Turnback Creek (Widowmaker) Page 3

  “Right.”

  “And you think two men can handle this?”

  “If the two men are you and me,” Cooper said, “yes.”

  “Coop,” Locke said, using the more familiar nickname for the first time, “if I take this job, I’ve got to know that you can watch my back.”

  “When have I never watched your back?” Cooper demanded.

  “It’s been ten years,” Locke said. “How do I know how badly your skills may have … eroded?”

  Cooper glared across the table at Locke, and for the first time, Locke saw the old fire in his friend’s eye.

  “You want to go outside with me right now and find out how well I can shoot?”

  “I don’t doubt you can still shoot, Coop,” Locke said.

  “Then what is it?”

  “I’m wondering if you can stay sober.”

  “Don’t worry, John,” Cooper said. “For five hundred dollars each, I can stay sober.”

  Locke hesitated.

  “I need you for this, John,” Cooper said, shaking his head. “I can’t do it with anyone else.”

  A much truer statement might have been that nobody else would risk it with him.

  “All right, Coop,” Locke said. “I’m your man.”

  Cooper sat back and heaved a great sigh of relief. His boozy breath wafted across the table and struck Locke in the face.

  “I’ll take you over to the mine office and introduce you to Molly Shillstone,” he said.

  “Let’s stop at the general store first,” Locke suggested, “What for?”

  “Some peppermint sticks.”

  “Kids’ candy?” Cooper asked. “When did you develop a sweet tooth?”

  “It’s not for me,” Locke said. “I don’t want Molly Shill-stone smelling that whiskey on your breath.”

  Cooper put his hand in front of his face and breathed into it, then sniffed his own breath. “You might be right.”

  “Some lilac water might not be a bad idea, either,” Locke said.

  “You want me to smell like some fifty-cent whore?”

  “Better a fifty-cent whore than a two-bit drunk,” Locke said. “I’ve got to look after my interests, Coop.”

  Cooper frowned, then said, “Oh, all right!”

  They went to the general store, and while they were there, Locke saw that they sold guns.

  “We need a gun,” he said.

  “What for?” Cooper asked.

  “For you.”

  “I got a gun.”

  “That thing looks like it would explode in your hand, Coop,” Locke said. “I’m going to buy you some peppermints and a gun.”

  “Goddamnit, John,” Cooper said, “I tol’ you I got money.”

  “Well, keep it,” Locke said. He pointed to a Peacemaker in the display case and told the clerk, “Let me see that one.”

  “Yes, sir,” the clerk said. He took it out and set it on the counter. “A fine weapon, sir, used by—”

  “I don’t need a sales pitch from a store clerk, friend,” Locke said.

  “Uh, n-no sir.”

  Locke picked it, checked the action, and found it satisfactory—to him.

  “What do you think?” he asked Cooper, handing the weapon to him. He noticed that his friend’s hands still shook some as he accepted the gun. “Fit your hand?”

  “It’s fine,” Coop said, handing it back.

  “We’ll take it,” Locke told the clerk. “And the pepper-mints.”

  “Shall I, uh, wrap everything?” the clerk asked.

  “No,” Locke said. “He’ll wear the gun.” He took the Navy Colt from his friend’s holster and replaced it with the Peacemaker. He was happy to see that all of Cooper’s instincts had not deserted him. He immediately removed the gun from his holster and loaded it.

  “Here,” Locke said, placing the old Navy Colt on the counter. “Get rid of that for me.”

  SEVEN

  As they walked to the Shillstone Mining office, Locke wasn’t sure which scent was stronger, peppermint or lilac. Either one was better than the smell of whiskey.

  “Are you okay?” Locke asked.

  “I’m fine,” Cooper said. He stuck a finger in his mouth. “This candy is making my tooth hurt, and the smell of the lilac water is giving me a headache, but I’m fine.”

  “The price of doing business,” Locke said. “I’m just protecting my interests.”

