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“So,” Art said, leaning back in his seat, gently swirling his whiskey in its glass. “I was on the track team. Rachel played volleyball. Raylan was a baseball star until he broke Dickie Bennett’s knee. You play any sports in high school, Tim?”
“Nope.”
Tim’s laconic response was expected, but Art didn’t feel like letting him off the hook this time.
”So what was it, then? Band? Colour guard? Glee club?”
Tim’s scowl was immediate but not as sharp as usual. He could see Raylan’s smirk out the corner of his eye, so he cut that attack off at the pass.
“I was too short for basketball, too scrawny for football, they put a baseball bat in my hands and I just hit people with it, so in the end they put me on the chess team.”
Raylan barked a laugh of disbelief. “Bullshit.”
“No, no bullshit, there I was, on the chess team of East Bumfuck High School. We visited this fancy charter school in Little Rock for a sports and cultural exchange and they didn't know what they were in for.
“See, I slouched in there, this li’l scrap of redneck with a flannel, John Deere cap, accent a mile wide, and you could see the confusion on their faces. I was even asked if I was sure I was in the right room by one teacher. I allowed as to yes ma’am, I surely was, and so they were all okay then, have a seat son.
“They set their best guy on me to teach me a lesson, I suppose. Twenty minutes later the board was knee-deep in the bloodbath I’d caused and his king was so surrounded he couldn’t take a shit without permission. That’s when I looked at my opponent and said “Checkmate,” and then to the teacher who’d asked if I was sure I was in the right room and said “Can I go now?” and she was so stunned she couldn’t say anything, just waved me on out.
“So I went outside and read my book and smoked for the rest of the afternoon and then the fancy charter school complained that I musta been a ringer, so my school sent me home to save face.” He shrugged. “Guess that means I won. They never asked me to go on the chess team again, so.
“Anyway, gotta go to the Li’l Grandmasters’ Room now, give you all a chance to talk about me behind my back.” He heaved himself out of his seat on the couch next to Rachel, and stalked out of Art’s office.
The three remaining Marshals all looked at each other with varying degrees of disbelief and amusement on their faces.
“… Did he just tell a no-shit-there-I-was story about being on the chess team?” Raylan asked, on the edge of laughter.
“Y’know, I do believe he did. Not sure I believe a damn word of what he said, but he knows how to spin a yarn.” Art looked almost proud of his youngest deputy.
“I dunno.” Rachel frowned a little, deep in thought. “Tim’s not a dissembler. He’s never outright lied to any of us. He might be sparing with the details, he may look at things in a different way from the rest of us, but he doesn’t lie. Mostly he doesn’t tell us anything at all. I believe him.”
”Never try to bullshit a bullshitter, Rach. You’re not a bullshitter so you think he’s not one either.”
“And you are a bullshitter, Raylan, so you think everybody else is one too.”
Raylan shrugged. “It’s served me well in my career so far.”
“So has my perspective served me. You know I don’t take everybody at their word. Can’t afford to.”
“And you’re both very good Marshals and Daddy doesn’t have a favourite, honest. ‘Cept I might make an exception for Tim this once. Now both of you, go home so I can.” He put his glass down and made shooing motions at them. “Go on, git! And Raylan, you might wanna go through the locker room on your way out, check that the Grandmaster hasn’t fallen into the commode and drowned.”
Raylan threw back the last of his whiskey, put the glass on Art’s desk, and stood up from where he’d been slouching against it. “I will definitely do that. ‘Night Art, Rach.” He walked out and turned towards the locker room to look for Tim, as Art had requested.
Rachel stood and put her glass on the desk beside Raylan’s. She said goodnight to Art, but turned back when he called after her. “Rachel, do you really think Tim was telling the truth about being on the chess team?”
Rachel gave him an enigmatic smile. “I really don’t know, Art. But I want for him to have been.” Then she turned back and left the office, turning right towards the front door, leaving Art blinking, thoughtful, in her wake.