Devils Unto Dust(9)

“Jus’ one, Elsie, tha’s all I’m asking fer,” he says, his voice thick and slurred.

“Jessup, go sit down before you fall over. And don’t even think of starting something tonight, or you can find another place to do your drinking.” Elsie glares at him mean enough to send him stumbling away. “And that goes for Dollarhide, too,” she calls after him, her hands planted on her hips. She turns and catches sight of me, worry flitting across her face. It’s gone just as quickly and she gives me a wide grin.

“Well, here comes trouble.”

“Hello, Miss Elsie,” I say with a small smile, pulling myself onto a stool.

“What can I do you for, Willie?”

“I’m here on business.”

“What do you got for me?” Elsie says, pouring me a glass of prickly pear juice. “Did you want something else, sweetheart? Coffee?”

“No, ma’am, that’ll suit me fine.” I put my sack on the bar and take a large gulp of the juice. It’s not cold, but at least it helps clear the dust from my throat.

Elsie opens my sack, carefully taking out the biscuits and the chimes, which are only slightly dusty. They aren’t worth much, but it’s something, and I already owe Elsie more money than I could ever hope to pay back. She’s kind that way; she was close with Ma and always looks out for us. She also knows more about the shake hunters than anyone in town, and I trust her judgment.

“Biscuits, those can go with supper tonight, and chimes. Micah make these?”

I nod and Elsie smiles. “I thought so. Clever boy, even if he never comes to see me. You want this back?” She holds out the worn cloth the bread was wrapped in.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, feeling my cheeks get hot at the obvious proof of how poor we are.

“And some skins, too. You do them yourself?”

“Micah killed them, but I skinned ’em.”

“Well, you did good,” Elsie says. “Now what are you needing, dear?”

“Flour, hominy, beans, coffee, dried fruit.” I rattle off the list I made in my head. I’d love to get some meat, even salted, but beans are cheaper and they’ll go farther. “Lamp oil, a spool of thread, and a brick of that yellow soap if you still have it.”

“Anything else?”

I take another drink and meet Elsie’s sharp gaze. “Some information, if you’ll give it to me.”

Elsie blinks, her face carefully blank. I don’t say anything, just stare back and after a long moment she sighs. “Damn. I was hoping McAllister would let it go. He bother you?”

I give a quick jerk of my head that could be a nod.

“I’m sorry, Willie. I didn’t think they’d be after you already.”

“I didn’t even know Pa was back.”

“He came in a few days ago. I tried to get him to go home, I really did—”

“It ain’t your fault, Elsie. He wouldn’t have done us much good at home, anyhows. Did you see what happened?”

“Some of it. McAllister was sitting with Fullerton and them and he was winning big. Making a lot of noise about it, too, which didn’t go unnoticed. Then this morning he’s down here screaming that someone lifted his winnings.”

“And that someone was Pa,” I say bitterly.

“Looks that way. Harry took off sometime in the night, but everyone heard McAllister bragging. If it hadn’t been your pa, someone else would’ve done it.”

“Any idea where he might be headed?”

“That I don’t know, but I can ask around. I’ll get Ned to find out who was on the gate last night.”

“Thanks, Elsie.”

“Anything you need, Willie, you let me know. I’m sorry I didn’t keep a closer eye on him for you.”

I shrug. “Ma couldn’t control him, neither. I don’t know why she married him.”

Elsie smiles crookedly. “She loved him, that’s why. Sense and love don’t always go together.”

“Well I wish she’d had a little more of one and less of the other. McAllister wants four hundred dollars, and I ain’t got anything close to that. So now I gotta go to the Judge with my tail between my legs, and that ain’t a conversation I’m looking forward to.”

Elsie doesn’t argue with me, doesn’t say it’s a bad idea, doesn’t ask any questions. She gives me no pitying glances, for which I am grateful. It is easier to be strong when those around you are, too, and determination is etched into every line on Elsie’s face. She reminds me of my mother, a hard woman in a hard land, and I resolve to be the same.

“All right, then. Do what you need to do.” Elsie looks over my head, scanning the sea of faces across the room. “The Judge is at the back. Be firm, be polite, and hold that tongue of yours.”

“I’ll do my best.”

I push my empty glass across the bar and hop off my stool, squaring my shoulders for the unpleasantness to come.





7.


I weave through the tables toward the farthest corner of the floor. Even through the smoke and the dim lighting I make out the Judge, his balding head sitting atop the massive bulk of his body. Three hunters sit with him at his table, and they fall silent when I approach, stopping a few feet away.