“You are,” Missy said. “And since you’re being so honest, I’ll be honest with you.” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I haven’t stopped thinking of you either.”
Chancy feared he might burst into flame.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” Missy said. “I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re special.”
“Thank heaven,” Chancy said.
Missy laughed, then looked around the saloon and pulled her chair in closer to the table. “As much as I’d like to go on about us, there’s something else. And it might be important.”
Chancy waited, hanging on every word.
“I’ve only been in Prosperity a short while. I was in Kansas City, and Della sent for me. I knew her from before. She wanted me to replace another girl. The pay is better, so I came, but now that I’ve been here a spell, I can’t say I like it very much. I’ve been thinking of leaving.”
“I’d take you anywhere.”
Missy reached across and placed her hand on his. “I believe you would.”
Chancy’s throat tried to constrict on itself, forcing him to breathe through his nose.
“I’ve heard things,” Missy was saying. “Scraps here and there. And it worries me.”
“What kind of scraps?” Chancy forced himself to ask.
“About the herds,” Missy said. “I was in the general store one day and Mr. Welker was talking to a man named Krine. . . .”
“I’ve met him,” Chancy said.
“Krine runs the town, not the mayor. Anyway, I don’t think they knew I was there and I overheard Welker say he got more clothes than he knew what to do with from the cowboys with the last herd.”
Chancy recollected the huge pile at the rear of the store.
“Krine told Welker the clothes were window dressing, nothing more. It was the money they got from selling the herds that counted.”
“Wait,” Chancy said. “Krine sold a herd?”
“That’s the impression I had, yes,” Missy said. “Which made no sense. I went around the shelf and they saw me and clammed up, so I didn’t learn any more.”
“Strange,” Chancy said, and realized he was using Ollie’s favorite word of late.
Missy sat back. “There’s something about this place. Secrets everyone is keeping from me. Maybe because I’m new and they don’t fully trust me yet.”
“How could they not?”
“Aren’t you gallant?” Missy said. “But I thought you should know.”
“I’m obliged.” Chancy thought of Dodger’s warning, and Finger’s before that, and now this.
“What do you make of it?” Missy said. “You don’t suppose you and your friends are in any danger, do you?”
“I sure hope not,” Chancy said.
Chapter 25
In all of Chancy’s life, there had never been moments as precious as these.
They sat and looked into each other’s eyes and talked and talked and talked some more. Missy related her past, what it was like to grow up on a small farm in Indiana, and how after her folks died, with no brothers or sisters and no other kin to speak of, she’d ended up working in saloons to make ends meet.
Chancy drank in every word, every movement of her lips, every sparkle in her eyes. He could have sat there forever listening and admiring her.
Then boots pounded, and in rushed Ollie. He came straight to the table and leaned on it to catch his breath.
“What on earth?” Missy said.
“Are your britches on fire?” Chancy joked.
“I got here as quick as I could,” Ollie said. “To let you know that Ben Rigenaw is in town looking for you.”
“Rigenaw?” Chancy said in alarm. He couldn’t conceive of a reason for the gun hand to be searching for him.
Ollie bobbed his chin. “I was coming out of the general store when him and Lester Smith rode up. They asked me if I knew where you were and I fibbed and said not exactly.”
Bewildered, Chancy was debating what to do when the batwings parted yet again and in the pair walked.
“There you are,” Ben Rigenaw said. “I knew if I followed Ollie he’d lead me right to you.”
“Well, darn,” Ollie said.
Lester Smith chortled. “Reminds me of the time I was after a card cheat up to Denver. Took me five hours to track him down, going from sporting house to sporting house. I must have asked pretty near two hundred ladies before I found one he’d paid a visit to and knew where he was staying.”
“None of your stories, Lester,” Rigenaw said. He walked to the table and touched his hat brim to Missy Burke. “Ma’am. Sorry to intrude but the trail boss sent me to find out what was keeping Chancy.”
“I haven’t been here that long,” Chancy said.
“It’s been over two hours,” Rigenaw said. “It shouldn’t have taken you more than an hour to ride in, see the doc, check on Finger, and get back.”
“So Stout sent us,” Lester Smith said.
“He wants you to report to him,” Rigenaw said.
Missy cleared her throat. “Does he have to know about Mr. Gantry’s visit with me? I’d take it as a personal favor if you could find it in your hearts not to say anything.”
“I see no cause to, ma’am,” Ben Rigenaw said. “He can make up his own excuse.”
“I won’t mention it either, ma’am,” Lester Smith said. He grinned and winked at Chancy. “Lucky devil that you are.”
Chancy could have slugged him.
“We’ll give you five minutes,” Rigenaw said, “and be waiting over at the general store.” He touched his hat brim again. “Ma’am.”
“I’ll go with them,” Ollie said considerately.
Alone with her, Chancy didn’t hide his disappointment. “I’d hoped we’d have longer. I want to know all there is to know about you.”
“That would take a lifetime,” Missy said, and blushed.
Chancy was about to say he wouldn’t mind at all, but prudence stilled his tongue. It would be unwise to be too forward and spoil things.
