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Wild Stallion Ranch.
Billy and I went home from the station and got the chores out of the way. Feeling bad that I hadn’t been able to ride Outlaw for weeks, I spent a bit of extra time in the barn telling him how much he was going to like living in Texas.
He seemed a little happier when I left him.
After chores, I fried us up a bite of supper and as we sat down to eat, I ran something by Billy.
“What if we hang out at the roadhouse tonight and make the rounds? We talk to every guy who’s drinking there and ask them where Burke and Purcell hang out and who they hang with. Somebody has to know their habits.”
“Yeah. That’s a good idea. Let’s try it.”
Dry Run Roadhouse.
When we arrived at the roadhouse, we could hear the country music blaring from inside. “Not a bad crowd.” Billy glanced at the rows of parked trucks. “We might have some luck.”
“Hope so.” I opened the door and we walked in. The smell of cigarettes and spilled beer filled the air. We made our way to the bar and ordered a round of drinks from Jack. He filled pitchers for us and chatted until the place got busy and he had to hustle.
Then Billy and I split up and started making the rounds from table to table asking the same questions over and over.
We pissed off a lot of guys, but hurting their feelings was the least of my worries. I finally hit on one kid who was really drunk and he told me something I could use.
“That fucker Burke, he likes the peelers. Hangs a lot at Kristal’s Palace in Ethridge.”
“Thanks, buddy.” I bought him a pitcher of beer that he didn’t need and went to find Billy.
“Get something?”
“Yep. We’re going there right now.”
“Where to?”
“Kristal’s Palace in Ethridge.”
Billy rolled his eyes.
Kristal’s Palace. Ethridge.
We pulled up in front of Kristal’s strip emporium. The neon sign flickered above the door advertising girls and booze. It was a seedy strip club, and from the looks of it, one that had seen better days. Not many vehicles in the parking lot.
“Slow night at the strippers, Billy. Been here before?” We got out of the truck, and I could hear the music pumping inside.
“Maybe once with a bunch of guys when I was in high school. I didn’t know the dump was still operating.” Billy held the door open for me and it didn’t feel like a place I wanted to visit.
The interior was dimly lit and smelled of sweat and cheap perfume. The sound of moaning and laughing echoed through the air. One girl was center stage grinding out her routine. A few guys in the front row were hollering and waving dollar bills at her.
We made our way to the bar and ordered a couple of drinks. “Stinks in here.” Billy made a face like he might puke.
“Yeah.” I tried to sort out the mixed aromas. “Sex, spilled beer and cigars.”
“All I can smell is weed,” said Billy. “You could get high just sitting here and breathing in the air.”
The interior lighting was so bad, all I could see was the bare ass of a girl twirling around the pole in the center of the stage. She had an old-fashioned nurse’s cap on her head and two band-aids for pasties.
I figured the bartender might be the quickest way to find Foster. I sat on a stool, held up my badge and introduced myself. “I’m looking for Burke Foster and heard this was one of his favorite places.”
The bartender reminded me of a gnome. Short and round with a bald head. He wore a nametag that suited him. Shorty.
“Haven’t seen Burke for a couple of days. He usually sits right there in the front row.” Shorty pointed as he put our beers on coasters and pushed them towards us.
