Turnback Creek (Widowmaker) (11 page)

W
hat are you sayin’?” Cooper asked. “That those matchstick-playin’ fools are after the gold?”

“Could be,” Locke said. “Do you remember seeing them in Turnback Creek?”

Cooper thought for a moment, then said, “Can’t say that I do. What about you?”

“I’m trying to,” Locke said.

“Maybe we better just keep an eye on them.”

“No,” Locke said. “Not when you’ve already had a run-in with one of them. Let’s just keep an eye out for them.”

“There could be dozens of men plannin’ to try for that gold, John,” Cooper said. “I don’t think that men who play poker for matchsticks are gonna be much of a danger.”

“You never know.”

They were in a café they found off the main street, having some dinner. Cooper was trying to shake off the feeling of being behind bars. He told Locke it had never happened before—not with the door locked—and he didn’t like it one bit.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Cooper said.

“What’s that?”

“Anybody tryin’ to steal that gold better be ready to die,” the older man said, “ ’cause I ain’t gonna stand for it.”

“You sound like you’re taking this pretty personal, Coop.”

“I’m takin’ it damn personal.”

“Why is that?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you taking it so personally?” Locke asked again. “It’s not our gold.”

“Well … we’re bein’ paid to protect it and deliver it,” Cooper said. “That makes it more my gold than anybody who tries to steal it.”

Locke ate the last piece of his steak and pushed the plate away without finishing the vegetables.

“You not gonna eat those?” Cooper asked.

“No,” Locke said. “Some are soggy, and others are hard. I don’t know how they managed to overcook and undercook something at the same time.”

“I’ll take ’em.”

Cooper grabbed Locke’s plate and scraped it off onto his own.

“Looks like your appetite has come back,” Locke said.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Cooper said. “Maybe it’s got some-thin’ to do with bein’ in jail.”

“You think so?” Locke asked. “Could be, I guess.”

He watched his old friend demolish what was on his plate and then grab the last biscuit from the basket on the table. He sure didn’t look like a man with only whiskey on his mind.

Locke didn’t know what he was going to do after dinner. It was too early to turn in. Normally, he’d kill a lot of time in the saloon, nursing the one beer he drank a day and—if the place was large enough—watching some gambling. Might even go upstairs with some likely-looking saloon girl. But he was worried about what Cooper would do if he left him alone. While he didn’t look as if he was craving liquor at the moment, Locke knew for a fact that a craving like that could come on at any moment.

“So, what do we do now?” Cooper asked, pushing away his plate and touching his belly with satisfaction.

“I don’t know, Coop.”

“Oh, for Chrissake, John,” Cooper said. “Normally, you’d go to the saloon and have a beer after dinner, wouldn’t ya?”

“Well … yeah, I would.”

“Then go have one,” Cooper said. “ I’ll go back to the room and clean my guns or somethin’.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive … and don’t be thinkin’ I’m gonna sneak out to some other saloon,” the ex-marshal said. “I know I got to be straight for what we got to do here. Just don’t worry about me.”

“Okay,” Locke said. “I won’t. Maybe you can go on over to the whorehouse and get your freebie.”

As they got up and left the money on the table for their check, Cooper said, “I got in trouble once already goin’ over there. Think I’ll just do like I said and go back to the room.”

They left the café and stopped just outside.

“I think I’ll stop over at the train station before going to the saloon,” Locke said.

“I’ll see you back at the room, then.”

The two men parted company and went their separate ways. Locke hoped that Cooper would be true to his word and stay in the room. He decided not to spy on the man but to take him at his word and be done with it. As he walked over to the rail station, he tried to put his old friend’s drinking out of his head.

“They’re under way,” the clerk said as Locke entered the station. “That was the last word I got. They should be here sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s good news,” Locke said. Depending on how late in the afternoon, though, they still might have to spend another night in town. That night would be spent in the livery, guarding the gold.

Locke left the train station and headed over to Lucky Lil’s to have his beer.

D
on’t look at him,” Hoke said to Bailey when Locke entered the saloon. “I don’t want it to look like we’re interested in him.”

The saloon was in full swing now, gaming tables uncovered, girls working the room, all the tables taken.

“It’s the other one I want,” Bailey said. “The old man.” He put his hand to his head, where his hat was still sitting askew atop the bandages.

“You’ll get your chance, Bob,” Hoke said. “Just be patient, and don’t pay Locke any mind. You got that, Eli?”

“I got it,” Eli said. “I raise ten matchsticks.”

As Locke entered, he noticed that the three men were still playing poker for matchsticks, while everyone else in the room who was gambling was doing so with real money. That made the three men an oddity, and they were drawing attention for it.

He walked to the bar, elbowed his way to it, and ordered his only beer for the day. Conversation on either side of him seemed to be about the men playing poker for matchsticks.

“They sure are concentratin’ like they was playin’ for real money,” someone said.

Locke noticed that they were concentrating very hard, especially the man with the bandage on his head. They had seen Locke with Cooper, and he wondered if the man Cooper had clubbed had orders not to look up.

Locke decided to see just how hard the men could continue to concentrate. He turned his back so he could nurse his beer and watch the three men at the same time.

“He’s starin’ at us,” Bailey said.

“So what?” Hoke said. “Let him stare. Everybody else is.”

“They’re starin’ ’cause of this bandage on my head.”

“You idiot,” Eli said. “They’re starin’ because we’re playin’ poker with matchsticks!”

“Look,” Hoke said impatiently. “It don’t matter why anybody is starin’. Just play your damn cards.”

“But what if he knows—” Bailey started.

“Knows what?” Hoke asked. “What could he know? That we’re waitin’ to steal the payroll? Hell, I bet there’s a dozen men in here makin’ plans for that payroll.”

