Divided Heart

by Sheryl Marcoux

  The items of interest were ten packets Zachariah had just brought in to the sheriff’s office and spilled onto the desk. Each bundle consisted of a one hundred-dollar bill on top, one on the bottom, and eight pieces of paper cut to like size in between.

  Clayton picked up a stack and tried to fan them. “They stick,” he said.

  “So does money fresh off the press,” Nate said. But the papers in between were lime green and damp from the dye Kate had concocted out of vegetable greens and vinegar. Hence the smell.

  “Maybe it’ll help if we make this look more official,” Nate said. “Do you think Tilly might at least loan us some banker’s bags?”

  Clayton started to protest. “He said he won’t have anything to do with this whole matter.”

  But Zachariah said, “Hanged if he won’t,” and shot out the door. In no time, Zachariah returned with empty banker’s bags in one hand and Tilly by the scruff of the collar in the other. Zachariah shoved Tilly toward the desk. “You want this in your bank?”

  Tilly’s eyes grew wide. “Where’d you get all this money?” Apparently, Zachariah hadn’t told him all the particulars—especially the one where they weren’t planning on getting it back. “And why does it smell like…” Tilly sniffed. “Vinegar?”

  “Time’s run out,” Zachariah said. “Give us the bags.” Even though he was strong-arming Tilly, Zachariah would never take anything without permission.

  Tilly yielded, and the rest of the men shoved the money into the bags.

  The question that lingered now was who would deliver it to the Krugar Gang. There was only Zachariah, Clayton, Nate, and Tilly left standing in the sheriff’s office.

  Tilly read the question on everyone’s faces and abruptly left.

  “I’ll do it,” Clayton said. But his hands shook when he picked up one of the bags and betrayed his lack of confidence.

  If the Krugar Gang suspected they were being hoodwinked, they’d examine the money closely, and not only would it be all over for Hattie, but for the messenger as well.

  “It’s my plan,” Nate said. “I’ll do it.”

  “It’s my fault Hattie’s in this mess,” Zachariah said. “I’ll do it.”

  “There’s no time to argue.” Nate grabbed the bags and thrust them into the saddlebags of the closest horse. “You’re the better rifleman, Zachariah, and you need to do what you do best. I’ll need you to keep a keen eye out for Hattie in case the plan goes sour.”

  Zachariah offered one of his guns. “You might need this.”

  Nate tucked it in his belt. “I’m hoping for a nice, clean exchange.” He looked squarely at Zachariah. “But if it doesn’t work out that way, I don’t care about me. You just make sure Hattie gets out of this alive.”

  Clayton cleared his throat. “Speaking of sour, what will you do about that smell?”

  “Get me some more vinegar.”

  A moment later, Zachariah ran out of the general store carrying a bottle of vinegar and shouting over his shoulder, “I’ll pay you for it later.” He handed the bottle to Nate, and Nate saturated his clothes with it.

  “The money doesn’t smell like vinegar. I do.”

  “I can figure out my part, but we didn’t come up with much of a plan. What’s the rest of it?” Zachariah asked.

  Nate hesitated. Cadwell was the rest of it. A man who could shoot a hole in a man’s necktie could play a valuable part.

  “The less men, the better,” Nate said. “We don’t want a shootout; we just want to get Hattie back. The gang can keep the money.” Nate swung into the saddle. To ensure Cadwell was indeed there, Nate added, “Clayton, I need you to ride out to the church and tell the Reverend what we’re doing.”

  “The Reverend?” Clayton and Zachariah said in unison.

  Clayton’s open mouth insinuated, Are you crazy?

  The furrow in Zachariah’s brow questioned, Since when have you gotten religion?

  Nate turned his horse toward the road. “The rest of the plan is a matter of faith.” Then he called over his shoulder as he was riding off, “Tell the Reverend we can use some—divine intervention.”

  Nate raced the horse out of town and toward the ravine. He tried to ignore how strongly he reeked of vinegar and how clever Cadwell had said that Josephine Krugar was. An image of someone striking Hattie and her falling limp onto the boardwalk urged Nate faster. “Giddy up.” He wanted to personally dole out justice for the man—or woman—who’d hit her, but as for anyone getting their due, that would be all up to Cadwell. With Nate’s plan, the best he could hope for was to get Hattie back alive.

