“Would you like some coffee?” she asked.
Lester’s response was as quick as it was enthusiastic. “Yes. That would be perfect.”
Stephanie lowered her head a bit as she walked past him. Her hand eased out just enough to brush along his stomach as she went.
Although he enjoyed watching her leave, Lester was even gladder once she was gone. He had to keep reminding himself that Stephanie was Pat’s wife. No matter what she was doing to him or how much she seemed to enjoy doing it, Lester simply couldn’t allow himself to give in.
Lester shook his head and dipped his hands in the water. While splashing his face, he did his level best to force those thoughts from his mind. Before he’d even put a dent in them, his door swung open once more.
He felt a gentle touch upon his shoulder at the same time the smell of coffee reached his nose.
“I would have brought you a whole pot, but there’s nowhere to put it,” Stephanie whispered to him.
Lester turned around so quickly that he almost knocked the cup of hot coffee from her hands. Now that he was closer to her, Lester found her face to be even softer and kinder than before. Her eyes were as clear as the water in the basin and the warmth he felt inside of him had nothing to do with the steaming cup being offered to him.
“Thanks,” he said. “That looks real fine.”
“Why don’t you try some?”
Lester reached for the cup of coffee but bypassed it altogether so he could slip his hand along the side of her body. Stephanie responded by holding the cup away from them so she could press herself against him without fear of spilling the coffee onto the floor. Her lips pressed against his and opened almost immediately.
Although Lester had been the one to move first, he quickly felt as if he’d taken one step onto a downward slope and was quickly stumbling toward a hell of a fall. Stephanie’s leg slid up and down along his side.
“I need something, if it’s not too much trouble,” Lester squeaked.
“I need it too, Sugar.”
It took a hell of an effort to keep his mind on track, but Lester forced himself through it because he knew that effort wasn’t going to get any easier if he waited. “Could I get some paper…and…maybe a pencil? I need to write a letter.”
Stephanie let out a slow breath that heated up the side of Lester’s neck. “We’ll have plenty to write about real soon,” she promised.
Most of Lester’s brain was still trying to cut through the haze that was thickening in his skull. As much as he wanted to make certain she’d heard him the first time, he simply couldn’t get his tongue to go through the process of repeating itself. There were just too many things vying for his attention. Lester could feel the curves of Stephanie’s body rubbing against him and just as he was about to stumble further, she quickly pulled away.
Lester was left with an ache in his trousers and the cup of coffee in his hand. He felt as if he’d just been pulled out of a deep sleep when he heard his cousin’s voice thunder through the room.
“You comin’ or not?” Wesley barked.
Looking around, Lester found Stephanie closer to the basin than she was to him. She fidgeted with the crooked table while shooting a quick, knowing glance over her shoulder. “I’ll get you that paper and pencil,” she said calmly.
“I…uh…was just having some coffee,” Lester said, praying to the Lord above that Wesley bought it. “And I also wanted to write a letter to Uncle—”
“Just get your ass ready to go,” Wesley snapped. “I’m leaving in two minutes with or without you.”
Hackett hadn’t been much of a town since the nearby vein of gold had been picked clean. Lester could see remnants of the town’s former glory reflected in the dirty, broken signs that hung above most of the storefronts. Places like the Golden Saloon and Strike It Rich Gambling Hall lined the streets. Turning a corner allowed him to see mining supply stores and assayers’ offices that were now either empty or boarded up altogether.
Like most towns that were past their prime, however, the saloon trade was still booming. Wesley rode past a place called the Nugget and craned his neck to get a look through the front window.
“They put on a hell of a show in there,” Wesley said. “Watch the girls kick up their skirts and then watch them kick up their legs for ya in a back room. Hell of a place! Don’t look like there’s anyone on stage right now, though.”
“It’s not even noon,” Lester pointed out.
“It’s always a good time for that kind of show.”
Hearing that, Lester couldn’t help but think about Stephanie. As if to distract himself from those thoughts, he patted his shirt pocket to find the letter he’d hastily written before saddling up. “Is that the sheriff’s office?” he asked, nodding toward a small building with a shattered front window.
“Yeah,” Wesley replied with a snorting laugh. “He’s a marshal and he knows folks around here don’t like him much.”
“What about a post office?”
Wesley shifted in his saddle to show Lester an open-mouthed sneer. “You looking to settle here, or are you just flapping your lips some more?”
In response to that, Lester took the letter from his pocket and held it up.
It took Wesley a moment, but he finally nodded and turned back around. “Post office is that way,” he said, jabbing a stubby finger toward a row of broken storefronts that looked like gaps in a filthy mouth. “In the back of the dry goods store.”
“I’m going there to mail my letter.”
“What made you want to start writing letters?”
Lester shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “With all that’s happened, I haven’t been talking to the family very much. I don’t know when I’ll be able to write again.”
“You ask me, our family talks too much,” Wesley said. “All them rumors and stories going back and forth.”
Before he could catch himself, Lester spat out, “Like what happened to Matt?”
Wesley looked over at him with an expression that might have come from eating a piece of rotten meat. “Sure.”
