“Sweet.” Jacobs thought a moment. “Can’t say I recognize it.”
“There’s two more. But I don’t know their names.”
“And all trails have led you here?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, feel free to look around,” Jacobs said. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. We have had some strangers in town lately, but then we always have strangers in town. It’s that kind of place.”
“You have some deputies?”
“Two,” he said. “Young, both of them, but I think one of them is gettin’ ready to run against me next election. Probably beat me, too.”
“You don’t sound very confident.”
“I’ve had my time,” Jacobs said. “Might be time for some new blood.”
“How old are you?”
“Be sixty soon.”
“That ain’t old, Sheriff.”
“Yes, Mr. Lancaster,” Jacobs said. “It is.”
Lancaster stood up.
“If I find my man—or men—can I count on you for support?” he asked.
“If they’ve broken the law, it would be my job to aid you. So yes, you can.”
“I appreciate it.”
Before he could say any more, the door opened and two men walked in. Both were young—one in his late twenties, the other early thirties. Both were wearing deputy’s badges.
“Sheriff,” one of them said.
“Ah, boys,” Jacobs said. “This is Mr. Lancaster. He’s here tracking Gerry Beck for Wells Fargo. These are my deputies, Lyle and Bodeen.”
Both men nodded at him, and Bodeen said, “The Chancellorville Revolt? That Lancaster?”
“That was me,” Lancaster said.
“Damn,” Lyle said.
“I’ve promised Lancaster our support if he runs into his men here.”
“Men?” Bodeen asked.
“I’ll explain it to you both,” Jacobs said. “Lancaster was just leaving.”
“Thanks for your help, Sheriff,” Lancaster said on his way out.
“He’s trouble,” Bodeen said, when Lancaster left.
“Whataya mean?” Lyle asked.
“Wherever he goes there’s a war,” Bodeen said, “and if there ain’t, he finds one.”
“You’re talkin’ about the old days, Bodeen,” Jacobs said.
Bodeen was the deputy Jacobs thought wanted to be sheriff.
“I hope you’re right, Sheriff,” Bodeen said, “but if you don’t mind, I’m gonna keep an eye on him.”
“That’s your job, Bodeen,” the sheriff said.
“Right.”
Bodeen left and Lyle looked at Jacobs.
“He wants your job, you know,” Lyle said.
“I’ll tell you a secret, Lyle.” Jacobs held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “I’m this close to tellin’ him he can have it.”
Fifty-five
Lancaster could feel the deputy behind him. It was the older one, Bodeen.
He knew the young man was watching him to see what kind of trouble he might get into, but that suited him. If he ran into Sweet or the other two or—even better—Gerry Beck, he knew this deputy would take a hand. He was the ambitious one.
Lancaster needed to find somebody in Amarillo who knew Beck or Sweet. Or he needed to find those two strangers.
And then it hit him. Probably the one man who could tell him where to find those two.
He turned a corner, then stepped into a doorway and waited. Moments later Deputy Bodeen came walking around the corner, and he stepped out. Bodeen stopped short, eyes wide.
“Hey!” Bodeen said.
“Buy you a drink, Deputy?” Lancaster asked.
Bodeen agreed to the drink out of curiosity and took Lancaster to the Red Ribbon Saloon.
They stopped in front and Lancaster looked up at the sign over the door, which had a red ribbon painted on it.
They went inside. It was the middle of the afternoon and the place was full.
“I’ll get a table,” Bodeen said, “unless you wanna talk someplace quieter?”
“No, this’ll do,” Lancaster said. In a place this noisy, there was probably less chance of them being overheard.
Lancaster waited by the door until Bodeen returned with two beers and said, “Come on.”
He had actually gotten them a table in a small back room that was used for poker. He pulled the curtained doorway closed behind them.
“What’s on your mind, Mr. Lancaster?” he asked as they sat.
“The sheriff told me one of his deputies was getting ready to run against him for his office in the next election,” Lancaster said. “I figure that’s you.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You seem the ambitious type to me.”
“Why not Lyle?”
“He didn’t know who I am,” Lancaster said. “You did.”
“Well, I pay attention.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Lancaster said. “And I’ll bet you pay attention to what’s going on in town.”
“I try to.”
“Then you know when strangers ride in.”
Bodeen smiled. He had good looks, which wouldn’t hurt him in an election. “I saw you ride in.”
“So you’re making my point even stronger for me,” Lancaster said. “You know when strangers come to town, so you’ve seen the ones I’m looking for.”
“I can’t get to them all,” Bodeen said. “That’s the sheriff’s job.”
“So when Gerry Beck came through here, you either did or didn’t see him.”
“I may have seen him and not known his name.”
Lancaster took the time to describe Beck. According to Andy Black’s description, Beck hadn’t changed very much since he’d last seen him.
“Guess that could be a lot of people,” Bodeen said. He seemed annoyed to have to admit that Beck might have been in town without him knowing it.
“What about a man named Sweet? My description of him isn’t so good.”
“Sweet was here.”
Lancaster sat forward. “You sure?”
“It ain’t a common name.”
“When?”
“A week, maybe ten days ago.”
“With anybody?”
“No, he was alone.”
“How do you know?”
