“Around eight o’clock, as soon as it gets dark,” Bo said. “You know that, Lucinda. You helped work out the time.”
“Oh, I suppose I did. I’m so flustered I just can’t remember anything right now.”
“You’re going to do just fine,” Bo told her. “Remember, folks in this town like you and want to see you win.”
“Some of them do. The girls and I have heard a lot of people say that they’re voting for the Deverys.”
Bo couldn’t deny that, since he’d heard the same thing. So he just shrugged and said, “When it’s over, we’ll count up the votes and see what the outcome is. That’s the way it’s supposed to work.”
Lucinda planned to close the café early to give her time to prepare for the rally. She shooed everybody out a short time later, including the Texans. They went back to the sheriff’s office.
“You’re going to have to continue keeping an eye on things, Biscuits,” Bo told the sheriff. “Scratch and I will be making sure that nobody causes any trouble at the rally.”
Biscuits nodded. “I know. I’ve gotten used to it. I reckon if I was gonna be a real lawman, I’d be best as a jailer. I seem to be able to handle that job.”
“You are a real lawman,” Scratch said, “and you can handle whatever it is you need to handle. Why, it’s been a week since you took a drink.”
“Yeah, and it’s been one hell of a year.”
“I said a week.”
“I know what you said,” Biscuits replied, “and I know what it feels like.” He held out his hand, palm down. It still trembled a little, but not nearly as much as it had been a few days earlier. “Look at that. It hasn’t been long since that thing would bounce around like it was full of Mexican jumpin’ beans.”
“Pretty impressive,” Bo agreed. “We’re proud of you, Biscuits.”
The sheriff grunted. “Better wait until I’ve actually done somethin’ worth it before you’re proud of me.”
“Reckon we’ll be the judge of that,” Scratch said.
A crowd began to gather in the street as twilight settled over the town. A feeling of celebration was in the air, sort of like Fourth of July. Bo hoped that no kids would start setting off firecrackers. The popping scared horses and could be mistaken for gunfire, which might prompt some trigger-happy hombre to slap leather himself.
Carrying Winchesters, Bo and Scratch walked over to the saloon and took up positions on its porch. From there they could see the townspeople in front of them in the street. Bo glanced up the hill at the Devery house. It squatted there silently, a couple of windows glowing with lamplight so that they looked like the eyes of a malevolent frog.
Lyle Rushford came out onto the porch and hooked his thumbs in his vest. “Looks like we’re going to have quite a turnout,” he said.
“Close to half the town’s here already,” Scratch said, “and quite a few of the miners have come in from the hills, even though they can’t vote in the election. Can’t blame ’em for bein’ interested in how it all turns out, though. What happens here in town has an effect on them, too.”
“Have you spoken to Mrs. Bonner lately? I know she was nervous about making a speech tonight.”
“She still is,” Bo said. “I’m sure she’ll do fine, though.”
“Of course she will. Lucinda Bonner is a very intelligent and decent woman, in addition to being undeniably lovely.”
Scratch’s eyes narrowed. “You sound like you’re a mite sweet on her, Rushford.”
The saloon keeper chuckled. “Well, can you blame me? I’m not sure she’d ever have anything to do with an old reprobate like me, but I’ve been thinking lately that I ought to find out for sure.”
“I don’t know that I’d advise that—” Scratch began, but Bo interrupted him.
“Lucinda’s a grown woman. I’m sure she can make up her own mind about such things.”
“That’s what I thought,” Rushford said. He took out a cigar, lit it, and then sauntered back through the batwings into the saloon.
In a low voice, Scratch said, “Dadgummit, you know Lucinda can do better than a saloon man, Bo.”
“Yeah, like some old mossback of a fiddlefooted Texan,” Bo said with a grin. “We’ll be moving on one of these days. Rushford looks like he’s going to be here for a while. Maybe from now on.”
“Yeah, yeah, I reckon you’re right about that,” Scratch said grudgingly. “And you’re right about it bein’ up to her, too. But that don’t mean I’m givin’ up.”
“Never thought you would,” Bo said.
The candidates began to show up. Wallace Kane and Harlan Green were first, followed shortly thereafter by Sam Bradfield.
“Doc Weathers will be here in a little while,” the undertaker reported with a grin. “He’s got a baby he’s delivering at the moment.”
“That’s a heap more important than speechifyin’,” Scratch said.
Colonel Horace Macauley was the next one to join them at the steps leading up to the back of the speakers’ platform. The elderly lawyer was even more of a dandy than usual this evening, sporting a fancy vest and a silk cravat with a big diamond stickpin in it.
“I see that Mrs. Bonner isn’t here yet,” he commented. “No doubt like any woman, she wants to make an impressive entrance.”
“It hasn’t been long since she closed up the café,” Bo pointed out. “I imagine she just had a lot to do.”
Dr. Weathers showed up a few minutes later, passing around cigars bestowed on him by the proud new father of the baby he’d just delivered. “Mother and infant are doing fine,” he said in response to a question. “Mankiller has a new citizen this evening, a fine, healthy baby boy.”
That just left Lucinda, Bo thought as he slipped his watch out of his pocket and opened it. Almost eight o’clock, and there were at least three hundred people gathered in the street, waiting to hear what the candidates had to say.
A stirring in the crowd made him glance up. He snapped his watch closed and put it away as he saw Lucinda making her way across the street, with her daughters Callie and Tess following her. All three women wore simple gowns that they made look expensive and elegant. They looked lovely.
Someone began applauding, and a cheer suddenly went up to greet them. By the time the three women reached the back of the platform, Lucinda was blushing furiously.
“I’m not sure I can go through with this,” she said.
“Sure you can,” Scratch told her. “I got all the faith in the world in you, Lucinda.”
“So do I,” Bo added.
“We need to discuss the order in which we’ll speak,” Colonel Macauley said. “Why don’t I go first? I’m accustomed to speaking in court, so I can make a few opening remarks, then introduce the rest of us in turn.”
“That sounds good to me,” Wallace Kane said. “I don’t think it matters which order the rest of us go in, except that Mrs. Bonner needs to speak last, since she’s running for mayor.”
Bo wasn’t sure that was a good idea, since it would give Lucinda even more time for her nerves to act up, but the others all quickly agreed with Kane’s proposal.
Chairs had been set up on the platform, three on each side of a pulpit borrowed from the First (and only) Baptist Church. Macauley went up the stairs with a sprightly step and positioned himself behind the pulpit, raising his hands for silence as more cheers and applause came from the crowd. He let the noise go on for a minute, then motioned for quiet again. This time he got it.
“I guess we’re actually going through with this,” Lucinda whispered to Bo and Scratch.
“Yes, ma’am,” Scratch said. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Bo and me will be keepin’ an eye out for trouble.”
The Texans split up, going to either end of the platform as Colonel Macauley began his remarks in a booming voice that carried easily, having been trained in courtroom oratory.