Turnback Creek (Widowmaker) (8 page)

L
ocke and Cooper decided to put off eating. Cooper wanted to go back to his room for a while, and Locke had a sneaking suspicion the man wanted to see his landlady. Remembering that he still had to check out of the hotel and move his things to Mrs. Helms’s rooming house, Locke told Cooper he’d be right along.

When Locke reached the rooming house and Mrs. Helms let him in, she said, “The marshal is having a nap.”

“I’ll be very quiet,” he told her.

He took his things and put them in the room next to Cooper’s, then found her waiting for him when he came back down.

“How did you do it?” she asked him.

“Do what?”

“How did you get him to stop drinking?” she asked. “I haven’t known him very long, but I was so afraid that he was going to end up drinking himself to death.”

“He simply told me he doesn’t drink when he’s working, ma’am,” Locke said. “And now he’s working.”

“Taking that woman’s payroll to her mine?”

“That’s right.” Locke wondered about the tone Ingrid Helms used when she said “that woman.” “That’s the job.”

“And you’re helping him?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s my friend.”

“If he’s your friend, you should take him away from here.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter how much that woman pays you,” Ingrid said. “You’re not doing the right thing.”

“It’s just a job, Mrs. Helms.”

“For money?”

“Yes,” he said. “But for Coop it’s more. It’s for self-respect.”

“Foolish male pride,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve seen it so many times.”

She turned and walked away from Locke without further word. Locke wondered what else she might have told him if he’d pushed her a bit further.

He turned and went out the front door. It was time for that one beer of the day.

Locke nursed his beer for a long time. He thought about Cooper and the change that had seemed to come over him in one day. He thought about Ingrid Helms and what she might have been wanting to tell him. And he thought about Molly Shillstone.

By far, the thing that occupied his mind the most was his friend, Dale Cooper. As dissatisfied as the old lawman had been with his own performance that day, Locke was amazed by it. How could there have been such a change in just one day?

He looked down at the remnants of his drink. He knew how long it had taken him to recover from his own drinking binges. Never had he undergone such a change in just one day.

Maybe up on the mountain, Cooper would tell him how he did it.

I
n the morning, Locke and Cooper found Molly Shill-stone waiting for them in the café.

“Good morning,” she said. “I ordered steak and eggs for all of us. I hope that’s all right.”

“It’s fine,” Cooper said. “I’m starving.”

If Cooper had looked better after one day, he looked ten times better after two.

Locke maneuvered himself around the table so he could sit facing the front door. “How did you know when we’d be here?” he asked. “Breakfast might have gotten cold.”

“You said you’d be up at first light,” she said. “I simply took you at your word.”

The waiter came out, balancing three plates on his arm. He set them on the table, paused to fill three cups with coffee, and then withdrew.

“Are you gentlemen all ready?” Molly asked.

“We have to pick up some things at the general store,” Cooper said, concentrating heavily on getting eggs and steak on his fork at the same time, “but we’re ready. We just have to go to the livery and get our horses and then to your stable for the buckboard.”

“I’m having someone hitch the team up as we eat,” she said. “I arranged for it yesterday.”

“Thank you,” Cooper said. “That’ll save us some time.”

After breakfast they went outside together. Molly shook hands with both of them, holding onto Locke’s a little longer.

“Good luck to both of you,” she said. “I’ll see you at Turnback Creek tomorrow afternoon.”

“We’ll be there,” Locke said, sliding his hand free.

“If you’re not, for some reason,” she said, “I’ll wait an extra day before panicking.”

“Is there a telegraph office here in town?” he asked her.

“No,” she said. “That’s why I’ll wait.”

“If something goes wrong,” Cooper said, “we’ll try to get a message to you somehow.”

“All right,” she said.

They stepped from the boardwalk into the wet street and started walking toward the livery. It wasn’t raining, but there was more in the offing, so they were carrying their slickers, along with their rifles.