  They crossed the street and approached the office.

  “I should tell you I’ve already met Molly Shillstone,” Locke said.

  “When? Where?”

  “Earlier today, in that same café,” Locke said. “We … exchanged pleasantries.”

  “Did you meet George Crowell?”

  “Saw him,” Locke said, “but I didn’t meet him.”

  “He’s her lapdog,” Cooper said. “Supposed to be her manager, but he just goes along with anything she wants.”

  “Well,” Locke said, “she is the owner.”

  “And a damn fine-lookin’ woman.”

  “She is that.”

  They reached the door, and Cooper opened it without knocking. He went in first, followed by Locke. Molly Shill-stone was behind a desk, and George Crowell was standing in front of it. They both looked at the two men as they entered the room.

  “Marshal Cooper,” Molly Shillstone said. “And Mr. Locke? What are you doing here?”

  “John Locke is the man I’ve recruited for the job,” Cooper said. “And he’s accepted.”

  “Really?” Molly said, raising her eyebrows at Locke. “I had no idea you were connected with the marshal.”

  “I guess I can say the same about you.”

  “But I thought we were talking—” George started, but Molly Shillstone cut him off.

  “I’m happy that you’ve agreed to join the marshal,” she said. “I’m feeling better about my payroll getting to its destination.”

  “About that,” Cooper said. “Is it still arriving day after tomorrow?”

  “Supposedly,” Molly said.

  “What’s that mean?” Locke asked.

  “It means that’s the plan,” Molly said, “but who knows what could happen between now and then?”

  “Which train?” Cooper asked.

  “There’s only one,” she said. “The twelve-oh-six.”

  “We’ll be there to meet it,” Cooper assured her.

  “We’ll be where?” Locke asked.

  “Kingdom Junction. A day’s ride.”

  Molly came around the desk and stood next to her manager. Locke noticed her wrinkle her nose and knew she’d caught the mixed scents emanating from Dale Cooper.

  “Do you have a wagon and a team of horses we’ll be able to use?” Cooper asked. “Well need a good team.”

  “Out back, Marshal,” she said. “George, why don’t you take the marshal outside and show him? Mr. Locke and I can use the time to get … better acquainted.”

  George looked as if he were going to object but then simply said, “Oh, all right.”

  Locke nodded to Cooper, who slowly followed the manager out the front door.

  “I don’t know what was stronger,” Molly said, “the peppermint or the lilac. Your idea?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve heard about his drinking this week,” she said. “I was becoming worried.”

  “Is that why you were going to offer me his job?”

  She hesitated, then said, “Would you like a brandy?”

  “Why not?”

  He watched as she walked to a sideboard and poured two glasses. She was wearing a man’s shirt and a skirt and boots with just a hint of skin showing in between. Her hair was still in a bun, but he knew if she let it down, it would fall past her shoulders. Cooper had understated the facts. She was a hell of a lot more than just fine-looking.

  She crossed the room and handed him a brandy snifter.

  “You’re right,” she said, going back around her desk. “I was going to offer you his job. I gues
s it was fate that you end up working for me.”

  “You’re paying me,” Locke said, “but I’m doing this for Coop.”

  “Are you good friends?”

  “Yes.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  He hesitated, then said, “A while.”

  “A long while, I’d wager.”

  “No bet,” Locke said.

  She smiled. “Were you shocked when you saw him?”

  “Yes,” he said, “but there’s nobody I’d rather have watching my back than Dale Cooper.”

  “Even drunk?”

  “He won’t be drunk.”

  “Do you guarantee that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Without hesitation,” she said. “I admire your loyalty.”

  “I wouldn’t be putting my own life on the line if I didn’t think he could handle the job.”

  “I hope that’s the case, Mr. Locke,” she said. “If I don’t get that money up to my mine, I’m going to be out of business.”

  “We’ll get it up there.”

  “There are no-goods in this town just waiting for a chance to grab it,” she said.

