"I ain't going to let you rob me. Not now, not later. So just put the piece on the bar, and there won't be no trouble."
He showed the barrel of his own pistol, peeking over the edge of the bar top and aimed at the middle of the man's chest. At this distance, there wouldn't be any chance of a miss, and the fellow on the other side didn't need to be a psychic to know what would happen if the trigger gets pulled.
The man's face dropped a little. "Alright, man. Take it easy."
"On account of you and I having been such good friends before, I'll let this slide. You want your shooter back at the end of your stay, I'll give it to you, but after that, you take it, and you get out of my town, aight?"
The guy moved slow. His hand ducked inside a coat pocket, and he pulled free a pistol with a sawed-short barrel. A good sort of gun for quick drawing. The sort of gun that a man who plans to use it would carry. He set it down on the bar and Chris picked it up, then set it down behind. With the pistol still pointed square at the man's chest, he pushed the button to open the drawer, dropped the quarter in and pulled a dime and a nickel free.
"There you go. Fifteen cents change. Go have a seat, and don't cause no trouble, and I won't call no Sheriff to see if there's anyone looking for you. You got it?"
The guy nodded. "I got it."
"Good. Now get goin'."
The guy took his beer and left. Chris's heart suddenly started pounding. No, he realized, correcting himself. It wasn't sudden. He'd been ignoring it pounding. His eyes naturally shot over to Marie and the kid. They weren't looking at him.
Maybe for a little longer, he'd be able to keep it to himself who he'd been before. But eventually, without a single doubt, they would find out. His heart thudded so hard that he could feel it in every part of his body. He had to make sure Jamie was going to be alright first. He owed that boy his life, after all.
Fifteen
Marie's first instinct was to tell him to leave first thing. After all, the way people would think—well, Chris had a reputation, and she had to worry about the reputation she was going to get for herself, as well. What was more, she had to worry about Jamie, now, too.
But then she looked over her shoulder at the boy, laying there on the bed, and she just… couldn't bring herself to do it. That was all, of course. It had nothing to do with how she felt.
His voice was low and soft and he sat back in his chair as if he were concerned that he might fall out of it if he didn't take special care.
"How are you holding up?"
Marie didn't know how she was holding up. It all felt fine. It wasn't all that different from what she did every day, and yet she felt as if at any moment, the whole thing might come crashing down around her ears. "I'm alright."
He leaned forward and took a deep breath, put his hands on his knees. "Well, if you've got a handle on everything…"
"Don't go yet," she said. The words came tumbling out of her mouth before she really had a chance to think them over, which left her trying to think up a justification after the fact.
He sat back again. "Is everything alright?"
Marie kept her mouth shut. It was the best way to go. Her head was swimming. Too much had happened today already, and the best thing to do was go to bed.
Then he started to stand again, and her body started to feel funny again, a vague electric tingle that she couldn't quite explain and didn't want to try. More than anything, she thought, she'd like it to go away. So she did what she had to.
She stood up with him.
He was tall, close up. She'd known he was tall, before. From afar, you could tell right away, the way that he towered over others. From close up, it was natural to notice. But it was natural to look up, to ignore it, to think that it wasn't so noticeable.
Now, though… now, she noticed. The way that he stood over her, she barely came up to his armpits, and he must have weighed twice as much as her. He looked like he could fit her into his
pocket, and in that instant, Marie realized exactly how small she was. How powerless she was in comparison to the big bartender.
"You didn't have to get up for me," he said. His voice was low, and the sound of it made a shiver run down her spine. An implication that she couldn't quite put her finger on. It took her a moment to register that maybe he was speaking softly because of the boy in the other room.
"I don't want you to go," she said again.
He should have gone, she knew. She was letting something come over her that she shouldn't have given a second thought.
"I have to."
"Please, I don't know what to do. You can't leave me here, alone."