31.

Virgil sat alone near the back of the saloon sipping a beer, looking at nothing, and seeing everything, the way he did. Wolfson was eating supper at the bar. He seemed in a hurry to finish. After he finished his supper, Wolfson strolled over to me in the lookout chair.

“Want you to be sure and stay close tonight,” he said. “Cole, too.”

“Can’t speak for Virgil, but I’ll be here.”

“Which means he’ll be here, too,” Wolfson said. “Maybe you could speak to him when we’re through talking here.”

I nodded and said, “You expecting trouble?”

Wolfson smiled and leaned closer to me.

“Sent some boys out to O’Malley’s to hit him tonight,” Wolfson said, “when he ain’t ready for it.”

“And Cato and Rose are at the Excelsior,” I said.

“Yep.”

“And you kept me and Virgil here?” I said.

“Case it doesn’t work, I’ll need protection.”

“What are the boys planning on doing when they get there?” I said.

“Killin’ every last soul,” Wolfson said.

“Who’s leadin’ ’em?”

“Boyle,” Wolfson said.

I didn’t say anything.

“He’s perfect for the job,” Wolfson said. “Couldn’t wait.”

“Bet he couldn’t,” I said.

“I mean, ain’t every man ready to go out and kill twenty people for no reason ’cept I told him,” Wolfson said.

“Probably a good thing,” I said.

“Oh… yeah,” Wolfson said. “Sure. Boyle’s a fucking lizard. But when you’re at war with a bunch of fucking lizards, fella like him is handy.”

“You know Cato Tillson backed him down on the street the other night,” I said.

“Heard about that,” Wolfson said. “Boyle claims he was too drunk to see, let alone fight.”

I nodded.

“Probably so,” I said.

“Okay, stay close,” Wolfson said. “Might have some high celebrating later on.”

“What about the miners?” I said.

“A few could get hurt, I suppose,” Wolfson said. “Can’t be helped if they do. We’re in a fucking war, you know.”

“Right,” I said.

“I’ll be here in the saloon, until the boys come back,” Wolfson said. “Speak to Cole. I want you and him watching me tight.”

“Sure,” I said.

Wolfson gestured to Patrick, who handed him a bottle and a glass. Wolfson took it and sat near the bar at a table where I could see him.

Wasn’t a bad plan, if you don’t mind back-shooting twenty men, who would probably have back-shot you first if they’d thought of it before you did. If it worked, it would end Wolfson’s troubles right then, and leave him in charge of the town with twenty gun hands to back him.

I climbed down from the chair, took the eight-gauge with me, and went to talk with Virgil.

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