Resolution

20.

I let the hammers down carefully on the eight-gauge. Wolfson picked up the whiskey bottle and came to the bar. Virgil joined us. Patrick put up three fresh glasses and we drank some of the remaining Bushmills.

“This mean you’re willing to work for me?” Wolfson said to Virgil.

Virgil shook his head.

“Nope, just means I’m with Everett.”

“Everett works for me,” Wolfson said.

“Don’t need the money for now,” Virgil said. “But I’ll stay around, see what develops.”

“What do you think?” Wolfson said.

“Hired Cato and Rose for a reason,” Virgil said.

“Everett?”

“Agree,” I said.

“You’ll stick?”

“Yes,” I said.

Wolfson looked at Virgil.

“You?” he said.

“I’m with Everett,” Virgil said.

“How good are Cato and Rose?” Wolfson said.

“Very,” I said.

“Good as you and Cole?” Wolfson said.

“Yet to be determined,” Virgil said.

“You think he’ll hire some more?” Wolfson said.

“Might,” I said.

Wolfson looked at Virgil.

“Might,” Virgil said.

“You think I should hire some others?” Wolfson said.

“Going to war, good to have troops,” Virgil said.

“Can either of you help me with that?” Wolfson said.

“Probably,” I said. “But you got to understand, you hire a bunch of gunmen, you are not hiring from the top of the pile.”

“They be trouble?” Wolfson said.

“Sure,” Virgil said.

“Will I be able to count on them?” Wolfson said.

“No,” Virgil said.

“Most shooters ain’t too disciplined,” I said. “Where’s Stark stand in all this?”

“I think Fritzie just wants to cut lumber and sell it,” Wolfson said.

“And the ranchers?” I said.

“They don’t count for much,” Wolfson said.

“They might if they got together and took a side,” I said.

“Hell,” Wolfson said, “so would the chickens if they ganged up on the rooster.”

“Well,” I said. “First thing, I guess, would be to see if Eamon’s hiring.”

“And if he is?” Wolfson said.

“Maybe you start hiring, too. Virgil and I can sort of sift through them.”

“And if you don’t like them?”

“We’ll fire them,” I said.

“Where do I start?” Wolfson said.

I looked at Virgil.

“I was you,” Virgil said, “I’d see a fella named Willy Beck in Araby.”

“I say you sent me?” Wolfson said.

Virgil smiled a little.

“Sure,” he said.

Wolfson stepped away from the bar.

“You sure this ain’t just some kind of a business offer and that’ll be the end of it?”

“‘More than one way to skin a cat, Amos,’” I said.

He nodded.

“Bottle’s yours,” he said, and walked away.

We each added a little to our glasses.

“Elegant whiskey,” Virgil said.

“Why not take his money?” I said. “You’ll maybe end up fighting his battle?”

“Don’t want it,” Virgil said.

“Why not?” I said.

“More comfortable if I’m helping my friend,” Virgil said.

I sipped my whiskey.

“’Cause you ain’t a lawman anymore,” I said.

“Ain’t clear to me right now what I am,” Virgil said.

“You’re good with firearms,” I said.

Virgil nodded and drank some whiskey.

“And you’re my friend,” I said.

Virgil nodded again.

“We’ll see about the rest,” he said.