Longarm and the Whiskey Woman

by Tabor Evans

  Asa Colton's head whipped around and his old eyes fixed on Longarm. He said, "What'air you be talkin' about, taking the rattlesnake out of it?"

  Longarm laughed. He said, "Well, Mr. Colton, I don't know if you're aware of it or not, but that whiskey you make could damn near blow up a brick schoolhouse. That's the powerfullest whiskey I've ever put in my mouth. Most folks ain't used to that. Most of us drink eighty-proof whiskey and I've been told that this stuff is one hundred sixty and one hundred eighty proof."

  The old man said, "You can't make two hundred proof. Did you know that? You can't make it all turn into whiskey. Some of it stays water."

  Longarm said, wonderingly, "No, I didn't know that, Mr. Colton. I actually don't know a whole hell of a lot about whiskey. Like I've told your folks, I've been in the timber, land, and cattle business back in Arizona. Now, I'd like to branch out a little bit and this whiskey looks like a good idea. I'd like to take it back and put it in bottles with labels on them and sell it."

  The old man squinted his eyes. He said, "Ya ever hear of a federal stamp?"

  Longarm nodded. "Yes, I have."

  "What's you gonna do about that?"

  "Once you sell me the whiskey, that'll be my problem, won't it?"

  Colton studied him a long moment, then nodded. He said, "Yeah, it would be. You sayin' that it ain't none of my business?"

  "Mr. Colton, I ain't saying that nothing is none of your business. I'm just saying that I know what a federal stamp is and I know that if I don't find a way to get some, I could get in trouble, depending on who I sold the whiskey to. But you got to understand that Arizona is a damn big Place with damn few people and damn little law. We don't have any Treasury agents running around up there, at least none that I've ever seen. Of course, we can't distill whiskey out there like you can. We ain't got the firewood and we ain't got the corn and I wouldn't imagine that there's two bags of sugar in the whole damn territory."

  "You ain't got no Treasury agents?"

  Longarm shook his head. "No work for them." He paused, wondering whether he should say what was on his mind. He decided to chance it. "I understand you've got a couple of tame ones around here. I understand y'all get along pretty well."

  The old man narrowed his eyes again. "That's what we keep Morton for, that's his part of the affair. He's supposed to tend to that business. The rest of us don't like that kind of work. Besides, it keeps Morton out of here, and I don't have to see him more than once a month, if then."

  Longarm said, "Well, how come you're having to think about selling me whiskey? Why don't you just go ahead and do it?"

  The old man said, "Well, it ain't none of your business as to why I don't want to sell you whiskey or why I might be willing to sell you whiskey. The fact is, I don't sell to just anybody. I make the best damned whiskey in Arkansas, and I'm mighty particular who gets their hands on it. You understand that? I don't know you, young man. I don't know you from Adam's off ox. You ain't some kind of outlaw, are ya?"

  Longarm laughed in spite of himself. He said, "No sir. I think I can honestly say that I ain't any kind of outlaw."

  Colton said, "I don't hold with outlawry. I don't hold with stealin' and robbin'. I'm again' it. Now, killin', sometimes it can't be got around. I don't hold with no careless or reckless killin', though. That was one of the things that got me down on Morton. He got down to where he liked it. Now, if killin's got to be done for family reasons or business reasons, I can understand that, but I won't hold with just careless killin'."

  Longarm shook his head and tried to look solemn. He said, "No sir, Mr. Colton. I can assure you, I ain't never killed nobody carelessly."

  The old man took it all in thoughtfully. Finally he nodded. He said, "We'll see." He finished the rest of his whiskey in one gulp and then got up from the table. He said again, "We'll see." Then he walked off without a word.