Lester nodded and pointed his horse toward the dry goods store down the street. “Well, it’s only a letter. I’ll catch up with you.”
“I’ll be down on Second Street at Smith’s Firearms. Don’t take too long. I’ll be needing the rest of that money Pat gave to ya.”
Lester watched Wesley ride away, and kept watching until his cousin rounded the corner. When he rushed into the dry goods store, he was already out of breath. “This the post office?” he asked the old man behind the counter.
“Yep.”
“Where’s the sack for the mail to be sorted?”
“Just give her here,” the old-timer said as he stretched out a thin, liver-spotted arm. When he didn’t feel anything placed in his hand, the old man stared at Lester and asked, “Do you have something to mail or not?”
“I do, but…”
Staring at the envelope in Lester’s hand, the old man said, “There ain’t no address on that.”
Lester slapped the envelope onto the counter where the old man was sitting. Taking a pencil from his pocket, he quickly scribbled a word onto the envelope and then looked up. “What’s the marshal’s name?”
“Marshal Eaves?”
Nodding, Lester wrote another word on the envelope and handed it over. “I want this delivered to Marshal Eaves, but—”
“You can hand it over yourself. His office isn’t far from here.”
“I know, but I want it delivered. He shouldn’t read it until later.”
“You could have something to eat while you wait.”
Resisting the urge to jump across the counter and throttle the old man, Lester said, “I’m not going to wait. I’ve got things to do. I need this delivered to the marshal a bit later.”
The old man looked at Lester as if he smelled dung stuck to the bottom of his boot. “I was just trying to save you the postage.”
“Here,” Lester said as he to
ok out some of the money Pat had given him to help buy the shotgun and rifle ammunition. “Take this as your fee. Just deliver the letter to the marshal and say it came in today’s mail. Do whatever you need to make the envelope look genuine.”
The old man snatched the money away with a speed that would have been impressive for a fellow half his age. “When do you want the marshal to get it?”
Lester pulled in a breath to steel himself. “Tonight should be fine. Say around five o’clock. No…better make it four.”
“Four it is.” Taking the letter, the old man tossed it onto an empty burlap sack folded on the floor behind him. He then placed both hands flat upon the counter and showed Lester a friendly smile.
Already on his way out the door, Lester shook his head. “That’s all I need. At least, I sure hope it is. It damn well better be.” He was still muttering as he left the store and headed for Smith’s Firearms.
TWENTY-SIX
The tracks took a few meandering turns, but led them toward Hackett. More than once, Nick played with the idea of breaking away from Kinman to do the rest of the tracking on his own, but that would have meant leaving the bounty hunter to his own devices. There were ways to make sure Kinman stayed put, but Nick didn’t want to waste time on following those through. Besides, there was still a bit of time for Kinman to prove himself useful.
Nick could see a good portion of the town as Kinman reined his horse to a stop. They’d been riding a bit quicker than the day before, but not quite up to full speed. Kazys was breathing somewhat heavily, but Kinman’s horse stood by without even shifting its hooves.
“You want to check the town?” Kinman asked.
“Do the tracks lead there?”
“Not as such, but Lester would’ve had to get some supplies and he might not be able to get everything from his cousins.”
“We’re here for Lester, so we’ll follow his tracks,” Nick said. “We’ve come too far to be thrown off the scent now.”
“All right, then.” Kinman shifted so he could look directly at Nick. He crossed one hand over the other as he let out a smooth breath. “Let’s get something straight. If those jewels are there, we’re splitting them right down the middle.”
“We already negotiated this.”
“That’s when I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to find Lester or not. Now that we’re here I want to get all of this out of the way before there’s any commotion.”
Nick’s voice was smooth and even as ice on a freshly frozen pond. “There’s going to be a commotion right here and now if you push this too far.”
“Then let’s get it out of the way,” Kinman declared, while shifting his coat aside so he could better reach his pistol.
“Or I could just follow the marked tracks that lead past that town and head straight to wherever Lester’s holed up.”
Kinman was taken aback, but it didn’t last long. He regained his composure in a heartbeat and actually smiled good-naturedly. “You saw those, huh?”
“Yeah. I saw ’em.”
“Then our original deal stands.”
Nick nodded without moving more than the few muscles required to perform the action. Although the rest of him was still, the muscles were tensed like bowstrings beneath his skin.
Kinman kept still as well.
The next few seconds felt as if the world around them was holding its breath.
“How about we finish up one matter before moving on to the next?” Nick finally said.
“Fine with me.”
To show he was the better man, Nick took his hand away from his holster and placed it casually upon his saddle horn. Kinman did the same.
“If Lester’s still with his cousins, he’ll probably be waiting for us,” Kinman said.
“They’re probably all waiting for us. That is, if they haven’t already moved along by now.”
Kinman craned his neck to look in the direction that the marked tracks led. “Lester’s tired. He’s been running for a while and has been hiding out for over a year. Once he gets around family, he’ll settle in for a bit.”
