Robert Randisi - Bullets & Lies

He still had to ascertain if Donald White had lied to him as well.

“How about some food?” Wilkins asked.

“I don’t want you on the street,” Roper said. “I’ll go and get something and bring it up here.”

“Okay,” Wilkins said. He looked around. “I don’t mind stayin’ here. Nice room.”

“Yeah,” Roper said, walking to the door. “I’ll be right back.”

43

Roper found a small café and ordered a couple of steak dinners that he could take with him. As he headed back, he decided to stop in a saloon and get a bottle of whiskey they could share. He would have preferred beer, but he couldn’t carry the food and two beers back to the room.

“I can give ya a bucket of beer, if ya want,” the bartender told him. “And a coupla glasses ya could put in yer pocket.”

“That sounds good,” Roper said. “Let’s do that.”

While he waited, the smell of the steaks began to fill the room. There were two men sitting at a table together, close to the bar. Some others seated farther away didn’t pay him any mind. These two, though, began to sniff the air.

“You got you a woman waitin’ for you in your room?” one of them asked.

“No,” Roper said. “Just me.”

“Two steaks, two glasses, both for you?” the second man asked.

“I get hungry during the night,” Roper said.

The two men exchanged a glance. They looked like a couple of ranch hands who had come into town for a beer or two. One of them got up and walked over alongside Roper, who didn’t like it. He backed away a few steps.

“Hey, take it easy, friend,” the man said.

“I don’t like to be crowded,” Roper said.

“Hey, we’re just wonderin’ if you got yourself a good-lookin’ woman in your room,” the man said. “This town ain’t got much in the way of women.”

“Even if I did, why would I tell you?”

“Well, we’d be willin’ to chip in on whatever you’re payin’ her.”

“I don’t think so.”

The man frowned, obviously taking offense. “Whatsa matter, you don’t like to share?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, what about this?” The man lifted the napkin off one of the dinners. “How about sharing one of these steaks?”

“I thought we just established that I don’t like to share.”

Roper did not want to attract attention while he was in Gilette, but this idiot would interpret that statement as cowardice.

The bartender came out with the pail of beer and two glasses. They weren’t shot glasses, but they were small enough to fit in Roper’s pockets—as long as he didn’t have to bend over.

“Here ya go,” the man said. “Leave the man alone, Hobie, he’s a stranger in town.”

“I know it,” Hobie said, “but me and Jake was just tryin’ to be friendly.”

“Well, maybe he ain’t lookin’ for new friends.”

“Why you takin’ his side, Lou?” Hobie demanded.

“Because he’s a customer of mine. If you’re gonna start bothering my customers, I ain’t gonna let you come in here.”

“Now, see there?” Hobie asked, looking at Roper. “You done got me in trouble with Lou.”

“You got yourself in trouble, friend,” Roper said, collecting his things. He had the glasses perched in his pockets, the pail had a handle, and he’d have to balance the tray of steaks on one hand. As soon as he did that, though, he knew he’d be vulnerable.

“I’m going now,” he said to the man. “Are we going to have any trouble?”

“Trouble?” Hobie asked. “We ain’t lookin’ for trouble, are we, Jake?”

“No trouble here,” Jake said.

Hobie walked back to the table and sat down.

“Enjoy your steak,” Hobie said, “and your woman.”

Roper picked up his tray and left.

When he got to the hotel room, he kicked the door with the toe of his boot. Wilkins opened it and asked, “What took ya so long? I’m starved.”

“I stopped to get some beer, and a couple of guys tried to make friends with me.”

“Who were they?”

Roper walked in, kicked the door shut.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Locals. The bartender knew them.”

“So we ain’t gonna have no trouble from them?”

“I don’t think so,” Roper said. “Not the kind of trouble we’re worried about anyway. They just thought I had a girl in my room. Apparently they don’t have that many available women in town.”

“That’s too bad,” Wilkins said. “You brung knives and forks?”

“I did,” Roper said.

He doled out the silverware and they sat on their bed to eat.

“I could use me a woman about now,” Wilkins said.

“I think we’re going to have to keep low profiles, Wilkins,” he said. “No restaurants, no women. We just have to keep to ourselves until the others get here.”

“What if they don’t get here?”

“They will, don’t worry,” Roper said. “I can depend on my men.”

“Ain’t it nice to know that,” Wilkins said.

“You served in the war with men you could depend on, didn’t you?”

Wilkins hesitated, then said, “There was a time I thought so.”

“So you couldn’t depend on Hampstead and Templeton?” Roper asked.

Wilkins hesitated, frowned, then said, “I don’t wanna talk about nothin’ until I see them.”

“That’s up to you.” Roper felt he could have pushed the matter, but decided against it. Maybe when the three survivors got together, he’d finally find out what was really going on.

They ate their meal and drank their beer, talking all the while. They had done a lot of talking during the trip, but somehow never seemed to have trouble finding a subject.

This time Wilkins kept asking questions about being a detective. Roper answered them as honestly as he could.

“I suppose,” he said at one point, “if I hadn’t met Pinkerton during the war and started working for him, I wouldn’t be a detective right now.”

“How old was you?”

“I was a youngster when I met him,” Roper said. “He saw something in me, took me under his wing.”

“Then how come you ain’t a Pinkerton detective?” Wilkins asked. “Workin’ for him?”

“I was a Pink for a while, but I decided to go out on my own.”

“How did he take that?”

“Not well,” Roper said. “He seemed to take that as a betrayal.”

“You see him much?”

“No, he wasn’t talking to me for a long time, and now he’s dead, so…”

“Too bad.”

They finished eating and Roper collected all the paraphernalia.

“I told the folks who gave me this stuff I’d bring it back as soon as we finished.”

“Can’t it wait ’til mornin’?” Wilkins asked.

“It’ll only take me a few minutes.”

“What if you run into yer new friends?” Wilkins asked. “Who’s gonna watch yer back?”

“The saloon’s right across the street,” Roper said. “You can see it from the window. I don’t think anything’ll happen.”

He carried everything to the door, which Wilkins opened for him.

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

Roper left the room and Wilkins closed the door behind him. He went back to his bed and sat down, but made up his mind very quickly. He stood up, picked up his rifle, walked to the window, and opened it. He watched Roper walk down the street, but he was more interested in the saloon across the street. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight to illuminate the street.

He got down on his knees, leaned the rifle barrel in the windowsill, and settled down to watch.

44

Roper’s first stop was the saloon to return the bucket. As he entered, he saw that very little had changed in the two hours he’d been gone. The same number of men were sitting at tables, and nobody was leaning on the bar. Hobie and Jake had not moved, but they sat up straight as he entered.