"There's one thing that's bothering me about all this, Jake," Ahern said. He and Wheeler were going out for an after-dinner beverage, the kind that the teetotalling Finnish siblings didn't provide.
"Only one thing?"
"Yeah. Well, no. There's a few other things we need to talk about, but I thought I'd save that till we had a little privacy."
"Good thinking." Wheeler said. "What's the one thing you want to talk about now, where anybody could overhear what we're saying and jump to all sorts of reasonable conclusions?" Wheeler ignored the glare Ahern gave him.
"Why isn't he being extradited right now back to The Dalles to face charges there?"
Ahern could barely see Wheeler's face in the pale light cast by the streetlamps. The typical mix of fog and light rain made the evening seem colder than it should be. Not for the first time, he thought of the crisp cold sunlight of Wyoming and Colorado, and how pleasant it felt to breathe in the sharp scent of snow. He resolutely pushed that thought away. No use thinking about the things you couldn't have.
"Publicity. Notoriety. The D.A. claims he wants a change of venue because he couldn't get a fair trial. Feelings are just too hot there."
"And feelings aren't hot here?"
"All the rain cools things down here, I guess." Wheeler smiled at his own small joke.
"I heard about that bunch this afternoon. I think people are already pretty hot about him killing those two girls. They might figure justice is served a lot quicker with a rope."
"No," said Wheeler. "I don't think so. That was just a few hotheads, mainly those numbskull Corkill brothers and their so-called friends. Eberly can handle them. "
"I hope you're right, Jake. Because I don't feel good about any of this."
"Come on, Mike! You're turning into a worrywart in your old age. Nothing's going to happen." Ahern didn't feel comforted. He'd heard his partner make similar confident statements too many times.
The quiet of the damp night diminished as the men approached the saloon. Bright lights and music spilled from the windows and doorway. Cigar smoke mingled with the moisture in the air and added a bitter note to the humidity. A few exiting men brushed past them as they entered the crowded room. Wheeler noticed an available space alongside the bar and pointed. Ahern followed. Both men rested their forearms on the bar and stood with one foot on the brass rail in an identical posture, almost shoulder to shoulder.
Ahern glanced around the room. He'd lost count of how many saloons he and his partner had visited since they were both skinny teens, trying to act like they belonged in the places where men gathered. Even though the decoration and the clientele changed, they all tended to blur together in his memory.
Wheeler caught the bartender's eye and held up two fingers.
"The usual, gents?"
"The usual, Sam. " The bartender hurried to fill glasses for them. He always took care with these two; serve 'em quick and with a smile, and they tipped big. They chatted friendly-like when things were slow, and let him be to do his job when he was busy. Definitely his kind of customers, unlike the noisy crowd gathering in the back corner. Now them boys, he could do without. He served a generous pour and carefully placed the glasses in front of them. He watched them take sips and sigh with satisfaction.
"Sam, you're spoiling us." Mike said. He tipped the glass back and took another appreciative swallow.
"Only the best for you gents."
"Keep this up, Sam, and we'll keep haunting this place till you're sick of the sight of us."
The bartender shook his head, causing his extravagant handlebar mustache to twitch.
"Not a chance of that happening. We're always happy to have men like you come here. And believe you me, I'd rather have you two here once a week than some other fellows every night." He gestured toward the back, where voices were getting louder. Ahern and Wheeler turned to look over their shoulders, just in time to see poker chips flying and men noisily pushing back chairs, ready for a fight. Both men winced and turned back to the bar. Maybe coming here wasn't such a great idea after all.
"See what I mean?"
"Yeah." As Sam started to walk away, Wheeler remembered.
"One more thing, Sam." The bartender turned back. Wheeler pulled a silver flask from his jacket's pocket.
"Can you fill this up for me with some whiskey?" The bartender took the flask and turned away, carefully pouring amber liquid into the container.
"You planning to be thirsty on the way back home?" Ahern asked, surprised. Wheeler had a dandy liquor cabinet in his parlour.
"Nope. It's not for me. Thanks, Sam." He pocketed the flask securely.
"Who then?"
"My client. He seems to have a powerful thirst."
"Eberly 's going to let you give that to him?"
"If I ask sweetly and nicely, probably."
Ahern sipped his whiskey. "You think your client wants a drink that bad?"
Wheeler kept his voice low. "I think he does. In fact, I imagine he's having a very hard time without it."
"Oh," Ahern said. "Oh!"
"Yeah. I don't know everything he's been doing since we last saw him, but I'd say he spent an awful lot of that time crawling inside a bottle. "
"That's a real shame. I really thought he and that Penny girl were gonna get together and that things'd work out for them."
Wheeler was watching the action reflected in the big mirror that hung over the bar. "Me, too. I think he couldn't let go of his ill-gotten fame and settle down so easy."
"Anybody who'd let a girl like that go has got to be six kinds of fool."
"At least," agreed Wheeler. "His fondness for whiskey didn't help matters."
"I guess it wouldn't." The noise in back grew louder. Both men turned to watch, glasses in hands, as a fight broke out, fists and faces connected, and chairs were thrown. Bouncers rushed in to break up the fight. It was only a few minutes before several patrons were escorted unwillingly through the batwing doors and ejected into the drizzling rain that enveloped Astoria in a wet embrace. As relative quiet descended over the remaining customers, the two men returned to contemplating their glasses.
"Well, so much for tonight's entertainment." Wheeler threw some coins onto the bar.
"Leaving already?"
"Uh-huh. Got to check in on my thirsty client. I'd invite you to come along, but the sight of you might just send him into a state of shock."
Ahern drained his glass. "He's got to figure that I'm around here somewhere. Maybe I should just walk with you over to the jail and then walk you home."
"Thank you, mother, but I don't need a chaperone. And I don't know what he knows, or thinks he knows, but I aim to find out." He put some coins onto the bar. "Thanks, Sam. You have a good night now."
"Same to you, gents. And you be careful out there, Mr. Wheeler."
Ahern put one hand on his friend's shoulder and guided him back to the bar. "Any special reason he should be careful, Sam?"
The bartender gestured for the two men to come closer.
"That little ruckus you saw just now?" Wheeler and Ahern listened. "Them boys come from up-river. They heard about who's sitting in jail, and they know why's he's sitting there. You might want to watch yourself, Mr. Wheeler."
"Aw, Sam, don't say such things. Mr. Ahern is a timid soul and worries about his fellow man. You don't want to upset him."
"Thanks, Sam," Ahern said. He pulled out his wallet and withdrew some bills, which he gave to Sam. "Keep your ears to the ground, will you?"
The bartender quickly stuffed the bills in his vest pocket. "Course I will, sir. I wouldn't want anything to happen to good customers like you."
"Keep that in mind, Sam. And good night." Sam watched them snake their way through the throng of men jostling along the bar and at the door. They looked like they could handle themselves alright. Two of the toughest men he knew. Not for the first time, he wondered how a lawyer and a businessman got to be so tough. He was just glad he got along with them. Anybody who didn't could be in for some big trouble.