Free The Railroad War by Wesley Ellis Page B

the smile that twitched his lips. The barkeep was not the first to be baffled by Ki’s unorthodox clothing.
    Unhurriedly, the man finished wiping the glass, placed it on the backbar shelf, and stepped up to the bar. When he turned to face Ki directly for the first time, his eyes grew wide.
    Before the barkeep could speak, Ki put a cartwheel on the bar and said, “Beer, please. And draw one for yourself.”
    â€œThanks just the same. I got a long night ahead, but if you’re in a treating mood, I’ll have a cigar.”
    Ki nodded, and watched the barkeep inspecting him in the backbar mirror while he filled a big-footed glass stein at the beer taps. He took a cigar from one of the boxes above the till and held it for Ki to see, then tucked it in his vest pocket.
    â€œI’ll smoke it later, I just finished one,” the barkeep said, wiping the bottom of the heavy stein on his apron before putting it on the bar in front of Ki.
    Ki nodded again. He knew “later” meant that the cigar would be returned to the box and its price taken from the till and put in the man’s pocket. The barkeep took the silver dollar to the till, returned, and put on the bar in front of Ki a half-dollar, a twenty-five-cent piece, a dime, and a nickel. When Ki did not pick up either the beer or the change, the man could restrain his curiosity no longer.
    â€œSay, ain’t you the one that wiped up on Jug and Slip when they tried to get fresh with your wife yesterday?” he asked.
    â€œI punished a hooligan. But the lady is not my wife. I work for her.”
    â€œThat right? Well, all anybody talked about in here last night was the Chinese fellow that put Jug down.”
    â€œI happen to be Japanese,” Ki said quietly.
    â€œSorry, I was just telling you what they said.”
    â€œI’m not offended. Many people make the same mistake.”
    â€œEverybody was wondering how in hell you could handle Jug.”
    Ki shrugged and said, “It was not hard.” Then, looking for information as well as changing the subject, he asked, “Did you work here when Dutch John owned the saloon?”
    â€œNo. Cheri hired me.”
    â€œDid Cheri buy the place from Dutch John?”
    â€œNo, she just manages it. Funny, I was keeping the bar at the New Ophir in Virginia City, and Cheri was dealing faro. We knew each other, sure, but not all that good, and I was the most surprised man in the world when she got the job of running this place here. She just came up to me and said, ‘Mort, I need somebody I can trust. I’ll give you ten a week more than you get here if you’ll come along with me.’ So I did.”
    â€œThen you’re not acquainted with the new owner?”
    â€œI wouldn’t know him if I saw him, don’t know his name or anything about him. Why?” Mort looked pointedly at Ki’s loose blouse and went on, “You ain’t dressed like it, but if you’re a whiskey drummer or some other kind of peddler, Cheri’s the one you need to talk to. When I said she runs the place, I meant it. She might not own it, but she’s the boss.”
    â€œWhat time does she usually get in?”
    â€œShe oughta be showing up pretty soon now. The bank closes in another hour or so, and she’s got to carry last night’s take down there and get the change we need for tonight.”
    â€œIf you don’t mind, I’ll wait for her. But don’t let me keep you from your work. I’ll call you when I want more beer.”
    â€œYou do that. Cheri’ll be here pretty soon.”
    Mort moved down to the other end of the bar and opened the door of a closet. He loaded one of his arms with unopened bottles of whiskey and began replenishing the backbar stock. He’d worked his way well along the length of the bar, and Ki had half-emptied his glass when the back door opened and a woman came in.
    She glanced only casually at Ki. From the