FORTY-TWO
SHREVEPORT, LOUISIANA
As soon as they arrived in Shreveport, McBeth said, “Oh yes, this is the kind of town Dolan will like.”
They rode past a cathouse where the girls were out on a balcony with their tops down. They were calling out to the passing men in charming Southern accents.
“Dolan won’t be able to resist,” McBeth said.
Clint reined his horse in. Weaver and McBeth went a few more yards before they realized Clint had stopped, so they turned and came back.
“What is it?” McBeth asked.
Weaver looked up at the balcony, where the women were throwing kisses.
“You wanna go in?” he asked Clint.
“No,” Clint said, “but if Dolan won’t be able to resist, why should we go any farther?”
“You mean just watch this place?” Weaver asked. “What if Dolan and Santee don’t ride down this street?”
“Good point,” Clint said, “so let’s talk to the local law, find out how many places there are in Shreveport like this.”
“And if there’s more than three?” Weaver asked.
“We’ll find out which are the top three and watch those,” McBeth said. “Dolan will want the best.”
“What if he’s changed since he came to this country?” Weaver asked. “What if he’s totally changed?”
“He may have changed,” McBeth said, “but it won’t be totally. He’s going to get the urge while he’s here. I know it.”
Clint figured that more than knowing it McBeth was hoping it, but either way it seemed the play to make.
“Let’s find the nearest hotel, and then the law,” Clint said.
They checked into a hotel, saw to the horses, and then Clint suggested he go and talk to the law.
“Why don’t you two take a walk around, see what you can see. We can meet back at the hotel in an hour.”
“Shreveport is a pretty big town,” McBeth said. “We’re not going to just run into him.”
“You never know,” Clint said. “Just keep your eyes and ears open.”
“Sure,” Weaver said.
“And while you’re at it, find a doctor,” Clint said. “If we end this thing here, that’ll be your next step.”
After asking for directions, Clint found the local law in a fairly modern building. He knew there had to be a sheriff somewhere, so he decided to go in and talk to somebody since he was already there.
He ended up talking to a young lieutenant named Burkett, who didn’t seem to recognize his name.
“You want to know what?”
“How many whorehouses are in town.”
“You need more than one?” the man asked.
“I need three,” Clint said, “and if there are more than three, then I need to know the three best.”
“Can I ask . . . why?”
“Sure,” Clint said. “I’m looking for someone and he likes whores. I figure he’ll go looking for one as soon as he gets to town.”
The lieutenant frowned, but said, “Well, okay. We got about half a dozen cathouses, but there are also some saloons—”
“I just need the whorehouses,” Clint said. “Which three are considered to have the best girls?”
“Well, there’s . . .”
Clint met up with Weaver and McBeth back at the hotel, told them what he’d found out from the local police.
“They got a police department?” Weaver asked.
“Yeah, a pretty modern one,” Clint said. “Might be something you could look into, Ben, when this is over.”
“What about the whorehouses?” McBeth asked.
“I’ve got the names and address of the three that are generally considered to have the best girls—and the one we passed on the way into town is one of them.”
“So what do we do, take one each?” Weaver asked.
“That’s exactly what we do,” Clint said. “And nobody tries to take them alone.”
“Well,” Weaver said, “we ain’t gonna know Santee on sight.”
“I will describe Dolan so either one of you will recognize him,” McBeth said.
“But nobody moves without somebody to watch their back,” Clint said. “If one of us sees Dolan, we follow him, find out where he’s staying, and then we’ll approach him together.”
“I don’t care what you do with Santee,” McBeth said. “The two of you can take him, but Dolan is mine. I’ve come too far, too long, to let somebody else have him.”
“That’s not a problem, McBeth,” Clint said. “He’s all yours.”
“Fine.”
“Let’s get a meal,” Clint said, “and a good night’s sleep, and we’ll start watching tomorrow afternoon.”
“Why not tonight?” McBeth said.
“Because we need some rest.”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay, then Ben and I need some rest,” Clint said. “Come on, McBeth, I have the feeling this is all going to end right here in Shreveport. You can wait one more night.”
“I don’t know—”
“I’ll buy you some gumbo,” Clint said.
“I can go for that,” Weaver said, “even though I ain’t never had it.”
“All right,” McBeth said, “we’ll go have some gumbo.”