“When are you heading north?” Missy asked.
“Tomorrow.”
“Then I guess I’ll never see you again. That would be a shame. We’re just becoming acquainted.”
Chancy felt an invisible spike pierce his chest. “I don’t want that either.”
“What can we do?”
The question hung in the air for all of a minute. Then Mayor Broom entered, glanced over, and made straight for them.
“Mr. Gantry. I’ve been looking for you. I saw those other cowboys with your friend, but I don’t know them, so I’m giving this to you. I trust you to see that it’s delivered.”
Chancy was taken aback when the mayor slid a hand under his jacket and held out a sealed envelope. “What’s this?”
“Give it to your trail boss. Tell him there’s no hurry. We’ll be here when he decides to ride in.” Broom smiled. “As for you, Miss Burke, you might like to know I saw Reid out and about a short while ago.”
“I thank you for the warning,” Missy said.
“I know how he can be. And I can’t say I approve of how he treats you ladies at times.” Broom headed for the bar.
“I’d better go.” Missy stood. “If Reid catches us, it will be last night all over again.”
“I won’t settle for fists this time,” Chancy said, amazed by his own bluster.
“Don’t you dare swap lead over me,” Missy said. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything were to happen to you.” With evident reluctance, she turned to go.
“About tomorrow,” Chancy said.
“Yes?”
“I’ll think of something.”
Missy touched his cheek. “You don’t think we’re getting ahead of ourselves? We haven’t known each other
twenty-four hours.”
“I would gladly take you with me,” Chancy said.
“And what? I’d stay with the herd? Your trail boss isn’t likely to go for that. He might let me come along as far as Wichita, but what then? I could probably find work, but what about you? Would you go on being a cowboy? Go back to Texas? Or would you do something else for a living?”
Chancy hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I reckon we’d take it a step at a time.”
“Are we fooling ourselves, Chancy? Can it be we’re nothing more than cats in heat?”
Chancy was shocked she’d say such a thing. “I don’t have the answers. I’m as confused as you.”
“We’d both better think on it,” Missy said. “If you can get away, come see me tonight. I might know my own mind by then.” She smiled uncertainly and whisked toward the back.
Troubled, Chancy made for the batwings. Things were moving too fast. For now, he’d report to Lucas Stout and ponder on his predicament later. He hefted the envelope Mayor Broom had given him and wondered what was in it.
Chapter 26
Lucas Stout was waiting with his hands on his hips when Chancy and the rest returned from Prosperity. Before they could swing down, he stalked up to Chancy’s mount. “What took you so long? You should have been back hours ago.”
The last thing Chancy wanted was to have the trail boss mad at him. The last puncher who aroused Stout’s ire was out of a job quicker than he could blink. Chancy had been contemplating what to do on the ride back, and he’d had a brainstorm. A way to divert Stout’s anger, he hoped. “The mayor looked me up,” he said, which was true as far as it went. “He gave me something to give to you.”
“He did what?” Lucas Stout said.
Chancy shifted, opened his saddlebag, and took out the envelope. “Broom said it’s important. He didn’t say what it was.” He hoped to give the impression that the mayor was the reason he’d been in town so long.
Stout held the envelope in both hands. “What in the world is this?”
“There are other things I need to tell you, but they can wait,” Chancy said. He was pleased as punch when Lucas Stout turned and stepped to the fire. Alighting, he grinned at Ollie.
“What’s so funny?”
“That mayor might have saved my bacon.”
“Is it bacon or is it hash?” Ollie said. “I can never get the two straight. For a while there I used to say ‘saved my potatoes’ instead, but everybody looked at me as if I was addlepated.”
“Imagine that,” Chancy said.
Lucas Stout had squatted and was slitting the envelope open with a thumbnail. He slid out a folded sheet of paper, unfolded it, and commenced to read.
Ben Rigenaw and Lester Smith went closer, and others were drifting over too. They seemed to sense that something was in the wind.
Chancy went with them. He saw Lucas Stout’s features harden and heard him say, “Son of a . . .”
“Problem?” Rigenaw said.
The trail boss looked up, his features etched in fury. “I don’t hardly believe it. As friendly as they were and they pull this.”
Two punchers, Drew Case and Long Tom, were about to carry their saddles to the string and go ride herd. They stopped, and Long Tom, the tallest cowpoke in the outfit at six feet eight inches, cleared his throat. “What is it, boss? Do they want us to take Finger off their hands before he’s fit to travel?”
“If only that was all it was,” Lucas Stout said. Rising, he gave the sheet of paper a violent shake. “They flimflammed us. And now they’ve shown their true colors.”
“What did they do, boss?” Drew Case asked.
Stout held up the paper. “This is a bill. For services rendered, they’re calling it. They want seventy-five dollars for Finger’s operation and another twenty dollars a night for putting Finger up in their cabin.”
“A night?” Lester Smith said.
“That’s not all.” Stout read from the letter. “Grazing privileges for fifteen hundred cattle, at three dollars per head. And for our use of water privileges at the Prosperity municipal water supply, another five dollars a head.”
