The Devil You Know by Jo Goodman Page A

his acquaintance since you were looking to hire. Mr. Stafford sorta chuckled at that and told me he didn’t think the man would know one end of a horse from the other. That gave me some hope that it might be our man here.” He stole a look at Israel and said, “No offense.”
    â€œNone taken.”
    â€œStafford described a city fellow to me, someone wearing black except for a gray vest with silver threads. For some reason the vest made an impression, which was good because I remembered Mr. Roundbottom was wearing one like it.”
    â€œNow I’m offended,” said Israel.
    No one cared.
    Willa prompted Cutter. “So you went to the saloon.”
    â€œI did, but not until after I talked to the Cuttlewhites. Sure enough, Ma was right about them just returning from Denver, but they didn’t have a recollection of who got off at the station because they were the last to leave their car. The platform was deserted by then.”
    Willa sighed. “And the saloon?”
    â€œRight. Found out the man had been there. Had a drink. Was invited to sit for cards to make a fourth at poker but declined. Buster Rawlins was there, and he wanted to know why I was asking, so I told him what I told everyone else,namely that you were looking to hire. ’Course he wasn’t interested because he’s been with the Barbers for years and makes decent money, but he said he’d inquire around on your behalf.”
    Willa asked, “So there wasn’t any trouble in the saloon?”
    â€œNo, ma’am. Best I can tell, the man just up and disappeared. Sheriff Brandywine said Jupiter’s been real quiet. He had his feet up on his desk when I walked in, and we had a cup of coffee together, which gave me time to look over the posters tacked behind his desk. I didn’t see Mr. McKenna’s name among them, and I had no expectation that I would recognize his picture from the face we’re looking at now.” He slipped another sidelong look at Israel. “No offense.”
    â€œMm-hmm.”
    â€œThe sheriff offered to let folks know that you’re hiring, same as Buster, but he was not hopeful. He thought everyone was pretty settled with their situations. He never saw the fellow I was asking after, but then he had not been called out on account of any ruckus. He figured the man left on the late train.”
    â€œExcept I didn’t,” Israel said.
    Willa shook her head. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. We can’t be sure the man in the gray vest was you. You were wearing a jacket but no coat.”
    Cutter nodded. “And no hat. Stafford said the man was wearing a hat. A brand spanking new one that hadn’t been properly broken in. I guess that’s why he figured the man for a city fellow and not fit for ranch work.” The words had barely left his mouth and his expressive blue eyes were already clouding over with another thought. “Oh, and maybe because the man was carrying two bags.”
    Happy’s eyebrows lifted at this intelligence and he grinned at Israel. “Told you I had you pegged as a peddler.”
    Israel’s grunted, and the sound stayed deep in the back of his throat.
    Willa was compelled to point out: “There were no bags, no evidence of any contents that might have come from those bags, and therefore no reason to peg Mr. McKenna as any one particular thing yet.”
    â€œWhiskey drummer,” Happy said. “I had it in my mind that he’s a whiskey drummer.”
    Willa’s mouth took a wry twist. “Wishful thinking.”
    He shrugged. “Where there’s hope . . .”
    â€œIs there anything else?” Willa asked Cutter. “Anything you’re only now remembering.” She held up her hand when he opened his mouth to speak. “Just what’s relevant. It has to be relevant.”
    â€œThen no.” He ducked his head a fraction and lowered his eyes. Everything about