“Since we all had a hankerin’ to see this Texas we’d been hearin’ about on and off for years, here is where we headed. Happened that durin’ my years passin’ through Wyoming, I spent some time with a horse-wranglin’ crew. That was another hankerin’ I had—to someday take another turn at tryin’ my hand with that. My pards thought it sounded all right, too, so we bought ourselves a little spread west of here and settled in to raise and sell horses. Been at it for a while now, and it’s workin’ out pretty fair.” McQueen’s broad shoulders rolled in a shrug. “Along the way, when we started seein’ how the town of Buffalo Peak was havin’ more and more trouble with rowdies comin’ around causin’ trouble, we decided we ought to pitch in and help tame things down. For our trouble, we ended up gettin’ badges slapped on ourselves. Far as I can tell, the townsfolk seem to think that’s workin’ out pretty fair, too, and so that’s how things stand.”
“Quite a tale. Quite a tale, indeed,” said Lofton.
“This is the West, mister. Everybody’s got a tale to tell,” said Firestick. Then he flashed one of his wide grins. “Only, not everybody is so long-winded and as willin’ as me when it comes to sharin’ theirs. You might want to keep that in mind when that curiosity of yours gets to tuggin’ on you around somebody else.”
“I’ll be sure and do that.”
“Okay. But before you take my advice too much to heart, how about allowin’ me a turn at some curiosity? You got me wonderin’ if you’re a gamblin’ man by trade who maybe plans on stickin’ around these parts for a spell? Or are you just passin’ through?”
“I planned on staying over a night or two in your hotel,” Lofton answered. “Get some sleep in a warm, soft bed. Have me some decent meals. Then, yes, I’d figured to drift on. It’s what I’ve been doing for some time now, ever since . . . well, let’s just say a love affair that didn’t go well. What you might call a big gamble I failed to win.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Firestick said earnestly. “But you are a gamblin’ man, then?”
Lofton shrugged. “It’s how I’ve been getting by. Earning a few bills here and there, enough to eat and enjoy a few creature comforts now and then. But I’m not what you’d call a high roller by any means. I do okay against other small-stakes players and cowboys with a month’s pay burning a hole in their pockets. But that’s about it.”
“Can’t help noticin’ that hogleg you got strapped to your hip,” said Firestick, gesturing. “Mighty fine-lookin’ piece. A .45, ain’t it? You wear it like you for sure know which end the bullets come out, yet you made no attempt to pull it against those jackasses when they was backin’ you into a corner. Excuse me for sayin’, but I find that kinda curious.”
Now it was Lofton’s turn to smile, a somewhat guarded lifting of the corners of his mouth. “I suppose that does seem a little odd, doesn’t it? A gambling man not playing his ace against three-to-one odds? Reaching for the gun crossed my mind, to be sure, but as you saw, none of those men were armed. That crossed my mind, too. A stranger in town drawing against three unarmed locals? There are many places, I’m afraid, where—no matter the odds or anything else—such an act could go very bad for a fellow in my position.”
“Reckon I can see how you might look at it like that,” allowed Firestick. “I’ve been in those kind of places, too—where things are stacked right from the get-go against anybody from the outside.”
“None of which is to say I wouldn’t have gone for my gun if the situation had started turning too ugly,” Lofton admitted. Then he smiled again, this time more openly. “But then you showed up, and events took a different turn . . . a far more interesting and colorful one.”
Firestick worked his jaw from side to side, still feeling the effects from Woolsey’s head butt. “Yeah. Interestin’ . . . I reckon that’s one word for it.”
CHAPTER 4
Buffalo Peak straddled a nameless old trail that ran between Presidio and Sierra Blanca. In time, the portion of the trail passing through the settlement’s heart came to be called Trail Street. As the town grew, an accumulation of shops and businesses eventually lined this main artery, with individual residences sprinkled behind in a haphazard pattern that defied any attempt to lay out an orderly grid of side streets.
The feature that gave the town its name was a blunt-topped butte jutting up out of the flats to the northeast, like a cast-off chunk that got tossed down from the Vieja Mountains rising high and ragged farther to the north. The story went that someone early on had remarked how the butte resembled a buffalo’s hump, and for a long time travelers passing through the territory referred to it as such. When it came time to name the town, however, the consensus of those involved decided that “Hump” sounded unappealing whereas “Peak” somehow did not—and so Buffalo Peak it became.
Firestick had often contemplated this bit of history without ever understanding why one term was favored over the other. After all, the way the butte was rounded off at the top, it more accurately was a hump rather than a peak. In the end, though, he was all right with whatever the place was called. That was the way he, Moosejaw, and Beartooth had found it when they’d arrived on the scene, and therefore it was the only way they’d ever known it. And especially now that they’d settled in and signed on as lawmen, they were right-down-to-the-ground loyal to all aspects of their new home. That’s just the way things went with them.
Firestick was thinking about those things as he left the Silver Spur and headed toward the jail. Talking with Lofton about the old days had put him in a reflective mood. That wasn’t surprising. What was different, though, was how he’d reached a point where he could talk about those past times without feeling a bit melancholy over their passing, the way he used to.
Oh, he still treasured those wild, free days and always would. But he’d also come to realize and accept that he was enjoying this newer phase his life had moved into, as well. And why not? He still had his two good pals by his side, they were getting by as well or better than ever, and they were still managing to find enough challenges and excitement to keep any sign of boredom from creeping in. What more could a body want?
Well, Firestick was reminded as he drew abreast of the Mallory Hotel, there was one thing that had been mighty scarce up in the high, lonely reaches . . . romance. While he was no stranger to lust and had answered its call on a number of occasions over the years with the sporting women who could be found at rendezvous and elsewhere, that wasn’t the same thing. Not by a long shot. Nor had he ever taken up with an Indian maid, like a lot of mountain men did. He had nothing against this practice—he’d just never found himself in a position where it had become an option for him.
But now, here in Buffalo Peak, he’d finally run across someone who planted thoughts in his head of the kind of things he figured had long since passed him by. Her name was Kate Mallory. She owned and operated the hotel, having taken it over when both of her parents died in an influenza epidemic. She was smart, tough, stubborn, and sassy. She was also lovely to look upon in a sultry, dark-haired kind of way, with a throaty voice and a sense of humor displayed frequently by uninhibited, bawdy-sounding laughter. All in all, she made Firestick’s heart race faster than any woman he’d ever met. And, to his surprise and delight, she’d let him know in no uncertain terms that she felt the same way about him.
As he passed the hotel, Firestick suppressed the urge to stop in. Just to see Kate, to gaze upon her for a minute. But he resisted. For one thing, he needed to get to the jail and make sure Moosejaw had gotten the prisoners locked up without any more trouble.
For another, freshly bruised and battered the way he was, he knew he’d probably get a chewing out from Kate