Devils Unto Dust(56)

The door opens even before Curtis knocks, and a plump woman wearing a patterned shirtwaist and a dark green skirt clasps his hands delightedly.

“Mr. Garrett,” she says, beaming at him. Her smile takes up half her face, her eyes disappearing into her cheeks. “I’m so happy to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Keen,” Curtis says, carefully extricating his hands from her grasp.

“And now where’s—oh yes, there he is, hiding behind you,” Mrs. Keen goes on, wagging her finger at Ben. “As if I wouldn’t see you there.”

“Hello, Mrs. Keen,” Ben says, staying safely out of her reach.

“Well, come in, come in, y’all are all welcome,” she says, bustling us inside. I catch Micah’s eye and he bites his lip, both of us trying not to laugh.

“Mrs. Keen, this is Sam and Micah, and that’s Willie there,” Curtis says, pointing us out to her.

“Well, don’t that beat all? It’s so nice to have young’uns in the house again. Now sit down and I’ll bring y’all something hot. Are you hungry? We’ve had breakfast already but I always make extra in case of stragglers.” Mrs. Keen doesn’t wait for us to answer; she ushers us through the entrance hall and into the parlor and disappears through a door, still talking.

I glance around, feeling slightly dazed by the woman’s energy. The parlor is small but well furnished, with a number of plush chairs and a long divan set around a polished wooden table. I sink down into one of the chairs, wishing I fit into this pretty room.

“Well, she’s . . . something,” Sam says, flopping down onto the divan.

“Aw, she’s a good woman and charges fair,” Curtis tells him. “Even if she could talk a donkey’s hind leg off. We’ll get some food in us and then we can figure out where to start looking for your pa.”

“Well I doubt he’d be staying at a place like this,” I say, looking at the heavy clouded mirror on the wall.

Micah lets out a bark of a laugh. “Pa? He’d stick out like a sore thumb.”

I wince at his choice of words and tug my sleeve down to make sure it’s covering my hand. The swelling is getting worse, and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hide it from the others. I need to find Pa before that happens, and before the delusions get worse.

“Then where do you reckon we should start?” Ben asks.

“The saloons first. Or any gambling halls.” I suck on the inside of my cheek, considering. “He used to sell to a man here, I think the name was Allen. Might be worth checking with him, if he’s still around.”

“We should split up,” Curtis says. “It’ll be faster, we’ll cover more ground. I need to take some time to buy supplies anyway, since we lost most of them. I’ll take Doc Junior with me, he knows what your pa looks like. Willie and Micah, you go with Ben.”

“Here we are,” Mrs. Keen interrupts, backing into the room with a tray balanced in her hands, the bright smell of coffee following her. “Now it’s nothing fancy, but it should set you to rights.”

Curtis jumps up and tries to take the tray, but Mrs. Keen shoos him away.

“Don’t be silly, dear, I can handle it. Y’all just sit and rest awhile.”

She sets the tray on the table gently and plants her hands on her hips. Along with the coffee, the tray is stocked with biscuits and a fat pat of butter, a bowl of thick jam, and a plate of sausages.

“There. Now eat your fill, and when you’re finished leave the tray. How many rooms should I set up?”

“I think three will suit us just fine,” Curtis answers. “Mrs. Keen, do you know a man named Allen by any chance?”

She wrinkles her brow, considering. “Can’t say that I do, but there’s an Ellis as runs the feed store.”

“We’ll ask around,” Ben tells me.

“Dinner’s at two, like usual,” Mrs. Keen goes on. “Tea you can take before you retire for the night. And I’ll get those rooms aired. Is there anything you’re wanting especially?”

“No, Mrs. Keen, thank you,” Curtis says. “This looks mighty fine. We’ll have a look about town, but we’ll be back shortly.”

“Oh, bless your heart, it does me good to have company.” Mrs. Keen smiles at us contentedly from the door, then she’s gone in a puff of green cloth and coffee.

“Well,” Curtis says, reaching for a biscuit, “eat up. Time’s a-wasting.”





45.


The city looks much kindlier with a belly full of coffee and grease. We walk from the Keen house back to the street we came through, and then Curtis and Sam split off, headed left while the rest of us go right.

“We got till dinner,” Ben reminds us. “Then we meet back up.”

It doesn’t seem like enough time, but Ben knows the town and it’s not like I won’t recognize my own father.

“We might not find him today, Will,” Micah says softly to me, trying to prepare me for disappointment.

“We just have to keep looking,” I say, my mind on my hand. I can’t spare a day, I can’t waste the heartbeats. “There are only so many places a man can hide.”

The banquettes rattle under my boots, the wood old and shrunken around the nails. I stare inside the shop we pass, impressed by the order of it; here holsters, lanterns, pails, and ropes are hung neatly on a wall for all to see. My full belly allows me to simply admire the jars full of candy, frosted and glowing like colored glass.