“I’m standing first watch,” he said. “I’ll wake Coop in four hours.”
“What about me?” she asked. “I can stand watch.”
“No,” he said. “This is what we do. You just get some sleep.”
“All right,” she said. “All right.”
He could see that her mind was still whirling and doubted that she would get right to sleep. He was shocked that something he’d said idly—with no information or knowledge at all to back it up—would have caused such a reaction in her.
But now that the thought was planted, he wondered who she was thinking might be behind something like that? According to her, it could only have been someone from the bank or George Crowell. Loyal George, who worked with her father for so long, and now with her, but who was also in love with her and wasn’t getting any of that love back.
Locke wondered what the morning would bring. What would Molly decide to do about this? Maybe he could persuade her not to do anything until he got back. The least he could do after putting the thought in her head was to back whatever play she wanted to make. Also, they needed her alive to pay them the rest of their money when they got back, as she had only paid them half up front.
That’s what he’d tell her when she woke up—that it would be bad business to get killed before they came back.
FORTY-THREE
The rain held off all night so that the only wetness John Locke woke up to was the sound of the creek and the cup of hot coffee Molly was holding out to him.
“Thanks.”
“Breakfast is ready, and the marshal has already started eating,” she told him.
“Okay,” Locke said, hauling himself to his feet.
They both walked to the fire, and Locke saw Cooper working on a plate of scrambled eggs.
“Couldn’t wait for you,” Cooper said. “I’m starved.”
“That’s fine,” Locke said, looking around. He wondered if anyone had caught up to them, might be watching them right now while they ate their breakfast.
“Here you go,” Molly said, handing him a plate of eggs.
“Thanks.”
She made a plate for herself and sat down across from them.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Locke asked her.
“Better,” she said. “Not as angry.”
“That’s good.”
“Angry about what?” Cooper asked.
Locke and Molly looked at each other.
“I’ll explain it to you once we get started,” Locke said. “It’ll give us something to talk about.”
Cooper shrugged and went back to his breakfast.
“So, you’re not planning to, um, do anything foolish?” Locke asked.
“I never intended to do anything foolish,” she said. “I’m just going to do some investigating to see what I can find out.”
“Just don’t confront anybody until we get back.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he said slowly, “I don’t want anything to happen to you before we get back.”
“You’re worried about me?” she asked. “That’s sweet.”
“We’re going to need you alive and well to pay us the rest of our money when the job is done.”
“Oh, I see,” she said. “So, it’s not that you’re worried about me, specifically.”
“It’s just good business.”
“I see,” she said again. “I understand.”
“Since you are the good businesswoman that you are,” he said, “I knew that you would.”
Cooper, if he was listening while he was eating, didn’t let his interest show.
They finished the remainder of the coffee and eggs, and then Locke saddled Molly Shillstone’s horse for her before saddling his own. While he did that, Cooper was saddling his horse and hitching up the team to the buckboard.
Locke offered to give Molly a leg up onto her horse, which she refused, and she mounted very expertly.
Looking up at her, he asked, “How did you get those eggs out here in one piece?”
“Very carefully,” she said.
“Well,” he warned her, “be just that careful with everything else until we get back.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll make sure your money is waiting for you when you get back.”
Before he could say anything else, she gigged her horse and rode out of camp at a gallop, toward the town of Turn-back Creek.
As they pulled out of camp, with Cooper mounted and Locke driving the buckboard, Cooper said, “So, what was all that stuff about her bein’ angry? We do something to get her mad?”
Locke told Cooper about the conversation he’d had with Molly the night before.
“Why’d you go and say a thing like that for and put it in her head?” Cooper asked.
“Like I told her, I was just making conversation,” Locke said. “I didn’t expect her to react like that.”
“You know there doesn’t have to be any other motive for somebody to steal a payroll—or gold—than greed.”
“I know that.”
Cooper paused, stood in his stirrups without stopping, and looked around them.
“What is it?”
“I got that target-on-my-back feeling,” Cooper said.
“I’ve had that since Kingdom Junction,” Locke said. “Hell, I’ve had it all my life.”
“I know,” Cooper said. “Me, too, but then there comes the time when it really itches, you know?” He sat back down in his saddle. “It sort of makes you feel alive, don’t it?”
“I don’t need to be shot at to feel alive, Coop,” Locke said. “That was quite a story you told Molly last night, by the way.”
“I just wanted her to think we were earning our money,” Cooper said with a laugh.
“Oh, I think before this is all over, we’re going to earn our money,” Locke said, “and more.”
“I’ve been thinkin’ the same thing,” Cooper said.
“About what?”
“That we deserve more money.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s just somethin’ to think about, John,” Cooper replied, “that’s all.”
FORTY-FOUR
They had a map of routes up to the mine, given to Cooper by Molly Shillstone. According to Molly, if one route was blocked, another should be open. If all established routes were blocked, they would have to find a way to clear one or find a new one themselves.
