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He nods and goes back upstairs.
I walk down the hall and knock on a door. A man’s voice says, “Come on in.”
Standing in the middle of the room in a hotel robe as fine as a terry-cloth Cadillac, and with a glass of whiskey in his hand, is Wild Bill. He turns around once to show me his good fortune.
“Hi, Bill. How are you doing?”
He comes over and shakes my hand.
“I’ve been worse. The grub in this place is par-damn-excellence.”
“Fancy talk for a gunslinger.”
“I’m no dandy, but a feller could get used to this.”
“Or maybe something better. You heard about the changes happening around here?”
He sips his drink.
“ ’Bout opening up the place? Yeah. I heard. I can’t say I entirely hold with letting all those murderers and bushwhackers out of here.”
“I guess it’s a philosophical thing. Can even busted-up souls be saved or redeemed or something?”
He looks at me.
“What do you think?”
“I wanted to kill everyone in the world, but I got over it. Maybe some of these other idiots can too.”
He nods like he’s thinking it over.
“I hear they’re leaving the place open for folks who don’t want to go.”
“You’re thinking about staying?”
“Hell no. I’m no fool. But I can’t say what Heaven’s about. I’ll go, but I’m keeping the saloon in case the place isn’t to my liking.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“What about you? Where are you headed?”
“When I came down here I thought maybe it was going to be permanent. But it doesn’t look that way, so I’ll be heading home to Earth.”
He comes closer. Taps his finger on my chest. It hurts.
“Be good to your gal. I could’ve done a lot better in that department. Maybe I’ll get a chance to make up for some things like that.”
I nod so he’ll stop poking me.
“Listen, Bill, something happened last night and I won’t be able to come Downtown again or up to Heaven.”
He puts his hands behind his back and looks at me.
“The old man finally clipped your wings?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, it’s been a hell of a time getting to know you. I owe you a lot, not a thing I say lightly.”
