by John Legg
Bonner produced another pouch and opened it. “My share of the gold for guidin’ ’em up here and for helpin’ out today and on the trail.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Rhodes breathed.
“Then let’s go get a head start,” Bonner said gleefully
“Head start?” Rhodes was confused.
“On bein’ damned.” Bonner cackled joyously “I’ve gone a ways down that path already, but hell, there’s a lot more trail to follow.”
Rhodes laughed. “You go on, old man. I’ll catch up to you tomorrow.”
“You’re gonna go see that purty little thing now, ain’t you?”
“Not now. Tomorrow mornin’, though.”
“Filly-chasin’ young snot,” Bonner snorted.
“Just go on about your business, you scabrous old reprobate.”
Rhodes watched a moment as Bonner swaggered off, and Rhodes smiled. He considered going to get a hotel room now that he had some cash, but then he decided against it. What with prices in Intolerance, he still didn’t have enough to last out the whole winter, so any savings he could manage would be to his benefit. He turned and walked to the livery.
After breakfast the next morning, he stopped in a dry goods place and bought himself a new outfit, paying what for him was an outrageous sum. Carrying his packages, he walked to the nearest tonsorial parlor, where he had a shave, a hair trim, and a bath.
Clad in his new outfit of heavy denim pants, striped collarless shirt, bandanna around the throat, and a long, black jacket, he headed toward the St. John house. Hallie must have been waiting for him, he figured, since he had, barely knocked when the door opened. He didn’t mind —it showed she liked him and was looking forward to their time together.
She looked radiant to Rhodes. Her hair was washed and brushed to a sleek fineness. Her calico dress was old and faded, but it was clean and fit her very well. A bonnet hung by its string off the back of her head.
“Well, ma’am, what should we do?” Rhodes asked, as Hallie took his arm and they began strolling toward the heart of Intolerance.
“The first thing you should do is call me by my name, Mr. Rhodes.”
“Only if you call me by my name, Miss Hallie.”
She smiled, and he noticed that her upper lip curled up more on the right side than the left when she smiled. It didn’t bother him in the least.
“All right, Travis.” She paused. “I’d like a buggy ride, if we could do that?” Her bright blue eyes were wide with wonder, and worry. “It’s been such a long time since I had me a buggy ride. Money’s not been...”
“No need to talk of that, Hallie,” Rhodes said earnestly. “You pa’s had a run of bad luck is all. Every man has that of a time. He’ll be back on his feet soon.” He smiled. “And if it’s a buggy ride you want, it’s a buggy ride you’ll get.”
It did not take long to rent a buggy. Rhodes had Pace hitch up his mule to the buggy. As they rode through town, heading for the road away from the mines and stamp mills, Hallie suddenly looked distraught.
Rhodes noticed it, and his stomach tightened. “What’s wrong, Hallie?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing,” she said unconvincingly. She bit her lower lip.
Rhodes stopped the buggy in the middle of the street, eliciting a number of rude comments. He did not care. “We’re not going another foot till you tell me what’s botherin’ you.”
She shook her head, fighting back tears.
“All right, then, we’ll go back. You don’t want to be out here with me, I ain’t about to force it on you.”
“No!”
“Then tell me what’s wrong.”
“I was just thinkin’ how nice’d be if we had us a picnic lunch with us.”
“That all?” Rhodes said in some surprise. “Lord, I thought something was wrong. You want a picnic lunch, let’s get us one.” He pulled the buggy to the side of the wide street in front of Hornbeck’s restaurant. Then he helped her down and they went inside.
“What can I do for you?” the waiter asked. Rhodes could not decide whether the man was just smug, or if he had an impacted bowel.
“Set us up a picnic basket,” Rhodes said.
“With what?”
Rhodes decided the waiter was both smug and had an impacted bowel. “Whatever Miss Hallie wants, you put it in there, then come to me and I’ll pay up.”
The waiter seemed as if he did not want to believe Rhodes, who simply glared at the man. The waiter got the message, and he turned. “Come with me, miss,” he said.
