The Last Good Day, стр. 14

“Never got around to it. All the men went to war. Most didn’t come back. Not many of the home folks still here, either. The Yankees declared martial law, closed down some of the businesses for carpetbaggers, even hired them a Yankee marshal. The marshal said an actor named John Wilkes Booth killed Lincoln and they got the biggest manhunt in history goin’ on to find him.”

“I heard,” he said.

“Bet you’re hungry,” she said. “What can I get you?”

“You got a steak?” Rance said.

“I’ll fix you a steak with all the trimmings on the house as a homecoming,” she said.

“No need to do that.”

“Want to.” She walked over to the bar, picked up a glass and a bottle of whiskey and sat them on his table. “Nurse on this while I fix that steak,” she said and smiled. “You can take the bottle with you when you go.”

“You feed an Indian and a boy tonight?” Rance asked.

“Sure did. They rented a bed and went upstairs. Got you one there if you want it.”

“They’re friends of mine. We’re riding together.”

“The beds are ready. Take anyone you want. I’ll go fix your steak,” she said and walked through the swinging doors to the kitchen, stopped inside the door, leaned against the wall and began to sob.

She placed her apron over her mouth to muffle the sound and continued crying for several minutes. She wiped the tears away with her apron, took a deep breath. “Now what do I do?” she said to herself and picked up a large skillet and sat it on the stove. “Fix the steak and keep my mouth shut,” she said to the stove.

Rance was gazing out the window, sipping the whiskey when she brought the steak to him and laid a knife and fork on the table beside the plate, looked at his arm and picked the knife and fork up quicker then she laid them down.

“Sorry,” she said. “Should have cut the steak before I brought it out.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “Learning to do a lot of things different now. I can manage.”

“Not this time,” she said and started cutting the steak. She finished cutting the steak and laid the fork and knife back on the table.

“Thanks,” Rance said. “Does a train still come through here?”

“No. Yanks stopped everything from goin’ or comin’ from Milberg for the time being. Why?”

“Thinkin’ ‘bout ridin’ one to Texas.”

“Someone said they’re runnin’ further down the line, don’t know for sure. Why Texas?”

“Need to help the boy get to Texas, settle some things with his old man he can’t do by himself.”

She nodded. “If you need anything, yell. I have to go clean the kitchen. Enjoy your steak.”

Rance nodded and she disappeared through the kitchen doors and stopped to wipe more tears in the kitchen.

“I can’t,” she said to herself. “I just can’t tell him.”

Rance finished his steak, stuck the bottle of whiskey in his saddle bags and went upstairs. The door was open. It was a big room with four beds. A quilt was folded at the foot of each bed, a pitcher of water and a wash bowl were on a small table by each bed with a towel and a lit lamp. Tommy was already sound asleep.

A broad-shouldered man with big arms and no neck was sitting on a bed packing something in a sack. He got up, walked by Rance out the open door and closed it without saying a word.

B.W. was sitting on his bed cleaning the twelve-gauge, his tomahawk on the table, his boots by the bed. “Get to see your family’s graves?”

“Did. Was hard.” Rance sat his weapons and saddle bags on the floor and sat down on the bed. “Julie said she heard the man that killed Lincoln was an actor named John Wilkes Booth.”

”I’ll be damned! Heard of him, went to a play one time he was in called My American Cousin. Hope they kill that bastard.”

“I’m sure they will. Brought you something.” Rance handed B.W. the whiskey. “Julie gave it to me. I thought you might need a drink.”

“Thanks. That Miss Julie sure is a pretty thing,” B.W. said.

“Sure is,” Rance said.

“She got a husband?”

“No.”

“You know her long?”

“Since we were kids.”

“Might be a good idea to get reacquainted,” B.W. said.

“Crossed my mind.”

There was a knock on the door. B.W. got up and opened it. A pretty young black woman with sparkling brown eyes and skin as smooth as cream was standing there smiling.

“Sorry to bother you,” she said. “My name’s Fannie. Julie asked me to see if you needed anything ‘fore I turned in.”

“I’m good. The boy’s out cold. How ‘bout you, major?” B.W. asked, looking at Rance.

“I’m good too, thank you,” Rance said.

“Alright,” Fannie said. “Breakfast is at six, have a good night.”

“Thank you,” B.W. said. Fannie walked out and B.W. closed the door. “Another pretty woman. I’m beginnin’ to like it here.”

“Nothin’ like a woman to make a man feel good ‘bout himself,” Rance said.

“Yeah, but next time I’m going to sleep with this twelve-gauge, just in case.”

“May just need to be more careful where you sleep.”

“Yep, there you go again.,” B.W. said. “Thought anymore on Texas?”

“Maybe we should go, unless you got other plans. Might be able to do something useful.”

“That’s important to you, ain’t it?” B.W. said, took the cap off the whiskey bottle, took a big swig and put the cap back on.

“What, goin’ to Texas?” Rance asked.

“No, doin’ something useful,” B.W. said.

“Yes it is. You’re a lawyer. We can take his old man to court,” Rance said.

“Don’t know, think I might like killin’ him better.”

“Now that would solve everything. We wouldn’t care after they hang us.”

“I hear you, but if the court thing don’t work, then I’ll kill him.”

“I think you missed the part in school ‘bout upholding the law.”

“Didn’t miss it, just don’t always agree with it,” B.W. said, took the cap off the whiskey bottle and let a big, slow swallow roll down his throat and sighed. “Nectar of the gods.”

“Just make sure