Torrence grinned. “A person can go a long way on jerky and beans.”
“Uh-huh,” said Leticia. “And you can go just as far with a little variety in your belly, too.”
She pulled the bag down, slung it over her shoulder, and started toward the fire.
“I’ll see to your horse, boss,” said Romo. “You go ahead and take a load off, then you can fill us in on the layout of that town while Letty is whippin’ up supper from whatever grub you brung back.”
A surprisingly short time later they were all seated around the fire balancing plates piled high with pan biscuits, stewed tomatoes, and slabs of crisp bacon. A fresh pot of coffee bubbled on the edge of the coals, and some canned peaches awaited to be served for dessert. The last sliver of the sun had dropped behind the western horizon, leaving a pinkish-gold glow low in the sky, and the air was rapidly starting to cool.
“As we could tell by the number of riders and wagons we saw dribblin’ in all day,” Torrence said, “the town is packed. The big event is what they call their Spring Festival. Tenth annual. Even though you can bet the whole place will be jumping tonight, the main day for the official activities—a church picnic, rodeo, evening square dance, and whatever else—will all take place tomorrow.”
“Oh, man,” groaned Romo even as he shoveled in a mouthful of food, “don’t I wish I could join in on some of that celebratin’.”
“Wish all you want,” Torrence told him. “While all that’s going on, we sit tight right here. But then, along about mid-day on Monday, when the visitors to town have thinned out and those who are left are still hungover and wore out and the money that’s been raked in over the weekend has been deposited in the bank—that’s when we do our celebrating.”
“How does the bank look?” Leticia asked.
Torrence smiled confidently. “Easy pickings. A cracker box. I went in and changed a torn twenty-dollar bill for some coins, got a chance to look it over real good. I’ll sketch out a drawing and we’ll have time to go over it tomorrow.”
“Speakin’ of tomorrow,” said Black Hills, “I still got some more explorin’ I want to do in this rock pile, but I already got a couple pretty good routes for us to use on our getaway. Be confusin’ as hell to anybody tryin’ to follow us and damned hard to track over this broken ground.”
“That’s your department, big man. I leave our escape route to you,” Torrence told him. “I’m thinking, however, that we may want to give ourselves an added edge by taking a hostage.”
“A hostage?” echoed Leticia.
“That’s right. We’ve used them before.”
“Yes. But I’ve never liked it.” Leticia frowned. “I don’t like how we treat the hostages when we’re done with them.”
Torrence regarded her as if finding her reaction genuinely curious. “You surprise me, my dear. After all this time, I thought you were as hard on the inside as anybody I ever worked with—harder even, than many.”
“I’ve never flinched from doing whatever has to be done. And never will,” Leticia responded. “I’m just questioning the necessity, that’s all. If the bank is a cracker box and the town law is only a couple long-in-the-tooth former mountain men, I guess I just don’t understand the need for an added edge like a hostage.”
“You raise a fair question,” said Torrence. “But here, as the quaint old saying goes, is the fly in the buttermilk: The picture painted to me of this town’s law enforcement turns out to be quite inaccurate. Learning this was one of the benefits of me going into town and giving things a good looking over.
“In the first place, there are three appointed lawmen to deal with, not just two. A marshal and a pair of deputies. And, yes, they are all former mountain men, long-standing friends, and they have a small horse ranch just outside of town that they run in addition to their peace-keeping duties. It’s true they’ve got a few years on them also. But observing them personally made it evident they’re still strong and robust and very far from doddering under the weight of their years. And when there’s trouble in the town, they’ve proven themselves time and again—as recently as last night and again this afternoon, just a few hours before I rode in—to be very efficient at handling it. The incident last night involved four gun toughs with whom the marshal and his deputies shot it out and left dead in the middle of the street.”
