Free The River of Souls by Robert McCammon Page B

What? ” came the half-roar, half-snarl. 
    “Sarah Kincannon,” Matthew repeated. “She sends her greetings. And she says you make some very beautiful bottles. She showed me one, just awhile ago.” 
    “Are you a fool, or just a plain idiot?” Muldoon demanded, the musket still aimed to part Matthew’s hair and perhaps his brain as well. 
    “A little of both,” Matthew answered. “Aren’t you at all curious as to why I’ve ridden all the way here from Charles Town?” 
    “I know why. ’Cause you don’t have the sense God gave a bumblebee.” Now, though, he did lower the musket but his frown was as frightening as any weapon. “Corbett, ain’t it? Well, what in the name of seven Hells are you doin’ here? We had our duel, you won it fair and square—I reckon—and it’s done. So what then?” 
    Matthew said, “I don’t like being brought from New York to die for Lady Prisskitt because she wants to attend a fancy ball. You’ve killed three men for her, I understand.” 
    “No more! I’m ashamed of that! Seein’ her as she was last night…as she really is…I’m ashamed nearly to death!” 
    “I have some suggestions,” said the problem-solver. 
    “Huh? What’re you goin’ on about?” 
    “Suggestions,” Matthew repeated. “For you. Some ideas. Can I get down, tie my horse up and come talk to you?” 
    “You’re talkin’ now .” 
    “Talking without a musket in the area, is what I mean. And, Mr. Muldoon, I think you’ll find my suggestions very interesting.” 
    “That so? Why should I?” 
    “Because you’ll have a chance to get a little revenge on Pandora Prisskitt,” said Matthew. “And I will too.” 
    “How’s that ?” 
    “I think you have potential,” Matthew replied, “to be a gentleman. I can start you out on that path, if you’re willing to listen and learn.” 
    Magnus Muldoon snorted so hard Dolly and even the two horses in the corral jumped. “Why the hell do I care to be a gentleman ?” He spoke the word like describing something foul in a chamberpot. “So I can dance and prance like those fools in town?” 
    “No,” said Matthew evenly, “so in time you will have your pick of any lady in Charles Town, you won’t be living out here as a hermit, and…if you’re as good at your craft as the example I’ve seen, you could set yourself up in business and make some real money. Becoming a gentleman doesn’t mean you lose who you are…you just have more confidence in who you are. But first…the rough edges have to be smoothed.” 
    “I think you’ve got moon sickness,” was Muldoon’s comment. “I’ll bet you’re one of ’em burns the midnight candle to a smokin’ stub and ain’t done an honest day’s work in his life.” 
    “Some might agree,” Matthew said, with a shrug. “But at least hear me out. All right?” 
    “And if I say no?” 
    “I’ll turn around and ride back to town. But bear in mind, Mr. Muldoon, that sweet honey attracts the female fly much more so than does angry vinegar. Lady Prisskitt has wronged you and myself as well. You know that by now. And I know you’re not at heart a killer. Much of what you said to Lady Prisskitt last night…well, the poetry was right, but the package is wrong. There are many lovely women in Charles Town who would honestly desire to hear such heartfelt sentiments…without the murderous intent and threats of violence, of course…and I can’t leave here, Mr. Muldoon, until I have at least tried to match the package with the poetry. Just so someday in the future Pandora Prisskitt may look into your glassblowing shop on Front Street and wish she were the one who had found you…instead of the woman who’s going to find you, if you listen to what I have to say and act upon it.” 
    Muldoon made another disturbing noise deep in his throat, like a shout that had been swallowed. “If my dear deceased Pap heard any of this,” he managed to say, “he’d be rollin’ in his