his face
before she gave up the goods.
Zack fell in line then looked back at Zane and said,
“Ain’t you coming?”
“I’ll take care of the horses,” Zane said.
“Why? They ain’t ours.”
“Seems only right they get fed and watered.”
“Hell with ’em.”
Zane was feeling in a sorry enough state without
treating poor dumb creatures like they were nothing.
He rode over and leaned down and took up the reins
of the little mare and rode down the street until he
came to a livery. There were a couple of horses in the
corral and he unsaddled and turned out the two stolen
horses with them. Then he took up a pitchfork and
forked them in some hay. It was cold enough that he
could see them snorting steam. He didn’t figure the
owner would mind waking up and finding two extra
horses in his corral. Pay enough for the hay and keep.
Then without knowing what else to do, he walked
back up the street and found his brothers in the Three
Aces leaning against the bar drinking. Zeb was talk-
ing to a gal looked like she ought to be in school and
Zack stood conversing with a tall mulatto. Then
quickly he realized they were the exact same girls they
had come across on the grasslands two days previ-
ous—the ones in the broken wagon. He couldn’t re-
member their names but he didn’t want anything to
do with them now.
Zane found a seat in the farthest corner and hoped
nobody would pay attention to him. He’d been feel-
ing anti-social ever since the incident at the woman’s
ranch house.
It felt like he’d eaten something rotten and it was
inside his gut just lying there. Even shooting a man
down in cold blood never left him feeling sick in the
way he was now. He wondered if maybe he had done
her a favor by letting her live—if it might not have
been better for her to let Zeb shoot her. He hated
himself for even thinking such.
Ellis Kansas noted them as they came in, thought to
himself, well look what the cats dragged in. He no-
ticed the scratches on two of their faces, and wondered
what sorts of trouble they’d gotten in since last he seen
them. The two at the bar stood like gun gods the way
they wore their pistols high on the hip, butt forward.
Last time he was at their mercy, now they were in his
place. He figured the marshal might be interested in
them since he was interested in the other stranger.
Normally, he was a man who minded his own
business, but since the marshal had shown no interest
in getting greased and since these particular hombres
had taken advantage of him, it might be he could earn
the lawman’s favor by keeping him informed. He
drew near to his barkeeper and said in a low voice:
“Those two who look like they’re brothers, the ones
with scratched faces, and that one sitting over in the
corner? Make sure they don’t run out of liquor, and
tell Baby Doe and Narcissa to give them a cut-rate on
their price if they’re looking for that sort of action—
but not to give them nothing free, understood? Oh,
and do it on the q.t.”
“Yes sir.”
