Coswick scowled. “If he came at me like a man, face on, I’d have no worry. But he strikes me more like a duded-up sneak. A back shooter, if he wanted to get even bad enough.”
“If he shoots you, I’ll arrest him.”
“A fat lot of good that would do me by then!” Coswick blustered. “Are you taking me serious about this or not?”
Firestick spread his hands. “Dan, I’m takin’ you as serious as I can. There ain’t much I can do based on what might happen. If you came here for my opinion, I already gave it. Steer clear of the whole thing. You’ll only end up holding the short end of the stick.”
Coswick sank back in his chair, looking dejected. “Ah, dang it, I guess I already know that’s most likely how it would go. I guess I came here hoping you’d tell me a different way of looking at it. I’m not an overly greedy sort. You know that. I do a decent level of business at the Silver Spur, plenty to meet my needs. But I just can’t shake the thought of how much better it could be if I had Frenchy Fontaine doing her song and dance numbers at my place. And, truth to tell, the old he-goat in me can’t help thinking how nice it would be to just plain have Frenchy around, close-like.”
Firestick cocked an eyebrow. “Now you’re really reachin’ for trouble.”
“I know, I know. I get a dose of the fool in me from time to time.”
Firestick leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desktop. “The trouble between Frenchy and Sterling that caused her to move out on him, any idea what caused it?”
Coswick wagged his head. “Frenchy never said. All she told me when she came around was that she’d left Sterling, needed a job, and wanted to know if I was interested in taking her on as an entertainer at my place.”
“Okay, that’s what Frenchy said. But you don’t spend all the time you do shovin’ drinks across the bar at the Silver Spur without hearin’ the story behind most everything that goes on in this valley. So what are you pickin’ up that way?”
“The talk I hear,” Coswick said, squirming a little in his chair, “is that the big blowup came over that new dove Sterling hired a short time back.”
“The one they call Cleo, by any chance?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Apparently Frenchy thinks there’s something going on between Cleo and Sterling. So Frenchy gave Sterling a choice—‘either she goes, or I do.’ I don’t know what Sterling’s response was, but I guess it’s clear enough it didn’t suit Frenchy. So she left.”
“The strawberry blonde strikes again,” muttered Firestick, leaning back in his chair.
“How’s that?”
“Never mind. I was just thinkin’ out loud.”
“Okay. How about, while you’re thinking, you consider one more thing for me?”
“Like what?”
“Well,” Coswick said, his expression growing very earnest, “since Frenchy is staying at the Mallory House after moving out of her apartment at the Lone Star Palace, it occurs to me how much better women are about opening up and discussing things with other women than they are when it comes to—”
“No,” Firestick said bluntly. “I can see where you’re headed and the answer is no.”
“You haven’t even heard me out.”
“I don’t have to. I heard enough. You want me to talk to Kate to see if Frenchy has shared anything with her about what her feelings are and how things stand between her and Sterling. That’d put me in the middle and Kate, too. No.”
“Aw, come on, Firestick. It’d help me a lot if I—”
“No. End of conversation.”
The statement was helped along when the front door opened and two well-dressed men walked in. One was tall, trim, and quite handsome; the other towered over him, was massive through the torso and shoulders, and had a face that nature hadn’t been particularly kind to in the first place, before being further mistreated, it appeared, by being pounded upon numerous times since then.
“My apologies for the unannounced intrusion, gentlemen,” said the handsome one. “If we’re not interrupting anything crucial, I am in hopes we might have a few words with the marshal.”
Firestick stood up. “I’m Marshal McQueen. It so happens our business here was just finishin’ up”—this with a meaningful glance toward Coswick—“so sure, I’ve got some time to spare.”
Advancing with outstretched hand, the newcomer said, “Excellent. I am Rupert Shaw, formerly a captain in the Queen’s British India Army, 92nd Highlanders Infantry. My companion is Oberon Hadley, formerly a sergeant with same. We just arrived on the stagecoach from El Paso after an unexpected layover in Sierra Blanca.”
