The man who greeted Frank and Deaugrey upon entering Weslake’s Finery was none other than Monty Weslake himself. He made that much clear the moment he spotted Frank from behind the tailor’s frame that was being used to hold a silk waistcoat while it was being altered. The tailor’s enthusiasm waned a bit when he saw Deaugrey step inside the shop wearing his filthy, rumpled and torn dressing gown.
“A good day to you, sir,” Deaugrey said while tapping his fingers to his brow as though doffing a hat.
“Um . . . yes,” Weslake said. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”
Frank stepped forward while adjusting his long black coat so it covered his guns while allowing his black shirt and starched white collar to be clearly seen. “My friend here is in need of some clothing.”
“Recently discharged from McKeag’s?” the tailor asked.
“That’s right. I suppose it’s fairly obvious. A simple shirt and pair of pants will suffice.”
“And a hat,” Deaugrey added. “Don’t forget the hat.”
“Yes,” Frank said. “Something simple.”
Weslake approached a table of assorted selections folded into neat piles. “I hate to be one to question a man of God, but these items you’re asking for . . . do you expect . . .”
Before the other man was forced to struggle even more with his words, Frank stepped in and told him, “While donations are always appreciated, I do have money to pay for these items.”
“That’s good to hear, Father,” Weslake said. “Business has been rather slow lately.”
Frank smiled and nodded once. “I understand.”
“So do I,” Deaugrey said. “I understand most folks only want to give to the poor when it suits them. They talk about charity only when they’re in a room filled with a congregation that can appreciate what they’ve done out of the kindness of their hearts.”
Weslake’s brow furrowed. Looking down, he selected a shirt from the bottom of a pile and held it up to Deaugrey. “This is about your size. The collar is frayed and a few of the buttons are missing. I can let you have it for half price.”
“Much obliged, sir,” Deaugrey said with a slightly thicker Virginia drawl. He hiked up the bottom of his gown like a saloon girl showing her wares and added, “I can also use some knickers, if you don’t mind.”
Such a lewd display in his shop could only be greeted by disgust or uncomfortable laughter. Opting for the latter, Weslake selected a pair of dark brown pants that matched the shirt in quality. When he handed over a pair of long underwear, he added, “You can have these for free if you put them on immediately.”
“Consider it done, my good man.” With that, Deaugrey went completely against the shopkeeper’s intent by stripping out of his gown and dressing himself in the middle of the store. He’d barely had a chance to button all of his buttons when he was distracted by a display of hats arranged on an iron rack.
Since he was the only one who took notice of Weslake’s discomfort, Frank stepped up to him with cash in hand. “Here you go,” he said. “I greatly appreciate your generosity.”
When he saw how much money he was being given, Weslake brightened up a bit. “And I appreciate yours, Father. This here is enough to cover those clothes along with a hat from the lower part of that display.”
“Excellent. What about boots?”
“And a gun!” Deaugrey chimed in.
“The shop next door sells any kind of boot you might need. Shoes too,” Weslake said. “As for the gun . . .”
“Never mind the gun,” Frank cut in. “You’ve been a great help. Thanks again.”
Barefooted, his shirt open to display a pale bony torso, holding his pants up with one hand, Deaugrey said, “I can use some suspenders too.”
Frank handed over a bit more cash to cover the request.
Deaugrey wasn’t in much of a hurry to finish dressing. In fact, he seemed to lose interest with each task once he was slightly more than halfway through with it. They walked to the neighboring leather goods store to quickly purchase some boots. The owner of that place was more amused with Deaugrey than the tailor had been and sent them on their way with a mismatched pair of boots that had been pulled from a bin. Upon seeing the sign above the bin, Deaugrey laughed. “Irregulars,” he said. “How appropriate.”
Frank paid for the boots without further explanation and showed the other man to the door. Once outside, Deaugrey was still hopping into his boots while Frank patiently followed behind with the newly purchased hat in hand.
“I owe you for these clothes and such,” Deaugrey said.
“You owe us for a lot more than that if I recall.”
“Oh, I suppose there was the matter of getting me out of that wretched sanitarium. I imagine Nate already has plenty of ways lined up for me to repay that debt.”
“If you don’t like that sanitarium or any of the others you’ve seen, then perhaps you shouldn’t put yourself into them.”
“I’m not the one who makes that arrangement,” Deaugrey replied. “It’s not like a hotel, you know. The folks who work there are usually quite insistent.”
Now that Deaugrey was mostly dressed, Frank handed him the hat, a dented bowler that looked as if a small animal had chewed on the left section of its brim. “What was it this time?”
“Looking for a confession, Preacher?” Deaugrey said with disdain.
“Only if you’re looking to give one.”
Deaugrey stopped at the corner of the boardwalk and looked at the crossroads in front of him. He stood up straight, buttoned his last button and placed the bowler on top of his head as if he were about to address a small audience. “I’ve had quite my fill of those looking to dig around behind my eyes, thank you very much. Did that one there ask you to rake me over the coals?” he inquired while nodding a bit farther down the street where Nate stood leaning against a fence. Beside him was a hitching post where two horses and a mule were tied. “Having known him longer than you, I’d suggest you put your foot down with him every now and then before you become just another one of his dogs.”
“Dogs?” Frank scoffed. “Is that what you think of the men who work with Nate?”
“Not all of them, but there are plenty.”
“I can agree with that,” Frank said. “Partially, at least. But you’ve known me for a while as well. You must know that I’ll always want to know what causes a man to sin or what demons may be whispering into his ear.”