  And that was a long shot for anyone with a sense of smell.

  When he’d stumbled upon the gang on his way into Ramsden they’d shot a man, thinking they’d killed him, for none other than the sake of killing. That fact made him believe they’d killed in such a way before. The knowledge that Hattie was in the hands of such cold-blooded murderers lashed at Nate. Would they kill her just for the thrill of it?

  “Whoa.” When he reached the ravine, he looked at his watch and broke into a sweat. Seven minutes late had him worried. How patient was this Josephine? Had the gang come and gone, leaving behind Hattie’s body? Best not to think that way. Best to think that Josephine would allow seven minutes for ten thousand dollars.

  A narrow valley where the river snaked through had dwindled to a muddy stream. The stubby trees and shrubs along it were few and scraggly, offering no place for him to hide. This wasn’t a good place to ride when there were four guns pointing at one man from the many places to hide along the jagged rim.

  “You got the money?” A voice came from afar, and Nate imagined an astute Josephine standing by the man’s elbow.

  An uneasy feeling about Cadwell crept up. Could Cadwell be part of this very setup? Part of the gang—like the old poster had shown him to be? Had Cadwell gotten Nate only as a means to figure out how to get the money when no one else could? Nate’s gut twisted. At the moment, he was putting more of his eggs in Zachariah’s basket than in Cadwell’s.

  Cadwell was too much of a wildcard.

  But Nate had taken off in a flurry, leaving Zachariah to find a horse, catch up, and find a place to hide.

  “Hey, you got the money?”

  So much for stalling.

  “Yes, I’ve got it.” Nate’s voice echoed. They knew where he was, but he didn’t know where they were. Or where they were keeping Hattie.

  “You got all the money?” The question returned like a bad omen.

  “Of course I’ve got it all,” Nate bluffed. Even if it was “all” of two thousand instead of ten.

  “Ride into the ravine about a quarter mile,” the voice called. “You’ll find a rock that looks like a skull. Bring the money there.”

  Nate knew the ravine well, because he and Zachariah used to play there as children back when they were friends. “Skull Rock,” as they’d called it, was a poorly-shaped oval about two feet wide by three feet high. Furthermore, Tom had given away his position, because the rock looked like a skull only from a particular vantage point. Nate didn’t want them to know he knew their position, so he turned and spoke in a different direction. “Show me Hattie first.”

  “After you bring us the money.”

  “Fair enough.” Nate glanced behind at the saddlebags. The plan didn’t seem as good now as it had an hour ago. Zachariah, I can give you just a little more time to get here. But not much more. “I’m coming,” he called out. Gingerly coaxing the horse down a manageable incline, he made it even more manageable for the horse by zigzagging slowly into the ravine.

  “Something wrong with your horse, mister?”

  “Just keeping an eye open for snakes,” Nate offered. The slope let go of a few loose rocks, but the horse was sure-footed and had no trouble. Finally, Nate reached the floor of the ravine. A path that narrowed down to five feet wide between two sixty-foot walls was an uncomfortable place to be.

  The breeze was hot and dry enough to make jerky. Sta
lling for as much time as he could so Zachariah could get there, Nate walked the horse along the muddy stream that ran through the ravine. Riding through a stretch where the walls on either side of him bulged together tunnel-like, he found he had to duck. He didn’t have to do that as a kid. He reached the familiar rock. “I’m here,” Nate called.

  “Mel,” the voice ordered, “make sure he’s got the money.”

  “Tell him to raise his hands first,” Mel called from behind the rock.

  Nate could see Mel’s boots sticking out and lost patience with the fool. “I’m five feet away from you, Mel. I can hear you better than Tom can.” Nate raised his hands. “My hands are in the air. You can come out now.”

  A weasel of a man appeared from behind Skull Rock. He pointed his gun at Nate. “Where’s the money?”

  Nate inwardly grinned. If his plan worked, Mel was the right man for the job. The horse shifted beneath Nate as he nodded toward its rump. “The money’s in that saddlebag.”