So far, the first route seemed pretty clear. It was rocky enough so that Locke was glad they were transporting gold and not nitroglycerine, but it was passable.
“According to Molly,” Cooper said as they traveled, “this should be the most passable of all.”
“Well,” Locke said, “so far, so good.”
They were both looking around, staying alert, because that target-on-the-back feeling was worse.
“John …” Cooper said.
“I feel it.”
“You know,” Cooper said, “there’s a way we can work it so we never have this feeling again.”
“I thought you said it made you feel alive.”
“It does,” Cooper said, “but I also want to stay that way.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Coop,” Locke said. He thought he did, but he didn’t like what he was thinking.
That’s when the first shot came, and then he didn’t have time to think anymore, just to react. He launched himself off the buckboard just before the bullet struck the seat where he had been sitting. Cooper also dismounted quickly to take cover.
One shot, and then it was quiet. Cooper’s horse galloped off, spooked by the echoing shot. The team was spooked, too, but pulling the heavy gold, they moved only a few yards away and stopped, with Locke’s mount tied to the back. This put both of their rifles out of their reach, and they had palmed their six-guns.
“That came from above us,” Cooper said. “I saw the bullet hit the buckboard.”
“Whoever this is,” Locke said, “they knew the r
oute we were going to take and got here ahead of us.”
“Somebody who works for Molly,” Cooper said. “Not connected with the other five we killed already.”
“Agreed.”
“Could be one man with a rifle,” Cooper said. “Maybe he’s just tryin’ to get lucky.”
“Well, there’s one way to find out.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’ve got to get to the buckboard before the horses move off any farther,” Locke said. “We’re going to need a rifle to return fire.”
“They’re not gonna go far, pullin’ that weight.”
“Maybe not,” Locke said, “but if they drag that buckboard over some rocks and we lose a wheel, we’re stuck.”
“Good point.”
“Watch for his muzzle flash, and cover me,” Locke said.
“He’s too far away for this,” Cooper said, gesturing with his gun, “but at least I can make some noise.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
Locke holstered his own gun, got up into a crouch, and said, “Okay … now!”
He took off at a run and sprinted to the buckboard. Three shots were fired from somewhere, and they pinged off the rocks and ground around him. He heard Cooper firing uselessly, but a person’s first instinct when he hears shots is to duck, and he was depending on that to make the shooter miss. He hoped he would have accomplished his goal before the shooter realized he was in no danger.
When he reached the buckboard, he quickly hobbled the team so they wouldn’t run off. In addition, he placed some stones in front of a couple of the wheels. That done, he made his way to his horse and retrieved his rifle from his saddle. He considered freeing the animal so it could get out of harm’s way but was afraid it would run off too far to recover, so he left it tied to the back of the buckboard.
He then signaled to Cooper that he was coming back. This time, the shooter got off more rounds. He probably realized that Cooper was just firing to make noise. One round tugged at Locke’s shirt, but he was able to return to Cooper unscathed.
“Where is he?” Locke asked when he reached Cooper.
“Up on that ridge,” Cooper said, pointing. “Not ahead of so much as abreast of us.”
“Maybe he’s just an opportunist who has no idea what we’re carrying,” Locke said. “Maybe he was just waiting for anyone to come by so he could rob them.”
“Whatever he is, he’s got us pinned down,” Cooper said. “One of us is gonna have to climb up there and get behind him—or at least get close enough to get off a shot.”
“One of us?” Locke asked.
“Well,” Cooper said, “you looked pretty damned spry running back and forth from the buckboard, and don’t forget, you are younger than me by about ten years.”
“Eight,” Locke said. “It’s only eight.”
“That still makes my point.”
“Don’t forget I’ve got this,” Locke said, hefting his rifle. “He doesn’t seem to be that good a shot. I could cover you while you grab the buckboard and drive off.”
“As bad a shot as he is,” Cooper said, “he could still hit one of the horses while he’s tryin’ to get me.”
“Not if I pin him down,” Locke said. “All you have to do is get far enough away, and then I can catch up to you on foot.”
“He’s got to have a horse,” Cooper said. “He’ll come after you.”
“Not if I go after him first,” Locke said. “Once we’re out of range, I’ll mount up and try to find him. You keep going.”
Cooper looked at Locke. “If you could just pick him off right from here, our problem would be solved.”
“Wouldn’t it? I’m a lot better with a handgun than I am with a long one,” Locke said. “What about you?”
“The same.”
“Well,” Locke said, “at least I can keep him busy while you grab the buckboard, and who knows, I might get lucky. After that, I’ll try to get closer to him.”
“That means I’ve got to run for the buckboard, huh?”
“That’s right,” Locke said. “And don’t forget, I hobbled the horses, and I blocked a couple of the wheels.”
“And wasn’t that a real good idea?” Cooper said sarcastically. He was going to have to pause to unhobble the horses and free the wheels.
Locke shrugged. “It seemed one at the time.”
