The wind had shifted, now blowing out of the west. It had not lessened, but seemed to be drifting the weight of the storm away from them. The snow fell more lightly, though with darkness descending the visibility was no better. The horses plodded on gamely although now and then Cody could feel the little pinto falter beneath him. Both horses had already had a full day’s work. But there was not much farther to go, and soon the ponies would be rested and fed for their efforts.
Now as they seemed to be free of the wrath of the storm and away from following guns, Cody took the time to explain about his conversations with both Jewel Frazier and Lonnie Stanton.
‘The way they were telling it, they both seem to have a claim to that money, Charlie. It’s pretty obvious that it was Triangle money that Ned Pierce gambled away. Yet, if Uncle Morris won it honestly in that last card game, it was promised to her and should go to Lonnie.’
Charlie only grunted. It was obvious he believed the money belonged to the three men who had discovered its hiding-place. To Charlie it was a matter of salvage rights, the same as if they had recovered a sunken ship. Cody wasn’t about to argue with him. Not at this point. He was still sifting the two women’s opposing claims in his mind. One or both could be lying to him, saying anything to claim ownership of the gold. It was easier to credit Jewel Frazier’s claim; more difficult to believe that she was honest.
‘Somebody’s got to be telling me the truth,’ Cody said in frustration.
‘You’d hope so,’ Charlie responded. ‘But then, they’re both women.’
Cody sensed a long conversation about women’s natures coming, and he wanted to avoid it. He actually found himself wishing that Wayne Tucker were still with them, to engage in his favorite sport of baiting Charlie. Honestly, though Cody could not explain it to himself, he missed the constant bickering between the two older men. Maybe Charlie, too, missed his old friend more than he was willing to admit. Cody could not be drawn into this sort of conversation. He had spent years avoiding the arguments when Charlie and Wayne started going at it.
The town of Baxter seemed to be growing no nearer. It might have been close enough to see under normal conditions, but wherever the town lay on the plains it was now only a small white collection of buildings lost in a white background.
It grew dark rapidly. The world went to Prussian blue and then to complete blackness. Without even starlight to guide them the travel became slow, plodding. The two men rode close together so as not to get separated in the black, stormy night. Charlie continued to speak.
‘Nearly there,’ he said in a hoarse whisper. He seemed very weary suddenly. Cody realized he had given Charlie’s injury little thought. His arm must have been aching tremendously. ‘I mean to find me a warm bed, eat some good food, talk to someone of the opposite sex, maybe drink a few beers and sit planning the rest of my life.
‘With Wayne gone it’s an even split now, kid. That’s almost two thousand for each of us. You do whatever you want with your half – split it with the girl, give it all to her or to Jewel Frazier. I don’t care. My half will carry me along for quite some time. When I have the time, I mean to look around for a little place.…’
That was when the night rang with sudden rifle fire. Charlie, in mid-sentence, was tossed from his horse as the gray bucked in panic. Charlie did not feel it when he landed crookedly against the snow-mantled earth. One of the bullets had taken the top of his skull off.
Cody spun, searching for his attackers, looking for muzzle flashes, but he saw nothing, heard nothing but the still-echoing gunfire. The night seemed as empty as ever. Two more rifle shots were let loose and Cody leaned low in the saddle, hooking the reins to the gray in his fingers. Then he heeled the pinto pony roughly and he was suddenly riding blind through the whirl and wash of the snowstorm in what he hoped was the direction of Baxter, leading Wayne Tucker’s gray with its burden of gold.
The pinto ran as fast and far as it was capable. Cody felt the pony begin to falter, to slow, and suddenly it halted, shuddering beneath him. The pinto would not move, no matter how Cody tried to urge it on.
The gray was a bigger, fresher horse, so Cody swung from the pinto’s back and stepped into the gray’s leather. He did not wish to leave the pinto behind, but there was little time for pity. Perhaps when it recovered it would be able to make its own way to Baxter. The knowledge that there were men out on this night with killing on their minds left little room in his thoughts to concern himself with animals. Charlie was dead, and he was unwilling to join him.
Cody rode on desperately through the storm, which would ease and then whip out in fury, opening a lane of vision only to slam it closed once again. He did not see anyone following him, but then how could he? They – whoever they were – had managed to catch up with Charlie and Cody unseen in the snowstorm once.
The strength of the big gray horse was beginning to flag. The wind was constant, the snow as heavy as it had ever been.