Twenty minutes later, they were on their way again, equipped with a well-stocked picnic basket and a good heavy blanket. Rhodes turned off the main road onto a small trail that curled upward to the west. They went slowly, not wanting to overtax the mule, and because they were in no hurry.
They came to a meadow ringed with pines and aspens. A small creek tumbled out of the rocks along one side. Next to the rushing stream, on a shady patch of grass, Rhodes stopped. There was nowhere else to go anyway, this small meadow being ringed by peaks. Hallie got the picnic things out while Rhodes unharnessed the mule. He hobbled the animal and turned him out to graze. Then Rhodes took his seat on the blanket next to Hallie.
Chapter Nineteen
Rhodes took almost no end of ribbing from Joe Bonner over the next few days. The young man spent much of the time with Hallie St. John, enjoying himself more than he ever had. Most evenings, he hunted out Bonner in one of Intolerance’s thirty-seven saloons, and once or twice he visited one of the fancy girls. He felt a little guilty about that, but he assuaged his conscience by telling himself that in doing so, he was protecting Hallie from his baser instincts and advances. Bonner even gave him a hard time over that, until Rhodes just wanted to pound his friend. Then he would calm himself and burst out laughing.
The day after the picnic with Hallie, Rhodes looked up Erastus Flake in the hotel. “I just wanted to stop by and thank you for all you’ve done for me, Erastus,” he said quietly
“On the contrary, Travis, we’re still in your debt and will remain so for a long time to come.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Erastus. I didn’t do all that much.”
“Such modesty,” Flake said with a laugh. “Anyway, we’re glad to’ve helped you in some little fashion.” He paused and then said, “Are you calling on that young lady you helped out at the auction?”
“Yessir. A fine gal she is, too, Erastus.”
“She appeared to be all that and more, son.” He lowered his voice. “If you need anything—money or some small amount of supplies—in order to win her over, don’t you hesitate to call on me.”
“Much obliged, Erastus,” He could not believe his good fortune. “But I wouldn’t want to leave you short.”
“I don’t believe that’ll be a problem,” Flake said seriously. “We made out better at the sale than I had a right to expect. Then we sold the freight wagon and team to the mining company for a tidy sum. We’ll be moving into that place I told you about and will stay there for the winter.”
“Sounds like you’re all set up, then.”
“I think so.” Flake hesitated, unsure if he should say anything, then decided he had to. “Phineas and I have taken jobs with one of the merchants. That, too, will help us out.” He stared straight into Rhodes’s eyes. “Finding a job yourself might not be all that bad a thing. Especially if you are thinking of perhaps settling down with your young lady.”
“I think such a thing is a bit early on both counts,” Rhodes said with a laugh. “But I’ll have to decide soon, I expect.”
“Yes, well, thank you again, Travis, for all you’ve done, and don’t wait to call on us if you need anything.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” The two shook hands, and then Rhodes left, eager to see Hallie.
A few days later, Hallie invited Rhodes to supper at her home. He gladly accepted. When he arrived at the house, though, Hallie seemed downcast. Rhodes figured it was because her family was in hard fin
ancial straits, but as they ate a sparse but tasty meal, Rhodes began to suspect something else was bothering her. He tried to make light conversation, but none of the St. Johns were helping.
Finally he leaned back, irritated. He pulled two cigars out of a shirt pocket and handed one to Jim St. John. The old man looked pleased but guilty. Rhodes bit off the end of his cigar and lit it. “Now,” he said, “just what’s got you all so gloomy?” He liked that word, which he had heard Bonner use more than once.
“Nothin’,” Hallie said lamely.
“Hallie,” Rhodes said slowly, quietly, “I’m by nature a patient man. But when it comes to something botherin’ someone I care for very much, I lose that patience rapidly.” He paused for a few puffs on the cigar. “If it’s a family problem, maybe I can help.” He looked at Jim St. John. “There ain’t any shame in needin’ help of a time, Mr. St. John,” he said earnestly. “We all need it. If you’ve encountered more difficulties, tell me. You never know but what I might be able to help you.”