  CHAPTER 7

  That night, Longarm sat in the cabin, wondering if Sally would slip in to see him. He desperately hoped that she wouldn't. He was fairly certain that he was being watched. How they had gotten away with that afternoon, he wasn't certain, but he had an idea that it would be pretty difficult for her to get into the cabin without being seen. It had bothered him that she hadn't shown up for supper that evening. Perhaps it didn't mean anything. Perhaps she didn't always come to supper. Perhaps she wasn't hungry. Perhaps it had nothing whatsoever to do with him. He knew he was jumpy and nervous and was probably reading more into the situation than was there, but he was in the midst of a dozen armed men, each one probably more ruthless than the next, and all he had for defense was a revolver with six slugs in it and a wall to put his back against. It wasn't a very advantageous position.

  He wished that Frank Carson would hurry back. He did not know the man, and he did not necessarily count him as an ally. For all he knew, if Carson discovered what he was, he would probably lead the attack on him, but at least Carson talked, and at least he seemed to have a sense of humor. And they both agreed on how foul the green whiskey tasted. Longarm could see how very easily the potent, raw whiskey could be cut and then cut again before being aged for a time and turned into a very potable drink. There was a lot of money to be made off such a raw product, and he imagined that there were a lot of folks up in the East and other areas making a good deal of money off the corn squeezings coming out of the Colton clan.

  Longarm finished the cigarillo he had been smoking and took one last sip of the watered whiskey he had been drinking. He thought longingly of the bottles of Maryland whiskey that were in his room and then began preparations for turning in. There was no lock on the door or on the windows. The only night watchman he had was himself. Fortunately, he was a very light sleeper. When he had undressed down to his skin, he slipped into the covers, his revolver handy under his pillow. He normally didn't take such risks. He knew of a man who had shot his ear off one time keeping his revolver under his pillow, but to Longarm, these were dangerous times, and they called for dangerous methods. Finally, when he could, he slipped into a light, fitful sleep, dreaming half about whiskey and half about Sally.

  The next morning at breakfast, the old man told Longarm that he would be willing to sell him some whiskey. He said, "You calculate that you be after two thousand gallons? I hear word is that you already got the price from Salem. He rode over when you wasn't looking and said it was all right with him. He'll be the one taking over most likely after I pass on."

  Longarm was eating ham and eggs and biscuits. Sally was sitting across the table from him. He saw a faint smile flick across her face; he halfway suspected that he had something to do with it. He gave her the barest of winks. John and Mark, however, were glowering at him. It seemed that they never did anything but give him hard looks--no words, just hard looks.

  Longarm said to the old man, "Well, I'm much obliged, Mr. Colton. I'd have hated to have come all this way and gone home with an empty wagon."

  The old man said, "It ain't all as easy as you think. There's considerable work left to do. We've got more than a few orders to fill and damned little time to do them in. Mark has got a couple of boxcars ordered for three days from now. That means we got to get high behind getting this whiskey packed up and loaded onto them dray wagons so we can haul it to that railroad siding."

  Longarm said, "Mr. Colton, where exactly is that railroad siding?"

  From the other end of the table, Mark said with hardness in his voice, "There ain't no call for you to know that. You'll know when you get there."

  Longarm gave him a mild look. "I was just asking, Mark."

  "Who in the hell said you could call me by my given name?"

  Longarm shrugged. He said, "All right, I won't. But if I say Mr. Colton, there's about four or five of you that could answer. What do you want me to call you? I know what I'd like to call you."

  Mark Colton's face flamed. He half rose out of his chair. He said, "You might better be explainin' what you meant by that."

  "I ain't in a mood to explain
anything to you. Take it for whatever you want--whatever it's worth," said Longarm.

  Mark Colton kicked his chair back and stood up. He was not wearing a side arm, but there was a rifle leaning against the wall, very near at hand. He said, "Listen here, you son of a bitch, maybe some of these folks around here can stand the smell of you, but I ain't one of them. You come in here, big-timing your way around. I don't see where we need the likes of you around, whiskey buyer or not."

  Asa Colton simply lifted his hand in the air. He said quietly, "Mark, this man has come here as a guest. He's a-visitin' us. You'll damned well hold that rooster temper of yours in check or I'll know the reason why. Now, you just heard me say that I was going to sell this gent some whiskey. All you've got to do is get it ready. We don't need no more of your hard mouth, do you understand me, boy?"