“Why, all that will come to . . .” Ollie began counting on his fingers.
“Twelve thousand dollars,” Lucas Stout spat.
“They can’t be serious,” Long Tom said.
“That’s not all.” Stout continued reading. “City taxes on liquor consumed, forty-three dollars. City tax on the use of a public thoroughfare, nine dollars.”
“Public what?” Ollie said.
“Their damn street.” Stout wasn’t done. “City taxes on goods bought at the general store, fourteen dollars. Consultation with municipal government, thirty-five dollars.”
“They have a government?” Ollie said.
“The mayor,” Chancy said, enlightening him.
Lucas Stout was practically livid. “Fee for cleaning up after out-of-town horses, seven dollars.”
“Does that mean what I think it means?” Ollie said.
“Shoveling horse shit,” Lester Smith said.
“There’s more,” Stout said. “The total comes to twelve thousand, four hundred and eighty-two dollars.”
“The hell you say,” Lester Smith said.
“And they expect us to pay?” Ollie said.
“They expect me to,” Stout said, “as the one responsible for the herd.”
“They have their nerve,” Lester declared.
Ben Rigenaw nodded. “They’re trying to fleece us, is what this is. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve done it to other herds.”
In a rush of recollection, Chancy said, “They must have.” He went on to tell them about Finger, and about Laverne Dodger’s warning, and what Missy had overheard, although he kept her name out of it.
“They took those other cowhands’ clothes?” Parker said. “I never heard of such a thing.”
“They’re not getting my duds,” Ollie said. “I’m not about to run around naked. I might catch a cold.”
“In the summer?” Lester said.
“Our skin doesn’t know what season it is,” Ollie said. “And it’s cold at night sleeping on the ground.”
Lucas Stout smacked the paper and spoke loudly so they all would hear. “They’re not getting away with this. I’ll be damned if I’ll let them hornswoggle us. I’m going in to talk turkey with that mayor. Chancy, Ollie, Jelly, and Drew are going with me. The rest of you stay.”
“You don’t want me along?” Rigenaw said.
“I need someone reliable to be in charge here,” Lucas Stout said. “Send the rest of the hands out to watch the herd. Let those already out there know what’s going on. Have everyone ready to move at a moment’s notice. That goes for you too, Charlie,” he said, addressing the cook. “I want the chuck wagon hitched by the time I get back.”
“Will do,” Old Charlie said.
“You’re expecting trouble, aren’t you, Mr. Stout?” Ollie asked.
The trail boss stared hard toward town. “I sure as hell am.”
Chapter 27
For once Jelly Varnes wasn’t smiling. He was as grim as everyone else. Lucas Stout was the grimmest of all. A thunderhead crackled around him, ready to explode with violence.
Chancy had never seen their trail boss so mad. He didn’t blame him. The bill from the town was preposterous. There was no way in God’s creation they could pay that much. No outfit could. Not before selling their cattle at the railhead anyway; the fifteen hundred head would fetch around sixty thousand dollars.
Prosperity’s stunt was unheard-of. Chancy wondered how many herds they had “taxed” this way. The town hadn’t been there that long, so it couldn’t have been too many. He was surprised word hadn’t gotten back to Texas. Something as outrageous as this scheme, word of it would have spread like a prairie fire.
He thought of all the used clothes at the general store and grew troubled, although he couldn’t exactly say why.
Lucas Stout broke the silence that hung over them like a shroud. “When we get there, let me do the talking. Jelly, you’re not to pull on anyone unless I say so. Understand?”
“You’re the boss,” Jelly Varnes said.
“Do you reckon they’ll start something?” Ollie asked.
“I wouldn’t think so, but you never know,” Stout said. “They won’t get any money if we’re dead.”
Without thinking, Chancy said, “They would if they killed all of us and took the herd to Wichita themselves.”
Lucas Stout stiffened in his saddle and glanced sharply over. “I hadn’t even considered that. Surely not . . .” He stopped, his brow furrowed.
Ollie leaned toward Chancy. “Would they take it that far? Wipe out a whole outfit for the cows?”
“Rustlers might,” Chancy said.
“But these aren’t rustlers. It’s a bunch of townsfolk.”
“The trick they’re trying to pull,” Chancy said, “they might as well be rustlers. It’s the same thing, only they do it with their so-called taxes.”
“I never heard of the like in all my born days.”
“No one has.” Although now that Chancy pondered on it some, he did recollect a town or three that wanted nothing to do with the cattle trade. Their citizens saw cowboys as trouble. So they levied steep fines and otherwise gave the herds no reason to stop. But still, that was nothing compared to this.
Ollie whispered, “I’d feel better if Ben Rigenaw was along.”
“Jelly is almost as quick,” Chancy whispered back.
“Ben has a better head on his shoulders,” Ollie whispered. “And more experience at man-killing.”
Jelly Barnes half turned. “What are you two on about back there? I heard my name.”
“We’re just jabbering,” Ollie said.
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