Dark Trail by Ed Gorman

Guild always kept his fingers on the handle of his .44. Just in case.
    â€œYou want a shave?” the other barber asked him when his customer got up. The barber started brushing the man off with an almost comically long whisk broom.
    â€œNo thanks.”
    â€œHaircut, then?”
    â€œNo, thanks.”
    â€œYou just going to sit here, then?”
    â€œLooks that way, doesn’t it?”
    The barber muttered something under his breath, and then busied himself gussying up his station.
    Sarah would reason with him and he’d finally see and agree with her reasoning. How it would be better for everybody if Beth and he would just get on the train and get out of town. No gunfight out at Adair’s ranch, nothing like that at all. Just a nice quick train trip to a new location and a new life.
    And after they had left by train, so would Sarah and Frank. There was a time when that had been their favorite treat, going on train trips. And it would be like that again. Only better. Because Frank was older and more mature, and this time there wouldn’t be that sick-in-the-stomach, twitching-hands anxiety every time he saw a new pretty face. Because now Frank was beyond that. He would see, by the end of this day, how true her love was, how important her love was. Then he would be the Frank she’d always wanted, the safe Frank, the kind Frank, the loving Frank.
    This would all come true as soon as Ben Rittenauer left the barber shop and she could talk to him a minute or two.
    Rittenauer said, still in the barber chair, “I take it you heard about Beth.”
    â€œI heard.”
    â€œI knew she’d come back. She always does.”
    â€œI’m happy for you.”
    Rittenauer grinned. “You don’t think much of her, do you?”
    â€œNot when there are women like Sarah around.”
    â€œIsn’t that the same Sarah who left you for Frank Evans?”
    â€œThat still doesn’t make her like Beth.”
    Anger showed in Rittenauer’s face. “I’d go real easy on Beth if I was you, friend.”
    â€œI’ll remember that.”
    Guild knew not to push it anymore. He’d had his say. You didn’t push a man like Ben Rittenauer about his woman. That was just crazy.
    She’d be in a picture hat and Frank would be in a suit. They’d be walking along the bay in San Francisco, and there’d be vast white-sailed schooners in the gentle blue waters and summer green trees against the blue sky in the hills surrounding the bay.
    And Sarah would know peace again—she would sleep nights through, and have her old appetite back. She would not lie in the darkness and sob so uselessly for hours—she would know peace again. And Frank—Frank would know peace for the first time in his life.
    â€œDon’t make me smell like a whore.”
    â€œNo, sir, Mr. Rittenauer.”
    â€œA little bit of that stuff does just fine.”
    â€œYes, sir, Mr. Rittenauer.”
    Guild had to agree with Rittenauer about that. Barbers always put so much bay rum on you, you smelled like a walking cathouse.
    The barber was careful—some might say scared careful—with the bay rum and even more careful with the whisk broom.
    Rittenauer walked over to the mirror and had a look at himself. “Handsome son of a bitch, aren’t I?” he said to Guild’s reflection.
    â€œDownright beautiful.”
    Rittenauer turned back to the barber. “Here you go,” he said. He gave the man a decent tip, too.
    â€œGood luck, Mr. Rittenauer,” the barber said.
    Rittenauer put on his white hat. “You should be telling that to Frank Evans.”
    â€œReckon I should be,” the barber said.
    Rittenauer nodded to the idlers. They looked as thrilled as young girls that a famous gunfighter would take any kind of note of them at all.
    â€œYou boys be good,” Rittenauer said.
    They all grinned their hateful hick grins and nodded their