“You’re in luck,” she joked. “Today’s Tuesday and we let all manner of riffraff in on Tuesdays.” She gave a hearty chuckle in appreciation for her wit. “Come on in, Mr. Ben Savage.” When he looked surprised, she said, “Word gets around fast in this little town, especially when newcomers make as big an entrance as you did.”
“I can see that,” he replied.
“Let me officially welcome you to our dining room,” Lacy said grandly, “and invite you to leave your firearm with the others on the table.” She fairly beamed at him while he unbuckled his gun belt. “Will your family be coming to Buzzard’s Bluff soon?” she asked.
“You’re lookin’ at the whole family,” he informed her.
“Well, we’ll treat you like family here. Jim Vickers used to eat supper here every day and sometimes breakfast, too. Nice man,” she commented. “We’ll miss seeing him come in.” She waited for him to put his gun belt on the table, then asked, “You wanna sit at the big table?”
“How ’bout one of those little tables against the wall?” he answered.
“Anywhere you want, you’re too big to argue with,” she said cheerfully. “Cindy will take care of you,” she said when a young girl came out of the kitchen. “Enjoy your supper.” She spun around and hurried off to greet a couple of men, then escorted them to the large community table in the center of the room. Then she disappeared into the kitchen.
“Was that him?” Myrtle Johnson asked when Lacy came in.
“Yep,” Lacy replied. “That’s him, all right. Freeman said he heard he was a Ranger, just like Jim Vickers, but he looks a lot younger than Jim was when he came here.”
Cindy came into the kitchen then and headed for the coffeepot. “He wants the special, Myrtle,” she said as she poured a cup of coffee. “Seems like a nice enough man, kinda quiet.”
Lacy laughed. “I don’t know if that cowpoke from the Double-D would agree with you or not,” she said. “He made quite an impression on him. First day in his new business and he shoots one of his customers. I’m gonna have to get the whole story from Rachel Baskin.”
“I guess I’d better be careful not to make him mad,” Cindy joked. “Fill him up a big plate, Myrtle. I bet a man his size needs a lotta food.” She picked up the cup of coffee and headed back out the kitchen door. “There’s Freeman now,” she said as she went out.
Freeman Brown, the owner of the hotel, came in the entrance from the hotel hallway. Spotting the big man sitting alone at a small table, he walked over, arriving there at the same time Cindy got there with Ben’s coffee. “Ben Savage?” Freeman asked.
“That’s right,” Ben answered.
“Just wanted to welcome you to Buzzard’s Bluff. I’m Freeman Brown. I own the hotel.” He extended his hand and after they shook, he asked, “Mind if I join you for supper?”
“Not at all,” Ben responded, “have a seat.”
Freeman pulled a chair back and sat down. “Cindy, bring me a cup of that coffee, will you?” She asked if he was going to have supper and he said he thought he would, so she went to get his coffee. Back to Ben, he said, “Jim Vickers used to keep a room here in the hotel. Are you plannin’ on a room here, too?”
“Tell you the truth, Mr. Brown, I haven’t even thought about it. I’ve got a room in the saloon. I don’t know why Jim wanted one in the hotel. Maybe whatever drove Jim to need a place out of the saloon will drive me there, too. I’ll have to wait and see.”
Freeman chuckled. “I reckon he just needed a little peace and quiet sometimes. Well, I just wanted to let you know I gave Jim a special rate. If you decide you need a room, too, I’ll give you the same rate.”
“I ’preciate that, Mr. Brown,” Ben said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Please, call me Freeman. That’s what my friends call me, and I hope we’ll be friends, too.”
“All right, Freeman. I don’t see why we wouldn’t be.”
They were interrupted then by the arrival of Cindy with two heaping plates of beef stew and a plate with four biscuits on it. “I declare,” she said to Freeman. “I went to get your coffee, and clear forgot it. I’ll be right back.”
“She’s a fine young lady,” Freeman said after she left, “a little bit scatterbrained sometimes, but what girl isn’t at that age?” There was a short period of silence while both men launched the initial attack on the plates of stew in front of them. After a few moments, Freeman resumed the conversation. “I heard about your rather rough welcome to town at the saloon today. And I think it would be remiss of me if I didn’t offer a word of caution. I don’t know if anybody told you, but the man you shot was one of the Double-D hands. And you’re gonna find out that the town has had its share of trouble from that bunch. A fellow by the name of Daniel Dalton owns the Double-D, and he’s never been one to keep a tight rein on his men. So it would be wise for you to keep a cautious eye about you just in case. You know what I mean?”
“I think I do,” Ben answered. ’Preciate the warnin’.”
Changing the subject slightly, Freeman, like Sheriff Bragg had, saw fit to tell him how competent Rachel Baskin had been in her role as manager of the Lost Coyote Saloon. “You’re mighty lucky to have had Rachel taking care of that place. She was running the saloon even before Jim Vickers died.”
“That’s what the sheriff told me,” Ben replied. Unable to resist japing Freeman, he added, “I had a meeting with her earlier today and fired her from that job.” He saw the immediate results of his remark in Freeman’s face. Before Freeman could respond, he said, “I made her an equal partner in the Lost Coyote.” The hotel owner’s face, flushed moments before, relaxed to form a wide grin. Ben was beginning to think that his new business partner might be the most popular person in town.
Freeman made it a point to tell him a lot more about the town and the people who had chosen to cast their lot on a settlement that grew from a trading post and a blacksmith to the bustling little town that it had become. “I’m sure all of us will give you our cooperation to help your business continue to be successful. Most of us hope you will run it the same way Jim did, and Rachel does now.”
“I reckon we’ll see,” Ben said.
Before they finished their supper, they were joined by another merchant, Cecil Howard, owner of Howard’s General Merchandise. Seeing Freeman sitting at the table with the newly arrived owner of the Lost Coyote, he walked over to meet Ben. “Rachel said I might find you here,” Cecil said. “I wanted to say hello and welcome to Buzzard’s Bluff before you met some of our lower-class citizens, but I see I’m too late.”
Freeman snorted a chuckle in appreciation for Cecil’s attempt at humor. He turned to Ben and said, “You’da had to meet him sooner or later, Ben. This is Cecil Howard. He’s the mayor, and we’re all still trying to figure out how he ever got elected. Maybe it was out of respect for his patient wife, Sarah, who’s had to put up with him at home for a good many years.”
“General store, right?” Ben asked as he shook hands with Cecil.
“That’s right,” Cecil answered.
“Ben just told me he’s made Rachel an equal partner in the Lost Coyote,” Freeman said. The statement brought a big smile to Cecil’s face.
“I swear, that’s good news,” Cecil responded. “Maybe that means you’ll let it run the way it always has, ever since Jim Vickers built it. We’ve got the Golden Rail Saloon with all its gambling and whores, knifings and gunfights. We don’t need another one.”
Ben