“We ain’t gonna let nobody else take it, are we, Hoke?” Bailey asked anxiously.

“Nobody’s takin’ that payroll, Bob,” Hoke said. “It’s ours. Now, just play.”

“What the hell are they doin’?” Turpin asked Rome.

“They’re killin’ time, Roy,” Rome said. “That’s all.”

“Everybody’s lookin’ at them.”

“Yeah, well,” Rome said, “that’s their problem, ain’t it? You relax and drink your beer. Maybe take one of the girls upstairs. Don’t worry about what they’re doin’.”

Turpin eyed a blonde who was walking by at that moment and said, “You know, I just might do that.”

Locke continued to watch the three men play cards, while others eventually tired of it and turned their attention to other things. A blond saloon girl came up to him and stood in front of him. She sucked in her tummy and stuck out her impressive chest and smiled. Her breasts were almost balloonlike and incredibly pale. She succeeded in attracting his attention away from the three men because of her pretty face and impressive physique.

“My name is Katy,” she said. “Do you see anything you like?”

“Quite a bit,” he said. It was hard not to see quite a bit, since she was showing almost all she had.

“Can I interest you in a trip upstairs?” she asked.

He looked down at the inch of beer remaining in his mug and considered it. What else did he really have to do except stare at the three men? It had been a long time between women for him—and a long time since he had one who looked like this.

“Why not?” he said. He tossed off the rest of the beer, put his arm around her shoulders, and walked upstairs with her.

Katy wasted no time once they were in her room. She divested herself of her clothing, revealing her opulence in all its glory. She was more than a handful everywhere he looked and touched, her flesh pliant and warm, her mouth eager and wet.

She undressed him slowly, and he was just hanging his gun belt on the bedpost when the door was kicked open and two men rushed into the room, guns in hand.

Locke pushed Katy away, hoping to get her out of the line of fire, and drew his gun from his holster. The two men fired as he was moving, and their shots went into the wall and the pillows. As he hit the floor, he fired three times in quick succession, and it was by dint of his experience and reflexes that all three shots struck home.

One man dropped like a stone, while the other—hit twice—was propelled out the door and into the hall.

Locke got to his feet quickly and moved to the first man. He kicked the man’s fallen gun across the room, then leaned over to see if he was dead. Satisfied that he was, he stepped out into the hall, where doors had opened, people were peering out, and others were coming up the stairs from the saloon. He kicked the man’s gun down the hall, leaned over, and made doubly sure he was dead. Unmindful of the fact that he was naked and still semi-tumescent, he called out, “Somebody get the sheriff.”

He turned to go back into his room and found that a woman in the room across from him was peeking out, taking in his nude form with unabashed admiration. Behind her on her bed was a naked fat man with whom she had been doing business.

“Ma’am,” he said, and stepped back into the room.

He looked around for Katy and found her on the floor. Apparently, he hadn’t shoved her far enough away from the action, or someone’s shot had gone wild. Either way, a bullet had perforated her opulent flesh, and her blood was starkly red in contrast to her pale skin.

Since he didn’t know yet if she had set him up or was an innocent victim, he reserved feeling sorry for her until he found out for sure. He gathered up his clothes and got dressed to meet with Sheriff Maddox, who was not going to be happy.

“I
’m not happy, Locke!” Maddox said.

The hall had been cleared of people, and Maddox had several men from the saloon remove the bodies of the men. Katy’s body was still on the floor of her room.

“I’m not real happy about this, either, Sheriff,” Locke said.

“You think the girl was in on it?” Maddox asked.

“Sheriff,” Locke said, “I’m not even sure what ‘it’ was. This could have been two men trying to make a name for themselves, or it could have been about the payroll.”

“You don’t even have the payroll yet.”

“Maybe they figured Cooper would have to collect it alone, and he’d be easier pickings without me.”

“Well, I don’t know either one of those men,” the lawman said. “They’re not local. My bet would be they recognized you and wanted to make a name.”

“And the girl?”

Maddox rubbed his jaw and stared down at her.

“Katy sure was something, wasn’t she?” he asked.

“I never quite found out.”

After they’d removed Katy’s body, they found fifty dollars secreted in her dress. Since Locke had not given her any money, both he and the sheriff assumed that the two men had paid her to lure Locke up to her room.

“Maybe,” Maddox said across his desk, “she didn’t know they were going to kill you.”

Sitting opposite him, Locke said, “Or that they’d end up killing her, actually.”

“You don’t think a shot from your gun might have done it?”

“I fired three times,” Locke said. “Check the bodies before you start measuring me for a cell.”

“I should put you in a cell, just for your own good,” Maddox said. “Your friend, too.”

“Shit,” Locke said, jumping to his feet.

“What?”

“If this was about the payroll, somebody will probably try for Cooper, too,” Locke said.

“Hey, wait—” Maddox said, but Locke had already gone out the door on the run. Maddox sighed, got up, and followed at a more sedate pace.

Locke got to the hotel and found it quiet and peaceful. The desk clerk looked up at him as he burst through the door.

“Is something wrong, sir?”

“Has anyone come in here in the past half hour?”

“No, sir,” the young clerk said. “No one.”

“You have a back door?”

“Yes, sir, but it’s kept locked.”

“Check it for me, will you?”

“Well … of course.”

While Locke was waiting for the clerk to return, the sheriff entered the lobby behind him.

“Looks quiet.”

“I’m having the clerk check the back door.”

“Why don’t you go up and check on Cooper?” Maddox said. “I’ll wait for the clerk.”

“Good idea.”

Locke went upstairs and found the hall as quiet as the lobby. He went to his door and opened it with the key.

“Coop, something happened that—”

He stopped short when he realized the room was empty.

“Damn it, Coop!”