Longarm and the Whiskey Woman (17 page)

Asa said, "Now, I don't hold much with morning drinking, but right afterwards we get through with this breakfast, I want you to come into my little office and I want you to drink some of this whiskey that we've had setting and aging for four years. I bet you're gonna get a surprise."

Longarm gave him a wan smile. He said, "Is this the kind of conversation that new sons-in-law have with their new daddies-in-law-to-be?"

Asa made a wheezing dry sound that Longarm took to be laughter. He said, "Well, now, young fellow. I can see that you're a young fellow that knows his way around the family. Yes sir, we might speak about how your prospects are going to be looking for you. I want to make sure that my little girl is well provided for."

Longarm said, "I've been able to take care of myself for all this time."

Rebecca, the mistress of the kitchen, suddenly spoke up. She said, "Daddy, maybe Mr. Long has some kinfolk that would like to come to the wedding. Wouldn't that be fittin' that we should try and get word to them?"

Longarm interrupted hastily. He said, "Oh, I haven't got no kin, just a couple of brothers, and they're back in Arizona. They couldn't get here in any time. No sir, I'm not as big on family as y'all are."

John called from down the table. "Sally will fix that! Ha!

Longarm gave him a weak smile. He said, "Oh, yes sir, that's what I'm really looking forward to is having kiddies. I always was a man who wanted children."

Rebecca said, "It will change your life, Mr. Long."

With a weak feeling in his stomach, Longarm said, "I don't doubt that."

The whiskey was surprisingly good. The old man was seated at a battered wooden desk in a little room not much bigger than a closet. He had several ledger books lying open in front of him, and Longarm was amazed to see the neat and precise columns of figures showing the gallons they had produced and the amounts they had received in return. Some of the figures stunned him. He had reckoned the family he was supposed to be marrying into was a lot better off than many of the people living in fine homes in big cities, but this little old man sitting in front of him in his overalls had steadily and quietly amassed a fortune. He said to Longarm, "Now, I ain't expecting you to take much interest in this here money because this here money was earned before you came in, but you ought to know that when I slip off this mortal coil, Sally will come into some little money. It might come in handy to her husband in his business."

Longarm said, "Mr. Colton, you're embarrassing me, sir. As far as I am concerned, Sally is a prize even if she didn't have a dress on her back. I wouldn't be a man who would be studying about her fetching money along with her."

Asa nodded. "I figured you were that kind of fellow. Well, what do you think of that there whiskey?"

Longarm held his glass up to the light. It was a mild amber color. It was still stronger and had a more whiskey taste than he was used to--by no stretch of the imagination could he call it smooth--but it was whiskey that had been aged and had taken on the color of the wood barrels it had been aged in.

He said, "Mr. Colton, you say this whiskey has only been laying down for four or five years?"

"That's a fact, young man."

Longarm shook his head and took another sip. He said, "Well, sir, I've got to tell you this here is prime drinking whiskey. This here is real sipping whiskey."

The old man looked down modestly. He said, "Well, we take pleasure and pride in what we give a man to drink. He buys his whiskey from us, and we intend that he doesn't get shorted. Of course, you understand that we only sell this stuff around here to our kinfolk and friends. That other stuff that we ship off, well, we don't know what them folks do with it, but it's their business. Once they've paid for it, it's their whiskey. We like to think that, locally, we put out some pretty good whiskey."

"I don't think you just have to think that, sir. I think you can pretty well be certain of it. It still packs a good wallop, I will say that, though."

Asa Colton nodded. "Folks around here like it that way. Now, you take your blended and bonded whiskeys that are eighty and ninety or one hundred proof, they're too mild for the folks around here. They don't feel they're getting their money's worth unless that first sip damn near knocks their tongue sideways in their mouth. Four drinks ought to bring a full-grown man into a cane-bottom chair. If it doesn't do it, then we ain't done our job."

Longarm smiled. He said, "Well, four big drinks of this and I reckon I'd want more under me than a cane-bottom chair. I reckon I'd want one made out of cement or something else as steady."

After an appropriate time of sitting around admiring the aged whiskey, Asa Colton got around to Longarm's prospects. Longarm had been expecting it, so he invented a two hundred thousand acre ranch near Tucson, Arizona, that was stocked with some cattle and some goats. He said, "But you must understand, Mr. Colton, I'm not much in the cattle business anymore and the timber business has about played out. There's too much timber out in California that's closer, and shipping costs were eating us alive cutting timber up in northern Arizona. That's what's brought me down here. I plan to be in the whiskey business. I do own a saloon in Tucson, and I plan to open several others. I've got ample funds to take care of your daughter. I reckon you'll understand if I don't give you an exact figure, but I've got the money to buy a lot of whiskey and to get it bottled properly."

Mr. Colton looked concerned. He said, "Now, son, I do want you to be concerned about that. You know there is a federal law about whiskey stamps. I want you to be right careful about them Treasury agents. We've got a couple here that we've turned into pets, but you might not have any out there that will turn out like that."

Longarm pulled a face. He said, "Aw, Mr. Colton, I ain't never seen a federal agent in that part of the country. It's rough country, and a federal man wouldn't dare show his face around there. They're all too scared, a bunch of cowards, anyway."

"Well, I don't think much of these two supposed to be putting us in jail, either." He gave a cackle.

Longarm said, "But I appreciate the advice, sir. And you can depend on me. I am going to be right careful about how I handle any Treasury agents I run into."

