“Could kick your one-armed ass,” B.W. said.
“You are drunk,” Tommy said.
“Young man, I’ll decide what I am, not you,” B.W. said and turned the whiskey bottle up for the last swallow in the bottle. He dropped his empty bottle and fell over on his saddle asleep.
“Guess he don’t get no beans,” Tommy said. “I’m goimng to pour out what’s left. B.W. got anymore whiskey?”
“Don’t know,” Rance said. “No harm in havin’ a drink every now and then but some folks don’t know when to stop, and B.W. is one of them.”
“Hope he don’t have anymore,” Tommy said.
“He’ll get more,” Rance said. “He’ll wake up, feel bad ‘bout it and cut down for a while, then do it all again. Some people can drink and some can’t. My pa was a lot like B.W. Didn’t know when to put the bottle down. It’s why I watch myself with the whiskey.”
“How do you know if you can’t?” Tommy said.
“You don’t. Every time we stop for the rest of the way I’ll teach you more. By the time we get to Texas you should be readin’ some and writin’ a little.”
“What do you think my pa will do when he sees me?”
“Well, I don’t think he’s goin’ to welcome you with open arms or he wouldn’t have sent you away to start with. If he had anything to do with your mama bein’ murdered then that’s a whole different story.”
“You think he did?”
“If we can find the cowboy with the fancy boots we might know.”
”We got money now, why don’t we just go someplace and buy us a ranch and forget about Texas?”
“Might consider that.”
“What if I don’t want to go to Texas?” Tommy said.
“Then maybe we buy that ranch.”
“I’ll think on it.”
“You do that,” Rance said, “now let’s get some shut eye.”
B.W. sat up, picked up his empty whiskey bottle, squinted his eyes and looked in it, dropped it and eased back down on his saddle and closed his eyes.
An owl got an early start on the night and a wolf’s howl in the distance made the horses uneasy.
Rance picked up his Henry, checked it and his double-action Colt and sat back down against an oak.
Tommy sat down beside him. “What if Billy gets a horse and shows up?”
“He won’t. He knows better.”
“I been thinkin,’” Tommy said. ”You said you thought the man that murdered my mama may be from Texas. Made up my mind. I want to go to Texas and kill that sonofabitch. She may have been a whore but she was a good mama and took good care of me.”
“Leave the cussin’ to B.W. like he said. Nothin’ says we’ll find him but we can try.”
Tommy laid down on his saddle.
Rance looked up at the star-filled sky, it always made him think of Paige and his daughter. Taking care of Tommy made the pain a little more bearable and he fell asleep.
As the morning sunlight tiptoed through the trees to the creek, he got up to build a fire to fix coffee. B.W. sat up and made a horrible face, rubbed his head, picked up his Henry and used it to get to his feet. He saw the coffee pot on the fire. “Think I could use some of that when it’s ready,” he said.
“Why I made it,” Rance said.
B.W. nodded, blinked his eyes several times. “Sorry, I drank too much last night,” he said.
“You should be,” Rance said, “bad timing. Wait until you’re in one of those places you shouldn’t be. Next time we might need you.”
“Thought you was lookin’ at me a little cockeyed,” B.W. said. “We’re not in the army anymore. I’ll do as I damn well please.”
“Then find you another partner,” Rance said.
“Didn’t know we were partners,” B.W. said. “Thought we just wound up ridin’ together by accident.”
“If that’s the way you see it, me and the boy will move on,” Rance said.
“What makes you think he wants to go with you?” B.W. said.
“Ask him.”
“You think you’re going to get any of this money you’re not,” B.W. said. and grabbed the money bags off the ground.
“I don’t want it anyway, belongs to other people.”
“Good, you’d probably give it to a church or something anyway,” B.W. said.
Tommy came walking up with his hat in his hand. “What are you two arguin’ about? You woke me up.”
“We just realized we don’t like each other,” B.W. said.
“Why,” Tommy said.
“Mr. Holier-Than-Thou here thinks I drink too much,” B.W. said.
“Well, you do,” Tommy said.
“I guess that’s what he told you,” B.W. said.
“No. The major said his pa drank too much. You shouldn’t get so mad. We need you to be sober to survive.”
“The kid’s right,” Rance said. “You said it yourself, it’s dog-eat-dog now.”
“I need you both,” Tommy said.
B.W. and Rance looked at each other. They knew he was right. They stood there not knowing what to do next, looking off into the wild blue yonder, gathering their thoughts.
Rance was the first to speak. “I been wrong, too, could have got us killed by trying to return that money. Was talkin’ out of turn.”
“You were, but you’re right,” B.W. said. “I do drink too much and I know it. Can’t seem to know when to quit till after it’s too late.”
“And I got a mouth problem. Still trying to be a major.”
“Why don’t you two knock it off and I’ll put some flapjacks on,” Tommy said.
“Yeah, think I’d like that,” B.W. said. “Not as good as biscuits but pretty good if you get ‘em done.”
“Did you mean what you said, B.W.?” Rance said.
“‘Bout what?”
“Not bein’ partners.”
“No, got my own mouth problems,” B.W. said. “Was just mad.”
“You want those flapjacks?” Tommy asked.
B.W. and Rance nodded yes.
Tommy fixed the flapjacks. Rance poured himself and B.W. a cup of coffee, handed Tommy his canteen and they ate in silence, then saddled up. B.W. tied the money on his horse and they rode on, letting their horses mosey along at their own speed, stopping to nibble on the grass from time to time.