Torrence paused to let his words sink in while his gaze drifted over the three faces turned to him. Then he said, “So, based on this, I trust you’ll see why I think giving ourselves an extra edge may be in order. In addition to a quicker and more efficient response than I’d anticipated once we’ve hit the bank, I feel it’s also worth considering that the marshal and his deputies are former mountain men and therefore likely have some strong tracking skills. Taking nothing away from Black Hills’s skill at obscuring our trail, that still has to be weighed as a factor when it comes to them pursuing us.”
Nobody spoke right away. Until Leticia, her mouth twisting wryly, said, “Okay. You’ve made your sale. A hostage it is.”
Torrence smiled. “I thought you’d see it my way.”
“One more thing,” said Leticia. “What about those two marriage-minded oafs from back at Ma Speckler’s? Any sign of them while you were in town?”
“Nary a one,” replied Torrence. “Either they’ve come and gone or were lost somewhere in the crowd. Either way suited me just fine. It wasn’t like I wanted to run into them.”
CHAPTER 27
The big day finally arrived.
Everything kicked off with an early morning pancake feed down by the rodeo arena. Then church services would be held by popular Pastor Bart at the First Baptist Church. Children’s games, a market for selling or trading homemade food and other goods displayed by wives and craftsmen from around the area, and the dreaded but inevitable speechifying by local dignitaries were slotted to be held over the next couple hours. The belly-busting mid-day picnic, what many considered the high point of the day, came next. Rodeo events followed that. And capping it all off would be an evening of dancing and musical entertainment.
The folks from the Double M rolled out at the crack of dawn, skipping breakfast at the ranch and aiming to be present for the pancake feed. Miguel and Jesus were already in town; like many other wranglers from surrounding ranches, they had camped overnight on the rodeo grounds to be with the horses they would be using for the riding and roping events they’d be participating in.
Firestick, Moosejaw, Beartooth, and Victoria rode in on their own individual mounts. In addition to its lovely rider, Victoria’s horse also carried a large carpetbag containing a carefully folded dress and other accessories into which she’d change at Kate’s place, trading her riding clothes for the sake of being more fashionably attired during the course of the day.
The festival events awaiting all of them served to provide a welcome diversion from the stress that still existed over the looming duel. After returning to the ranch last evening and enduring a very tense supper punctuated by bursts of argument on that subject, Firestick had finally demanded a truce from any further discussion until after the festival. They all had obligations as far as the celebration, he pointed out, and their personal feelings shouldn’t get in the way of meeting those. So, while the unmistakable cold shoulder now and then and a measure of overall awkwardness couldn’t be suppressed completely, they had proceeded on that basis. Only Moosejaw, who was more or less on the periphery of the conflicting emotions, made any attempt at genuine good cheer, but his efforts fell mostly flat.
Once in town, the four of them promptly split up. Firestick stopped at the jail, where the services of Sam Duvall and Shield had been enlisted once again to spend the night keeping watch over Earl Sterling. Moosejaw went to the blacksmith shop to pick up Daisy so they could attend the pancake feed together. Beartooth stayed with Victoria—the two of them maintaining a determined silence—as far as the Mallory House, where Victoria took her carpetbag and went inside to use Kate’s apartment for changing. Bearto
oth went on down to the rodeo area to check on Miguel and Jesus and then partake of some of the pancakes.
When Firestick entered the office, he was met by the welcome aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. Sam Duvall stood beside the stove, pouring himself a cup of the steaming mud. Shield lay on the floor nearby, his ears perking up at the marshal’s entrance but otherwise remaining still.
“Just in time,” said Sam, looking around. “Got a brand-new batch here.”
“I know. I can tell by the smell,” Firestick replied. “Nothing smells as good as fresh coffee in the morning. And I can’t think of too many who brew it better than yours, Sam.”
The old constable smiled. “I take that to mean you’d be interested in a cup?”
“You bet. We lit out so early from the ranch this mornin’ we didn’t take time for breakfast or even some mud.”
“To start out and ride this far with no coffee in you—the very thought makes me shudder.”
“Dang near inhuman, ain’t it?”
