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Oh, how Albie hated that word.
He turned slowly and sure enough, it was none other than Peter Winnicott. The whole saloon was watching, waiting.
“Then the rumours are wrong,” Albie said simply.
Winnicott snarled at him. “You got paid thirty quid for finding McAllister’s kid.”
There was no way he was correcting him on who exactly it was that got the money. “What we got paid,” Albie said, “paid off debts and bought us enough food to last maybe a few weeks. Though I’m sure whoever ransacked our saddlebags can tell you there was no money in them. Because there isn’t any.” Albie looked at the men who were watching him before his eyes drew back to Winnicott. “The child was fine, by the way. I know that must have been your first concern, right?”
Winnicott’s jaw ticked and he held Albie’s gaze. Albie was not backing down. If Winnicott truly had a problem with Albie, it’d end here today either way.
“You sure got a mouth for a kid your age,” Winnicott said.
Albie burred up at that, his hands became fists, and Percy quickly grabbed his arm. But it was Bill Kelly who stepped in between them. Albie wasn’t even aware he was in town.
“It took a man bred from these mountains to find that boy,” he said. “And a braver man to go off the edge of a cliff to retrieve him.” He gave Albie and Percy a nod before he cut a scathing glare to Winnicott. “If respect is earned, he’s got mine. And McAllister’s. You’ll do well to remember that.”
Well, I’ll be damned.
Albie couldn’t believe it.
Kelly turned to Albie and Percy. “Mrs McAllister is most grateful.”
Albie tipped his hat. “Just glad Christopher’s okay.”
Then Kelly looked at Percy. “She’ll be happy to hear you’re up and well.”
Percy grinned at him and knocked his fist to his head. “Take more than a mountain to knock me about.”
Kelly smiled. “And as for your horses,” he said loud enough for the whole room to hear. “No one will touch them again as much as they’d dare touch mine. You have my word.”
Albie locked eyes with the big man and gave a grateful nod. “Most appreciated.” Then he looked around the room, Winnicott not even worth a glance. “Evening, gentlemen.”
“Oh, Albie,” Kelly said. “I hear the saleyard prices will be good next round.”
Albie could have just about cried, though he surely wouldn’t. “That’s good to hear,” he replied.
He and Percy left, taking the stairs to their room. It was still locked and just as they’d left it, though Albie made sure to lock it once they were inside.
“What in the blazes was that about?” Percy asked, wide-eyed. “Did you see Winnicott’s face? He looked like he’d swallowed his tongue.”
Albie laughed, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I still can’t believe it. That Kelly would put me in McAllister’s favour.”
“None of those men would dare do you wrong now,” Percy said.
“Or you.”
Percy gave Albie’s arm a squeeze, his smile as wide as his big blue eyes. “And you with the banker, and then at the bar. You said it was politics and you played it well.”
Albie had almost forgotten about that.
“It’s a game we all play to some degree,” Albie said. “I wish it wasn’t on the coattails of McAllister. My standing at the bank or with the men downstairs. They should respect me for who I am, for being my father’s son, for having the right to stand amongst them as any other man in this town. It shouldn’t depend on the respect they have for the likes of McAllister.”
“But it does.”
Albie nodded. “I don’t like the game but I respect the rules. I’ll take it though. Just to be treated with the respect my father’s name deserves.”
“That you deserve,” Percy said quietly.