  Before his very eyes, Longarm was amused to see the big, two-hundred-pound man wilt under the gaze of the dried-up old man who was his father. Obviously, Asa Colton didn't have to raise his voice to make his wishes understood and obeyed.

  Mark Colton sank back down into his chair. He didn't say anything else, but he shot several murderous glances in Longarm's direction. Longarm could feel Sally's eyes burning into him. It gave him a warm, lustful glow inside. He doubted that he would ever forget the picture of her lying on her back with her dress up and her legs open in that cornfield. It was as clear as a tintype photograph. He said, "Mr. Colton, I'm sorry if your sons don't like me. I never done nothing that was against them. I am obliged to you for selling me this whiskey. I think I can make a profit."

  Asa Colton looked at him with washed-out blue eyes. "Young man, you take this whiskey on back to wherever it is you say you're from-"

  Sally suddenly cut in. She said, "He's from Arizona, Daddy."

  Asa turned a wondering face to her. He said, "How do you know that, girl?"

  She blushed and looked back down at her plate. She mumbled something and Asa Colton said, "What?"

  Sally said, "I don't know, Daddy. I think I heard Frank Carson say something about it."

  Asa Colton's eyes lingered suspiciously on his prized daughter for a moment or two. He switched back to Longarm. He said, "She's sometimes just a little too nosy for her own sake, but I have to tell you that her mother was my second wife. She was the prettiest thing I've ever seen. It was a sore loss to me when she was taken from the bosom of her family, Having Sally here was like starting all over again, like when I was a young man, even though I wasn't young. I was married to her mother for many good years, and I don't think I'll ever see a prettier face, except for Sally, of course."

  Sally suddenly said, "Daddy, ain't you ever going to let me get married?"

  The old man frowned at her. He said, "That ain't fittin' talk for the breakfast table. I'll let you get married when I think a man is worth you."

  Longarm was uncomfortably aware that Sally was staring at him. She said, "Well, Daddy, I'm beginning to wonder if you're ever going to think anybody's good enough for me."

  Longarm cleared his throat loudly, trying to get the subject headed into another direction. He said, "Am I to understand, Mr. Colton, that I'll be taking delivery of the whiskey in three days?"

  The old man nodded. He said, "That's when it's due at the siding. I can only say that if we do our part, you'll be takin' delivery of it. I do have to tell you something bad, though. Something you ain't gonna like."

  "What's that?"

  The old man hesitated. Finally he said, "Most likely Morton Colton will be there at the train when we bring the whiskey in to load it up."

  Longarm flinched slightly. All he needed to do was to have a feud with a member of the clan deep into their territory. He said, "How come he's going to be there? I thought his job was to keep the lawmen happy."

  "It is, and that's why he'll be there. Sometimes, there is railroad detectives. Sometimes, the local law comes along. But always the Treasury boys out of Little Rock comes along. It's just another way to get themselves a little more long sweetenin'. Now, we never mess with any of that. It's dirty work that we leave to Morton, so he's generally there.

  Longarm said, "Will he cause trouble for me?"

  The old man shrugged. "I don't see why he should. If you're smart, you'll stay out of sight until the whiskey's loaded, and then get aboard as the train's pulling out. There ain't none of us"--he gave Mark and John a look down the table--"gonna tell him. We think he's trash."

  Longarm shrugged again. He said, "Well, I won't give him no trouble if he don't give me none. I've got to ask this. If it comes to trouble between me and him, how will Y'all stand on it?"

  From down the table, Mark said in a hard voice, "Is your last name Colton? His is. That ought to answer your question."

  Asa Colton gave Mark a look. He said, "Shush, Mark, and stay shushed. This ain't none of your affair. If I have to speak to you again, you're going to be in trouble. You ain't too old to take out and tie to a tree for a few days until you can get your thinking straight."

  Longarm said, "Look, I don't want to cause trouble here in your family. That's the last thing I want; but I would like to have that whiskey. I'll do it however you say."

  The old man nodded. He said, "We'll see how it goes."

