Dwight woke with a start. He sat up, his gun in his hand as if of its own volition.

The moon hung low over the nearby mountain. In the deep shadows formed by its soft glow he made out the forms of sleeping men. His darting eyes picked out the darker shadow of the sentry, sitting at the base of a tree.

At first he thought the sentry was asleep or dead, then the man moved. His head turned slowly from side to side, scanning all approaches to the posse’s hidden campsite.

Memory rushed through the fog of Dwight’s fatigue. He remembered where he was, and that he was safe, at least for the moment.

He turned toward Belinda’s blankets, a few feet away. She still lay as she had when she first fell asleep, her back turned toward him. The rise and fall of her regular breathing attested to the soundness of her sleep.

He lay back down, placing his gun once again at his side, beneath the blankets. He stared at Belinda’s blanketed back until he dropped off to sleep again.

His eyes jerked open to that same soft glow of light. It took him a moment to realize it was no longer moonlight, but the first light of a new day that had wakened him. That he had relaxed enough to sleep the night through amazed him.

He looked over at Belinda’s blankets, noting that at some time during the night she had turned to face him, but she was still sound asleep.

His eyes moved slowly around the campsite. Three of the posse were already up and moving. A small fire had been started, and a coffee pot rested in the coals at its edge. The smell of its contents just coming to a boil evoked an instant and powerful craving in him.

He rose silently from his blankets, sliding his gun into its holster as he did so. Going automatically through the ritual of shaking out his boots, he pulled them on. He strode to the fire.

Even as he did, other members of the posse were wakened by the smell of fresh coffee wafting on the slight breeze. It was quickly followed by the smell of frying side pork. With a stout stick, David Lowenberg lifted a Dutch oven from where it had been nearly buried in coals. Must’ve been up for over an hour already, Dwight mused silently.

He hadn’t even noticed a second Dutch oven buried in the coals on the other side of the fire. Together they held enough freshly baked biscuits to provide breakfast for the dozen men who quickly gathered around.

Dwight took one of the metal plates that was offered and a cup of the steaming black brew. Instead of eating, he carried it over to where Belinda remained asleep. With both hands full, he nudged her with a toe. Her eyes jerked open, wide with instant alarm. It took her a couple seconds to recognize Dwight, and her expression changed to misty-eyed relief. ‘Oh, my!’ she said, her eyes taking in the men busily eating breakfast. ‘I must have really been sleeping!’

‘You was sawin’ logs pretty good,’ he agreed. ‘I brought you some breakfast.’

She started to reach for it, then realized she had a more urgent need. She looked around quickly, a look of near desperation crowding out everything else. Dwight nodded toward a thick clump of brush a dozen yards away, at the edge of the draw in which they were camped. She looked around again, almost fearfully, then slipped from the blankets and moved hurriedly out of sight behind the bushes. She emerged a few minutes later looking much relieved. ‘Now I’d be happy to eat some of that breakfast,’ she told him, a betraying tinge of red marking her cheeks.

They joined the others around the fire. As they approached, all the men stood and touched the brims of their hats, rather than removing them. A soft chorus of greetings briefly interrupted their busy devouring of the food.

Dwight managed to fill his own plate with what was nearly the last vestiges of the food. He washed it down with the more than ample quantity of coffee, however.

‘How’d you get elected cook, Dave?’ Dwight ribbed the owner of Headland’s mercantile store.

‘Cuz we wanted to be able to eat,’ Harvey Frieden offered instantly. ‘Frank cooked for us one meal, and that was enough.’

‘Just tryin’ to be economical,’ Frank defended. ‘If what I cooked was fit to eat, it’d cost a whole lot more to feed this bunch.’

‘If I could charge as much for food as they do here, by golly I would feed you all for nothing,’ Soren Swenson offered in his heavily accented voice.

‘Fat chance, Soren,’ Virgil Zucher rejoined. ‘You’d decide it was worth too much money to waste on us, if that was the case.’

‘Anybody seen Lindquist?’ Ralph Humbolt interrupted the repartee.

As if on cue the Pinkerton detective strode in from the direction of the mining camp. ‘Am I too late for breakfast?’ he inquired.

