Lancaster bought Stall one more drink before sending him on his way.
“You think of anything else, you let me know,” he warned Stall.
“Yessir, I’ll do ’er.”
Stall left the saloon and Lucky waved Lancaster over.
“Why are you buyin’ drinks for the town drunk?” he asked.
“He said he had information about Sweet,” Lancaster said.
“And you believed him?”
“He’s a drunk, but is he a liar?”
“Well, no, not usually,” Lucky answered.
“You think he’d lie for a drink?”
“Well, he’s a drunk.”
“He was telling me about some saloon at the edge of town with no name, and a hotel called the Autry.”
“Both cater to lowlifes and cheats, probably killers. So, yeah, if your guy was in town he was probably there.”
“Well, I guess I’ll go and have a look.”
“Be careful,” Lucky said. “I wouldn’t go there without somebody to watch your back. That’s the north end of town, a pretty dangerous area.”
Lancaster considered asking Lucky if he’d go with him, but decided against it. The man had a business to run, and no reason to take a hand in Lancaster’s game.
“Much obliged, Lucky.”
“Sure.”
“Hey,” Lancaster said, before leaving, “where can I get a good steak?”
“Got just the place for ya…”
Lucky directed Lancaster to a place called Rachel’s Cafe. “Rachel’s ugly as sin, but man, she can cook,” he said.
Lancaster entered and found the place with about half of its dozen tables taken. A young girl was waiting tables, and was much too pretty—and too young—to be Rachel. As she approached him with a weary smile, he noticed that at one table Mal was sitting alone, working on a steak. As she reached him Mal saw him and waved him over.
“I’m joining him,” he said, pointing. “And I’ll have a steak dinner.”
“Yessir. Comin’ up.”
Lancaster walked to Mal’s table and sat down.
“How’d you find this place?” Mal asked.
“The bartender at the K.O. told me about it,” Lancaster said.
“I gotta tell Lucky to keep his mouth shut,” Mal said. “Don’t want everybody findin’ this place.”
There was a pitcher of beer and a pitcher of water on the table. In front of Lancaster was a glass, sitting upside down. He righted it and filled it with water.
“No beer?” Mal asked.
“I hit my limit today,” Lancaster said.
While he waited for his meal, he told Mal how he had managed to do that, and also told him about his conversation with Bud Stall.
“Well, Stall was right. He may be a drunk, but he’s not usually a liar.”
“I heard that.”
The girl brought him his dinner, which was a steak that practically took up the entire plate, with some vegetables around it.
“So what are you gonna do?” Mal asked.
“I’m going to the north end of town to see what I can find out at that saloon, and that hotel.”
“That’s not an area to go to without somebody to watch your back,” Mal said.
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
“I wish I could offer to go with ya,” Mal said, “but for one thing, that’s my gun you’re wearin’…”
“I understand.”
“And for another, I just don’t wear a gun anymore,” Mal finished.
“I said I understand, Mal.”
“But I think I know somebody who’ll go with ya,” Mal said.
“I can go alone,” Lancaster said.
“Normally, I wouldn’t question that, Lancaster, but I was around to catch you when you fell, remember?”
“I remember,” Lancaster said around a hunk of steak and onions.
“So I think you need somebody to watch your back.”
“Who do you have in mind?”
“A friend of mine,” Mal said. “After we finish here I’ll take you over to meet him.”
“Is he a good hand with a gun?” Lancaster asked.
“A gun, a knife, pretty much any weapon,” Mal said. “You’ll see.”
Twenty-two
After they finished eating, Mal took Lancaster about as far from the dangerous north end as you could get, the southern end of town.
“This looks deserted,” Lancaster said as he looked at the buildings.
“It mostly is,” Mal said.
“And this is where your friend lives?”
“This is where he prefers to live, yeah,” Mal said. “He doesn’t like a lot of people.”
“But he likes you?”
“Maybe,” Mal said, “he dislikes me a little less than he does most people.”
“I think I can understand feelings like that,” Lancaster said.
“It’s over here.”
Mal led Lancaster to one of the abandoned-looking buildings. They approached the door and before Mal knocked he said, “Stand to the side. He’s been known to fire a shot through the door at the sound of a knock.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
Mal knocked, waited, then knocked again.
“Mal, that you?” a voice called.
“How’d you know?”
“Nobody else has the nerve to knock on my door,” the voice said. “You alone?”
“No, I brought a friend.”
“I got no friends.”
“Come on, Ledge,” Mal shouted. “Open up!”
A few moments went by and then Lancaster heard the lock turn and the door opened.
“Come on in,” the voice said.
“Ledge?” Lancaster asked.
“His name’s Ledger,” Mal said. “Ben Ledger, but he goes by Ledge.”
Lancaster shrugged. After all, he and Mal had not exchanged anything but single names.
They entered and Lancaster was surprised. While the building looked like no more than a run-down cabin on the outside, the inside looked and smelled brand-new. He felt as if he was standing in a new house, with solid walls, wooden floors, a new fireplace, and a modern-looking kitchen with a water pump to bring water inside.
“Impressive,” he said.
“Thanks,” Ledge said. “Did all the work myself.”
Lancaster turned to face him. Again, he was surprised. Ledge was tall, powerfully built, with a head of