But Nick was thinking of a bit more than Lester wanting to rest up and get a hot meal in his belly. Nick knew a thing or two about being on the run and he also knew about what it was like to be hunted. There was a time when the prey wanted nothing more than to turn the tables and take a bite at its pursuers. It seemed like a foregone conclusion that now would be that time for Lester. Nick could feel it just as surely as he could feel the impulse to take a shot at Kinman.
Since there was still an outside chance that there was a bit of tracking to be done, Nick nodded and said, “I think you’re right. Lester probably spent his first couple hours eating or sleeping. By that time, he’s got to know that we’d be after him.”
“He knows, all right,” Kinman said with a grin. “The only question now is what he intends to do about it.”
Glancing overhead to take note of the crisp, blue sky, Nick said, “It’ll be dark in a while. Lester’s probably not going to move until after the sun goes down.”
“You really think he’ll wait that long?”
Nick was nodding as if he’d only heard that question in the back of his mind. “He’s dug in, so there’s no reason to do anything when he can still be sighted. Riding at night will make it easier for him to slip away and try to regain his lead on us. That is, unless he’s already long gone.”
“Riding at night will also make it easier for him to trip up or stumble somewhere along the way,” Kinman offered.
Nick shook his head. “He knows this land better than we do. The dark will only work to his advantage.”
“Lester’s been hiding out in Oregon for half a year or more. Before that, he was working his way up from Texas.”
“He still knows this area. Even if he’s been here once before, that’s once more than me. What about you?”
Kinman shrugged and shifted his gaze forward. “I see your point. How do you want to approach him?”
“Let’s find him first and work out the rest once we get there.”
Both men snapped their reins and rode in a path that skirted Hackett’s limits.
It didn’t take long for them to ride close enough to catch sight of the run-down spread inhabited by Lester’s cousins. Of course, finding it was doubly easy, since there were four sets of marked tracks that all led to the same spot. Two sets were headed toward the spread and two headed away, each like individual strands of a web that were all connected to the same central point.
“Jesus Christ,” Kinman muttered from his spot in the grass well away from the house. “No wonder Lester came here.”
Nick lay stretched out on his belly directly beside Kinman. Both of them squinted through spyglasses as various members of the household in front of them went about their business. Every cousin was armed.
“You see Lester yet?” Nick asked.
Kinman kept the spyglass to his eyes and said, “Nope, but his horse is in the barn.”
Since he could only see a few noses inside that barn from this vantage point, Nick was about to question the validity of Kinman’s statement. Then Nick took a look for himself and spotted one horse’s nose that was splotched in a pattern of white, black and brown that seemed very familiar.
“That’s Lester’s horse all right,” Nick admitted. “Good eye.”
“It’s what I do.” When Kinman looked over at Nick, he saw the other man setting his spyglass down and taking off his coat.
“Stay here and give me a few minutes to get in closer.”
“Oh, no you don’t. We’re going in together. If they see you, they’ll start shooting and it’ll be that much harder for me to get in to do anything but catch some lead.”
“They won’t see me,” Nick assured him.
“And how can you be sure of that?”
“Because it’s what I do.”
Seeing Kinman’s aggravation put a warm feeling in Nick’s heart. He pulled his sleeves all the way down and buttoned them s
o they remained tight against his wrists. His holster was repositioned on his side and tied to his leg to keep it out of his way. By the time anyone knew he was there, Nick would have plenty of time to get the Schofield in hand. If not, he would have a lot bigger problems than shaving half a second off of his drawing speed.
Nick kept his belly in the grass and half-crawled, half-slithered toward the house. Whenever he reached a patch of higher weeds or bushes, Nick allowed himself to get his feet beneath him and scramble forward. It wasn’t the quickest way to travel, but he got to the house without drawing a glance or making more than a subtle rustle to announce he was there. He circled around to the side of the property opposite the barn.
Just then, a door slammed and Nick froze in his spot. His belly pressed against the dirt and his legs stretched out behind him. The sun was on its way down, but it would be a while before dark. As steps knocked against the front porch, Nick eased his arm down to his holster and kept it there. He was ready to draw, but didn’t want to tip his hand unless it was absolutely necessary.
The man who’d opened the door was a big fellow with a long, unkempt beard. He had a rifle in one hand and a shotgun in the other. Holding both guns over his shoulders, the bearded man strutted out and cleared his throat noisily.
“Take this shotgun, Ann.”
When he heard the woman respond, Nick twitched. She’d been so quiet that he hadn’t even heard her come outside.
“Keep it,” she replied.
“We been through this already. There’s some men that might be comin’ and we’ll need all the help we can get when they arrive. You don’t have to hit anything. Just fire and keep them off their balance.”
“I ain’t taking no shotgun, Wesley, and that’s that.”
Nick heard a few more heavy steps, followed by the creak of a rocking chair. He pushed himself up a bit, but couldn’t see much more than the back of the chair and the big man leaning down to it. The post at the corner of the porch was blocking Nick’s view of the woman Wesley was talking to.
“You’re taking this shotgun and you’re helping to defend this house, God dammit,” Wesley snarled.
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