Crow Bait (9 page)

When the sheriff showed up, Lancaster turned Kent over to him. The lawman collected some men and had the body of the dead Tyler carried out of the hotel.

“Looks like you’ll need a new room,” he said to Lancaster after the two men had been removed.

“Looks like.”

“I wouldn’t sleep too sound if I was you, though.”

“Why? You know something I don’t? Anybody else planning to kill me?”

“Not that I know of, but…”

“Don’t worry, Sheriff,” Lancaster said. “I’ll try not to kill anyone else tonight.”

“Yeah, well…I’d be much obliged. You leavin’ tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but not too early. I got some of what I needed, but I hope to get the rest of it tomorrow.”

“Let me know when you’re ridin’ out,” Sheriff Carver said. “Then I can let out the breath that I’ll be holdin’.”

“I’ll do that. I better go down and get another room from the clerk.”

“Just grab any key,” the sheriff said. “They killed the clerk.”

“Sorry to hear it.”

They walked down to the lobby together.

Lancaster woke in his new room the next morning. There was a pitcher and basin balanced on the windowsill, and a wooden chair wedged beneath the doorknob. No one else had tried to break in and kill him during the night.

He dressed and went to Bessie’s to see if they were open for breakfast. They were, and apparently much of the town ate breakfast there. He had a short wait before he was shown to a table. The steak was so good the night before that he ordered steak and eggs.

He was working on his last cup of coffee when something occurred to him. His waitress was young and very pretty, and this was apparently one of the best places to eat in town.

This was Gerry Beck’s kind of place.

“Excuse me,” he said to the waitress as he paid her.

“Yes?”

“What’s your name?”

“Lorna.”

“Lorna, I’m looking for a friend of mine who was supposed to have passed through town in the last few weeks. Maybe you ran into him.”

“Why do you think that?” she asked. “Wouldn’t it be better if you checked with a bartender?”

“No,” he said, “this is the kind of place he would have come. Good food, and a beautiful waitress.”

She blushed. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Actually, she was young and pretty, but that was close enough for Beck.

“Of course I do,” Lancaster said, “and my friend would, too. His name is Gerry…Gerry Beck.”

Her eyes widened. “I know Gerry!”

“You do?”

“He was here for a few days, and he ate here every morning and every night.”

“I thought so,” Lancaster said.

She leaned in and said, in a low voice, “He even asked if he could take me to supper.”

“And did he?”

“No,” she said, as if the very idea was appalling. “He was…too old.”

“He’s my age.”

“Really?” she said. “He looks older.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“But you did talk to him, right?” Lancaster asked.

“Well, of course,” she said. “I had to be polite. My mother is Bessie.”

“Bessie?”

“The owner? I have to be polite to the customers.”

Like now, he thought.

“Well, I’m not gonna take up your time,” he promised. “I just need to catch up to Gerry, and I was wondering if he told you where he was going after here.”

“No.”

“Can you give it some thought—”

“He didn’t tell me exactly where he was going,” she said. “But he did say he was going to Texas.”

“Texas? Texas is a big place, Lorna. Did he tell you where in Texas?”

“He didn’t say where,” she said. “Or I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I,” Lancaster said. He gave her the money for his breakfast and got up to leave. He was about to go out the door when she caught up to him and grabbed his arm.

“The panhandle.”

“What?”

“He said he was heading for the Texas panhandle. Does that help?”

“Yes, Lorna,” he said, “that helps a lot. Thank you.”

The panhandle.

If Beck had said that to anyone but a young, pretty girl, Lancaster would have discounted it. Beck only lied to young women when he knew he was staying in town. So mentioning to Lorna that he was headed for the Texas panhandle was probably true.

Now all Lancaster had to do was get a lead on one of the other three—whichever of them came here to Henderson.

He had planned to check the whorehouse for Gerry Beck, but now that he’d found Lorna that wasn’t necessary. On the other hand, Sweet or one of the others might have needed a whore, too. Lots of men did when they came in off the trail.

So he headed for the whorehouse.

“Adderly.”

“He was here?” Lancaster asked.

The girl looked at him and said, “That’s what I just said. He was here.”

There were two whorehouses in town, and this was the second. The girl was a pretty, slightly faded, and plump girl of about thirty. Her name was Angel. She was sitting on a bed with grimy sheets in a tiny room with one dirty window. Lancaster had seen cleaner campsites.

“His name is kinda weird,” she said. “That’s why I remember him.”

“Adderly?”

“No, his first name,” she said. “It’s Chester.”

“Chester.”

“He said his friends called him Chet, but he wanted me to call him Chester while we did it.”

“How many times was he here?”

“A few,” she said. “He was in town for about a week, and then he left.”

“Did he come by to say good-bye?”

“What the hell?” she said. “I’m a whore, I wasn’t his girlfriend. Who says good-bye to a whore when they leave town?”

She was right, of course.

“Okay, thanks.”

“Hey,” she said as he turned to the door.

“What?”

“My money?”

“Oh, sorry.” Lancaster gave her the money he’d promised her.

“Don’t forget to tell that bitch downstairs what a good ride I gave you.”