  Longarm had little to do with his time except think. He tried to stay out of the way of the other men on the place, especially Mark. This would be no time to get into a fight. He had a feeling that a fight with Mark would have to end in a killing. Mark didn't seem like the type who could take a good fist whipping and live with it. Longarm was pretty sure that if he did fistfight Mark and whip him, which he had no doubt that he could do, he'd spend the rest of his time wondering if there was a rifle trained between his shoulder blades.

  Along toward noon, he wandered around to the back of the main house. There he saw Sally, radiant in a bright lemon-colored dress that revealed a great deal of her shoulders and her throat and neck and bodice. She and a colored woman were hanging clothes. She stopped as soon as she spotted him, standing there with her hands by her sides. He walked toward her, but stopped about ten feet short, making certain that no one could misread his intentions. Something had been bothering him, and he thought he would get it settled. She stood there, staring at him gravely.

  He said, "Sally, something about you makes me curious."

  "On account of I've chose you?" she said.

  He half-smiled at her old-fashioned words. He said, "No, it's your name. All of the other Coltons have names out of the Bible. I didn't know there was a Sally in the Bible."

  "Sally ain't really my name. My real name is Jerusha." She made a face. "But when I got old enough, I wanted to change it. Daddy said I couldn't, but I seen me a picture in a little picture book of a pretty little girl and her name was Sally, so I told my daddy and my mama when she was still alive that I was going to be Sally."

  "And what did they say to that?"

  "They said my name was Jerusha and that's what it was going to be."

  Longarm said, "Then how come they call you Sally now?"

  "Because I told them they could call me anything they wanted, to but I was only going to answer to Sally, and that was that. It was up to them."

  Longarm had to smile. He said, "You were a little tough, even then."

  She said, "I ain't tough at all. I just knows what I like, and I likes you. I choose you."

  "Sally, how old are you?"

  She said, "I'm twenty-one. Gonna be twenty-two at the end of summer."

  "You're mighty young, and I think you're kind of inexperienced."

  She gave him a look. "I may not be as inexperienced as you think."

  "I wasn't the first, was I?"

  She flung her head about so that her dark hair tossed and shone in the sunlight. "You can be the first if you want to be."

  Longarm shook his head ruefully. He said, "It doesn't make any difference to me, Sally, one way or the other. I know women get urges just like men do, and you're a healthy girl. I'm just surprised
that you haven't been caught."

  "I don't expect you to have noticed, but some of these folks around here like Mark and John are way on the other side of dumb," she said.

  Longarm said, "I don't think I ought to be seen talking to you. They may be way on the other side of dumb, but they don't care for me at all. It's been made clear to me that you are the jewel in your daddy's crown."

  She took a step toward him. She said, "You better be in that cornfield about mid-afternoon."

  He frowned and took a step backward. He said, "Sally, I don't think that's a good idea." Even as he said it, he felt the desire rising in him.

  She took another step toward him. She said, "I'm gonna be in that same row that we were in before, and I'm gonna be laying on my back with my dress up, and I ain't gonna be wearing no underclothes. You still say you won't be there?"

  His mouth suddenly went dry at the picture he envisioned in his mind. He said, "You're going to get me killed. You realize that?"

  She said, "I got a feeling it would take a fair job of work to kill you. I'd reckon the man that set out to do that had probably better bring his lunch with him."

  Longarm said, "I'd better get away from here. Right now."

  She said, "I choose you. You don't forget that."

  There was only himself for lunch. The stringy-haired woman who turned out to be John's wife, Rebecca, explained that the rest of the men were hurrying to get the rest of the whiskey into the jugs and then packed into the crates. She said, "They's a time when the whiskey is called bein' on the run. That's when you've got to get it jugged up, right then and there, or she'll swell up on you. So they're a-bottlin' it right now. They'll eat once they get the chance."

  "Where are they doing that?"

  Rebecca said, "In the juggin' shed."

  "Which one is that?"

  "Mister, I don't know how to tell you. I just know which one it is. Go out and look around."

  Longarm said, "How long will it take them?"

  "They ought to be comin' in for their meal at about two-thirty or three o'clock."