“This is the day I’ve been waiting for,” Cooper said. “The day we finally get started.”

“We’ve got a lot of hard days ahead of us, Coop,” Locke said. “Are you ready for it?”

Cooper looked at his friend. “Don’t I look ready?’

He did. His eyes were clear, and there was a spring in his step that had not been there the day before. Any remnants of the man Locke had found unconscious in the Three Aces Saloon two days ago was gone.

“You look amazingly ready,” Locke said.

“I feel like a young man again,” Cooper said, “like ten or twelve years have melted away.”

“I guess we’ll see how young we both feel when we hit that mountain, Coop,” Locke said. “A couple of duffers like us …”

“You’re no duffer, John,” Cooper said. “You’re still a young man.”

“I’m only six or seven years younger than you, Coop.”

“Seems like more,” Cooper said. “Sometimes it seems like there’s a lifetime between you and me. I’ve always admired your strength, John. Did you know that?”

“I’ve always admired your courage, Coop,” Locke said. “I guess we’re both going to be put to the test in the next few days, huh?”

“More than you know, John,” Cooper said. “More than you know.”

K
ingdom Junction was the largest town within a hundred-mile radius of Turnback Creek. What John Locke didn’t know was whether the railroad had made it the biggest town or if it had already earned the title before that.

They rode past the train station on the way into town, saw that it was empty. No train, no people on the platform.

“What time’s the train due?” Cooper asked Locke.

“What’s it matter?” Locke asked. “It’ll get here when it gets here. That’s how trains are.”

“So, what do we do in the meantime?” Cooper asked. “Kinda hard for us nondrinkers to pass the time, isn’t it?”

“You just have to perfect new combinations.”

“Like what?”

“Coffee and poker.”

“In a saloon?”

“That’s where you usually find poker.”

Cooper looked at the empty platform again. He was driving the rig with his horse tied to the back of it.

“Okay,” he said. “So, we’re in the saloon, and the train pulls in. How do we know?”

“Come on, Coop,” Locke said. “It’s not like you never heard a train whistle before. They always blow it before they pull in. We’ll hear it.”

“You want to play poker that bad?”

“No,” Locke said. “It’s just a way to pass the time.”

Cooper rubbed his hands over his lips.

“I tell you what,” Locke said. “Forget the poker and the coffee. We’ll go inside, ask about the train, and then hit the saloon. One cold beer each to wash down the dust, then we’ll come back here and wait.”

Cooper touched his mouth again and said, “Deal.”

Cooper pulled the buckboard over, and Locke dismounted. They secured the horses and mounted the boardwalk to enter the station. There were empty wooden benches and a long wooden desk with a man standing behind it. “Help ya?” he asked.

“What time’s the next train comin’ in?” Cooper asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“What?” Cooper snapped. “What do you mean, tomorrow? There’s a train supposed to be comin’ in today!”

The clerk narrowed his eyes and studied both Cooper and Locke. He was in his forties, kind of tired-looking, as if he’d either been up all night or got up real early that morning. “Are you the fella pickin’ up Mrs. Shillstone’s payroll?” he asked.

“Whaddaya know about that?” Cooper demanded.

The man shrugged and said, “Just that it’s on the next train.”

“Which was supposed to be in today, right?” Locke asked.

“That’s right,” the man said, “but they got engine trouble.”

“So when are they getting in?” Cooper asked.

“Soon as they get another engine,” the man replied, “or fix the one they got.”

“Where are they now?” Locke asked, thinking that maybe they could go to wherever the train was now and pick up the gold.

“They’re still in Kansas.”

Locke shook his head. Too far for them to drive the buckboard.

“What’s your best guess about when they’ll be in?” he asked.

“Not before tomorrow, that’s for sure,” the man replied. “You fellas’d do well to get a hotel room for the night.”

“Shit,” Cooper said.

“You got a telegraph key here?”