“I won’t forget,” he promised.

“Thanks.”

He opened the door, but before leaving he asked, “Did Adderly go with any of the other girls?”

“One,” she said. “He went with Lisa first, but after that he was with me, and he stayed with me. That Lisa, what a skinny bitch.”

“Lisa,” he said. “Thanks.”

“Tell that bitch downstairs to send up the next one,” she said.

“Right.”

“Another one?” the bitch downstairs asked.

“Yeah, Lisa,” Lancaster said.

“What, Angel wasn’t enough for you?”

“Angel was great,” he said. “Worth every penny. But then she told me about this skinny girl—”

“You like ’em skinny?”

Lancaster was getting impatient. He took out some money and shoved it into the woman’s hand. “Look, I need to talk to Lisa. Five minutes. She knows something about a man I’m looking for.”

She looked at the money in her hand. “For this you can talk for half an hour.”

“Five minutes.”

“Go ahead,” she said. “Room three.”

He started up the stairs, then turned and said, “Angel said to send up the next one.”

“Already?”

“She’s a helluva worker.”

“I guess so,” she said. “Okay.”

He went up the stairs, walked to room three, knocked, and went in.

Lisa didn’t know a thing about a man named Adderly.

“Oh, Chet!” she said, when he explained who he was looking for. “I didn’t get his last name.”

“You called him Chet? His name was Chester, right?” Lancaster asked.

“Yeah, but I called him Chet.”

He could see her shoulder and hip bones through the thin robe she was wearing. She was older than Angel, but either not as busy or cleaner, because the room—and the sheets—were not as grimy.

She screwed up her face.

“Maybe he didn’t like that, because he never came back to me. Started using that bitch Angel.”

“You don’t like Angel?”

She wrinkled her nose and said, “She’s dirty.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“So you’re lookin’ for Chet?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna kill ’im?”

“Probably. What made you ask?”

“You look like a gunman,” she said. “He looked like an outlaw.” She shrugged. “I slept with so many men—cowboys, gunmen, gamblers, lawmen—that I can tell them apart.”

“And can you tell me anything about him?” Lancaster asked.

“Like what?”

“Like where he was going when he left Henderson?”

“We didn’t talk much,” she said. “In fact, he was finished with me pretty quick.”

“Sorry to hear it.”

“No, no,” she said, “those are the best kind of customers, the ones who finish fast, roll over, break wind, and then leave. Well, except for customers like you.”

“Like me?”

She nodded. “The kind who pay to talk.”

“Oh.” He took out the money he promised her and she shoved it into the pocket of her robe.

“Anything else I can do?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “That’s it. Thanks.”

“Any time,” she said. “Come back and talk some more.”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m leaving town.”

“Too bad.”

He started to leave but as he grabbed the doorknob she said, “Wait.”

“What?”

“He asked me a question before he left.”

“What question?”

She screwed her face up again. “He asked me if I knew a place called Peach…something.”

As promised Lancaster stopped in at the sheriff’s office before leaving Henderson.

“Did you get what you wanted?” Carver asked.

“I’ve got a line on two of the men I’m tracking,” Lancaster said.

“Well, congratulations, then,” the lawman said. “I guess you’re on your way, then.”

“That’s right.”

“I’ll walk out with you.”

Out front the lawman saw Crow Bait tied off and was taken aback. “That’s your horse?”

“That’s right.”

“Couldn’t get somethin’ better?”

“This horse carried me out of the desert, saved my life,” Lancaster said. “I owe it to him to ride him for as long as I can.”

“Don’t seem it would be that long, from the look of ’im.”

“He’s better than he looks, believe me,” Lancaster said, hoisting himself into the saddle. “Thanks for your help, Sheriff.”

The sheriff knew he hadn’t done anything, but he said, “Any time.”

Lancaster knew he’d never be in Henderson
again, so he just waved and turned Crow Bait east.

Next stop was Peach Springs, Arizona.

As Lancaster rode out of town, the sheriff went back into his office, took the cell key from the peg on the wall, and entered the cell block.

“He’s gone,” he said, while fitting the key into the lock.

In the cell Kent stood up impatiently.

“Come on out,” Carver said.

Kent followed the lawman out of the cell block to his desk. There Carver returned Kent’s hat and gun belt.

“You better warn Beck that Lancaster’s comin’,” Carver said.

Strapping the gun on, Kent said, “Don’t worry, Gerry’ll take care of ’im. I remember him now. Lancaster was a drunk for years. He’s lost it.”

“He took care of you and your partner,” Carver said. “You’re lucky you’re not dead.”

“Oh yeah? Well, next time’s gonna be different,” Kent said. “I’m gonna make him pay for killin’ Tyler.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Carver said, sitting down.

“You don’t think I can?”

“I’m just sorry I won’t be there to see you try,” Carver said.

“You got a big mouth, fat man.”

“And you’re about to talk yourself right back into a cell,” Carver said. “Look, I’m done with Beck and I’m done with you and your kind. Now get out of my office and get out of my town.”

Kent stood in front of the sheriff with his muscles bunched, his jaw twitching.