  Gun on Nate, Mel threw open the saddlebag and got a nose full. “Whew! What’s that smell?”

  “It’s me,” Nate said. “I spilled some vinegar on my clothes. Here.”

  Mel sniffed, and then jerked his face away from the saturated sleeve Nate offered. Content, Mel threw open a saddlebag and cut a slit into one of the money bags. He began counting its contents.

  “One, two…” Fortunately he counted the stacks and not the bills, until he called to the other man, “How much is supposed to be here?”

  “Ten thousand dollars, you halfwit,” the voice said. “Is it all there?”

  Mel singled out a stack to start counting the finer details.

  Nate rushed in. “Look, Mel, you know why that man called you a halfwit?”

  Mel responded with a pout that invited Nate down from the horse.

  “He called you a halfwit because he would have had it all counted by now. You see, each stack has ten one hundred-dollar bills in it. Ten times one hundred equals a thousand. There are ten stacks in all, so ten times one thousand makes ten thousand. Or you can look at it this way: ten thousand divided by one hundred equals one hundred. Divide one hundred by ten and what do you have?”

  Mel’s brow wrinkled with the befuddled look Nate had hoped for.

  “It leaves you ten, Mel, and you haven’t even counted to four yet. It’ll take you into next week to count to ten thousand. Do you think that man up there has that kind of patience? Here. Let me make it easier on you.” Nate snatched a stack. “Each bundle has ten one hundred-dollar bills in it.” Nate showed him the bill on top and then flipped it over to show him the one on the bottom.

  “What about the ones in the middle?”

  “I just went over that, Mel. It’ll take too long to count everything. That’s why they’re in bundles. Now, I already explained that each bundle is a thousand dollars. Ten bundles equal ten thousand dollars. So if you count just the bundles, you only have to count to ten, and that would leave you with a total of ten thousand dollars.”

  “What’s taking so long,” the voice called.

  “See how easy that is to understand?” Nate said.

  Mel was obliged to save time and dignity by nodding. He took the stack from Nate. “How many bundles do I need?”

  “Just ten.”

  “‘Just ten’ don’t sound like much.”

  “Mel, let me tell you something. ‘Just ten’ is a lot of money when they’re all hundred-dollar bills.”

  Mel counted the contents of the money bag and then frowned. “There’s only five here.”

  “Check the other bag.” Even though Mel’s stupidity was an advantage, it was scraping on Nate’s patience.

  Mel counted to his satisfaction. “It’s all here, Tom,” he called.

  Nate called out, “Now, give me Hattie.”

  Mel clutched the bundles of money to his chest, but he couldn’t manage them while keeping a gun on Nate. All but two of the bundles fell, so Mel thrust his gun into its holster and grabbed the money in a way Nate was concerned would break the bands and cause bright green paper to fall out.

  “Since you’re stealing ten thousand dollars,” Nate said, “why don’t you steal the saddlebags as well? Might be easier to carry the money in them.” Nate hoped Zachariah wouldn’t resent losing his gear.

  “Put the money in the saddlebags, then,” Mel said, pointing his gun at Nate.

  Nate did so, and then slung the bags over Mel’s shoulder.

  “Give me your horse, too.”

  Mentally apologizing to Zachariah for losing not only the saddlebags, but his horse, Nate surrendered the animal. “I did my part,” Nate said as Mel mounted. “Now do yours.”

  But Mel rode off.

  “Where’s Hattie?” Nate cried out, despite being stranded.

  31

  Nate wanted to curse at Josephine. Then, he stopped short. He had an idea. But he had to keep his head in order to use his wits. “You’ve got your money. Now where’s Hattie?” he called out again. “Miss Krugar?”

  It took a moment, but a figure on horseback rode up to the rim of the ravine. She pulled off the hat, and blonde hair tied with a ribbon tumbled over her shoulder.

  Nate grinned. When a man who has outsmarted everyone discovers someone’s outsmarted him, he’s got to know how. But curiosity of this nature wasn’t solely a man’s. It belonged to the arrogantly intelligent.

  “How’d you know?” she asked.

  “Let’s just say we have a mutual acquaintance.”

