Joseph didn't share the old man's enthusiasm; in fact, he seemed disappointed. The friendly demeanor faded. "A man-hunter?" he asked snidely. "Trinity Hill's blessed with your presence."
Cadman let the remark slide, but he knew he wouldn't forget it. His ego was too large for the latter. If I catch roly-poly Joseph alone, he thought, he'll get the worst pistol-whipping of his life. He winked his thoughts at the young man.
Joseph turned without a further word and walked back toward the front of the room.
"The boy's got the idea that he's important," Alexander said, turning his back to the counter in imitation of Cadman. "It's a hard disease to get rid of."
"You might say that. How long you been in Trinity?" Cadman asked.
"Nine months about. I put up the bank across the street. Does well enough with all the money comin' in from the oil. You visited before?"
"Yeah," Cadman said shortly. "I don't mean to get pushy, but you're gonna tell me what's goin' on around here. Most of these folks haven't breathed a word since I came in."
Alexander nodded. "It's not an easy thing," he said, "preparing yourself to die. I'm an old man, but that still doesn't make it simple. Folks, as you'd expect, are taking it hard. That's why they're quiet."
Cadman's understanding didn't budge. "Everybody in here's gonna die?"
"And you," Alexander said, then twisted his face in confusion. "You really didn't know?"
People in the immediate vicinity turned to listen, curious.
Cadman shook his head. "I was just passing through."
"Then the Word hasn't reached as far as we'd hoped," Alexander sighed. "That explains why you're the only stranger to come."
The thought settled in Cadman's mind that he stood in the equivalent of an asylum, surrounded by a cadre of religious fanatics. He didn't like the prospect of it. And the whole town, he guessed, was like that: sitting here in the dark, waiting to die, waiting for the world to come to an end. I'm getting a drink and moving on, he promised himself. To hell with Trinity Hill; I'll sleep in the rain if I have to. With that in mind, Cadman eased his backside onto the bar top and slid his legs to the other side. He hopped down with a thud.
A young man, similar in appearance and attitude to Joseph, piped up from close by. "You can't drink," he chided. "Sir, there's no drinking in here tonight."
Cadman, ignoring the young man, unhooked his duster, allowing it to fall open. It revealed two pistols holstered at his side. Their pearl handles shone even in the dim candlelight. "Well I'm gonna," he said.
People turned at the sudden ruckus.
"You can't drink liquor in here," a woman shouted out.
Cadman, flushed with anger, pulled a pistol from his side. "I'm taking a drink," he said to whoever wanted to listen, and there were a few. "Any man or woman tries to stop me and I'll shoot them dead." He smiled caustically. Removing a full bottle of Kentucky bourbon from the shelf, he looked around the room, watching, wondering if anybody would call his bluff. They lost interest quickly, though. There was no fight in them beyond the battle in their own minds. They let Cadman break the rules without any further objections. Not even Joseph, who Cadman eyed in the far corner, protested.
Cadman downed a mouthful, then offered the bottle across the bar to Alexander. The old man looked tempted, but torn. "I can't," he said mournfully.
I don't remember Trinity being hit so hard by the temperance drive, Cadman thought to himself. It doesn't seem natural. A man used to fight not to buy vice around here. Cadman watched the weary crowd, then downed another quick drink.
