Robert Randisi - Bullets & Lies

“Tell me how Westover’s doin’,” Wilkins said.

“Not so good. He has a nurse twenty-four hours a day.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

Roper hesitated, then said, “I really don’t know. All I was told is that he was wounded during the war, and when he came home, he kept getting worse.”

Wilkins nodded.

“What do you know about it?”

“About what?” Wilkins asked. “I only know what you told me.”

“I mean, about his wound,” Roper said. “Do you know anything about him being wounded in battle?”

“No,” Wilkins said, “I don’t know anything. He wasn’t wounded while we were together.”

“Then when could it have happened?”

“I don’t know,” Wilkins said. “We mustered out and split up. It could have happened then.”

“After Lee surrendered?” Roper asked. “That would have been ironic.” But of all people, Roper knew that the war had not just stopped after Lee surrendered. There were Confederate soldiers who didn’t buy into Lee’s decision, who went on raiding and fighting. But that didn’t negate the irony of the situation. Some men did die after the war was actually over.

“I’m getting sleepy,” Wilkins said then.

“Get some shut-eye,” Roper said. “All we’re going to be doing is watching. It’s going to be tiring. We’ll do it in shifts.”

Wilkins nodded, lay down with his head on his saddle, and pulled his hat down over his eyes.

Roper finished the rest of the bacon, took a swig from the whiskey bottle, and settled in to watch…

Later Wilkins asked, “How are you gonna recognize them from here? It could be anyone ridin’ into town.”

“I’ll recognize them,” Roper said. “Sally rides a sorrel, Dexter a buckskin.”

“And you got a palomino,” Wilkins said. “Seems like detectives ride pretty flashy horses.”

“We each got our own tastes,” Roper said.

“You got a taste for palominos?”

“I’ve got a taste for good solid horses,” Roper said. “At the time I was buying, he was the best I could find.”

“Best money could buy?” Wilkins asked. “I ain’t never had the money to buy a fine horse.”

“It wasn’t about money,” Roper said. “It was about the best horse.”

“You get some rest,” Wilkins told him. “I’ll watch awhile.”

“Okay.”

“A sorrel and a buckskin, huh?”

“That’s right.”

Wilkins nodded, took up position at the fire. He looked at the whiskey bottle but didn’t touch it.

50

“How much further?” Dave Hampstead asked.

“Just up ahead,” Sally Bando said. “A few miles.”

“What are we gonna do if we get there and your friends aren’t there?” Hampstead asked.

“We’ll wait,” Bando said, “that’s what we’ll do.”

Hampstead looked around him, then down at himself.

“Look at me,” he said. “I’m a mess, riding a horse for the first time in years, and just on your say-so—the say-so of a man I never met before.”

“Hey,” Bando said, “I had those other names, didn’t I?”

“Yah, you did, but you didn’t let me send a telegram or anything, to check it out.”

Bando looked at him.

“You wanna go back?” he asked. “Strike out by yourself? Is that what you wanna do?”

“By myself?” Hampstead said. “Not now, not here. No, I’m stuck now, aren’t I?”

“Yah,” Bando said, “we’re all stuck, until Roper tells us what the hell is goin’ on.”

East of Gilette, Dexter and Zack Templeton were riding in silence. Templeton rode real easy, sat a horse like he was born to it. Dexter did most of his work in Denver, not out on a horse. He knew his colleague Bando rode all the time, but his own ass was sore from too many days in the saddle after too many days in the city. When he saw Bando, he knew the man would be very happy after several days on a horse.

“You okay?” Templeton asked.

“I prefer to travel by rail these days,” Dexter said.

“Not me. I love bein’ on a horse.”

“We should be there pretty soon,” Dexter said. “Maybe after Roper tells us what this is all about, I can take a train home.”

Templeton looked behind them.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

“If you know something, or feel something, let me know now.”

“I just been havin’ this feelin’ that somebody’s followin’ us.”

“How long?”

“Last day or so.”

Dexter reined in and looked back.

“How many?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” Templeton said. “Like I said, just a feeling.”

“Well,” Dexter said, “let’s pick it up, then. I’d like to get there before nightfall.”

Templeton nodded his agreement.

51

“Gonna be dark soon,” Wilkins said around a mouthful of bacon and beans.

“Yeah,” Roper said.

“We won’t be able to see ’em if they ride in at night.”

“Should be a full moon, like last night,” Roper said.

“When was they supposed to be here?” Wilkins asked.

“Whenever they get here,” Roper said. “It depended on what they found when they got to Templeton and Hampstead, and when they got started from Helena and Pierre.”

Even through it was fall, this far north there was already a chill in the air. They huddled near the fire, their coats pulled tightly around them.

“Pierre,” Wilkins said. “I don’t even know where that is.”

“South Dakota.”

“Never been up that way. Have you?”

“Yep.”

“You been all over, ain’t ya?”

“Pretty much.”

“You been to other countries?”

“Some.”

“I ain’t never traveled no place,” Wilkins said. “Just been on my place since the war.”

They stared down at the town for a few moments, and then Roper said, “Henry.”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Whataya mean, what happened? Where?”

“In the war.”

Wilkins stared at him and said, “I still don’t know what you mean—”

“Come on,” Roper said. “When I told you I had some affidavits for you and the others to sign, I saw your face. Why don’t you want to sign one?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t wanna sign one,” Wilkins said. “I said I wanted to wait until I talked to Davey and Zack.”

“Yes, but why? Is there some secret you’ve all got? Is that what nobody’s telling me?”

“You got a client, Roper. Maybe she shoulda told you everythin’ she was supposed to.”

“And what didn’t she tell me?”

“Ain’t for me to say,” Wilkins said.

“So when Hampstead and Templeton get here, if they say it’s okay to talk, you’ll all talk?”

“I ain’t sayin’ there’s anythin’ to talk about,” Wilkins said, “but let’s wait until they get here afore we talk any more about it, okay?”

“Sure,” Roper said, “that’s okay.”

“What’s that?”

“What?”

“Down there.” Wilkins pointed. “I thought I saw something to the east.”

Roper fished in his saddlebag and came out with a spyglass. He put it to one eye and extended it.

“How long you had that?” Wilkins asked.

“Since the war.”

“Why didn’t you take it out before now?”

“I haven’t needed it before now.”

He trained the spyglass east, peered through it, and saw two men on horseback—one of the horses a buckskin.

“You got good eyes, Henry,” he said. “That’s my man Dexter with Zack Templeton.”

“Lemme see.”

Roper handed over the spyglass. Wilkins put it to his eye and said, “That’s Zack, all right. From here he ain’t changed much.”

“You can tell?”

Wilkins lowered the glass and looked at Roper.