Firestick reached across his desk and shook hands with each man. “This,” he said after taking his hand back and using it to gesture in the direction of Coswick, “is Dan Coswick, one of our town’s leadin’ businessmen.”
Coswick stood up and additional handshakes were exchanged. “I run a saloon called the Silver Spur,” he said. “If you gentlemen are going to be spending any length of time in Buffalo Peak and are given to strong drink on occasion, I hope you stop by my place. You’ll find fair prices and a fair measure poured every time.”
Hadley made no comment but at the words “given to strong drink on occasion” his otherwise stony expression displayed a brief but unmistakable flash of heightened interest.
Shaw nodded and said with a thin smile, “We may very well be staying in the area for an extended period of time, and I assure you we’ve been known to indulge in strong drink on occasion. So we will remember your kind invitation and try to make it a point to stop by your . . . I’m sorry, what was the name of your establishment again?”
“The Silver Spur. You can’t miss it, it’s right down the street.”
“Okay, Dan,” Firestick said, showing some impatience. “I expect these gents came here with something more in mind than hearin’ you go into an advertisin’ spiel. And if I ain’t mistaken, you were on your way out to take care of some important business elsewhere.”
Coswick grinned as he started for the door. “In other words—skedaddle. Right?”
“Couldn’t’ve said it better myself.”
Halfway out the door, Coswick couldn’t resist tossing over his shoulder, “Don’t forget, fellas—the Silver Spur. Hope to see you there.”
Once the saloon owner had departed, Firestick motioned to the chair he’d recently vacated. “You gents are welcome to have a seat, take a load off,” he said. “There’s another chair over by the wall you can pull up.”
“That won’t be necessary, Marshal. Our intent is to take up only a minimal amount of your time,” explained Shaw. “Mainly, we wanted to introduce ourselves and advise you of our presence in your town. Beyond that, I will tell you we have come all this way looking for a young lady. My former fiancée, to be perfectly candid. I have information that, as recently as four months ago, she was living on one of the ranches in the valley. I have every reason to hope and believe she is still there and that you can help me locate her. Her name is Victoria Kingsley.”
CHAPTER 11
Firestick had withstood physical blows that left him feeling less stunned than he was in that moment.
“Victoria Kingsley . . . my former fiancée . . .”
As the impact of those words shivered through him, his mind raced. Yes, he was familiar with Victoria Kingsley. Very familiar. What he wasn’t very familiar with, he realized, though not for the first time, was her past. But this was the West; such things weren’t that uncommon. Out here there was no shortage of folks who chose not to reveal much about their pasts, and it was an accepted thing. The West was a place for new beginnings, for fresh starts, and what had gone before didn’t matter so much as how people conducted themselves in the here and now.
And Victoria was someone who conducted herself just fine. She was a good person and a close friend. The fact she’d never spoken of a “former fiancé” back in her native England indicated to Firestick that it was something she likely wanted to forget. Yet here he w
as now, come all this way looking for her.
It crossed Firestick’s mind to be deceptive, not reveal his relationship to Victoria, give himself a chance to first advise her about Shaw showing up and see how she wanted to play it. But the marshal wasn’t much of a hand for lying, and in this case it was bound to only make things more awkward when the truth came out. Everybody in town knew that Victoria worked at the Double M as cook and housekeeper for the former mountain men and their vaqueros. All Shaw had to do was mention her name practically anywhere and he’d find that out. So trying to dodge the fact now was pointless.
All of these thoughts passed through Firestick’s mind in a flash. He aimed not to let anything show on his face but wasn’t sure how well he succeeded.
Something prompted Shaw to ask, “Are you acquainted with Miss Kingsley, Marshal?”
Firestick gave a measured nod. “Matter of fact I am. Know her well. That ranch she lives on, as a matter of fact, belongs to me—well, me and a couple pals of mine who are also deputies for the town. It’s a small horse outfit we operate on the side. Miss Victoria is our cook and housekeeper.”
