“Whiskey, then a beer,” Matt said. He figured to drink the whiskey to warm himself from the chill of the rain, then drink the beer for his thirst. The whiskey was set before him and he raised it to his lips, then tossed it down. He could feel its raw burn all the way to his stomach. When the beer was served, he picked it up, then turned his back to the bar for a more leisurely survey of the room.
Ascertaining that there was nothing here that represented an immediate threat, he turned back to the bartender.
“I’m looking for Moses Schuler,” Matt said. “I’m told I might find him here.”
“Why do you want Schuler?”
“That’s between Schuler and me,” Matt said.
“You the law?”
“Schuler,” Matt said again without answering the question.
“We don’t care much for the law around here,” the bartender said.
Suddenly, Matt reached his left hand across the bar and grabbed the collar of the bartender’s shirt. He twisted it into a knot that put pressure on the bartender’s neck, making it hard for him to breathe.
“Mister, I’ve ridden half a day in a driving rainstorm,” Matt said. “I’m in no mood for games. I’m going to ask you one more time where I can find Schuler. If you don’t answer me, I am going to break your neck, then find someone who will answer me.”
To illustrate his point, Matt twisted the collar even tighter, so tight now that when the bartender tried to talk, it came out as an unintelligible rattle.
Matt eased up just enough to allow the bartender to speak.
“I’ll see if I can find him,” the bartender said.
“I appreciate that,” Matt replied.
“Juan,” the bartender called.
A Mexican boy in his teens stepped out of the back room. He was wearing an apron and holding a broom.
“Sí, señor?” the boy replied.
“You seen Schuler around?”
“Sí, señor. He is sleeping in the back room,” Juan answered.
“Get ’im out here. There’s someone who wants talk to ’im.”
“I will try, señor. Maybe I cannot wake him up,” Juan said. “He is sleeping very hard.”
“Sleeping, or passed out?” the bartender asked.
“I think maybe he is passed out,” Juan replied.
The bartender poured a drink into a glass, then slid it down the bar toward Juan. “Give him this,” he said. “Tell ’im there’s someone out here that wants to buy him another drink. That’ll bring him out.” The bartender looked at Matt. “You will buy him a drink, won’t you?”
“Yes,” Matt said. “Give me a bottle.”
The bartender handed Matt a bottle, Matt took it, looked over at Juan, then pointed to an empty table. “I’ll be over there, Juan,” he said. “Bring him to me.”
“Sí.”
Juan disappeared into the back room. After a long moment, a bent, white-haired man came out of the room. At first, Matt was about to say this wasn’t the one he was looking for. This man looked nothing like the robber he had seen in the express car. But as he studied him more closely, he saw that this was, indeed, the same man. Dispirited, but the same man.
“Someone is going to buy me a drink?” Schuler asked.
“That man over there, señor,” Juan said. He pointed to the table where Matt was sitting, and Schuler shuffled over toward him, unabashedly scratching his crotch as he did so. Matt had rarely seen a man who had come down as far as Schuler had since the last time he saw him. Schuler needed a shave, and his clothes reeked of stale whiskey and sour vomit. How could this be? Didn’t Schuler get his share from the robbery?
Schuler pointed at Matt with a shaking finger.
“Do I know you?” he asked. “Who are you?”
“I am a friend of Jennie Schuler,” Matt said.
Schuler looked at Matt for a moment, as if trying to process what he had just heard.
“Anyone who has money is a friend of Jennie Schuler,” he said. “She is a whore.”
“I am also the man that’s going to buy you a drink,” Matt answered. He poured whiskey into a glass, then slid it across the table toward Schuler.
“What—what do I have to do for it?”
“Just give me a little information,” Matt said. “That’s all.”
“Information? I don’t know anything about anything,” Schuler said quietly.
“Oh, you know something about what I want,” Matt said. Matt reached out to pick up the glass, then began pouring it back in the bottle.
“Wait!” Schuler said. “What do you want to know?”
“First, let me ask you something. With all the money you got from the train robbery, why are you having to beg for drinks now? Have you already spent it all?”
“I don’t have any money. Paco cheated me out of—” Schuler started to say, then he stopped in mid-sentence. “What money?” he asked.
“The money you got cheated out of,” Matt said. “That is what you were about to say, isn’t it? That Paco cheated out of your share of the money from the train robbery?”
“What train robbery?” Schuler said. “I don’t know anything about any train robbery.”
“Don’t lie to me, Schuler,” Matt said. “I don’t like being lied to. I know you took part in the train robbery because I was there. I was on the train when it wrecked.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh, but it does. It means that you, Odom, Paco, and Bates are guilty of murder.”
“I didn’t murder anyone,” Schuler said.
“If you are talking about the deputy, I know you didn’t shoot him. I know that he was shot by Cletus Odom.”
Schuler’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “How do you know that?” he asked.
“I told you,” Matt said. “I was there. I saw it. I was in the express car when you and the others came in. I saw everything, Schuler. I’m talking about all the people who were killed when you and the others wrecked the train. I’m talking about a little four-year-old girl who was traveling with her mother and her brother. Do you know what happened to that little girl?”
Schuler was quiet for a long moment. “I ain’t got any of the money,” he said. “Like I said, Paco stole it.”
“I don’t care about the money,” Matt said.
“You don’t care about the money?”
“No.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want Odom,” Matt said.
“There are three others,” Schuler said.
“No, there is only one other.”
“You are forgetting Paco and Bates.”
“I’m not forgetting them,” Matt said. “They are dead.”
“Dead?”
“I killed them both,” Matt said calmly.
Schuler made no response, but looked at the bottle and empty glass on the table. Matt waited for a long moment, then refilled the glass and slid it across the table toward Schuler.
Schuler reached out with a trembling hand—picked up the glass—spilled some, then, steadying it with his other hand, drank it down in one swallow.
“Where is Odom?” Kyle asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying,” Matt said matter-of-factly. “What are you afraid of, Schuler?”
“Nothin’,” Schuler answered. “I don’t know where he is, that’s all.”
“You do know, don’t you, Schuler?”
Schuler held his empty glass out, and Matt refilled it.
“Don’t be afraid,” Matt said. “I’m here.”
“You’re here?” Schuler said. He tried to laugh, but it came out as a weak bark. “So, you’re goin’ to protect me if he comes for me? There’s not one man in ten who wouldn’t pee in his pants if he comes face-to-face with Cletus Odom.”
“You think that’s what I would do, Schuler? You think I would pee in my pants?”
“I don’t know,” Schuler said. “Who are you?”
“Doesn’t matter who I am,” Matt replied. “You know where he is, don’t you?” he asked.