  “And who might this ‘mutual acquaintance’ be?” She spoke with the diction of a woman who’d once enjoyed parties in the governor’s mansion.

  “You have no idea to whom I might be referring?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t be asking you now, would I?” she said with a flirtatious flair.

  Nate detected tightness in her voice. What part in all of this was Cadwell playing? How she responded to the who might give Nate a hint at the what. “Our mutual acquaintance,” Nate said, “might be Jacob Cadwell.”

  “Jake?” She spoke the name too quickly, too gently. “Where’d you make his acquaintance?” Though she played with words, there was no mistaking the way her back straightened. Josephine was in love with Cadwell.

  “I’m afraid Cadwell’s come and gone,” Nate played her.

  “Gone where?”

  “I’m not sure where he went.” Nate was happy to catch a glimpse of Clayton.

  “Then tell me,” she said. “Where’d you meet up with him?”

  This ought to be good. “Church.”

  A pause. “I don’t appreciate your humor.”

  He snickered.

  Zachariah waved from behind a rock.

  Nate shook his head slightly, signaling Zachariah to stay put until he knew where Hattie was. He offered Josephine a reason for the gesture. “My apologies, but I wasn’t joking. So how about you and I stop talking about Cadwell and get back to business?”

  “Yes, Nate. How about you and I get back to business.”

  “How’d you know my name?” Hattie wouldn’t have mentioned him, would she?

  “Let’s just say we have another mutual acquaintance,” she said, playing him now. “Small world, isn’t it?”

  No, the world was large. It was cold-hearted outlaws like her who made it feel crowded. “I suppose it is—Josephine.”

  “So we’re on a first name basis now. How charming you are, my dear. My pretty guest here—”

  Here? That meant Hattie was up there with her.

  “—and I had a heart-to-heart talk. You hurt her, Nate, but she still loves you. She said you wouldn’t come.”

  That slashed Nate’s heart.

  “But I knew you would. And from what I can see from up here, you’re more handsome than I’d thought you’d be. Rich would have suited me fine, but lucky little Pearl gets a rich, good-looking man to fall in love with her. I hope she appreciates you as much as I’m admiring you right now.” Josephine crossed her arms. Was she
smiling at him? “Just think,” she continued. “With a little twist in fate, maybe I might have ended up the lucky one.”

  “Instead of ending up with Cadwell?”

  She didn’t answer, which meant that Nate had thrown the knife right back and hit his target.

  A man appeared on the rim beside her.

  “Well, Nate,” Josephine said, “I enjoyed our little chat, but it’s time to bid our farewells.” She threw him a kiss and then turned her horse around to show that Hattie had been lying unconscious behind her.

  Mel pulled Hattie off Josephine’s horse, and her limp body hit the ground.

  Nate lost his senses. “You’re a poor excuse for a woman, Krugar!”

  ~*~

  Nate? Hattie squinted from the sun. Was that Nate’s voice she was hearing? She tried to sit up, but her body felt as if a stampede had gone over her. And her leg…she bit back the pain.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  Josephine’s smooth but treacherous voice and a shuffling of horses’ feet brought back to Hattie that she was being swapped out for an impossible ten thousand dollars. So why am I still alive? And why did I hear Nate? A strange tang hit her nose. And—why do I smell vinegar?

  She wasn’t the only one who smelled it.

  “Wait a minute.” Josephine sniffed the air. “Mel, what’s that odor?”

  “It’s the man from down yonder that smells. He spilled vinegar all over his clothes.”

  “If he’s way down there, then why can I smell him from here?” Her eyes grew wide. “Where’s the money?”

  “In my saddlebag.”

  She opened it. “You imbecile.”

  ~*~

  Josephine had discovered the money was fake.

  “Zachariah,” Nate called out. “They’re coming out from the ridge where you can see Skull Rock.” Would Zachariah remember?

  Hattie did. She crawled to the rim and looked down into the ravine. “Nate?”

  Hattie. The sight of her took away his voice. She was bleeding, ragged. He cleared the lump in his throat. “Stay right where you are, Hattie. I’m coming.” He ensured the gun was stuffed securely in his belt.