Firestick held out an empty cup while Sam tipped the pot once more and filled it. After blowing a couple cooling gusts into the cup and taking a careful sip of its contents, Firestick tipped his head toward the door to the lockup. “How’d our guest behave last night?”
“Nary a peep out of him. From the times I looked in, I don’t think he hardly moved a muscle. But then, just a little while ago, I heard him groaning. I figure his peaceful night is about to be offset by a mighty miserable morning when he gets fully woke up to his hangover.”
Firestick grunted. “And the damn fool will have earned every bit of it.”
“So what are you going to do with him?”
“I ain’t rightly sure,” Firestick admitted. “As you well know, we’re kinda short on havin’ an official set of town rules and regulations. I’m sure nobody would argue if I fined him or kept him jailed some amount of time for disturbin’ the peace or reckless behavior with a firearm or some such. But I don’t know how much difference that would really make. Hell, it might be more trouble than it’d be worth.”
“It would keep me busier than I truly want to be if I had to spend too many nights in a row coming here to look after him, I can tell you that,” said Sam. “But if that’s what you decide, I won’t let you down.”
“I appreciate that, Sam. That’s why I said keepin’ him jailed might be more trouble than it’s worth. Some kind of heavy fine is probably more in order.” Firestick drank some of his coffee. “Reckon a big part of it’ll come down to how much of a stink Dan Coswick wants to make. He’s the one Sterling was makin’ threats against and whose building took a couple bullets.”
“I got a hunch that after Dan cools down you’ll find him more reasonable than you might think,” Sam said. “But you’re right, he’s the one who’s in a position to demand some charges against Sterling if he wants to push it.”
“I expect he’ll be around before too long, then I’ll find out. In the meantime, you’ve been stuck here all night and those pancakes must be callin’ to you. You and Shield both, since I know you’ll be flippin’ him a few of those flapjacks, too. So go ahead and take off . . . go enjoy the festival. Check in with me later, in case I decide to keep Sterling behind bars another night or on the chance some other idiot does something worth gettin’ locked up for.”
“But what about you? Since you went without breakfast at the ranch, those pancakes must be calling to you, as well.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll grab me some sooner or later. Beartooth or Moosejaw will be back to spell me after they’ve had their fill—if there’s any left for anybody, that is, after Moosejaw cuts a swath through ’em. But as long as I got some of this in me now”—Firestick held up his cup of coffee—“I’ll get by. So go ahead before Moosejaw lays waste like a herd of locusts.”
CHAPTER 28
Oberon Hadley didn’t like the way things were shaping up. Didn’t like it one bit.
He’d viewed the opportunity to travel to America with Captain Shaw as a grand adventure, the opportunity of a lifetime. And from his own perspective, it had been all of that and more. He’d liked this big, raw, sprawling, boisterous country right from the start. He’d even liked the crowded, smoky eastern cities. There was a kind of energy and swagger about the people and the way things got done that appealed to him.
Then, as he and the captain had traveled farther and farther west, the vastness of the land and all its rugged beauty had awed him even more—not to mention the people, who were so leathery tough and resilient yet at the same time friendly and often curiously gentle.
That was the America Hadley saw and came to believe he was getting an accurate and fond sense of. At the same time, unfortunately, Captain Shaw had a very different reaction. He disliked the absence of formalities, the outspokenness and impertinence of what he saw as the common folks. He hated the lack of certain luxuries, had no appreciation for how Westerners overcame and adapted to harsh conditions. His displeasure over these conditions was regularly voiced, and his annoyance was often displayed in rude behavior toward those around him.
That Shaw was openly elitist came as no revelation to Hadley. Signs of that had been evident when they’d served together in the Queen’s Army. But within military structure and the chain of command, the captain had enjoyed enough power to satisfy his sense of superiority while at the same time not allowing him to be too overbearing with his subordinates. What was more, he had very early on formed a liking for—and dependency on—one Sergeant Hadley. This had won Hadley over, allowing him to overlook some of the captain’s high-handed ways and at times even be able to intervene and blunt some of his more obnoxious intentions. And then, when it counted the most, in the heat of the battle for Baba Wali Pass during the Anglo-Afghan War, Captain Shaw’s disbursement of the troops under his command had proven a key piece of strategy that helped carry the day.
