Buzzard's Bluff. William W. Johnstone

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      CHAPTER 4

      He walked back the length of the main street, just to get a feel for the town, past the hotel, the sheriff’s office, the post office, and Howard’s General Merchandise. Then he turned around and headed back to the Lost Coyote Saloon. When he stepped inside the door, he paused there a few seconds to look the room over. He recognized the two cowhands who had ridden by him when he had stopped to look at the saloon before. They were seated at a table playing cards with two other men. At the far end of the bar, the bartender, a huge man, was talking to a woman who had a cup of coffee on the bar before her. Always an imposing figure, Ben attracted a looking-over by the bartender and the woman as well. After a moment, Ben walked over to the bar. “Howdy,” the bartender moved down the bar to serve him. “Whatcha gonna have?”

      “Howdy,” Ben returned and touched his hat brim politely as he nodded to the woman. “Tell you the truth, I’d like to have a cup of that coffee the lady’s drinkin’, if you sell coffee.”

      “Sure thing,” Tiny Davis said. “We’ll sell you some coffee.”

      “I’ll get it for you,” the woman said to Tiny, then to Ben she said, “If you need something to eat with it, we sell that, too.” She waited for his decision. “You’re in luck today. Annie’s husband killed a deer this morning and she cooked up some stew with that fresh venison.”

      “That sounds pretty good,” Ben replied. “I’ll give that a try.”

      “You won’t be sorry,” the woman said. “Sit down at a table and I’ll bring it to you.” She went to the kitchen while Ben settled into a chair at a table close to the bar.

      Tiny walked over to talk to him while he waited for his coffee. “You just ride into town? I know I ain’t ever seen you in here before.”

      “That’s a fact,” Ben answered. “The last time I passed through here, there wasn’t anything but a store and a blacksmith.”

      “Man, that was a long time ago,” Tiny responded. “What brings you back this way? You thinkin’ about lookin’ for some land around here?”

      “I reckon you could say that,” Ben answered. “I thought I’d like to get a feel for the town—see what you folks are doin’ with the town.”

      “You couldn’t find a town with a better future than Buzzard’s Bluff,” Tiny claimed. “We’re seein’ more families movin’ here every year.” He paused then to introduce himself. “I’m Tiny Davis.” Ben wasn’t surprised by the name. He offered his hand just as the woman came with the coffee and stew. Tiny stepped aside to give her room. “And this is Rachel Baskin,” he said. “She’s the manager.”

      “Ben Savage,” he said, “pleased to meet you, ma’am.” She extended her hand and they shook. “So you’re the boss,” Ben commented.

      “Well, no, not really,” Rachel said. “I guess you could say I manage the saloon. The owner was the boss, but he just passed away recently, so I’m the boss temporarily until we get a new owner, I guess. We heard that the saloon has a new owner, but we don’t know what he’ll do with it. I don’t even know if I’ll still have a job, once he gets here. My hope is that he’ll be just as clueless about running a business as Jim was. I don’t think Jim would have made it six months on his own. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t love the man.”

      “Have you been workin’ here a long time?” Ben asked.

      “Since the day Jim Vickers officially opened the door for business,” she said. “He didn’t have any family to help him, and I needed to make a living for myself.”

      “I woulda thought, if the owner didn’t have any family, the saloon mighta just gone to you when he died.”

      “That’s what I thought,” Tiny commented. “Jim was in such poor health for the last year or more, so Rachel was runnin’ the business. We figured that when he died, the saloon would just keep operatin’ with Rachel runnin’ it.”

      “It didn’t happen that way, though,” Rachel said. “Come to find out, Jim had a will and left the saloon to somebody. The lawyer said it would probably be sold, because he said the new owner wasn’t likely to keep it.”

      “And he didn’t tell you who the person was that inherited it?” Ben asked. They both shook their heads. “Well, I can understand why you’re wonderin’ what’s gonna happen.” He would have told them what was going to happen, but he wasn’t sure, himself, at this point. The only thing he was sure of he did comment on, however. “You know, you weren’t lyin’, this stew is good. Reckon I could have another cup of that coffee?”

      Rachel smiled and was about to respond when she was interrupted by an outburst from the card game. They looked toward the table to see one of the players on his feet. A stubby little man with red hair and beard, he was pointing at one of the cowhands and exclaiming loudly. “I’d best see what that’s about before Tuck gets himself shot,” Rachel said.

      “You’d best let me go see about it,” Tiny said. “We’ve had trouble with that pair from the Double-D before.”

      “No,” Rachel insisted. “You go over there and you’re liable to get yourself shot. They’re not gonna get rough with a woman. Go on back to the bar in case you need the shotgun. Sorry, Mr. Savage,” she apologized to Ben as she walked away.