Topping a low rise, he came upon the huddled little town of Baxter spread out before him. He slowed the gray and walked it toward the town, half-turned in his saddle to watch for approaching riders. Maybe his attackers had no horses. Maybe they had struck from an ambush site they had chosen. It seemed unlikely, yet everything on this confused night seemed unlikely. Cody did not ponder it long. Shameful or not, his own safety was his only concern at the moment.
Baxter was like a frosted little village out of some magazine illustrator’s imagination at this late hour. The town was laid out like a checkerboard, the streets at right angles to each other. Lanterns blinked in only a few dozen windows. The snow along the main street was deep; very few horses were passing to trample it down. The structures along the avenue cut the force of the wind. Cody could not read the signs on the fronts of the buildings he passed because of the snow clinging to them, but the stable was not hard to find. Tall double doors and a distinct smell marked it for what it was. A lantern was burning inside. He could see its glow through a greasy window. Even in this weather someone would be tending the place.
The front doors being closed against the weather, Cody tapped at the door on the side of a smaller structure attached to the side of the horse barn. A voice called out, not cheerfully:
‘What is it?’
‘I’ve got a horse to put up.’
There was a pause, a grumble and the man called out, ‘Come around front.’
Cody led the weary gray to the double doors and waited as a bolt was thrown and a door swung wide. ‘I was sleeping,’ the stableman complained. He was short, stocky with a chubby face and a nose which almost disappeared into the flab of his cheeks. He wore a denim jacket lined with sheepskin.
‘Sounds like the thing to do on a night like this,’ Cody said. ‘That’s what I plan on doing myself.’ He slipped the saddle-bags from the gray and watched as the man inspected the horse, running a hand along its withers. He glanced then at the brand, which was Rafter I out of Wyoming, where Wayne Tucker had worked for many years. Cody found himself almost happy that he had not made it into town with the Triangle-branded pinto pony. Anonymity suddenly seemed prudent.
‘You didn’t show this horse much mercy, did you?’ the stable hand growled, loosening the saddle cinches. His complaint was typical of many a man you ran across in stables who genuinely cared about their charges. Cody kept his answer light.
‘Had to get in. I didn’t think spending a night on the plains would do either of us much good.’ The man gave a small grunt as he hoisted the saddle and tossed it over a stall railing; Cody decided to give the man a friendly stroke. ‘I’m sure you’ll have him good as new before I have to ride again. Folks say you’re one of the best horse men around.’
‘Prob’ly the best,’ the man answered, likely believing it himself.
Cody asked about a hotel and was given directions. He slogged across the snow-covered street and up onto an awning-sheltered boardwalk, then traveled the three blocks to where an imposing – for this part of the country – yellow-brick building stood staunchly on the corner of intersecting streets, the light from within promising warmth and comfort.
The door opened silently on oiled brass hinges. Cody crossed the polished wooden floor still shedding snow though he had tried to brush the worst of it off before entering. A narrow man with small, dark, earnest eyes stood behind the mahogany desk as if eager to serve. Cody stepped up to the orderly counter and placed the saddle-bags at his feet.
‘Good evening, sir. Rotten weather tonight, isn’t it?’
‘Pretty harsh, yes. I hope you can find a room for me.’
‘Is upstairs all right with you?’ Cody was asked.
‘It doesn’t matter to me so long as it has a bed and a roof over it.’
Entering Wayne’s name instead of his own in the hotel register – there was no telling who might come looking for him in this town – he noticed a familiar name scrawled in a childish hand several lines above. He looked to the clerk and asked:
‘What room is Miss Lonnie Stanton in?’
The clerk shook his head slightly. ‘We cannot give out information on our guests,’ he told Cody. ‘Especially not that of a lady.’
‘I understand.’ Cody tried a false smile and said, ‘It’s just that her father asked me to look out for her, to be sure she got to town the way the weather’s been.’
The clerk looked thoughtful. His voice was nearly a whisper when he asked, ‘She’s not a run away, is she?’
‘Nothing like that,’ Cody said with what he thought was a suitable laugh. ‘I was coming into town to take care of some business for her father, and the girl couldn’t wait – she wanted to do some shopping.’ Cody didn’t know if his lie was convincing. It probably didn’t matter. What was important was that Lonnie was all right.
‘Tell me, what time does the bank open tomorrow?’ he asked the clerk.
‘Precisely at nine o’clock.’
‘Tell me, do you have a hotel safe? As I said, I have some business to conduct, and until the bank opens …’
‘We have a small safe for our residents,’ the clerk admitted in a low, cautious voice. Someone else had entered the hotel, and Cody glanced that way at two men he had never seen before, staggering toward their room and speaking in loud voices.
