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put his hand on the shoulder of a man who jumped at the touch.
    “This is Nappy, though. He’d speak up from out of a crowd, where it was safe, and then hide. Wouldn’t you, Nappy?”
    “Whataya pickin’ on me fer, Ledge?” Nappy asked. “I din’t do nothin’ to you.”
    “I think you got a big mouth, Nappy,” Ledge said. “What do you know about Sweet and his friends?”
    “Nothin’.”
    Lancaster saw Ledge’s hand close on Nappy’s shoulder. There was a lot of strength in that hand, and it was being brought to bear on the smaller man, who winced and wilted under the pressure.
    “Okay, okay,” he whined. “I had a drink with Sweet and his friends.”
    “What were his friends’ names?” Lancaster asked.
    “I dunno,” Nappy said. “I only talked ta Sweet. The other two just listened.”
    “What’d you talk about?”
    “This and that.”
    Ledge’s hand closed again.
    “Ow!” Nappy looked around for help, but there was none available. “Okay. We talked about the desert, and how not many men come walkin’ in off it.”
    “Why was Sweet talking about that?” Ledge asked.
    “He just seemed interested in hearin’ if anybody had ever made it on foot,” Nappy said. “Like he was nervous about it or somethin’.”
    Why would Sweet be nervous about leaving Lancaster in the desert—unless he was afraid that Lancaster would successfully walk out?
    Maybe he remembered—as Lancaster had—that one of the other men had said his name.
    Ledge looked over at Lancaster, who nodded. The big man took his hand off Nappy’s shoulder and walked back to stand by Lancaster at the bar.
    “Anybody else got anything to say?” Lancaster demanded.
    There was no response. He looked at Eddie the bartender again. “Remember what I said.”
    “I ain’t lyin’ about nothin’,” Eddie said, spreading his hands helplessly.
    “Let’s go,” Lancaster said to Ledge.
    “You first,” Ledge said.
    Lancaster left, Ledge covering his back, and then the big man backed out, as well.
    Outside the saloon Ledge asked, “Did you get what you wanted?”
    “I think so,” Lancaster said, “but maybe we can get more at the Autry.”
    “Let’s go, then,” Ledge said, “before Eddie sends somebody over there to warn them we’re comin’.”

Twenty-five
    The Autry was a run-down two-story hotel that looked one good storm away from being a pile of rubble.
    “You know the owner here?” Lancaster asked.
    “No,” Ledge said. “I knew the previous owner, but he was killed.”
    “By the present owner?”
    “No, by a former guest.”
    “What about clerks?” Lancaster asked. “Know any of the clerks?”
    “That depends,” Ledge said with a shrug. “Why don’t we just go in and see who’s working? I might know ’em, but I might not.”
    They approached the hotel and entered the lobby. There were the remnants of a couple of chairs on the floor, as if there had just been a fight. Behind the desk a bored clerk watched them as they came up to the desk.
    “You ain’t lookin’ fer a room,” he said.
    “How do you know?” Lancaster asked
    “I can tell. You got somethin’ on yer mind.”
    “I got some questions,” Lancaster agreed. “Are you gonna have some answers?”
    “I guess that depends on how bad you wantanswers,” the clerk said. He was young and cocky for a young fellow who worked in a dump.
    “How bad do I need to?” Lancaster asked.
    “Well, you can threaten me, maybe beat me up,” the clerk said, “but that’ll take longer.”
    “Longer than what?”
    “Payin’ me.”
    The young man seemed pretty sure of himself. Lancaster noticed he had one hand in view and the other below the desk. What were the chances he had a gun underneath the desk?
    “Well,” Lancaster said, “I could pay you, but the fact of the matter is I don’t have any money, so we’re gonna have to go another way.”
    “Hey, I gotta gu—”
    Working as one, Lancaster and Ledge picked up the front desk and rammed it and