replied.
“Get my horse ready to ride,” he said.
Jessup showed up at the doors.
“Now?” Jessup said.
“Yes,” Cox said. “Now.”
Virgil looked to me and moved toward the door.
“We have readying to do,” Virgil said. “We’ll come back around here in a bit. If you’re ready to ride, you can ride with us. We won’t wait on you.”
“I’ll be ready,” Cox said.
Virgil nodded and I followed him out of the office.
We left Cox’s place and walked back in the direction of the sheriff’s office.
“Think we need to try locate this Swickey fella,” I said.
“Yep.”
“Not sure how best to go about that,” I said. “Not this time of night, anyway.”
“Same as before,” Virgil said.
“Wallis?”
“Yep.”
Virgil and I cut through the alley and crossed two blocks to Main Street. When we got to the Boston House, the saloon was locked up.
“Any idea where Wallis could be,” Virgil asked.
“Don’t,” I said. “Not if he ain’t at the saloon.”
“Know where Tilda stays,” I said.
“How do you know that?” Virgil said.
“She showed me.”
Virgil looked at me, but I didn’t look at him back as I walked on.
“She’s just up the street here at Fletcher’s old boardinghouse,” I said.
When we got to Fletcher’s we entered the small dark lobby and climbed the steps to the second floor. The boardinghouse halls were lined with a few dimmed sconces. We walked down the cold hall, stopped at the last door and I knocked.
“Tilda,” I said. “It’s Everett and Virgil, sorry for the hour, but we need to ask you something.”
We heard some bedsprings squeak and the sound of hushed voices. I knocked lightly again.
“Tilda?”
After a moment, Tilda cracked open the door.
“Hi,” Tilda said shyly.
“Sorry to bother you this time of night, but we’re looking for Wallis,” I said. “Need to find out something from him. Know where we can find him?”
“Hold on a minute,” Tilda said, and shut the door.
Virgil looked at me and frowned a bit.
After a moment, the door opened and Wallis stepped out with his breeches on over his unders. His hair was sticking out in every direction. He closed the door behind him.
“Bernice threw me out,” Wallis said, like a kid with his hand in the cookies. “Tilda’s just letting me stay with her for a while, till Bernice lets me back in or I have to relocate.”
“It’s okay, Wallis,” Virgil said. “We ain’t here to arrest you.”
Wallis looked relieved.
“What ya need this time of night?” Wallis said.
“Swickey,” Virgil said.
“What about him?”
“Know him?” I said.
“Walton Wayne,” Wallis said. “Sure do.”
“Where is he?” I said.
“Don’t know that he’s here,” Wallis said. “He don’t live here. He stays here some, though, always at the Boston House, but I’ve not seen him, not lately, anyway.”
“Where’s he live?”
“Across the Blanco,” Wallis said. “He has a big spread over there, I hear. He owns damn near all the land on the other side.”
Virgil looked at me and shook his head a little.
“What do you know about the Rio Blanco contract that was awarded to Cox and not Swickey?” Virgil said.
“Not much,” Wallis said. “Cox and him I know were on oppositesides. Swickey is rich as hell and could buy damn near anything or anybody, but he didn’t win the contract. Cox, I hear, had the construction experience. That’s all I know.”
Virgil nodded a little as he thought.
“Appreciate it, Wallis,” Virgil said. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Oh,” Wallis said, “no problem, you didn’t interrupt nothin’.”
“Don’t think I’d call Tilda nothing,” Virgil said.
— 30 —
V irgil and I collected G. W. Cox. We started for the Rio Blanco Bridge just past three in the morning. The snow was falling steady as we rode and it was beginning to stick.
Cox was dressed for the weather. He had on a fur-lined cap that covered his ears, thick mittens, and a
“Get my horse ready to ride,” he said.
Jessup showed up at the doors.
“Now?” Jessup said.
“Yes,” Cox said. “Now.”
Virgil looked to me and moved toward the door.
“We have readying to do,” Virgil said. “We’ll come back around here in a bit. If you’re ready to ride, you can ride with us. We won’t wait on you.”
“I’ll be ready,” Cox said.
Virgil nodded and I followed him out of the office.
We left Cox’s place and walked back in the direction of the sheriff’s office.
“Think we need to try locate this Swickey fella,” I said.
“Yep.”
“Not sure how best to go about that,” I said. “Not this time of night, anyway.”
“Same as before,” Virgil said.
“Wallis?”
“Yep.”
Virgil and I cut through the alley and crossed two blocks to Main Street. When we got to the Boston House, the saloon was locked up.
“Any idea where Wallis could be,” Virgil asked.
“Don’t,” I said. “Not if he ain’t at the saloon.”
“Know where Tilda stays,” I said.
“How do you know that?” Virgil said.
“She showed me.”
Virgil looked at me, but I didn’t look at him back as I walked on.
“She’s just up the street here at Fletcher’s old boardinghouse,” I said.
When we got to Fletcher’s we entered the small dark lobby and climbed the steps to the second floor. The boardinghouse halls were lined with a few dimmed sconces. We walked down the cold hall, stopped at the last door and I knocked.
“Tilda,” I said. “It’s Everett and Virgil, sorry for the hour, but we need to ask you something.”
We heard some bedsprings squeak and the sound of hushed voices. I knocked lightly again.
“Tilda?”
After a moment, Tilda cracked open the door.
“Hi,” Tilda said shyly.
“Sorry to bother you this time of night, but we’re looking for Wallis,” I said. “Need to find out something from him. Know where we can find him?”
“Hold on a minute,” Tilda said, and shut the door.
Virgil looked at me and frowned a bit.
After a moment, the door opened and Wallis stepped out with his breeches on over his unders. His hair was sticking out in every direction. He closed the door behind him.
“Bernice threw me out,” Wallis said, like a kid with his hand in the cookies. “Tilda’s just letting me stay with her for a while, till Bernice lets me back in or I have to relocate.”
“It’s okay, Wallis,” Virgil said. “We ain’t here to arrest you.”
Wallis looked relieved.
“What ya need this time of night?” Wallis said.
“Swickey,” Virgil said.
“What about him?”
“Know him?” I said.
“Walton Wayne,” Wallis said. “Sure do.”
“Where is he?” I said.
“Don’t know that he’s here,” Wallis said. “He don’t live here. He stays here some, though, always at the Boston House, but I’ve not seen him, not lately, anyway.”
“Where’s he live?”
“Across the Blanco,” Wallis said. “He has a big spread over there, I hear. He owns damn near all the land on the other side.”
Virgil looked at me and shook his head a little.
“What do you know about the Rio Blanco contract that was awarded to Cox and not Swickey?” Virgil said.
“Not much,” Wallis said. “Cox and him I know were on oppositesides. Swickey is rich as hell and could buy damn near anything or anybody, but he didn’t win the contract. Cox, I hear, had the construction experience. That’s all I know.”
Virgil nodded a little as he thought.
“Appreciate it, Wallis,” Virgil said. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Oh,” Wallis said, “no problem, you didn’t interrupt nothin’.”
“Don’t think I’d call Tilda nothing,” Virgil said.
— 30 —
V irgil and I collected G. W. Cox. We started for the Rio Blanco Bridge just past three in the morning. The snow was falling steady as we rode and it was beginning to stick.
Cox was dressed for the weather. He had on a fur-lined cap that covered his ears, thick mittens, and a
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