St. John looked at Rhodes, fear and worry in his eyes. He liked Rhodes considerably, though he had not shown it. He was still so embarrassed by his troubles that he did not want Rhodes to know how bad off he and his children really were. Still, he wondered, this might be the time to ask for some help. He nodded at Hallie.
The young woman took a breath, which Rhodes thought was quite interesting to watch. Then she said quietly, her cheek pinking up, “Hamilton Macmillan came by last evening.”
“So?”
“He threatened Pa that if I didn’t give in to his advances, he’d hurt Pa. Andy, too.”
“That all?” Rhodes asked, surprised.
“Yes,” Hallie said, flustered. Her life was about to go into shambles and Rhodes looked and sounded as if he didn’t care at all.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But how...why...How can I not think about it?”
“Just don’t,” Rhodes said with a shrug. It was so simple to him. He couldn’t understand how people clung to their worries like this. “He won’t bother you again.” He smiled easily.
Hallie smiled tentatively back. She could see in Rhodes’s gray eyes that he was not making fun of her. He was just delighted to be in her company. She could never tell him that she thought about him in the same way. She only hoped that he could see her love for him in her eyes the way she could see it in his.
That set her heart aflutter with nervousness. She had not, in the few days Rhodes had been courting her, admitted even to herself that she cared for him so. It was a shock to her, but she enjoyed it, too. Still, she was worried that he might be playing her for a fool; that he might leave her soon. Seeing the warm, caring look in his eyes, she doubted that in her head, but her heart still worried.
“Now, how’s about you and me takin’ a stroll through town, Hallie?” Rhodes asked.
“Pa?” She looked at her father, who nodded.
It had rained for most of yesterday, and the ground had once more become a quagmire. The St. Johns had a small boardwalk out to the street. When Hallie and Rhodes got that far, Hallie stopped, looking at the mud. She was glad it was just about dark, since that would hide her embarrassment. She could never admit to Rhodes that this was her only good dress and shoes and she didn’t want to get them covered with mud.
Rhodes had stopped and watched Hallie. He had noted that she had worn the same dress every time they had been together, and he figured it was one of only two or three she possessed. He also noted the distaste that lightly furrowed her usually smooth brow as she stood looking at the mud. Rhodes grinned and tossed away the cigar. He turned and suddenly scooped her into his powerful arms.
Hallie whooped in surprise at the move, but she gladly wrapped her slender arms around Rhodes’s neck and leaned her head against his shoulder. She felt as if she were in heaven.
Rhodes figured Hallie couldn’t weigh more than ninety pounds, and he had no trouble carrying her. Finally they reached the center of town, where there was a boardwalk in front of most of the buildings. Rhodes put Hallie down, and they strolled up one side of the street. Then Rhodes carried Hallie across the wide, muddy street, and they ambled down that side.
Rhodes felt good walking with the petite, beautiful Hallie St. John at his side. At the same time, though, he was worried. Not for himself, but for her. Intolerance was, after all, a rough-and-tumble mining town, where fights, gunfire, and other sorts of trouble broke out with mind-numbing frequency.
At the cross street down which Hallie lived, Rhodes picked her up again, and she nestled comfortably in his arms. He strode along, seemingly without strain. Just before getting to the St. John house he stopped.
Hallie looked up into his eyes in alarm. He smiled warmly, bent his head, and kissed her. Hallie was surprised, but then she responded as ardently as she could. When Rhodes pulled his head back, she asked nervously, “Did I do all right?”
Rhodes realized that for the first time in his life he tingled all over from the touch of a woman, and nodded. “Perfect,” he said, voice husky. He started walking again. “I best get you home.”
“Why?” she asked, worried and confused.
“So’s I don’t overstep my bounds,” he said gruffly.
“Oh?” Hallie said, still confused. Then it dawned on her. “Oh!” Still, she demanded another kiss—one willingly given—when Rhodes placed her gently on her feet on the planks in front of her house. This one lasted a considerable while.
Then Hallie favored Rhodes with another smile that was dazzling even in the dim moonlight. “Good night,” she breathed.