Deaugrey smiled wide and said, “When those demons talk to me, padre, they sure as fuck don’t whisper.”
Frank wasn’t about to flinch at the claim or react in the slightest to the turn of phrase that was so obviously meant to jab at his sensibilities. Instead, he turned to look down the street intersecting with the one where Nate was waiting. “There’ll be a posse coming for you eventually. That could be them right now.”
When he saw the small group of men gathering at the other end of the block, Deaugrey shrugged. “It usually takes a bit longer for the assholes running those sanitariums to give up on their search and ask for help from the outside. I’d say we’ve got another hour or two at least.”
“Then do you have a place to recommend where we might get a bite to eat?”
“Come now, holy man. There was a guiding hand that allowed us to take our leave from McKeag’s house of horrors. I’d call it luck, but you may call it by a more fanciful name. Whatever name you prefer, I think we’d both agree it’s best not to test its limits.”
“If you think any sort of divine presence had a hand in what happened at that sanitarium, then you are more confounded than I’d imagined. It was undeniably luck,” Frank sighed. “And it’s best not to push it when it comes your way.”
“On that,” Deaugrey said, “we can agree. There’s nothing for us in this town anyway. Shall we take our leave?”
Frank threw an easy wave at the group of men who were now looking in his direction. “Sounds like a good idea,” he said quietly. “And if you could resist the urge to raise your voice until we’re gone, I’d be very appreciative.”
“I suppose I can do that.”
Both men strolled toward Nate at a brisk pace without appearing to be in a rush. “Since you’re feeling so agreeable,” Frank said, “perhaps you could answer a question for me.”
“Depends on what the question is.”
“Where were you keeping all of that silverware?”
Deaugrey looked over at Frank with a vaguely surprised grin on his face. Draping an arm over the other man’s shoulders, he said, “There are some questions with obvious answers and some with answers you truly don’t want to know. That question, my friend, is both.”
Frank accepted that with a slow nod, which quickly built into heartfelt laughter. By the time they’d reached the spot where Nate was standing, Deaugrey had joined in the merriment as well. Nate took one last pull from his cigarette, flicked it on the ground and stomped it out beneath his foot. “I see you two are getting along better than usual,” he said.
“At least he’s good for a bit of conversation,” Deaugrey said. “You’ve barely said two words to me since I agreed to come along.”
“‘Agreed’?” Nate grunted. “I suppose you’d rather be rotting in that sanitarium.”
“Not hardly.” Stepping up to the tired gray mare standing next to Nate’s gelding, Deaugrey patted the animal’s flank and said, “She’s not much to look at, but I suppose she’ll do. I like the color.”
“Thanks,” Frank said. “Hopefully you like that one’s color as well.”
Glancing in one direction and then the other as if he didn’t even see the mule, Deaugrey asked, “Which now?”
Frank pointed at the mule, but Deaugrey grimaced as if he’d just been asked to eat it raw. When he looked over to Nate, all he got was a nod. “You expect me to ride this out of town?” Deaugrey asked. “This?!”
“That or walk,” Nate replied, “because you sure as hell ain’t riding in the saddle behind me. The only ones who get to do that are a whole lot prettier than you.”
“Don’t look at me,” Frank said. “My charity only extends so far.”
“That’s fine talk from the two of you. Especially since you expect me to offer my assistance on whatever treacherous outing you’ve lined up.”
“You don’t have to offer your assistance,” Nate said while climbing into his saddle. “I’m taking it all the same.”
“There’s not even a saddle.”
“We’ll pick one up in the next town we find. This one’s about to get too hot for us. There’s a posse forming to hunt down the lunatic that escaped from McKeag’s earlier today.”
“Imagine that,” Deaugrey mused. “Almost as frightening as the prospect of a man needing to ride across this great sprawling land of ours on the back of a mule.”
“We’re not crossing the country,” Nate told him.
“Still . . . no saddle?”
“Do you have a blanket?”
“No.”
Nate made a sound as if he were trying to suck something out from between his teeth. “Then I guess there’s no saddle. Come along with me like we agreed or stay behind to face the music. Your choice.” Without another word, Nate pointed his horse’s nose away from the hitching post and flicked his reins. The spotted gelding took even less interest in Deaugrey’s predicament than his rider had and ambled down the street with a casual swish of its tail.
“Here,” Frank said, tossing a bundle to the man who stood watching Nate in disbelief.
Deaugrey caught the bundle as it unfolded to reveal itself as the dressing gown that had been wrapped around his body when he’d started his very eventful day. Despite all the hard times that utilitarian piece of clothing had seen him through, Deaugrey was none too appreciative for its return. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“You take what you’re given,” the preacher said, “and be thankful you weren’t forgotten altogether.”
“Aw, to hell with this.”
Shifting in his saddle, Frank swept aside his coat to show one of the .38s holstered at his hip. “Watch that tongue of yours, boy. Some of the Lord’s servants are more forgiving than others.”
Frank got his horse moving at a pace that would catch up to Nate’s in roughly two miles. The expression on Deaugrey’s face was a mix of aggravation and smugness. The latter threatened to overtake the former when it became clear that neither of the other men was going to turn around and force him to follow them. Elsewhere in town, a commotion was brewing that had the promise to become quite a storm. Among the shuffling of hooves against packed dirt, the words “capture” and “drag back” could be heard interspersed with “beat him to a pulp.”
“God da—” Wincing as he looked at Frank’s back, Deaugrey threw his old gown across the mule’s back and climbed onto the tired animal. “Damn it,” he grunted. “Just . . . damn it.”