‘I hope their room isn’t next to mine,’ Cody said, and the clerk smiled his understanding.
‘No, sir.’
‘Then, if you would be good enough to place these in your safe for me …’ Cody hoisted the saddle-bags and placed them on the counter. The heavy chinking of the gold coins left little doubt as to what they contained. ‘And let me have my room key.’
‘Certainly, sir,’ the amiable clerk said.
‘I’ll need a receipt for that, of course,’ Cody said.
‘Of course, sir,’ the man replied as if slightly wounded by the remark. He hefted the heavy saddlebags and went away to a back room for a few minutes. Cody heard the clang of a heavy steel door closing, then the clerk returned. He filled out a receipt on pink paper and gave it to Cody, who tucked it into his pocket after glancing at it.
A brass door key was passed across the counter. ‘Will you require a bath, sir?’ the clerk asked.
‘I could use one, but not tonight. It’s late. In the morning, I suppose, if you can send someone up around eight o’clock. I do have to get to the bank early. For tonight – tell me, could you have some sandwiches brought to my room?’
‘I could, sir,’ the clerk answered, ‘but there is a very fine restaurant attached to the hotel.’ He lifted a pointing finger. ‘Just through the door over there.’
‘All right. That sounds even better. I’ll just have a look at my room first.’
Cody made his way upstairs, found his room and entered. The iron bed was neatly made, a burnt-orange coverlet thrown over it. Matching curtains framed a small window which Cody opened a crack to air out the room. A gust of the frigid air forced its way through the gap. Cody smiled. At least he wouldn’t be sleeping on the prairie this night.
As Charlie would be. He shook that thought out of his mind, shed his scuffed leather coat and placed his rifle in the narrow corner closet. He could ignore his hunger no longer, so he made his way back down the stairs and across the lobby to where the door to the hotel restaurant stood.
He entered a pleasant room with round tables covered with white cloths. It was a warm and fragrant room. Men and ladies sat at their tables, most in town cloches. There were a few trailsmen and local cowhands, who had been stranded by the storm, at the tables along the far wall, near the kitchen, drinking coffee.
He spotted Lonnie across the room, sitting alone. There was something different about her, and as he walked toward her, he figured it out: her hair was brushed to a gloss and pinned up on her head. It changed her looks dramatically. She glanced up with curious eyes as he approached and seated himself without having been invited, and smiled.
‘Hope you don’t mind me sharing your table,’ he said.
‘Not at all. Who else is going to share with me? I don’t know anyone here. I was just sitting with my coffee, looking at the fine dresses the ladies in this town have on.’
‘Well, I’m glad you took my advice,’ Cody said. ‘You’ll be happier here. Aren’t you going to eat, Lonnie?’
‘I already have,’ she said with a satisfied smile. ‘When that lady came over.…’
‘The waitress.’
‘Yes. When she came over and told me what they had for dinner, I confessed that I wished it was morning so I could have a good breakfast. Well, she just smiled and said they could make that. Can you imagine, having breakfast at this time of night!’
‘Town living does have its advantages,’ Cody told her.
‘They have fresh eggs! We haven’t any chickens at home, you know. The toast was warm from the oven.’ She leaned nearer across the table. ‘And they had honey for it. Oh, and bacon. We don’t have a smokehouse at home either; it was a rare treat.’
‘And you had the time to fix your hair,’ Cody noted with approval.
‘Well,’ she said with the excitement of new experiences in her eyes, ‘when I got up to my room a woman came in.’
‘A maid?’
‘If that’s what they call them,’ Lonnie said, waving an impatient hand. ‘She asked me did I want my dress sponged to get rid of the trail dust, and pressed. Imagine – they’ll do that for you! So while I was taking my dress off to have it cleaned, this woman also said they had a girl who would wash my hair and comb it out for seventy-five cents. Well, Cody, I told her I didn’t want nobody washing my hair but me. So she says how about brushing it and pinning it up for fifty cents.
‘And they did!’ Lonnie finished, amazed still at the city ways.
‘Well, it looks fine,’ Cody said honestly. The waitress had approached their table and Cody ordered the special supper, which was pork roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob and apple pie.
‘That sounded so good,’ Lonnie said when the waitress had gone, ‘that if I could possibly do it, I’d eat again myself.’
