Crow Bait

Fifty-five

Lancaster could feel the deputy behind him. It was the older one, Bodeen.

He knew the young man was watching him to see what kind of trouble he might get into, but that suited him. If he ran into Sweet or the other two or—even better—Gerry Beck, he knew this deputy would take a hand. He was the ambitious one.

Lancaster needed to find somebody in Amarillo who knew Beck or Sweet. Or he needed to find those two strangers.

And then it hit him. Probably the one man who could tell him where to find those two.

He turned a corner, then stepped into a doorway and waited. Moments later Deputy Bodeen came walking around the corner, and he stepped out. Bodeen stopped short, eyes wide.

“Hey!” Bodeen said.

“Buy you a drink, Deputy?” Lancaster asked.

Bodeen agreed to the drink out of curiosity and took Lancaster to the Red Ribbon Saloon.

They stopped in front and Lancaster looked up at the sign over the door, which had a red ribbon painted on it.

They went inside. It was the middle of the afternoon and the place was full.

“I’ll get a table,” Bodeen said, “unless you wanna talk someplace quieter?”

“No, this’ll do,” Lancaster said. In a place this noisy, there was probably less chance of them being overheard.

Lancaster waited by the door until Bodeen returned with two beers and said, “Come on.”

He had actually gotten them a table in a small back room that was used for poker. He pulled the curtained doorway closed behind them.

“What’s on your mind, Mr. Lancaster?” he asked as they sat.

“The sheriff told me one of his deputies was getting ready to run against him for his office in the next election,” Lancaster said. “I figure that’s you.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You seem the ambitious type to me.”

“Why not Lyle?”

“He didn’t know who I am,” Lancaster said. “You did.”

“Well, I pay attention.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Lancaster said. “And I’ll bet you pay attention to what’s going on in town.”

“I try to.”

“Then you know when strangers ride in.”

Bodeen smiled. He had good looks, which wouldn’t hurt him in an election. “I saw you ride in.”

“So you’re making my point even stronger for me,” Lancaster said. “You know when strangers come to town, so you’ve seen the ones I’m looking for.”

“I can’t get to them all,” Bodeen said. “That’s the sheriff’s job.”

“So when Gerry Beck came through here, you either did or didn’t see him.”

“I may have seen him and not known his name.”

Lancaster took the time to describe Beck. According to Andy Black’s description, Beck hadn’t changed very much since he’d last seen him.

“Guess that could be a lot of people,” Bodeen said. He seemed annoyed to have to admit that Beck might have been in town without him knowing it.

“What about a man named Sweet? My description of him isn’t so good.”

“Sweet was here.”

Lancaster sat forward. “You sure?”

“It ain’t a common name.”

“When?”

“A week, maybe ten days ago.”

“With anybody?”

“No, he was alone.”

“How do you know?”

“I braced him when he rode in,” Bodeen said. “I could see he was trouble.”

“How did he react to being braced?”

“Took it in stride,” Bodeen said. “Seemed real calm. We talked in one of the other saloons. He didn’t break a sweat.”

“Did he say anything about waiting to meet anybody else?”

“No. I asked him what he was up to, but he said he was just passing through.”

“And how long did he stay?”

“About six days, maybe a full week.”

“And what did he do?”

“Sat in front of his hotel, walked around town, drank, gambled…”

“He was killing time.”

“That’s what I thought,” Bodeen said. “Like he was waitin’ for somebody, but they never showed up.”

“And he finally left?”

“Just up and rode out,” Bodeen said. “Never made any trouble.”

“Could he have left a message for anyone?”

“Might’ve, but I don’t know who.”

“Where’d he stay?”

“Fifth Street Hotel, down the block.”

“Do you know where he left his horse?”

“Livery over on South Street.”

“Any place else?”

“Like where?”

“Whorehouse?”

Bodeen scratched his head, drank some beer. “I never saw him go to a whorehouse.”

“Okay,” Lancaster said. “When I got here I was trailing two riders. I figure they got here about three days ahead of me.”

“What’d they look like?”

“Not sure,” Lancaster said. “Just a couple of cowpokes who’d been in a fight recently—although any cuts or bruises might have healed by bow.”

“Like the one over your eye?”

“This was compliments of a kick to the head by Sweet,” Lancaster said. “I owe him.”

“So you’re huntin’ Beck for Wells Fargo, but Sweet’s personal?”

“You’ve got it.”

“And these other two?”

“They seem to know Sweet,” Lancaster said. “I thought they might lead me to him.”

“And they led you here.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I might be able to help you with those two,” Bodeen said.

“Yeah?”

“Drink up,” Bodeen said. “I’ll show you.”

Lancaster pushed away his half-finished beer and said, “I’m ready now.”