you.”
“And what if I go with them?”
George started to answer, but cut himself short and lowered his head. Pulling Joseph toward his horse became easier as Joseph lost more blood. By the time the horsemen started toward the house again, the rancher lay across the back of George’s saddle, barely conscious enough to put up a fight.
SEVEN
Sheriff Stilson knocked on the front door of a small house two streets away from his office. After a few seconds of listening to the rustling inside, he knocked again. Finally, the door opened and a squat man with an unkempt beard stuck his head outside.
“What?” the short man asked.
“Come on, Miguel. Time to earn what I pay you.”
Miguel glanced over his shoulder and leaned a bit farther outside. “Not now. I’ve got important business in here.”
“Tell her to come back some other time,” Stilson said. “We’re riding out to the Van Meter place.”
“All the way out there? Why?”
“Because someone said there was trouble, now throw on your boots and let’s go.”
“This is a bullshit reason to pull me out of my home at—”
“Come along now or you’re fired.”
Miguel froze with his mouth half open. “I’ll get my boots.”
A minute or so later, Stilson and Miguel were riding toward the edge of town. Miguel had the stout shape of a man who seemed very uncomfortable on top of a horse. His short legs barely reached the stirrups, and spent more time flailing to keep his balance than anything else. His face was twisted into an expression of utter concentration and was so pale, it looked as if he’d forgotten what the sun looked like.
“You always treat me worse than the other deputies,” Miguel grunted.
Laughing to himself, Stilson asked, “And why’s that?”
“Simple. You don’t like Mexicans.”
The sheriff scowled. He took a slow gander at the deputy and scowled some more. “You’re Mexican?”
“Miguel ain’t no white man’s name.”
“All right. I just changed my first name to Ping. Guess that makes me Chinese.”
“Real funny. What sort of trouble is supposed to be at that ranch?”
“Some gang of robbers or something. The undertaker saw them coming through town.”
“That undertaker’s trouble, if you ask me.” Suddenly, Miguel grimaced and looked to one side of the street. “Are you talking about the Van Meter place?”
Exasperated, Stilson said, “Yes.”
“A bunch of hands from there were headed into town not too long ago.”
“Really?”
Miguel nodded. “I saw ’em over on Eighth Street.”
Stilson grinned and nodded. “You mean on the corner by Stormy’s cathouse?”
Miguel rolled his eyes. “You see? That’s the sort of disrespect I was talking about.”
“Was it by Stormy’s?”
“…Yes.”
“That’d be the Wheelbarrow. We can swing by there to see if those men saw anything suspicious. Good work, Miguel.”
The deputy straightened up and smiled. He also knew a real good shortcut to Stormy’s.
The sheriff stepped up to the front door of the Wheelbarrow Saloon. Right next to that door was the very device from which the place took its name. As always, a drunk was passed out within the wheelbarrow with his arm and leg hanging out over the side. Stilson walked inside without sparing a glance at the drunk to immediately pick out a group of young men standing at the bar.
“You boys from the Van Meter spread?” Stilson asked as he walked up to them.
One of the taller men turned around and nodded. “We are.”
“Howdy, Raymond,” Miguel said. “Still losing at poker?”
The ranch hand tipped his hat good-naturedly and said, “Only man in town who’s worse than you.”
“Looks like almost all the hired hands from Van Meter’s ranch are at this bar,” Stilson said.
“Damn near,” Raymond replied. “Celebrating what looks to be a mighty nice salary raise. We’re just waiting for a few more before everything gets started.”
“A few more what?”
“George is supposed to be bringing Mister Van Meter over here so we can buy him a round of drinks. Considering how much of a raise we’re getting, it’s the least we can do.”
“Everyone’s supposed to meet here? Ain’t that a long way to go for a celebration?”
Raymond shrugged. “George said we should do more than pass a bottle of whiskey around, especially considering how much Mister Van Meter’s done for us. Since we don’t get into town that often, I wasn’t inclined to disagree.”
“Makes sense to me,” Miguel said.
“Was there any trouble at the ranch before you left?” Stilson asked.
The confused look on Raymond’s face told more than any words could. “Trouble? What sort of trouble?”
“I got word that a bunch of armed men were headed toward that place.”
Raymond shook his head. “I’ve been here for an hour or so, along with most of the others. What about you, Eddie? You just got here a minute ago. You see anything on your way in?”
Eddie was a tall man with a dark beard and a narrow face. At first, he looked around as if he didn’t know Raymond was talking to him. Then, he shook his head. “Nope.”
“And how long ago did you make that ride?” Stilson asked.
“Like Raymond said, I just got here.”
The sheriff mulled that over for a few seconds and then turned toward the door. “Thanks for your help, boys.”
“Is Mister Van Meter in trouble with someone?” Raymond asked. “If he is, I wouldn’t mind helping take care of it. Plenty of us wouldn’t.”
“Great!” Miguel chimed in. “With all that help, I can get back to—”
“We don’t need any help,” Stilson quickly said, “but thanks for the offer.”
“So it ain’t anything too serious?”
“Doesn’t look like it. Looks more like someone got spooked and jumped to some conclusions. You all enjoy your party and give my best to your boss.”
“Will do.”
Stilson walked to the front door and Miguel was more than happy to follow. Once outside, the sheriff stopped and took a dented cigarette case from his shirt pocket.
“What a load of shit, huh?” Miguel said.
Stilson didn’t respond to that. He was too busy putting a cigarette in his mouth and striking a match to light it.
Miguel nodded as if he was listening to a voice from somewhere else and looked up and down the street. “I guess you don’t need backup after all.”
“So long as Raymond got his story right.”
“I hate that guy.”
“Why’s that?”
“He’s an asshole.”
Stilson chuckled and breathed out twin streams of smoke from his nostrils. “That undertaker’s wife saw something. I believe that much. Maybe we should go out to that graveyard and have a look.”
