No, seriously – I’m writing a western.
“So you really are brothers?”
“We are,” Herman said.
“When I’ve heard about you I’ve always wondered if it was just something you called yourselves. But real brothers. I like that. There’s nothing more important than family.”
“We think so,” Herman said.
“You both fought in the war?”
“We did.”
McAllister drank from his glass of water without taking his eyes off of them, back and forth.
“I heard one of you is the chatty one.”
Samuel chuffed. “That’s me,” his wide grin showing off fine teeth.
“Those are the first words you’ve said.”
“We comport ourselves in a certain way when we’re working,” Herman interjected, fraying the thread.
McAllister’s eyes went back and forth between the two again, measuring the dynamic.
“You’re professionals, you mean?”
“We are. I suspect that’s a big reason why we’re standing in front of you now.”
“It is. I asked four or five folks whose opinions I give a passing thought to, ‘Who would you want to run a package if you needed it, absolutely needed it, to get where it was going?’ In some order or another, I kept hearing, ‘The Brothers.’”
“That’s very flattering,” Herman said.
“Then you’re easily flattered.”
The creak of a porch floorboard was the only noise for several breaths. Samuel’s smile didn’t budge a fraction, but the mirth in his eyes went rigid. He stared McAllister down without blinking, and McAllister continued to gaze back and forth between them calmly.
“All the same,” said Herman.
“Yes, all the same. You two seem to be the men for the job. There is one thing, though. The message you received offered five hundred dollars for you two to make the delivery?”
Herman took a deep breath, expecting McAllister to lower his bid. Herman hated when people went back on their word, and he weighed how wise it would be to say no to a man like McAllister and walk out, especially with so many armed men in the Scottsman’s employ loitering about, waiting for a signal. If he and Samuel had their pistols, he would have considered it.
“Yes, it said five hundred for my brother and I to deliver a package to XXXXXXXXX.”
“I’d like to slightly alter the arrangement, if that’s okay with you.”
The brothers took it how it was meant – that it had to be alright with them.
“Alter it how?” Herman asked.
“Hiram, my associate here, returned earlier than I expected, and he will accompany you,” said McAllister, nodding in the direction of the black man sitting across the room, who did not look up from the magazine he read. “I trust him.”
“You don’t trust us?”
“Not yet.”
“If the pay’s the same I don’t see a problem,” Samuel said gently. The rule was Herman did most of the talking.
McAllister looked to Herman for his approval or dissent, but Herman gave neither, letting Samuel’s words speak for them.
“You two really are brothers. There will also be one more.”
“Who?” Herman asked.
McAllister’s eyes twinkled. “A woman.” He stood, turned away from them, and opened the bar cabinet behind the desk. He brought out a bottle of brown liquid in one hand and three glasses in the other. He set down the glasses and drew the cork.
“A woman?” said Samuel. “It wouldn’t be chance be the woman whose work we just saw down the street, would it?”
McAllister smiled. “It would. I hired her for that job. She finished it in ten minutes. I’d like her to go with you.”
Samuel’s grin hit its zenith.
“Does she know that?” asked Herman.
“Not yet. You and Hiram here can acquaint yourselves when you go to ask her to join up.” He’d nodded again to the black man, who this time closed the magazine and stood.
“Why would she trust us to do your business for you?”
“She wouldn’t. She knows Hiram works for me. She will be paid separately from you boys, don’t worry.”
“Why?”
“Why do I want her to go?”
“Yes.”
“She’s the fastest gun I’ve ever met, somehow. Some God-foresaken somehow that woman is a killer born. I like that.”
“And it’s still five hundred dollars?” Samuel asked in performative amazement, but Herman knew he was also asking if they weren’t going to be stiffed.
“No,” McAllister said, the word landing like a sledge. He was expressionless as he poured the whiskey into the three glasses. He corked the bottle and slid two of the glasses across the desk towards the brothers. Neither of them moved to take them up. McAllister took his own in hand and raised it toward them briefly.
“You’ve been good sports. You have been professional. You do come recommended. In these parts, with these people, that is something to be flattered by, I suppose. I’ve stirred the pot, so to speak, from what you expected. For your troubles, I’ll make it six hundred. Six-fifty. I’ll have it drawn up and send the withdrawal slip with Hiram.”
Herman’s brows rose. “We accept.”
McAllister choked a guffaw, but when neither Herman nor Samuel laughed at what he thought was levity, he all but snarled and threw back his drink.
“Good,” he said. He put his glass on the table but left his hand around it. He looked at the brothers. They stepped forward, took their drinks, and downed them.
“Ah! By God himself that is wonderful,” Samuel said through the burn. “That’s the best whiskey I’ve tasted since we were in St. Louis last-”
“Thank you,” Herman said. He turned to their new companion. “Hiram, is it? How’s about we see to this woman.”
“Right,” Hiram said.
“No drink for Hiram?” asked Samuel.
“I only drink when the day is over,” Hiram said.