If he avoided trouble and saved some lives with his stories, all would be well. At least he had offered a little doubt, and nobody wanted to get shot down in the street. If what he had said was not true, it was all possible, and they could not know whether he was telling the truth or not. When he heard stirring around the camp he got up. It was not yet four o’clock in the morning, he noticed by his big silver watch, but the camp was coming alive. He crawled out of bed, put on his derby and then got into his pants and boots. Nobody was paying any attention to him, and he went to the fire for his grub along with the others.
Patterson was there. He glanced at Shanaghy, gave a short nod and went on eating.
The air was clear and cool. There was a smell of dust and cattle on the air, and off to one side a cowpuncher was letting his bronc buck the kinks out of his system. Nobody was talking until he went to get coffee and Red picked up the pot and filled his cup for him.
Red grinned at him. “You spin a good yarn, Marshal, but, you know, we didn’t figure any of it was worth throwin’ a loop over.” “I can carve it on your headstone,” Shanaghy said.
“What?”
“ ‘He asked to be showed; we showed him.’ “
“Hey,” Red said, “that ain’t bad! I’ve seen men buried with less.” “To tell you the truth, Red,” Shanaghy said, “I’d rather buy you a drink than shoot you.”
“Well, now,” Red said cheerfully, “I’ll remember that, Marshal. How many do you figure to set up for?”
“Hell,” Shanaghy said, “I’ll buy a drink for the whole crew. You’re a good bunch of lads.”
He finished his coffee. “Besides, you’ve got a good cook.”
He saddled up. As he was tightening his cinch, Vince Patterson walked over. “Don’t expect us for about four or five days, Marshal. And if you need any help with those hold-up people, you let us know. We’ll ride with you.” Shanaghy held out his hand. “Rig sure had you figured. He said you were a decent and a reasonable man.”
They shook hands. “Shanaghy,” Patterson said, “I think Jan Pendleton is the finest girl I know, but she could do a whole lot worse than you.” Tom Shanaghy flushed. “Mr. Patterson,” he said, “don’t you even think that. I’m not the man for her, and I know she’s given no thought to me. Why, she’s only seen me once.”
“I married my wife the second time I saw her,” Patterson said, “and we’ve got twenty years of happiness behind us.”
Tom Shanaghy turned his horse and rode away.
He had gone only two horse-lengths when Patterson called after him. “What about Hank Drako?”
“Hank’s going to be hunting me, he and his boys. If they find me, you’ve got no problem. If you boys find them you can have them, just so it’s out of town.” He rode hard. There were things he had to do, and time was short, and he did not think of Jan Pendleton. At least, he tried not to. The town lay quiet in the late afternoon sun when Shanaghy rode into the street. He took his horse to Carpenter’s stable and stripped off the gear. He gave the roan a good rubdown, thinking all the while, then took his saddlebags and walked over to the blacksmith shop.
Carpenter looked up. “Holstrum was by. Wanted to know where you were.”
“Drako been around?”
“Not hide nor hair.” Carpenter put down his hammer. “Had it for today.” He took off his leather apron. “Oh, by the way! That young woman you’re interested in. She came by. Wanted a horse shod … today.”
“You do it?”
“Uh-huh. A different horse, too. Sometimes I wonder about eastern folks. Seem to think horses all look alike.”
“Pendleton been around?”
“No, but his son was in. He was asking for you.” Shanaghy was not concerned about young Pendleton. His thoughts were on the robbery … Or was he simply seeing ghosts? What did he have, after all, but a lot of suspicions?
A strange girl in town for no apparent reason, who kept to herself. In other words, she was simply minding her own business. Her odd association with a man who looked like a tinhorn gambler, and the puzzle about where she lived.
A man on a train who Shanaghy had believed to be a railroad detective and who apparently was not.
Rig Barrett’s suspicions that something was in the wind, which Shanaghy was inclined to trust.
And the fact that somebody seemed to have taken pains to eliminate Rig before he could arrive in town.
And the knowledge that a lot of money, probably a quarter of a million in gold and bills, would be arriving on the train someday soon. Who knew of that? Almost everybody in town who did not actually know could surmise. So could a lot of others. After all, there had to be money on hand. Such a town would not ordinarily have so much, so it would have to be brought in.
That man on the train now … Now that Shanaghy considered it, that man had not seemed western. Well, why should he? Neither was he, Tom Shanaghy. The trouble with Vince seemed to have been averted, but nobody knew that but him. He decided nobody must know, not if he could help it. He turned toward the hotel and halted suddenly. A man was riding toward him on a buckskin horse.
“Howdy!” It was Josh Lundy. “Remember me?”
“I do.”
“Figured you might need some help. My boss give me a few days off and I thought I’d ride in to see if you needed a hand.”
“You could get killed.”
“You didn’t seem to pay much mind down by the creek that day.”
“I was saving my own hide.”
“No matter.”
Shanaghy liked the cowhand and remembered Rig’s estimate of him. The man was seasoned, tough, and had local experience, knowing local people whom Shanaghy did not. “Let’s get over to Greenwood’s and I’ll buy you a beer,” he suggested. From where they sat, as Shanaghy had correctly remembered, they could look down the street. Besides, it was quiet here and they could talk. “Watch yourself.” Greenwood walked over to give the warning. “There’s talk that Drako and his boys are coming into town after you.” He had started away when Shanaghy said, “Who told you that?”
“Holstrum … I guess somebody said something about it over at the store.” They sipped their beers and slowly, carefully, Shanaghy told Josh Lundy of the suspected plan to seize the money shipment.
His thoughts returned to the hoofprints by the seep. “Anybody running cattle in south of here?” He explained his interest.
“Drifters, more than likely. There’s a lot of odd characters stop by Drake’s place.” Lundy paused. “Four of them, you say?”
“It looked to me like somebody brought them a message. He didn’t get off his horse, just talked awhile and left.”
“Mostly guesswork, Marshal.”
Suddenly Lundy said, “Is that the girl you’ve been talking about, Marshal?”
It was … She came riding up the street, then dismounted in front of the cafe.
Shanaghy got to his feet. “Josh, I’m going to have a talk with her. Right now.”
ELEVEN
It was cool and quiet in the restaurant and at this hour it was empty, something she had no doubt counted upon. When Shanaghy entered she looked up, a flash of annoyance crossing her face.
After crossing to her table, he said, “Mind if I sit down?” She looked up. Beautiful, she undoubtedly was, but her features might have been cut from marble. “I do, indeed. I wish to be alone.” “I am sorry, ma’am, but I have some questions.”
“And I have no answers. Must I call the manager?”
“If you like.”
She looked at him with contempt. “If you wish to take advantage of your authority, ask what questions you will. I shall decide whether or not to reply.” “Fair enough. Mind telling me how long you’ve been here?”
“In this town? Slightly over a week.”
“What’s your purpose here?”
Her expression was one of exasperated patience. “I am looking for ranch property. My father was unable to come, and we share our financial interests. We are looking for good grass and a source of permanent water.” Shanaghy felt like a fool. Of course, what could be more likely? “Found anything that suits you?”
“No … There are two possibilities, that is all. Now, is there anything more?”
“Do you expect to be here long?”
She put her cup down sharply. “Marshal, or whatever you are called, I have told you why I was here, and I am on legitimate business. I am not the sort of woman who expects to be badgered by every small-town officer with an exaggerated sense of his own importance. Unless you have some kind of a trumped-up charge, I would prefer you to leave … now.”