Shaw’s brows pinched together. “You mean Victoria functions as a servant girl?”
His tone and words did a pretty good job of putting Firestick’s own brows in a furl. “Well, ‘servant’ ain’t exactly a word we use much in these parts. Miss Victoria has a job, does it well, and we pay her an agreed upon wage. That’s the way it works.”
“You’ll have to pardon my reaction, Marshal,” Shaw replied, still looking like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “But Victoria comes from a very well-to-do Welsh family. The thought of her traveling all this way to perform . . . well, menial tasks, I don’t know how else to put it, is . . . er, rather unsettling.”
“Reckon you got a right to your opinion,” Firestick said, his teeth on edge. “Though I’m pretty sure Miss Victoria don’t look at it that way.”
“And you profess to know her well enough to make that presumption?”
“I said it, didn’t I?”
Shaw scowled and tugged fussily at the lapels of his expensive jacket. “Very well. There’s no sense wasting time on a difference of perceptions. If you will provide us directions to this ranch of yours and advise where we might rent some horses, my companion and I will leave you to your other duties, Marshal.”
Firestick wagged his head. “Not quite so fast. We got a funny habit around here of bein’ a mite protective of our womenfolk. That includes not settin’ ’em up for some smooth-talkin’ stranger who comes along and claims to be an old friend or even fiancé.”
“Are you questioning my credentials, sir?”
“Not necessarily. I got no call to think you’re other than who you say you are. But that don’t matter. In fact, what you told me about yourself is part of what makes me a little curious and inclined to be cautious.”
“I’ve never been a fan of riddles, Marshal. If you have a point to make, please get to it.”
“Okay. You say you’re Miss Victoria’s former fiancé. For starters, that makes it plain the romance and planned weddin’ got called off for some reason. Why, I don’t know or especially care. But what I do know is that she’s been in the states for three or four years now, right here in Buffalo Peak for over half that time, yet she’s never spoke of you and you haven’t come lookin’ for her until now. Can’t help but make me wonder whether or not she wants to see you.”
“I assure you she would not turn me away,” Shaw said. Muscles at the hinges of his jaw bulged visibly, and a flush of anger was creeping up over his cheeks.
“If that’s the case, then there’s no problem. But I think it’s only reasonable, after all this time, to give her a bit of advance notice before you go bargin’ in on her and sort of wallop her alongside the head with your appearance.”
Shaw’s nostrils flared and he appeared ready to respond angrily. Beside him, Hadley looked on, his expression anxious and a bit uncertain.
In a low, calm voice, he addressed Shaw, saying, “The marshal makes a valid point, Captain. A fair shock ’twould be to Miss Kingsley if ye showed up unannounced so. There’s no doubt she’ll welcome you with open arms, but think about how much more welcoming she’ll be if she’s had some time to primp and prepare. Ye know how women are about such things.”
Slowly, the high color drained from Shaw’s face. His eyes remained fixed on Firestick, but the glare in them also cooled.
“Alright,” he said rather abruptly. “The two of you have made me see the error of my ways. Of course Victoria deserves some prior advisement of me being here—so as not to ‘wallop her alongside the head’ with it.” He paused to show a somewhat sheepish grin. “I guess my own eagerness to see her, after planning and looking forward to it increasingly over these past weeks, caused me to fail giving proper consideration for her reaction. But that only curbs my eagerness temporarily. How long do you need to get word to Victoria, Marshal?”
“I normally return to the ranch for supper,” Firestick replied. “But, since we’re already well on into afternoon, I reckon I could go a mite earlier. The question then becomes how long Miss Victoria will need. She may want to send word back and invite you to supper—for which you’d be more than welcome as far as me and my pards are concerned—or she’d maybe rather wait until tomorrow. However she calls it, I’ll get word to you as soon as I know.”
“Needless to say, I will be waiting anxiously.”
“I take it you’re stayin’ at the Mallory House Hotel?”