“Sure do,” the man said, pointing behind him. “That’s how I know what’s goin’ on with the train.”

“You mind if we check back with you later to see if you’ve got any more information?”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Let’s find a saloon,” Locke said.

“Plenty of them in town.”

“Say,” Cooper said. “Who else knows about the payroll?”

“Beats me,” the man said. “Ain’t much of a secret, far as I kin tell.”

“Okay,” Locke said. “Much obliged.”

They rode into town, found a saloon called Lucky Lil’s, and pulled up in front of it. Locke tied off his horse, and Cooper hobbled the team. The streets were wet, but at the moment, it was not raining. There were black clouds in the sky, though.

“Two beers,” Locke told the bartender before they even reached the bar. It was early, and the place was practically empty.

“Comin’ up.”

The place was small, with one faro table in a corner, covered for the day. The cover probably would come off around five o’clock. That wouldn’t be for five more hours.

“Wasn’t the train supposed to get in at noon?” Cooper asked the bartender.

“Train gets in when it gets in,” the barman said. “Listen for the whistle.”

Cooper looked at Locke, who shrugged. No point bellyaching about it anymore.

There were two tables occupied, one by two men who were nursing drinks and the other by three men playing poker for matchsticks. Not Locke’s kind of game, even to pass the time.

He had drunk half his beer when he noticed that Cooper was finished with his and rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth. He quickly drained his mug and set it on the bar. “Lets go, Coop,” he said.

“Look what they’re doin’,” Cooper said, pointing to the three men playing poker.

“For matchsticks,” Locke said. “Not my game.”

Cooper shook his head. Then he and Locke left the saloon.

“You want me to drive?” Locke asked.

“No,” Cooper said, hoisting himself up in the seat of the buckboard. “We’re just goin’ to the damn livery. But you can drive when we leave here with the gold.”

They figured the weight of the gold was going to double the time it took them to get there from Turnback Creek. Locke’s butt probably would handle the trip better than Cooper’s.

They pulled away from Lucky Lil’s and headed over to the livery.

“T
hey looked right at us,” Bailey said.

“Don’t worry,” Hoke said, studying his cards. “They don’t know who we are.”

“They might have seen us around Turnback Creek,” Eli said.

“Relax, I said,” Hoke replied. “I think I raised.”

Eli and Bailey looked at their cards.

“Call,” Bailey said.

“Call.”

“You guys are too easy,” Hoke said. He laid down three aces he’d been dealt.

“It’s only damn matchsticks,” Eli said, gathering up the cards for his next deal.

“You’re never gonna learn that way,” Hoke said.

“Hey,” Bailey asked. “How are we supposed to know when the train comes in?”

“Didn’t you hear what the bartender said?” Hoke asked. “Listen for the whistle.” He pushed his chair back and walked over to the other table, where Roy Turpin and Eddie Rome were sitting. “You see those two guys who came in?” he asked.

“Yep,” Rome said.

“That was them.”

“That Locke?” Turpin asked.

“Yeah, the younger one.”

“I saw two old men,” Turpin said.

“Shut up,” Rome said. “When are we gonna hit ’em?”

“I’m still not sure,” he said. “We’ll trail ’em when they leave here, maybe hit ’em along the way, maybe not.”

“Why not right at the station?” Turpin asked. “While they’re loadin’ the gold.”

“I thought I told you to shut—” Rome started, but Hoke waved him off.

“It’s okay,” he said, then turned his attention to Turpin. “If we hit them here in town, the law will come runnin’ when they hear shots. We’ve got to hit them along the trail or on the mountain. Understand?”

“I get it,” Turpin said.

Hoke looked at Rome. “He gets it.” He turned and went back to his poker game.

“Those guys gettin’ antsy?” Eli asked.

Hoke sat back down. “Those guys are pros, Eli,” Hoke said. “They don’t get antsy—and neither should you.”

He picked up his cards. Bailey had dealt him three kings. Some people are just lucky.