She took the bottle and drank from it.
“You’ll be all right,” I said. “I said it’s finished.”
The whiskey made her hardheaded again; three drinks did it. Dunstan came puffing into the jail. “By God, we did it. By God, sir!”
I didn’t have to tell him to get out. The fat man was so worked up he could hardly stand still. He ran out talking to himself.
“How long?” Sally asked me. “I mean …” She nodded in the direction of the cells.
Now there was a devoted wife for you, thinking only of her husband.
“Soon as Luke gets back,” I said. “Luke’ll get him hanged, Fallon too.”
“Sure you are.”
“You still planning on Mexico?”
“That’s right. When I get sick of that I’ll do something else.”
Spilling whiskey into a handkerchief, Sally dabbed at the blood on her face. “Guess I’ll be a rich widow,” she said. “Sam has no more rights. I looked it up. I get everything. You want to come to New Orleans, Carmody?”
“I already been there,” I said. “Thanks just the same.”
“Maybe it’s better,” she said. “Could hardly work, could it?”
“Hurry it up, Carmody,” she said when I got to the door.
“I’m back already,” I said.
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