  “They’ll have to take it away from us.”

  “They’ll try,” she said. “That much I’m sure of. You’re going to have to kill a few men to get that money to the mine. Does that bother you at all?”

  “If you know who I am, you know that’s a silly ques-tion,” he said. “It’ll be their choice to die, not mine.”

  “Good,” she said. “I really do feel better, then. Why don’t we celebrate over dinner tonight? My house?”

  Locke hesitated, then said, “Coop and I would be happy to have dinner with you.”

  She tossed her head back and laughed, a sexy, throaty sound.

  “Yes, by all means bring the marshal. I’ll even invite George. He wants to ride up there with the two of you, you know.”

  “Is he any good with a gun?”

  “They terrify him,” she said. “He’d just get all three of you killed. I’ve told him I need him here.”

  “That’s a good decision.”

  Locke finished his brandy and moved to her desk, setting the glass down there. “I better go out and have a look at this wagon and team.”

  “It’s a strong buckboard and a good team of horses,” she said. “Don’t you trust the marshal to inspect them?”

  “The buckboard, maybe,” Locke said, “but he’s a lousy judge of horseflesh.”

  She laughed again, not quite as heartily as before.

  “All right,” she said, reaching for her hat. “Let’s both go out and have a look.”

  EIGHT

  When they got outside, Molly led Locke around to the back of the building, where there was a corral and a stable. Cooper and Crowell were in the corral, looking over several horses. Both turned when they heard Molly and Locke coming.

  “What do you think, John?” Cooper asked. “The gelding and the bay?”

  Locke took a moment, then said, “I’d go with both the geldings.”

  “That one’s about ten years old,” Cooper said, pointing. “The other one half that.”

  “That’s okay,” Locke said. “There’s something to be said for experience, don’t you think?”

  “I definitely agree,” Molly said.

  “So do I,” George Crowell said.

  “Fine,” Cooper said. “Let’s take a look at the buck-board.”

  “It’s in the stable,” Crowell said.

  “You take a look, Coop,” Locke said. “I’ll look these horses over a little more closely.”

  Cooper followed Crowell into the stable.

  “The geldings are the two best horses,” she said. “They work the best as a team.”

  Locke ran his hand over one of the geldings and said, “I figured.”

  “You didn’t go into the stable—you’re trying to boost his confidence?” she asked.

  He turned to face her. “I don’t have to boost anything,” he said. “Dale Cooper was a great man—a great lawman.”

  “Once,” she said. “I know a drunk when I see one, Mr. Locke. I was married to one.”

  “Then why would you hire him in the first place?”

  “Two reasons,” she replied. “First is, he has the experience for this kind of job.”

  “And the second?”

  “I knew he was going to bring someone else in on it,” she said. “I was hoping it would be someone from his past, someone with a reputation, someone—well—like you.”

  “So you have faith in the judgment of a drunk?”

  Now she got angry. “There’s no one else for the job,” she said. “I lost two men when the last payroll was hit—two good men.”

  “All right,” he said. “All right. Reasons aside, Dale and I are here, and we’ve taken the job. Tell me, how long will it take us to get up the mountain to your mine?”

  “With the buckboard?” she asked. “Two days, maybe. I need you to get up there as quickly as possible.”

  “Why?”

  “Rain,” she said. “It’s been raining harder in the mountains than it has here. That’s why our streets are soaked, from the runoff. We built the town far enough away from the mountain to keep from getting flooded. But there’s still one major storm coming, and we’ve got to beat that up the mountain.”

  “Is it pretty far up?”

  “Yes, and it’s a rough road to get there,” she said. “Not much road at all, in some spots. I’ve given the marshal two or three different routes.”

  “You got your mining equipment up there.”

  “Yes, and lost some men to accidents doing that.”

  “Wait a minute,” Locke said, mentally kicking himself. He was so concerned about Cooper that he was missing some obvious questions. “Why do we even need a buckboard?” he asked. “What’s the amount of the payroll?”