Rhodes nodded and turned, a little dazed. He headed straight for one of the saloons, jolted down a quick shot of whiskey, and then picked one of the painted ladies. He needed release.
Rhodes was saddling his palomino the next morning when Bonner arrived. “Goin’ somewheres?” he asked, pointing to the horse.
“Just need to give him a little working out,” Rhodes said flatly.
“Bullshit,” Bonner said with a cackle. “Ain’t you seein’ your lady today? Or’d she finally get wise to your schemin’ and toss you out?”
“You’re a goddamn putrifyin’ sack of buffalo droppings, ain’t you?” Rhodes said, but there was no sting in his words.
“I’ve been told so by many a chil’,” the still-cackling Bonner said. He sounded proud of the fact.
“One of these days you’re going to go too far, old man,” Rhodes offered, the threat feigned. He finished with the saddle and began working the bridle over the horse’s head. “That fellah Macmillan was botherin’ Hallie again,” he said as he worked. “I’m going up to the mines and have a chat with his uncle. Him, too, if he’s stupid enough to be around “
“You want company?”
Rhodes shrugged. “Only if you ain’t got anything else to do.”
“I don’t.” With Rhodes’s help, Bonner quickly saddled and bridled his horse, and they rode out.
It wasn’t really all that far to the mine offices up the hill south of town, but it was a steep slope, and the horses really did need some exercise. They had been standing around for the better part of six days. But they could not find the office. They spotted a worker and waved him over.
“Where’s the office?” Rhodes fairly screamed at the man. The roar of the stamp mills was deafening.
“Far side of town,” the man bellowed back, pointing. “Next to the assay office.”
Rhodes nodded. He and Bonner rode down the hill quickly, trying to get away from the noise. They finally found the office and dismounted, tying the horses to the wood hitching rail.
Inside, a bespectacled young man wearing a dark eye shade and with arm garters over his crisp white boiled shirt, worked at a large desk behind a thigh-high railing. There was little else in the room except a table on which maps were piled. At the back of the room was a door, which was closed.
The clerk looked up and asked, “Can I help you?”
“I’d like to see Mr
. Macmillan—Logan Macmillan.”
“He doesn’t often receive visitors,” the clerk said, looking with distaste at the two.
“Tell him it’s about his nephew.”
“Who shall I say is calling?”
“Name’s Travis Rhodes.”
The clerk nodded and headed toward the room at back. He rapped on it, then went in. A few moments later he stepped back out, holding the door open. “Mr. Macmillan will see you now,” he said.
Rhodes strode across the room and through the door, kicking it shut behind him, much to the clerk’s chagrin.
Logan Macmillan was a wiry man of medium height, and a man who possessed a look of competence and command. His clothing was the best that could be had in Denver, or even St. Louis. His eyes were direct and his face clean-shaven. He stood and reached across the wide, polished oak desk, hand out. Rhodes took the hand and shook it.
“Sit,” Macmillan said, waving to a chair in front of the desk. He settled into the plush leather chair behind the desk. The chair was so big it almost seemed to swallow Macmillan. “You’re one of the men helped that Mormon fellow auction off the goods a few days ago, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Nice fellow. Flake was his name?”
“Yep. Erastus Flake.”
“I bought his freight wagon and team after his auction.”
“So he told me.”
“Are you one of his people? A Mormon, I mean?”
Rhodes shook his head. “No, sir. I found ’em on the trail after they’d had some troubles. I just gave ’em a hand for a spell.”
Macmillan nodded. “A drink?” he asked.
“Only if you’re having one.”
Macmillan smiled. “Hell, one little snort can’t hurt, eh?” He pulled out a bottle from his desk and two glasses. He poured and then pushed one of the glasses toward Rhodes. He raised his own in a sort of toast. Rhodes reciprocated, and then they drank.
Macmillan corked the bottle and leaned back in the chair. “Now, sir, what do you want to tell me about my nephew?”
Rhodes could not miss the annoyance that had flitted ever so briefly across Macmillan’s face.