38.

We got her to a table, and she sat down.

"Do you drink whiskey?” Virgil said.

She nodded as she cried. I gestured to Patrick and he brought us a good-sized glass of whiskey.

“Wolfson’s,” Patrick said as he put the glass down.

Mrs. Redmond picked it up with both hands and tried to hold the crying long enough to drink some. Breathing in tiny, shallow breaths, she managed to take a slug and swallow it. Then she put the glass down and cried some more.

After a while she took another slug and said, “What am I going to do?”

“What do you need?” Virgil said.

"I have no money, no clothes, no place to stay, nowhere to go,” she said.

“You can stay here,” Virgil said.

“Here?”

“In the hotel,” Virgil said.

“But I can’t pay.”

“We’ll arrange something,” I said. “Room at the hotel, meals, charge what you need at the emporium.”

“But…” She didn’t quite know how to ask the question.

She drank some whiskey.

“But do I have to… do I have to do anything?” she said.

Virgil smiled.

“No,” he said. “You don’t.”

Wolfson came into the saloon through the door that connected to the hotel lobby, and walked straight to our table.

“What the hell is she doing here,” he said.

“Having a drink,” Virgil said. “With me.”

It was a simple answer. But there was something in it that made Wolfson rein in.

“Well, I see that, Virgil,” Wolfson said. “But we don’t normally see women like her in here. She ain’t a whore, is she?”

“No,” Virgil said.

“No offense, ma’am,” Wolfson said.

Mrs. Redmond shook her head. She was beginning to enjoy the whiskey.

“I’d like her to be a guest of the Blackfoot,” Virgil said. “Room, board, charge what she needs at the emporium.”

“Sure,” Wolfson said. “Who pays.”

“She doesn’t,” Virgil said.

“So who pays?” Wolfson said.

“We was thinking it would be you, Amos,” I said. “You know, guest of the Blackfoot?”

“Including the emporium?” Wolfson said. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

Frank Rose was sitting with his elbows on the table, and his chin resting on his folded hands. He winked at Mrs. Redmond.

“Harmonious relationship,” he said to Wolfson, “with your gun hands.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Wolfson said.

“Can’t speak for Cole and Hitch,” Rose said. “But me and Cato will quit if she don’t get what she needs.”

“Quit?”

I looked at Virgil and nodded.

“That would be the occasion,” Virgil said, “among me and Everett, too.”

“And some of us might be kind of mad about it,” Rose said.

Cato stared straight at Wolfson and nodded his head slowly.

“You are threatening me,” Wolfson said.

Rose grinned at him.

“Only a little,” Rose said.

“Are you saying that if I don’t give this fucking woman room, board, and emporium charge privileges, you’ll quit?”

Rose looked at Cato, then at Virgil and me. All three of us nodded.

“Yes,” Rose said. “That’s pretty much it.”

“And you might cause trouble?” Wolfson said.

“We’re pretty good at that,” Rose said.

“For crissake,” Wolfson said. “Is she doing all of you?”

“None of us,” Virgil said. “And clean up your talk.”

Wolfson started to say something. Virgil was looking at him steadily.

“Room, board, free stuff at the store,” Wolfson said.

Virgil nodded. Wolfson looked at Mrs. Redmond.

He said, “You got anything to add, lady?”

“Her name is Mrs. Redmond,” Virgil said.

“Beth,” she said. “Beth Redmond.”

“You’re Bob Redmond’s wife?”

She nodded.

“Jesus Christ,” Wolfson said.

He turned away from the table.

“You’ll arrange it?” I said.

"Oh, fuck,” Wolfson said, and kept walking. “I’ll arrange it.”

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