Cody smiled in return. He could put it off no longer, so he broached the subject. ‘Lonnie, we’re going to have to talk about the money I have, and Uncle Morris’s fortune, again. They seem to be one and the same.’
‘Of course they are. That’s what I was telling you.’
‘Did Uncle Morris tell you how much the fortune was, or where he got it?’
‘No.’ Lonnie shook her head. ‘But a fortune is enough for a person to live on, isn’t it? That’s what Uncle Morris told me – I could live on it and never have to rely on Emil Stanton again. As to where he got it, we didn’t talk that much. He was in a hurry to get me out of there, as I told you.’
‘He thought that the man he got it from would come back; and he did.’ Cody sighed, moved his arms so that his food could be served, and then told Lonnie, ‘Uncle Morris won the money in a card game. There was almost four thousand gold dollars.’
‘Well, then?’ Lonnie asked. ‘If you gamble and win, it’s the other fellow’s loss. If Uncle Morris won it honestly, it was his money. And he promised it to me. It all seems straightforward to me.’
‘It wasn’t the man’s money to gamble with. It belonged to someone else.’
‘Who?’
‘Triangle,’ Cody said and Lonnie’s face tightened.
‘Of course it did! Triangle owns everything, doesn’t it?’ she said bitterly.
‘Lonnie, the man gambled away a payroll that belonged to Triangle.’
‘What man?’ she asked.
‘Ned Pierce. He had sold a herd of cattle to the army and was supposed to return with the money. He did not.’
‘If he lost it, he’s the man who should pay it back,’ Lonnie believed. ‘Not the man who won it from him in an honest game.’
‘Maybe,’ Cody said, cutting a bite from the thick slice of pork roast he had been served. Honestly, Cody was not sure himself; it was a matter which required some more thought. He decided to tell Lonnie the entire story of how he had come by the gold as he ate, not leaving out any unpleasant detail.
‘You’ve been through a lot,’ Lonnie said when he was finished talking, and had nearly finished with his meal. ‘So what are you going to do now?’
‘I don’t honestly know. Wayne and Charlie were both counting on that money so they could retire comfortably, give up ranching for good and all. Me,’ he shrugged, ‘I don’t mind the work.’
‘Except you don’t have a job now,’ Lonnie pointed out, ‘and you certainly can never go back to Triangle.’
‘No. But doesn’t Jewel Frazier deserve something out of this as well? She wants off the ranch badly.’
‘She’s a rich girl!’ Lonnie complained.
‘That doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve it. It was her money, after all. Money the Triangle earned.’
‘Well, give it to her!’ Lonnie said, half-rising from her chair with anger. ‘I’ll go on home. Amos and Daltry will be happy to see me. It will give them something to peep at again!’
‘Lonnie,’ Cody pleaded, ‘sit down and listen to me.’ He tried to keep his voice calm, to calm her. ‘What I had in mind was trying to be fair. Just this: suppose I gave Jewel Frazier half of the money? That would be enough for her to do what she has planned. The other half you and I could split. That would be enough to get us both started on our way. Until you could find work, until I can find another job.’
‘So Jewel Frazier ends up with twice what I get,’ Lonnie said in a very cool voice. Her hands were folded together under her chin.
‘I don’t know!’ Cody said in frustration. ‘It’s just a thought I had, trying to be fair and make everybody happy, when no one will be no matter what I decide. It’s something we have to talk about further – and this is not the time or the place,’ he added as people started to filter out of the restaurant and the waitress hovered to collect his empty plates. ‘Another time, please. Meanwhile, just enjoy Baxter and whatever it has to offer.’
He walked around the table and held her chair for her as she rose. ‘Cody,’ she said apologetically as they started for the door, ‘I’m sorry. I know you really are trying to do what’s right.’
‘We’ll talk later,’ Cody said, opening the door for her. The conversation was wearing him out. The impulse to recover the gold from the hotel safe and just hand it over to Lonnie was strong; however, that wasn’t the way to go about things. Impulses could lead to deep regrets.
He escorted Lonnie to her room, turned away and walked to his own room as she watched him from the doorway.
He found the door open. Had he locked it? He was not used to using keys on doors and probably had just forgotten. He stepped into the dark room, walked to where the lamp rested on the side table and struck a match, touching it to the flat wick.
The window he had opened earlier to air out the room, he noticed by the lamp’s feeble, flickering glow, was now closed. Frowning, Cody turned around slowly, feeling a bit of the storm’s icy chill creep up his spine. The man standing in the corner of the room had his revolver drawn and aimed at Cody Hawk.