Dave waved a hand toward the utensils at the fire’s edge. ‘There might be a chunk or two of side pork and one or two biscuits left,’ he said.

Silently Val finished off what was left of the breakfast. Everybody patiently stared at him, waiting to see if there was any news. When he finished eating and had offered nothing, Frank said, ‘Anything happenin’ yet?’

Val nodded. ‘A couple more of the gang have shown up. Tighson is one. I don’t know the name of the other one, but he was there at the robbery.’

‘How many’s that make here now?’

‘Six, that I’ve counted.’

‘Must be gettin’ close to time.’

Val looked meaningfully at Dwight and Belinda. ‘Mac showed up this morning.’

Dwight pursed his lips. ‘I’d have sworn I nicked him a time or two.’

Lindquist nodded. ‘I would say you did. He is not moving very well. He’s quite pale, and saying very little.’

‘Not feelin’ too good, huh?’

‘He doesn’t appear to be.’

‘What about Bandy?’

‘He is playing his role well. He doesn’t give any hint that he knows any of his men when they show up. But well after dark they all get together at his tent.’

‘Where he does his preachin’?’

Val nodded. ‘He has a well-secluded section canvassed off behind where he preaches from. That’s where he sleeps and such. The others slip in and out of there during the night. I gathered from the raised voices that some of them are getting more than a little impatient at the delay in whatever they are waiting for.’

‘Which would be the mastermind of the whole shebang showin’ up to pay ’em for the gold.’

‘That would be my assumption.’

‘He’ll have to be bringin’ a wagon,’ Dwight observed.

Val nodded. ‘But it’s unlikely he will bring the wagon into the mining camp. An empty wagon arriving would excite too much attention and curiosity.’

‘So he’ll go directly to wherever they’re keepin’ the gold stashed.’

‘Yes.’

‘No idea where that is?’

Val’s hesitancy was instantly obvious. After an awkward silence he said, ‘As a matter of fact, I do have that location narrowed down quite a bit. I don’t know exactly, but it has to be quite close.’

He had everybody’s immediate attention. He picked up a stick and drew a quick map in the dirt. ‘Here is the mining camp. This is the draw that opens up to the south and east about half a mile east of the camp itself. That’s the opposite direction from all the paydirt anybody has discovered, so no one pays any attention to what goes on there. There is also a rather flat and easy access to that area from the east, which a team and wagon could navigate with relative ease.’

‘But you haven’t seen where they’ve got it stashed,’ Dwight said, rather than asked.

Val shook his head. ‘I have watched from a distance, with a spyglass. I believe it to be buried, and I believe I know to within a hundred yards of where, but I have not seen it. I think all of the gold has been brought in now, though.’

‘Then we’d best be watchin’ that spot right close,’ Frank observed.

Val nodded. ‘As of today, that will be necessary. We will do that with two men watching from the lookout post I have been using at all times. Each team will man that post for eight hours or so before being relieved by another team.’

‘Better make it three at a time,’ Dwight suggested.

‘Why three?’

‘If somethin’ starts happenin’, one guy’ll need to skedaddle back here an’ get the rest, an’ we’d best have at least two stayin’ there.’

A murmur of agreement ran through the group. Val acknowledged the wisdom of the idea. ‘That makes sense. At least one of us will need to keep an eye on Bandy at all times as well, without being seen by him or the others. That may be trickier, given the close confines of the mining camp.’

Soren Swenson spoke up. ‘By golly, I know Keil Solinnen pretty well. He is the one that has the wagon of food and things set up and is making money hand over fist by selling the things at such outlandish prices. Even if he is a Finn, he is a good man, by golly. He will let one of us stay there by his wagon like we are one of his people standing guard. From there we can see into the tent of that phony parson and know if he leaves to go some place.’

Details of the plan were quickly finalized and the teams selected for the first shift of duty. Those not on duty were once again adjured to stay in the camp site, secluded from the bustle of the mining camp, distanced from accidental notice of any member of the gang. All understood they were destined for a time of expectant boredom. As one, they hoped that that time was short.