“Indeed. We’ll be sure to wait right there until we hear from you.” Shaw paused, a sterner expression returning to his face. “One more thing, Marshal. In case, after all this time, Victoria has any initial reluctance at the prospect of seeing me again . . . tell her I’m not prepared to take no for an answer.”
CHAPTER 12
On most days, business along Trail Street, except for the saloons, tapered off by late afternoon. That was the case again today as far as the normal course of trade and shopping. But different kinds of activity—associated with getting ready for the spring festival scheduled to be held on Sunday, day after tomorrow—was very much in evidence. Last-minute preparations by volunteers were in full swing all up and down the street.
Among other things, as he walked from the jail building, Firestick saw a colorfully lettered banner being strung high across the full width of the street between two tall, specially erected poles. It read: 10TH ANNUAL SPRING FESTIVAL—BUFFALO PEAK, TEXAS. The folks accomplishing the task seemed cheerful and excited, as did other groups who could be seen hanging up bunting and decorating shop windows.
Normally, Firestick would have shared in the upbeat mood. He’d always enjoyed the festival in the past and was looking forward to it again this year. Or he had been, anyway, until the back-to-back visits from Dan Coswick and the two Englishmen weighted his thoughts with other concerns. What he needed now, to help balance those concerns, was somebody to talk to about them before he rode out to the Double M.
He found what he was looking for in the large, grassy area out behind the town’s First Baptist Church. Kate Mallory was there. Along with her, helping to set up tables for the big picnic that would be the centerpiece of the festival, were Moosejaw and his lady friend Daisy Rawling. Elsewhere across the area, others were putting up decorations and making preparations for the Sunday night square dance.
Kate looked up and smiled at the sight of Firestick approaching. She had her hair pulled back with a patterned headscarf tied over it. Her cheeks were mildly flushed, and in the soft gold tint of the afternoon sun she looked so good that Firestick wanted to stop and just stare at her, drink in her loveliness. But that wasn’t feasible under the circumstances, so the best he could do was keep his eyes trained on her as he drew near.
“This is a nice surprise,” she greeted. “Did you come to lend a hand?”
“No, afraid not,” Firestick said, not waiting to get right to it. “In fact, I have to pull one of your num
ber away. Moosejaw, I need you to put this business aside and take over looking after the town for me. I’ve got to ride out to the ranch.”
Moosejaw had no trouble discerning the soberness in his tone and reading the same on his face. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked.
“We’ve got a situation,” Firestick told him.
Moosejaw frowned. “Hope you can make it clearer than that.”
Firestick glanced around. There was no one else in their immediate vicinity. If he had his ’druthers, he would have preferred to discuss this with Kate and Moosejaw only. Daisy, who was a great gal and totally devoted to Moosejaw, also happened to be quite outspoken and unfortunately often lacking in discretion. But seeing no way to exclude her, at least not politely, he proceeded to have the talk he’d come for.
Quickly, Firestick related how he’d been paid a visit by Shaw and Hadley, what their stated purpose was, then ended by repeating the bombshell statement from Shaw about being Victoria Kingsley’s former fiancé. Upon divulging the latter, he found himself facing three stunned, open-mouthed expressions.
“Good heavens,” Kate finally said, the first to find her voice. “What a shocking piece of news that is.”
“Is it?” asked Firestick, regarding her closely.
She frowned. “What kind of question is that? Of course it is. Who could think otherwise?”
Firestick puffed out his cheeks and exhaled a quick gust of air. “I was hopin’ maybe . . . well, seein’s how you and Victoria have gotten kinda chummy over the past year or so . . . I thought she might possibly have mentioned something to you about havin’ been engaged back in England. Hell, for that matter, has she ever talked much at all about her past?”
“No, she never has. Not really,” Kate said. “Oh, she’s told me some general things about England, about living over there, about some of the different customs and the different terms they have for certain things . . . I never gave it a lot of thought before, but Victoria seldom opens up much about anything of a personal nature.”
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