He walked back to his cabin feeling about four times the hypocrite, but he didn't see what else he could do. He had to play this string out and see if he couldn't make matters come out right in the end. He had resolved that, if he could, he would avoid bringing any trouble to the Coltons. The Treasury agents were another matter. He was going to have to work around it somehow, and he didn't know how, to where he could have Mr. Colton summon the two men. That's when he would show his hand. He was going to arrest them on the spot and take them back to Denver, Colorado, and shove them in Billy Vail's face and say, "Look, here the crooks are. You sent me down there into a bear trap. Now I've brought you the bear."

He really didn't feel like seeing anyone that day. He was embarrassed about the whole matter, and he certainly didn't want to see Sally and he certainly didn't want to see the old man and have to tell him more lies. The hell of it was, he had come to like the family, with the exception of Mark. They were good folks. They might not be as well-dressed or as well-mannered and their eyes might be set a little too close on their face, but they weren't harmful and they weren't vicious and he really didn't believe that they were criminals. When he pursued a man, he pursued that outlaw with a vengeance and with conviction that whatever he had to do to bring an end to that man's career of harming others was right and just. He didn't feel that way about the Coltons. He didn't know exactly how he was going to do it, but he was going to try to cut the bad ones out of the herd and leave the rest.

He got through the rest of the day by staying in the cabin and just showing up for meals. He spoke very little and kept his attention on his food. Sally kept her eyes on him and the old man made friendly conversation. It was a very embarrassing time. After lunch, John had suggested that he and Longarm go out and kick up some quail. "We could get a couple of dozen for supper. You ain't had good eating until you've seen how Rebecca stews them quail with rice. You talk about some good eating."

Longarm had begged off by saying that he was wearing riding boots and didn't feel like doing any walking.

John had said, "You ain't got that much walking to do, not with the dogs we've got. They'll have four or five coveys pointed out and spotted up within two hundred yards of the house. Besides that..." and he had given Mark a look, "... it'll put a shotgun in your hands in case you need one."

But he had still begged off, saying that he was tired from the night before and wanted a nap.

Supper hadn't been much better, but he managed to bring it off a little better than lunch. One of the women had began giggling about how quiet he was. She said, "He's scared already. Reckon what it'll be when the preacher gets in front of him. Reckon someone'll have to hold him up? Stand him up there and then work his jaw and tell him what words to say?"

The whole table had laughed and Longarm had turned crimson. He could feel the flush on his face, feel it burning all the way down to his feet.

The old man had cackled. He said, "Now, y'all leave my new son-in-law alone. A man's got a right to get a little fidgety when he sees that horse collar coming. Hell, if anybody knows how a mule feels, it's a married man. Gonna spend the rest of his life pulling a plow. Now, y'all just leave him alone."

Longarm had been grateful. He had slept that night in comparative peace. The problem was still not resolved, but at least no one came bursting through the door with a shotgun.

For a little while before he went to sleep, he had contemplated what it would be like to be married to Sally. He had an idea she'd make a perfect wife. He didn't think, however, she'd be so eager to marry him once she found out that he was a United States deputy marshal and spent about twenty-nine days out of every thirty away from home. He didn't think she'd be very interested in being married to a man who had three or four bullet-hole scars on his body as well as a couple of knife slashes. She also might not be very interested in being married to a man who liked women as well as he did and would expect him to be celibate all the time he was gone. No, he really wasn't husband material, any way you looked at it. It pained him that he was going to be hurting her and giving her disappointment. She obviously wanted a man, and she obviously loved to be with a man. He didn't know of too many women he had ever met who took such joy out of making love, and from the way she talked, it was something she seldom had a chance to engage in.

Well, he thought, that was the problem of being a member of a large clan like the Coltons. It would be very difficult for anyone in those mountains to be good enough for her. He figured most of the attraction he held for her was that he was not from the Ozarks, that he was from Arizona. He was different. He was a strange new face. He'd like to believe otherwise. He'd like to believe he was as handsome as she thought he was, but he knew it wasn't true.

To his great relief, Frank Carson rode in early the next afternoon. At least now, Longarm thought, there would be another strange face for the clan to occupy their minds with. He saw Carson come riding in through the window of the cabin. He saw him tie his horse up in front of the big house and then turn and walk toward the cabin. Longarm was glad of that. If he had gotten word accidentally or by mistake from Billy Vail about Longarm's true identity, he would have gone straight on into the big house and told the Coltons. But now he was walking straight toward the cabin with his saddlebags over his shoulders. Longarm could see a valise tied to the back of Carson's horse. It looked like Longarm's.

He opened the door and yelled at Carson before he could get very far from his horse, "You forgot my valise!"

Carson nodded and went back and untied the valise from the saddle and then came back, carrying the valise in one hand and his saddlebags over his shoulder. Longarm could read nothing from his expression.

As Carson was making his way, Longarm went to the table and got a quart of the four-year-old whiskey that the old man had given him. He poured them both out a drink and then sat down at the table. When Carson came in, Longarm said, "Where the hell have you been? I thought for certain that you'd taken my money and run."

But Carson had a serious look on his face. He didn't even pretend to smile. Instead, he shut the door behind him and then dropped Longarm's valise and his saddlebag at the end of Longarm's bed. He came over to the table, sat down, picked up his glass, drank off half of it, and then looked at it. He said, "I see you've managed to get yourself in good with the old man."

"How's that?"

"I was coming here nearly two years before he ever offered me any of this stuff. Mostly what I got was that pop-skull we've been getting."

"What are you looking so damned serious about?"

Carson studied his glass. He said, "You've got trouble. That's what I'm looking so serious about."

A chill went through Longarm. Billy Vail had fouled up. Somehow, he had let Carson know who Longarm really was. But he said with as much nonchalance as he could muster, "Oh, yeah? What kind of trouble I got? With you?"

Carson shook his head. He said, "No, not with me. If you had trouble with me, you'd already know it. I wouldn't be sitting here drinking with you."