Free Brian Garfield by Manifest Destiny Page B

York State Assembly Minority Leader Theodore Roosevelt.
    Make that former Minority Leader, Huidekoper reminded himself. And if he stings badly enough from the licking he took, he may just be in a mood to be our savior.
    Roosevelt’s quick piping voice made a new disharmony. He was greeting Eaton and Gregor Lang and others he already knew from the time of his previous Western trip; he was being introduced to the ones he didn’t know; amid the murmurs and polite rumblings his magpie bursts were as discordant as an out-of-tune fiddle.
    As Huidekoper moved toward the drinks table with studied nonchalance—waiting his moment—he heard Joe Ferris tease Johnny Goodall:
    â€œWe came on Redhead Finnegan on the road. Pulling down one of your fences.”
    â€œThen we’ll just have to string it up again,” Johnny said with his usual equanimity.
    Joe Ferris, unsmiling, was having his dour fun with De Morès’s man: “Redhead said a few unfriendly words about the Marquis.”
    â€œI don’t expect the Marquis is fixin’ to lose a heap of sleep over that,” said Johnny Goodall. From this distance Huidekoper couldn’t tell if he was amused or irritated; Johnny’s Texas twang seldom gave away his feelings.
    â€œBeing none of my concern,” Joe Ferris told him, “but you might give a mind to Redhead and his mates. They’re armed and they take their pleasures in making trouble. Trouble for the Marquis—trouble for you one day.”
    â€œThey do and I reckon they will end in a shallow grave,” Johnny Goodall replied without heat. He glanced at Huidekoper and gave him the benediction of his brief polite nod. Johnny Goodall stood a head taller than most others in the room. He had a big man’s slow way about him. He was smiling courteously and he had a good-humored manner; but Huidekoper had caught the brief pale dancing flash of danger in his eyes.
    Coming to the beer keg Johnny moved with the slow wary caution of a dog amid an unfriendly pack. For—despite the fact that he was generally liked and respected—Johnny Goodall was range foreman for the Marquis De Morès, and his presence put tension in the house. Men spoke guardedly so long as he was present.
    Theodore Roosevelt had penetrated deeper into the room and Huidekoper thought, It is better to get this over with. He poured his cheer straight and turned toward the young New Yorker. “Sorry to hear about your ladies. A terrible misfortune.” He drank his tot and felt the burn when it went down.
    Roosevelt, turning to speak to someone else, stopped in midswing and blinked. Then he continued to pivot away, purporting not to have heard Huidekoper’s solicitous remark: he gave Huidekoper his back.
    It was a blunt rebuff; Huidekoper thought, Why, I am a fool. He should have intuited that the young man might prefer not to discuss his personal tragedies.
    So it would be necessary to come to him from another side; for it was important to get the New Yorker’s ear tonight, while he still had the fresh clean viewpoint of an outsider—before the damn fool dreamers could blind Roosevelt to the alarming truth.
    Joe Ferris leaned over the table and had his look at the beer keg and the bottles. He seemed a bit lost; he nodded a greeting to Huidekoper and said, “Feel like I’m getting narrow at the equator. Anything to eat around here?”
    â€œBacon and beans in the kitchen.”
    â€œI might have known,” Joe Ferris said. “Always a pot on the stove at Custer Trail.”
    â€œIf you can hold your horses, I’m sure Mrs. Eaton will be serving up supper in just a bit.”
    â€œThen may be just one drink first.” Joe poured, tasted and considered.
    Huidekoper offered, “Genuine forty-rod coffin varnish.”
    â€œTwo weeks old if it’s a day,” Joe Ferris agreed.
    Huidekoper said, “Around here that’s aged whiskey, my