“Never saw government land people didn’t free-range,” Virgil said.
“Government’s a long way away,” I said.
“Enough land to support a lot of cattle,” Virgil said.
“Homesteaders are trying, I guess, but nobody got the money,” I said. “They’re talking about organizing.”
“Who got the money?” Virgil said.
“Wolfson,” I said. “Fella named Eamon O’Malley, runs a copper mine. Probably fella runs the lumber business, Fritz Stark.”
“Any of them interested?”
“In a cattle operation?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t know,” I said. “Ranchers say that Wolfson’s trying to run them off their land.”
“Tell me ’bout that,” Virgil said.
I did.
When I was done Virgil said, “Sounds effectual.”
I nodded. We let the horses stop for a time and eat some grass.
“This O’Malley fella,” Virgil said. “Think he’ll let that happen?”
I shrugged.
“He hired Cato and Rose for something,” I said.
“He did,” Virgil said.
We pulled the horses back up from the grass and moved on.
“We gonna look for Allie?” I said after a while.
“I guess,” Virgil said.
“When?”
“When you get through here,” Virgil said.
“I can get through when I want to.”
Virgil shook his head.
“Gonna be trouble,” he said. “You know it. I know it.”
“Might be,” I said.
“You ain’t going anyplace until that’s settled.”
“Why not?” I said.
“’Cause you ain’t,” Virgil said. “Neither would I. It ain’t how we are.”
“You gonna hang around and wait?” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
“’Cause you get lonesome without me?” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
“And I listen when you talk,” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
“And you don’t want me to have to go up against Cato and Rose alone.”
Virgil grinned at me.
“Uh-huh,” he said.
The sun was warm. There was a little breeze. We let the horses drink at a stream that wound down out of the high ground to the north. Then we moved on.
“We go looking for Allie,” I said, “where we gonna look?”
“Texas,” Virgil said. “She was always talking ’bout Texas.”
“Texas is big,” I said.
“It is,” Virgil said.
“What happens when we find her?”
“We’ll see,” Virgil said.
“You ain’t gonna kill her?”
“No,” Virgil said. “Can’t kill her. Why I killed him.”
I nodded.
“You take up with her again, Virgil,” I said, “she’ll probably do this again.”
“Maybe,” Virgil said. “Won’t know what’s gonna happen next, ’less we find her.”
“That would be true,” I said.
19.
I’m having a drink with Eamon O’Malley this afternoon, ” Wolfson said to me. “Two o’clock. I’d just as soon you were there.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Bring the eight-gauge,” Wolfson said.
“Sure,” I said.
The eight-gauge and I were in the lookout chair by quarter to two. The saloon was nearly empty. Couple of teamsters who had already unloaded and had time to kill until they were reloaded. A rancher whose wife was probably running up a bill at the Blackfoot Emporium. Three lumberjacks who weren’t working for whatever reason they had. Wolfson came in through the hotel entrance and went to a table in the front of the saloon two tables from me. He saw me and nodded slightly. There was no one else near us. Patrick brought him a bottle and two glasses.
At two on the hour, Eamon O’Malley came in through the street entrance and walked straight to Wolfson. He didn’t have an eight-gauge. But he did have Cato and Rose walking in behind him. Eamon sat down with Wolfson. Cato and Rose leaned on the bar. Rose winked at me. Cato looked at me without expression.
“Amos,” Eamon said.
Wolfson nodded.
“Eamon,” he said, and gestured toward a chair.
O’Malley sat across from Wolfson.
“Whiskey?” Wolfson said.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Eamon said.
He picked up the bottle.
“By God,” he said, “Bushmills.”
“In your honor,” Wolfson said.
Eamon poured a full glass.
“Ain’t seen whiskey like this since I was in Cheyenne,” he said.
“Been saving it,” Wolfson said.
He poured a splash for himself.
It was like watching two stallions pretending they didn’t want the mares.
Eamon drank some whiskey and smiled.
“Long time,” he said, “long time since Ireland.”
He looked around the saloon.
“Nice little business you got here, Amos,” he said.
“It’s a living,” Wolfson said.
“Damn good one, if I’m any judge,” Eamon said.
“Ain’t no copper mine,” Wolfson said.
Eamon drank some more whiskey.
“Ahh,” he said. “Mining’s all overhead until it peters out. This place… people keep coming. Town grows, you grow. You got the saloon, the store, the hotel, the bank. Wasn’t for me and Fritzie, you’d own the whole place.”
