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The room seemed to be heating up as the prices spiraled higher, the energy of the buyers getting more and more frenetic. The voice of the auctioneer, shouting out prices as fast as his mouth would allow, drove them constantly to greater excitement. If the crowd got any hotter, Glen thought, they'd have a riot on their hands before long.
And then, as soon as things seemed as if they couldn't get any stronger, the auctioneer waved his hands and announced that they were done for the day. The buyers would be given their winnings as soon as they were all settled up. Stewards would be coming by to deal with the details.
Glen walked up, keeping his posture Army-straight. "Maybe you can help me, Mister."
"Next auction's not until Thursday, son." From this close up, Glen could see the sweat streaking the man's face. He poured himself a glass of water and drank deeply.
"I'm looking for some information, just a couple of quick questions."
The auctioneer let out a deep sigh, but he turned and faced Glen, Catherine pressed up beside him. "What do you folks need?"
"I own a small ranch a way south of here, and we've been having a bit of a cattle rustling problem. Sheriff seemed to have his hands full with other things, so we thought we would just ask around. Have you seen any underweight steers coming through here? Perhaps a few calves?"
"I've seen as many cattle coming through here as I've seen people. Anything special about these ones?"
"Have you got a pencil?"
He handed one over to Glen, and he drew out his brand. "The calves would wear that brand."
He handed the pencil over to Catherine, who drew a symbol. "That's the other you might've seen."
The man looked at them carefully, and then shook his head. "I don't think I've seen these. We've got a log-book, but I don't want to get your hopes up. You seem like good folks. I feel for you, I do, but I don't know that we'll be able to do anything for you."
"If we could just take a look at the last few days' records—"
"Out of the question. But I can try to get you that information in a few hours. There's a saloon across the street, they serve a mean steak, and if you tell 'em Buck sent you, they'll treat you right."
"We'll be back in a few hours, then," Glen said, letting his breath out all at once. They were going to have a long wait ahead of them, then. He tipped his hat to the man and started making for the saloon across the way. If he mentioned that Buck sent them, they'd treat him right.
Or so he'd heard.
The place wasn't as bad as she'd thought, Catherine decided. She had worried that it would be the sort of place… well, the sort of place that Billy and Glen would have met each other in. At least during the day, the place gave off a good impression of a family-friendly establishment as long as she stayed away from the bar itself.
A pretty twenty-year old waitress came over and brought a chilled brown bottle. Catherine had avoided drinking most of her life, but the time on the road had tired her out. She had already been too far gone before, and now she just wanted to relax a little. They still had a ways to go ahead, and if she didn't let herself go for one night, she'd go crazy.
She took a drink, ignoring the taste as best she could, and ignoring the burn a little better. She wasn't going to make it through the whole thing if she didn't hurry it up, but the stuff made her gag to drink too deeply. So instead she turned to watch the band.
Glen would be back soon, she reminded herself. That was all she needed to worry about. There were four of them on stage, and the music wasn't half-bad. The place wasn't any more full than she would expect for a half-hour before supper, but the dance floor was well-used and there were plenty of people dancing.
She could feel the alcohol hitting her, just a little bit, and she pushed the bottle away. No reason to go too far. After all, a woman has to make sure she doesn't put herself into a bad situation. That sort of thing was dangerous at the best of times, and she had to admit—it wasn't the best of times.
She sucked in a deep breath as she saw Glen come in. He didn't seem to be doing much better than she was with the long trip. Where he'd previously been able to hide so much from her about how he was feeling, she could see now that he was frustrated, and above all, tired.
He slid into the seat beside hers.
"You mind?"
She saw him gesturing toward the bottle and shook her head. Not one bit, if he wanted it.
She wanted to relax, she thought again. And the best way to relax…
"Dance with me," she said softly.
He shook his head and took a deep drink.
"You don't want to know what I learned?"
"A whole lot of nothing, from the look on your face."
