“Faro’s a fool’s game, so that figures.” Edward glanced toward the back room. “Seems quiet enough, though.”
“Usually takes Hank to agitate Emory. I don’t know that he’d be all that much trouble without his big brother egging him on.”
“I’ve heard Fred say the same thing.” Edward squared his shoulders. “Guess I’ll go take a look around.”
He moved past several men in discussion at the bar and past the makeshift tables where dice were being thrown. Smoke hung heavy over the room as most of the men were enjoying cigars or cigarettes. Seemed like twice as many men smoked after the war as before it. But then, the war had changed folks. Changed the entire country. The talk now was all about getting along and putting back together what had been torn in two. That didn’t, however, mean that people were willing to forget all that had happened. There was still a lot of anger, and Edward had seen it firsthand. And given the fact it was only three years ago that the country wasstill at war, a person could hardly expect everything to be all right. Families had fought against each other. Friends against friends. It seemed the entire world they’d known had come unraveled. How could anything ever be the same?
Fred thought that was one of the greatest benefits of building a railroad to connect the east and west. The north and south were still nursing their wounds, and this railroad gave everyone a common interest—something positive in which to come together. Edward worried it wouldn’t be enough.
Raised voices from the back caused Edward to hasten his step. He came into the faro room to find Emory Garlow holding a man around the neck. His gun was against the man’s head.
“I said to shut your mouth!” Emory demanded. “You don’t know nothin’ about me or my brother.”
Edward stepped to the center of the room not two feet from Emory. He raised his pistol to show Emory he meant business. “Let him go, Emory.”
The young man fixed his gaze on Edward. His blue eyes narrowed. “I ain’t finished with him yet. He owes me an apology for insultin’ Hank.”
“And I say you’re done. I’m taking you in for carrying a gun in town. Let’s go.”
Emory shook his head. “You don’t seem to understand, lawman, I’m makin’ the call here. Not you.” The man he held apparently tried to move away, because Emory yanked his head back and shoved his pistol up under the man’s chin. “I’ll blow your head off if you try to move away one more time.”
The man held up his hands. Emory looked back at Edward. “Go on about your business, lawman. I don’t need you tellin’ me how to run mine.”
“You are my business, Emory. Drop the gun.” Edwardwatched everything around him at the same time. He’d learned early in the war to take in his surroundings and judge for himself who was a friend and who was an enemy. No one in this room wanted to come to Emory Garlow’s rescue. Emory knew it and so did Edward. Edward took a step toward Emory.
“Stay back or I’ll shoot him.”
“If you do, then I’ll have to shoot you. Give it up, Emory. You’re drunk, and I’m going to take you to jail to sleep it off. You’ll be let out in the morning with a fine to pay. But if you kill this man, then the vigilantes will hang you tonight. Your choice.”
Emory paled. Apparently the committee was more than he wanted to contend with. He let the man go but still held his gun.
“Put the gun away, Emory, and then very slowly unbuckle your holster and hand it to me.” Edward kept his pistol trained on Emory’s chest.
For a few moments, Edward feared Emory would try to play outlaw and shoot. The thought of barely being recovered from Hank’s bullet made Edward a bit queasy, but he pushed it aside.
“What’s going on here?”
Edward recognized Hank’s voice and glanced over his shoulder. “It’s not your concern, Hank. Emory’s just going to spend the night in the jail for drunk and disorderly.”
“I ain’t lettin’ you take him in,” Hank countered. “A man’s gotta let off steam now and then. Ain’t no reason to haul him off.”
“He’s carrying a firearm in city limits. As are you. You’re both breakin’ the law.”
“Come take it away from me.”
“Since Edward’s got his hands full, I’ll take it.” It was Fred, and Edward felt a rush of relief wash over him. “Let’s finish this up, Edward.”
Edward nodded. “Give me your gun, Emory.”
Seeing they were between a rock and a hard place, Emory did as he was told and holstered the gun. Casting a glance at Hank, he slowly unbuckled his belt and handed Edward his rig. By the time Edward turned him toward the door, Fred had Hank’s pistol and held the bigger man by the arm.
“Sometimes it’s best to leave well enough alone,” Fred told Hank.
“He’s my brother, and I ain’t about to let the likes of you and your deputy push him around.” He fixed Edward with a hard gaze. “I already put a bullet in you once. Wouldn’t be at all hard to put in another one. Maybe high and center.”
With the Garlow brothers asleep in their cell, Edward and Fred’s shift ended. The sun wasn’t even up as they walked home together. Sometime during the night, thick, threatening snow clouds had moved in.
“Spring snows are the worst,” Fred said, pulling up his coat collar. “Even out here where it’s dryer, it still feels so cold.”