  Molly Shillstone bit her lip and said, “Eighty thousand.”

  “Eighty?” Locke was surprised, but still … “Even for that much, we shouldn’t need a buckboard.”

  “Marshal Cooper didn’t tell you?” she asked.

  Locke closed his eyes for a minute. There was a surprise coming, and he hated surprises. “Tell me what, Mrs. Shillstone?”

  “My miners are nervous and distrustful,” she said. “They want their money in gold.”

  Shit, he thought.

  “And it’s Molly.”

  NINE

  “Why didn’t you tell me this payroll was in gold?”

  Locke asked Cooper later in the café. Cooper “ had wanted to go to the saloon, but Locke vetoed the idea. Now they were seated over cups of coffee instead of glasses of whiskey or mugs of beer.

  “I didn’t think of it,” Cooper said. “I didn’t think it would be a problem—do you?”

  “Not a problem?” Locke asked. “Do you have any idea what eighty thousand dollars in gold weighs?”

  “No.”

  “Well, neither do I,” Locke said, “but it probably is going to take a buckboard to get it up there. That adds a day or more to the trip from Kingdom Junction, and who knows how many days going up the mountain. There’s no telling how many times we’ll have to turn back to find another way up when we’re blocked.”

  “They’ll give us different routes,” Cooper said.

  “It’s a mountain, Coop,” Locke said. “Rocks shift and block routes all the time.”

  “Maybe we can load the gold onto a packhorse,” the ex-marshal suggested. “Or two.”

  “Maybe,” Locke said. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “John,” Cooper said, “we’re getting paid enough to deal with the problems, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know, Coop,” Locke said. “I’ll let you know after we’ve encountered all the problems.”

  Leaving the café, they parted company. Locke was going to the general store to stock up on ammunition and to purchase other items for the ride, including a good blanket and
a slicker. The weather looked as if it was going to continue to rain—another damn problem to overcome.

  What they didn’t know was that there was another problem keeping an eye on them at the moment.

  Robert Bailey huddled in his chosen doorway and watched the two men separate. He left the doorway then and headed for the saloon, where he found two men waiting for him.

  When Bailey entered the saloon Hoke Benson and Eli Jordan both looked up from their two-handed game of stud poker. In the middle of the table, at their pot, was a pile of lucifer matchsticks. At each of their elbows was a full mug of beer.

  Bailey stopped at the bar to get himself a beer before joining them. “Deal me in.”

  He took a handful of matches from his vest pocket.

  “Well?” Hoke asked.

  “Cooper’s got John Locke to help him.”

  Eli gathered up the cards and shuffled them. “That’s for sure?” he asked, dealing out three hands of draw poker. They knew that Locke had arrived in town, but they didn’t know why.

  “Yeah,” Bailey said. “I heard ’em talkin’ in the café.”

  “Did they see you?” Eli asked.

  “No,” Bailey said. “I got across the street before they come out. I bet two.”

  He tossed in two matchsticks, and both Eli and Hoke called his bet.

  “How many cards?” Eli asked.

  “Two,” Bailey said.

  Hoke took three, and so did the dealer.

  “So, what do we do?” Bailey asked. “It ain’t just a washed-up marshal anymore.”

  Hoke had a matchstick in his mouth, which he kept shifting from corner to corner. All three men were in their thirties and from behind, according to height and build, might have been related. It was only when you looked at their faces—Hoke handsome, Eli homely, and Robert downright ugly—that you realized they weren’t.

  “Locke’s a little past it, dontcha think?” Hoke asked.

  “I heard somethin’ about him and Doc Holliday in South Texas,” Eli said, “afore Doc died.”

  “Well,” Hoke said, “he ain’t got Doc Holliday now, has he?”

  “I bet five,” Bailey said.

  “Still,” Eli said. “Hoke?”