“I braced him when he rode in,” Bodeen said. “I could see he was trouble.”
“How did he react to being braced?”
“Took it in stride,” Bodeen said. “Seemed real calm. We talked in one of the other saloons. He didn’t break a sweat.”
“Did he say anything about waiting to meet anybody else?”
“No. I asked him what he was up to, but he said he was just passing through.”
“And how long did he stay?”
“About six days, maybe a full week.”
“And what did he do?”
“Sat in front of his hotel, walked around town, drank, gambled…”
“He was killing time.”
“That’s what I thought,” Bodeen said. “Like he was waitin’ for somebody, but they never showed up.”
“And he finally left?”
“Just up and rode out,” Bodeen said. “Never made any trouble.”
“Could he have left a message for anyone?”
“Might’ve, but I don’t know who.”
“Where’d he stay?”
“Fifth Street Hotel, down the block.”
“Do you know where he left his horse?”
“Livery over on South Street.”
“Any place else?”
“Like where?”
“Whorehouse?”
Bodeen scratched his head, drank some beer. “I never saw him go to a whorehouse.”
“Okay,” Lancaster said. “When I got here I was trailing two riders. I figure they got here about three days ahead of me.”
“What’d they look like?”
“Not sure,” Lancaster said. “Just a couple of cowpokes who’d been in a fight recently—although any cuts or bruises might have healed by bow.”
“Like the one over your eye?”
“This was compliments of a kick to the head by Sweet,” Lancaster said. “I owe him.”
“So you’re huntin’ Beck for Wells Fargo, but Sweet’s personal?”
“You’ve got it.”
“And these other two?”
“They seem to know Sweet,” Lancaster said. “I thought they might lead me to him.”
“And they led you here.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I might be able to help you with those two,” Bodeen said.
“Yeah?”
“Drink up,” Bodeen said. “I’ll show you.”
Lancaster pushed away his half-finished beer and said, “I’m ready now.”
Fifty-six
Bodeen led Lancaster to a rooming house down the street from the South Street Livery.
“They left their horses there,” he said when they passed the livery.
“Same place as Sweet,” Lancaster observed.
“That could be a coincidence,” Bodeen said. “Most people use that one, or—where’d you leave your horse?”
Lancaster told him.
“Yeah, or that one.”
When they got to the rooming house, Bodeen stopped across the street.
“Two men rode in three days ago, got a room there,” he said.
“If we go to the livery and I look at their horses, I’ll know,” Lancaster said. “The liveryman in Flagstaff told me their horses need new shoes.”
“Oh, they’re the ones, all right.”
“What makes you think they’re the ones I followed?” Lancaster asked.
“Because when they got here, the first thing they did was start askin’ around for Sweet.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
Bodeen shrugged. “I wanted to talk for a while.”
“They in there now?”
Bodeen shrugged again. “I doubt it,” he said. “They’re usually out during the day.”
“They go to one saloon over another?”
“They hit them all,” Bodeen said.
“They must still be looking for Sweet,” Lancaster said. “That means if Sweet did leave a message for them, they haven’t gotten it yet.”
“We could go lookin’ for them.”
“Or wait here for them to come back.”
“That sounds boring,” Bodeen said. “’Sides, I got rounds to make.”
“Okay,” Lancaster said, “you have a point. It might be better for me to come back at night, when they’re in their rooms. Who owns this place?”
“Feller named Winston.”
Lancaster looked at him.
“I know, these places are usually run by women, widows.”
“Older man?”
“Yeah, in his sixties. In fact…”
“What?”
“He’s friends with the sheriff.”
The two men who had tried to beat up Ray the bartender were in the Whiskey River Saloon, sulking over a couple of beers.
“The man tells us to meet him here, and then when we get here he ain’t nowhere,” Rafe Fielding complained.
“He probably had to leave,” Lou Williams said. “I’m sure he woulda left us a message.”
“Like where? With who?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Williams asked. “He didn’t know where we was gonna stay. Hell, we didn’t know that till we got here. We just gotta keep lookin’, otherwise we came all this way for nothin’, didn’t we?”
Fielding made a noise with his mouth.
“Get us two fresh beers,” Williams said. “Then we’ll check some of the other saloons.”
“What about the whorehouses?” Fielding asked.
“Yeah,” Williams said, “let’s do that.”
Sheriff Jacobs knocked on the door of the rooming house.
“I appreciate this, Sheriff,” Lancaster said.
“Don’t mention it,” Jacobs said. “I’m just glad you and Bodeen talked about it.”
“He doesn’t check in with you about strangers?” Lancaster asked.
