Free Outlaw Train by Cameron Judd Page B

grizzly. Even the most lewd-minded boy would hardly wish to inflict upon himself the sight of her in a state of undress.
    Luke had believed that the real reason for Oliver’s peeping in that instance was not Beatrice, but the fine collection of rifles and shotguns Bill Parmalee had on private display in the upper room into which Oliver had been caught peering. It was a collection worth seeing, and everyone who knew Oliver knew he loved guns and had already begun his own collection. Once questioning of Oliver vindicated Luke’s theory, all that came of that peeping incident for Oliver was a good scolding from Ben Keely, a milder one from Luke, and a hide-tanning from Oliver’s father. Luke’s only serious worry about that entire incident was that Oliver might have been eyeing the guns in anticipation of stealing one or more of them, but that never happened. Bill Parmalee retained all his guns, and Beatrice retained, and even seemingly coddled, her conviction that she had been victimized as an object of boyish lust.
    Luke headed up the stairs toward the emporium door. Then he remembered something and turned back toward Macky, who was just finishing his sweeping. “Macky, could I ask you about something?”
    “Yeah, Luke. Yeah.”
    “Upstairs, up in the attic above the store…is there somebody staying up there these days?”
    Macky’s face drained of color. His eyes darted and he swallowed hard, seemingly unable for the moment to form words.
    “What’s wrong, Macky? Did I ask something I shouldn’t have?”
    “They…they…they ain’t nobody up there, Luke! Ain’t nobody ! That’s where we store things and such that we got to get out of the way. Why you think they’d be somebody up there?”
    “Sheriff Crowe saw somebody looking out of the window up there. Seemed pretty sure about it. Man with a beard, he said.”
    Macky shook his head violently, eyes squeezed closed. “No. No. No.”
    “Why are you speaking so… firm about it, Macky?”
    Macky moved close to Luke and spoke in a tense whisper. “I don’t want to get in trouble…not supposed to talk about it, Luke.”
    “Your uncle?”
    “I told you…ain’t nobody up there! No uncle, no nobody! Why you think my uncle’s up there? What uncle?”
    “What I meant was, is it your uncle Campbell you’ll be in trouble with if he catches you talking about this?”
    Macky slowly nodded. “Yeah.”
    “All right, then, Macky. We don’t want to get you in trouble. So we won’t talk about this.”
    Macky smiled, relieved. “You a good one, Luke!”
    Luke smiled back reassuringly and patted Macky’s shoulder. “It’s good to help each other out,” he said.
    Luke proceeded on up the stairs and into the building. As always when he entered Montague’s Emporium, Luke marveled that such a fine business existed in such a small and humble town. As general stores went, this compared to most as a mansion to a shed. Tall, broadly constructed, lined with shelves high enough that it required mounting a ladder to reach their tops. And on those shelves was an array of merchandise ranging from basic farm and ranch tools through ladies’ sewing notions and fabrics, all kinds of guns and munitions for the menfolk, plus saddles and other tack gear. There were socks and leggings, canvas work trousers, and dresses fit for weddings. Shoes, boots, fencing supplies, leather goods, broaches, snoods, chairs, saws, lamps, candles, axes, saws, billiard tables, rope, chain, buckles, canned food items, cured hams, sacks of feed, tablets, and pencils…and out back, in a pen, chickens, turkeys, and ducks. The fowl were, like the front steps and porch, largely the responsibility of Macky, and he cared for his birds with devotion. He’d been known to softheartedly set some of them free at times, creating a small but noticeable population of free-ranging domestic fowl on the streets of Wiles.
    Luke heard the muffled voice of Campbell Montague coming from the rear of the store, where