The captain’s actions in that battle had been enough to offset any reservations Hadley might otherwise have had when, after the Afghan conflict was over and they’d both been discharged from the army, Shaw offered him a job as his personal aide. The former sergeant accepted. The position held far better promise than any of the other job prospects available to him, and in the two years since he’d seldom had any regrets.
But now that had changed.
Hadley very much regretted his current situation. The captain’s behavior—his refusal to accept the latest rejection from Victoria and his insistence on carrying through with this duel against the deputy known as Beartooth—was nothing short of bizarre and wrong. And it trapped Hadley right in the middle.
The way the former sergeant saw it, if the duel took place there was small chance of yielding a positive result for anybody. If the captain shot Beartooth, he might very well face legal repercussions since he was the one who initiated everything. If Beartooth shot the captain—which Hadley feared was more likely, given the deputy’s skill with a handgun—then Shaw stood to end up wounded or possibly dead.
What would then be expected of Hadley? Should he seek revenge, or merely see to it the captain’s remains got returned home? As far as that went, once news of the incident spread might there be an international furor that in some way tried to hold Beartooth accountable or perhaps dictated what Hadley’s role should be?
In the hours since the captain had made his challenge and set the whole thing in motion, Hadley had tried more than once to get him to reconsider. But he was never allowed to even finish any of the reasoning he attempted to present.
Shaw seemed almost maniacally determined to go through with the duel. Yesterday afternoon, after he’d issued his challenge, he had purchased a .45-caliber Colt revolver from a local dealer. Then he’d insisted he and Hadley ride out and search the countryside for a suitable spot to hold the contest. Now, first thing this morning, they were returning to conduct some target practice.
For the time being, Hadley had given up trying to dissuade the captain from what he was so hell-bent on doing. But
that didn’t mean he was ready to give up entirely. The whole notion was foolish and wrong. One way or another, Hadley knew he had to find a way to stop it from happening.
* * *
In a large stall near the rear of Roeback Livery’s main barn, Charlie Gannon and Josh Stallworth were nearly finished lashing their supply bundles onto the backs of the packhorse they purchased the day before from Pete Roeback. In the same stall, already saddled and ready, were the pair’s regular mounts. Except for the occasional scrape of a hoof from one of the horses elsewhere in the barn, the place was silent. Roeback and his hired help were all gone to the pancake feed.
“I understand how we got to have everything ready so’s we can ride out quick once we’ve selected our brides,” Josh was saying. “But I can’t help wonderin’ if it’s a good idea to get our horses and supplies loaded up like this and then just leave ’em for a spell.”
“What else are we gonna do with ’em?” Charlie wanted to know. “Lead ’em around with us everywhere we go until we’re ready to light out?”
“No. I understand we can’t do that. It’s just . . . well, what if somebody takes a notion to mess with our stuff, steal some of it or something, while there’s nobody around?”
Charlie chuckled. “You mean some dishonest rascals like us?”
“A damn thief is what I mean. No other word for it.” Josh took the wadded-up end of a section of rope he’d just knotted to secure one of the bulging bundles on his side of the horse and tossed it over for Charlie to use on his side. Then, frowning deeply, he said, “But I don’t like hearin’ you call us dishonest, Charlie. That ain’t what we’re doin’, is it? I mean, yeah, at first we’re sorta snatchin’ the gals by surprise and a little against their will. But our intentions ain’t bad. Not evil bad, like we’re kidnappin’ ’em for money or something. Soon as we get ’em convinced what we’re about, that we full intend to do right by ’em—marry ’em proper and provide for ’em and all—well, then that’ll square things. Won’t it? The gals will be able to tell anybody who might have started out after us that everything turned out okay. Ain’t that the way you see it?”
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