'Sorry there, Carter and me, we didn't mean to offend.'
'No offense taken. My name is Jamie Slater. I'm look- hag to buy land.
You hear of anything, you let me know.'
'We'll do that. But you aren't going to get the Smart ranch. Von Heusen
wants that. He wants it bad.'
'But he doesn't want that other land. That's interesting,' Jamie mused.
'Hope you stay a while,' Carter said.
'Thanks. I intend to.'
'My name's Jeremiah Miller, you need any more information, bo--young
man, you look me up. Hell, anybody younger'n me is a boy, son!'
Jamie laughed and urged his mount on. He could see the saloon ahead.
He reined in before it, tossed his reins over the tethering bar and
entered through the swinging doors. He paused for a minute, letting his
eyes adjust to the dimness and the smoke. There was a piano player in
the rear. A singer with a short mauve shirt that barely covered rich
black petticoats and stockings perched on the piano. Her voice was as
smoky as the atmosphere.
There was a bar to his right, running the length of the establishment.
Two heavyset bartenders ha white aprons leaned against the mahogany bar
talking to customers. There were a number of patrons at the twenty or so
tables in the place. Some were well-dressed small-town merchants, others
were ranch men, wearing denim pants and spurs and tall, dusty hats.
Their spurred boots were sometimes up on chairs or tables. It was a lazy
crowd, it seemed, an interesting one.
The crowd went silent the minute Jamie entered the room. The singer
forgot the lyrics to her song. The piano player swung around and stared,
too.
'Howdy,' Jamie said casually.
People stared. Then the brunette hopped off the piano and walked
forward.
'Hello, there,' she said, frowning at the others, offering Jamie a broad
smile.
'What's the matter with you all! We've a stranger in town. Let's not
make him think we haven't a single wit of manners between the lot of
us!'
'Sure thing, Sherry, honey? one of the cowboys called out. He let his
feet fall to the floor.
'Howdy, there, stranger.
Welcome to Wiltshire. We ain't rude. We're just surprised. Strangers
just don't come here very often very more.' 'Why is that?' Jamie asked.
The cowboy shrugged, but not before looking around the room. In one
corner, a few men in suits were playing cards.
'It ain't a good gamble, that's why,' a tall, thin man with heavy
iron-gray whiskers called out.
'But you're here now, so come on in. Hardy!' He called to the bartender.
'Give the stranger a whiskey, on me.' 'Thank you kindly,' Jamie said. He
strode into the room. Sherry brought his whiskey. He sat across from the
man who had invited him, next to a small, nervous man with wir~rimmed
spectacles.
