The Western Star by Craig Johnson

Author:Craig Johnson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Viking
Published: 2017-09-05T04:00:00+00:00

9

“Let me explain?”

She said nothing, only looked at me with those big hazel eyes, her hands neatly folded on the table.

“Um, she’s a nurse . . . for the state, and I needed to have an examination and I was just turning my head to cough when you showed up.”

She smiled faintly and turned her coffee cup in her saucer.

“She works for the railroad and was looking for contraband?”

She smiled again, a little broader this time.

“Actually, she’s a singer from Casper with an overly active libido.”

She gazed out the window of the dining car, but the smile held.

“I played piano last night and she joined in, and evidently she thought there was a stronger bond between us than I did.” I reached out and took her hands in mine: they were warm and soft. “I’ve missed you.”

She took her hands back and sipped her lukewarm coffee, grimaced, and returned it to the saucer with a soft clip of china. “It’s only been a night, but evidently you’ve kept busy.”

“You don’t believe my story?”

“Which one?” She shook her head and a lock of hair fell across one eye like always. “Actually, I do. You’re so inept with women that I find it hard to believe that you could’ve possibly initiated that encounter.”

“It’s true.” I grinned and then took a sip of my own coffee just to give the talk a little air.

She glanced around to make sure we were out of earshot. “Walt, it might be none of my business, but what’s happening on this train?”

“Nothing.” I sighed. “Really.” She continued to look at me, and I leaned in. “One of the sheriffs was killed, Martha.”

Her eyes widened.

I looked at the surface of the table and the spotless white linen. “His name was Marv Leeland. He was from Uinta County, and he had a theory that there was a group of sheriffs within the association that might’ve been swapping murders, and now he’s dead, which may or may not prove him right.” Hoping to change the subject, I fingered my silverware, sipped a little more of my coffee, and studied her. “You know, I’m having a hard time remembering what we fought about back in Cheyenne.”

“Your future, among other things.”

I took a quick breath and set my cup back down, getting the feeling that I was surrounded by land mines. “Oh, yeah.”

“Go back to school, Walt. Use the GI Bill and get a master’s and go teach at some college somewhere.”

A few sheriffs finished up their breakfasts and ambled out, giving Martha the once-over as they passed. Feeling a heat come into my face, I looked up at them. “Can I help you fellas?” They looked away, and I tried to settle myself. “I think I’m through with classrooms, and if I am as a student, then I certainly shouldn’t be there as a teacher.”

She glanced up as another group passed, and Wally Finlay tipped a hat to her. She gave a tight smile in return, finally looking back at me. “You’re a really good teacher, Walt.

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