FORTY-FIVE
Locke needed the man to fire one more time so he could see where he was for himself.
“I’ll spot him as soon as he fires,” he told Cooper. “You just keep going.”
“If you don’t pin him down fast,” Cooper said, “I’m as good as a dead man.”
“Don’t worry,” Locke said. “I’ll pin him down.”
“Okay,” Cooper said, indicating he was ready.
“Go.”
Cooper started running. The first shot missed him by so much it didn’t even ricochet anywhere near them.
Locke fired two shots at the ridge, giving Cooper time to get to the buckboard. The first thing the ex-marshal did was to untie Locke’s horse and slap it on the rump so that it took off.
“What the—” Locke said.
Cooper kicked away the rocks Locke had put in front of the wheels, freed the horses, and climbed onto the rear of the buckboard. On a hunch, Locke stopped firing. The man on the ridge didn’t fire immediately, and then, when he did shoot at Cooper and the retreating buckboard, the shots went way wild.
Nobody was that bad a shot.
Locke stood up and watched Cooper ride off in the buckboard. The shooter didn’t take one shot at him.
“Coop,” he said softly, “you son of a bitch.”
The shooter was gone, Cooper was gone, and Locke was on foot. His horse had run off, but how far off he didn’t know. He just started walking in the direction his horse had gone and in which Cooper had driven the buckboard.
The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that the shots had been too wild to be honest misses. He hated thinking that the man on the ridge had been working with Cooper, but why else would Cooper have shooed off Locke’s horse if not to keep him from following?
Locke remembered the question Cooper had asked him while they were in Kingdom Junction waiting for the train to arrive—asked him more than once, as a matter of fact.
“What would you do with this much gold?”
“What?”
“The gold. If you had it all, what would you do with it?”
“Why are you asking me that?”
“I’m just making conversation …”
But he hadn’t just been making conversation, had he? He’d been feeling Locke out. Trying to see how Locke would feel about stealing all that gold.
Locke hoped he was wrong. He hoped Cooper had just released his horse to keep it from harm and that the shooter on the ridge had simply been a horrible marksman.
He hoped that his old friend had not been planning to steal the gold right from the beginning.
Right from the goddamn beginning!
Hoke Benson heard the shots and raised his hand for the men to stop. He cocked his head, listening intently. “Hear that?”
“I heard it,” Rome said.
“Heard what?” Turpin asked.
“Shut up and listen,” Rome said.
They all listened and were eventually rewarded with the sound of more shots.
“Which way?” Hoke asked frantically. “Which way?”
“Ahead,” Rome said. “Right ahead of us.”
“No,” Eli said. “That way—”
“Shut up,” Hoke said. “Lead the way, Rome.”
FORTY-SIX
It started to rain.
What else could go wrong? Locke was on foot, and his slicker was rolled up on his saddle. Much of this ground was rock and stone, slippery when wet. He’d be lucky not to break an ankle. He was not as surefooted as a horse, or a mule, would have been.
The sky was black. It had been threatening to storm eve
r since his arrival in Turnback Creek, and now it looked as if the clouds were collecting, swollen almost to bursting with a full-fledged downpour. He had no idea what this mountain would be like in that kind of a rain.
He trudged along, still hoping against hope that he was wrong. He hoped he was overreacting the way he thought Molly had. On the other hand, there was a possibility that if someone were working at cross purposes with Molly, they were working at like purposes with Cooper. Or was he just seeing conspiracy at every turn?
He found himself wondering if Cooper’s battle with whiskey were even real. If he was pretending, it would certainly explain his miraculous recovery. Maybe his impaired marksmanship also had been an act. If it all had been faked, then Locke had been taken in because of his friendship. Rather than feeling a fool, he felt betrayed.
But if he had done all that planning, why would he bring Locke into it—a friend, yes, but a friend he hadn’t seen in more than ten years? Perhaps even their long friendship was going to be a casualty of one man’s desire for gold—a casualty Cooper was willing to risk.
If Cooper actually had played Locke that way, it was something Locke was going to find very hard to forgive.
He certainly wouldn’t forget it.
And he definitely would avenge it.
Eddie Rome was the man in the group who could read sign, even on a mountain.
“See the ground? It’s been chewed up a bit. The shots were fired here, from above.” He rose from his crouch and looked around. “Probably from that ridge.”
“Anybody hit?” Hoke asked.
“I don’t see any blood,” Rome said, “but there were some horses here—at least four.”
“Two saddle mounts and a team,” Hoke said. “It was them.”
“But who was shooting at them?” Rome asked. He looked at Hoke. The other men were too far off to hear them. “Did you send anyone ahead of us? Did you hire somebody yourself?”
“No, of course I didn’t,” Hoke snapped. “Why would you think that?”
“Maybe you want to cut the rest of us out.”
“If I wanted you out, Rome,” Hoke said, “I never would have brought you in.”
Turnback Creek (Widowmaker) Page 13
