Edward reached out for Marybeth’s hand. “It’s kind of slick, so let me steady you.”
Marybeth didn’t argue. She took hold of his arm, and they followed the Hendersons toward the two-story white house. It was such a lovely house, and Marybeth was glad for any excuse to revisit the well-appointed rooms and to have a hot meal.
“Melody told me that you and Fred attend church with her,” Marybeth said they as stepped into the house. “Do you suppose we’d be welcome to come?” She hadn’t mentioned to Edward that she was going to ask about church. She hoped he wouldn’t be against the idea.
“We’d love to have you,” Eve replied, carefully wiping her boots. “We don’t have a lot of people yet, but we’re hoping we can keep gaining numbers and get a good amount of money set aside over time to build our own church.”
“It’d be good to have you and your family, Edward,” Fredsaid. “I don’t know why I didn’t think to invite you since we have Sunday off. We meet at seven in the evening. There’s a Sunday school class at two in the afternoon. Dr. Scott has the help of Reverend Allen. He’s another lay minister, and he seems quite knowledgeable.”
“Sounds good to me.” Edward looked at Marybeth. “I’ve been thinking about finding a church for us.”
“There are others who are gathering in homes and storefronts. People know the need for God’s Word out here. Sometimes just living this close to hell makes people more aware of their need for heaven,” Fred said. “No matter what, we Cheyenneites know God is the answer for our community to better itself. Only with God-fearing people in positions of authority can we hope to clean up the west side and see this city mature into something great.”
“Better be careful, Fred,” Edward said with a hint of amusement in his tone. “You’re sounding more and more like a politician. Before you know it, they’ll have you running for some office.”
Fred chuckled. “They’ve already asked me a few times.”
“What do you mean we have to go back to work for the railroad?” Emory asked his older brother. “I ain’t of a mind to go back.”
“I don’t care. We’re out of money, and our gambling isn’t paying off the way we need it to.” Hank Garlow looked at his brother and shook his head. “And you eat more than three men. I can’t afford to feed you.”
“Still ain’t no reason to force a man to go back to work.” Emory did up the buttons on his shirt.
“And that’s another thing. You need a bath. You smellworse than a barrel of dead rats. And that shirt hasn’t seen a good washing in months.”
“It’s winter. Going down to the creek for a bath is out of the question, and you know it, so why give me a bad time about it? Can’t afford one of them fancy bathhouses or a laundry to wash my clothes. Besides, you ain’t exactly smellin’ of roses yourself.”
Hank threw an empty whiskey bottle at his brother. Emory barely ducked in time to keep from being hit on the side of the head. The bottle sailed over him and shattered against the wall.
“Now, who’s gonna clean that up?” Emory asked. “You’re so worried about cleanliness. You do it.”
“I’m heading out. Gonna find me a game and something to eat.” Hank stood and started putting on his coat.
“I thought you said we were out of money.”
“We are. You ever know me to let that put an end to my fun?” He headed for the door and grabbed his felt hat from a peg at the door. “You comin’?”
Emory nodded and hurried to take up his coat. “Maybe we can rob some drunk. It’s late enough there ought to be a few that have crawled into a bottle by now.”
“My thoughts exactly. We’ll find someone down on their luck—but not too down. Maybe we should start in town and work our way west.”
Emory followed Hank out the door. They went about four blocks in silence without seeing a soul. The cold made Hank feel mean. He didn’t have the patience to deal with Emory and his nonsense. If he started in whining about having to work, Hank was going to lay him out.
They spied their victim as they worked their way down Seventeenth Street. This town boasted drinkers around theclock, and finding people drunk this early wasn’t at all unusual. Hank always used this to his benefit. Most of the sober souls were busy hurrying home or seeking supper. They paid little attention to the scum of their society. Especially when they knew they’d be joining them in a few short hours.
Hank and Emory followed the staggering man without his noticing for two blocks before maneuvering him behind one of the hotels, where they hit him over the head and easily relieved him of what money he had. They left him unconscious but alive and hurried away in the growing shadows of dusk.
“It’s enough to get us started in a game and maybe get us something to eat,” Hank said as they headed to the west side.
“And a drink or two?” Emory asked.
“Yeah. A drink or two would suit me just fine.” Hank glanced back over his shoulder. He was always worried about someone coming after them. The law in this town was getting stronger every day, and new rules and regulations were constantly being approved. It wasn’t at all what Hank liked to see, but it was the way of things, and he knew there was no escaping it.
The wind picked up and blew a sudden gust. Hank grabbed his hat just before it flew off his head. “Come on, Emory. Pick up your feet. I’m tired of being out in the cold.”
Edward was grateful to have the move behind him. The tent had never been satisfactory. There had been so little room, and now with double the space, he figured they would be content until they could arrange for their own home come spring.
The biggest trouble now was the men and women who had too much time on their hands. The gamblers and prostituteswere happy to keep the railroad workers busy. With Christmas nearly upon them, the temperatures remained cold, and people were agitated and anxious. It snowed twice that week, and with the wind, it made for blizzard conditions, forcing people to remain inside. This meant more fighting. Barroom fights broke out nightly and often with severe results. Edward hoped and prayed this wasn’t going to be the way of things until spring. Surely these people could learn to get along with each other.