“Go ahead and try it,” Carver said. “I didn’t get to be this age by backin’ down from the likes of you.”

Kent stared at Carver with undisguised rage, but eventually his muscles relaxed and he backed down. “You’re lucky I want Lancaster first.”

Carver looked down at his desk and said, “I can’t even hear you anymore, Kent. You’re a memory to me. A bad memory.”

Lancaster used the time it took to ride from Henderson to Peach Springs to bond further with Crow Bait. He spoke to him each night as he rubbed him down and fed him, and then made sure to give him some green apples for a treat. To his eye the horse did not seem to be putting on weight, but each day the animal seemed to be getting stronger. He still looked like a bag of bones, but he felt stronger.

And he swore the horse could understand him when he spoke to him. This was the most serene animal he’d ever ridden. Nothing seemed to faze him, whether they were on the trail or camped. They encountered a rattler at one point, and Crow Bait couldn’t have cared less while Lancaster shot the reptile. And nothing in the darkness ever rattled the horse. Although Lancaster felt certain that, if there were any danger approaching, the animal would have sounded the alarm.

Lancaster swore that, for the rest of his life, he’d never judge anything by the way it looked—man or beast.

Peach Springs was a small town—what some people would call a “one horse” town. As he rode in he saw only three buildings—one was a hotel, one a saloon,
and one a livery. He reined in Crow Bait in front of the hotel. As he walked in he smelled food cooking. He wondered if this was the one place in town to eat.

“Afternoon, friend,” the clerk said. He was a man in his fifties with a smile that looked plastered on. Lancaster wondered if he smiled all night, while he was asleep.

“Good afternoon.”

“Do you need a room?” the clerk asked. “We’ve got plenty. We don’t get many visitors.”

“Who’s your kitchen cooking for, then?” Lancaster asked.

“Anyone who wants to eat,” the man said. “Folks around here don’t have any place else to go.”

“I see. Well, I’ll take a room, and then I’ll come down to eat.”

“Excellent,” the man said. He turned, took a key from the wall, and handed it to Lancaster.

“Do you want me to check in?” he asked.

“It’s not necessary,” the clerk said. “If you don’t like the room, you can try another one. We have plenty.”

“Thank you.”

“The rooms are upstairs.”

As Lancaster started for the stairs the clerk called, “What would you like to eat?”

“What are my choices?”

“Beef stew.”

Lancaster waited, but when the clerk offered no alternative he said, “Beef stew will be great. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Is your horse out front?” the man asked. “I can have it taken to the stable.”

“That’d be helpful. Thanks.”

“What does it look like?”

“You won’t be able to miss it,” Lancaster said, and went upstairs.

The man who brought him his bowl of beef stew looked just like the clerk, only a few years younger.

“My brother said you wanted stew.”

“He didn’t say I had another choice.”

“He likes the stew,” the waiter said. He put it down next to the basket of rolls he had brought earlier. It looked delicious and smelled the same.

“This will do nicely,” Lancaster said.

“Enjoy.”

The man walked away and Lancaster broke a roll, dunked it in the stew, and tasted. It was just as good as it looked. For the next twenty minutes, all he concentrated on was eating that, and a second bowl.

“You were pretty hungry,” the waiter said, collecting the second bowl.

“I didn’t realize how hungry until I tasted your food,” Lancaster said. “Tell me, does everyone in this area eat here?”

“Unless they eat at home,” the waiter said.

“Who lives in the area?”

“There are quite a few ranches around us.”

“Why isn’t the town larger, then?” Lancaster asked. “Why don’t you have a general store? Or a trading post?”

“The ranchers usually go to Audley or Seligman for their supplies,” the waiter said.

“How far are they?”

“Thirty, and thirty-seven miles, thereabouts.”

“But they come here to eat?”

“Unless they stay home.”

“Yes, you said that.”

“Would you like anything else?”

“Some more coffee.”

“Comin’ up.”

A town this size didn’t have much to offer. It didn’t offer much cover, either. If he started asking questions about Chet Adderly, word would get around. He was going to have to figure out a way to get answers without asking too many questions.

Certain questions were harmless, though.

“What’s your name?” he asked the waiter when he brought the coffee.

“George.”

“And your brother?”

“Which one?”

“How many do you have?”

“Well,” he said, “Harry is the cook, Fred is the desk clerk, and Sam runs the livery.”

“Four brothers? And you pretty much run the town?”

George laughed and said, “We are the town.”

“What about the saloon?”

“Our cousin Dan owns it, and he’s the bartender.”

“One big happy family, huh?”

“Except for our sister,” George said. “She’s not so happy.”

“Why?”

“She hates it here. Wants to leave.”

“Why doesn’t she?”

“She doesn’t have a man.”

“She needs a man to leave here?”

George looked shocked. “A young lady can’t travel alone.”

“Oh, right,” Lancaster said. “Uh, how old is your sister?”

“Hermione is forty.”

“Hermione,” Lancaster repeated. “Forty.”

George nodded. “Is that all you want?”

“Yes,” Lancaster said. “Everything was great. How much do I owe you?”

“Two bits.”

Lancaster passed it over and said, “And worth every penny.”