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“Keep going,” Bradley said. “That man looks like trouble.”
On the seat of the covered wagon, Rattigan frowned.
“He’s not packing a gun,” he said.
“I don’t care about that.” Bradley waggled a finger at him. “I do care about the coffin!”
The man was standing alone with a saddlebag draped over a shoulder and a foot set on what appeared to be a recently-made coffin. This was the first unusual situation they had encountered after an uneventful journey from Silver Creek.
Mindful of the need to avoid people, they’d steered away from the railroad. So the only settlement they’d passed through had been the burned-out wreck of Red Creek. They had moved quickly down the short main drag between the rows of broken down and burned buildings.
None of them had showed signs of recent habitation, but when they’d emerged, the lone man had been standing on the trail ahead. Rattigan recalled Frank’s last order for them to take no chances and he agreed with Bradley about the need for caution, but after a ten-day journey that had been a quiet and strained ordeal for both men, he welcomed talking with someone else. So he drew back on the reins and stopped the wagon a dozen yards on from the lone man.
“I’m Corbin,” the man declared when he’d hurried on to meet them.
“What are you doing out here all alone with a coffin, Corbin?” Bradley said before Rattigan could reply, his low tone hinting that only a good answer would result in him being allowed to ride with them.
“It’s an empty coffin and a long story,” Corbin said with a lively tone that said they’d only get to hear that story if they let him ride along.
“That’s a pity. We haven’t got the time to wait for it.”
Bradley lunged for the reins forcing Rattigan to draw them away and making Corbin frown.
“The coffin is a personal matter, and I’m heading to Bear Rock,” he said quickly. “My brother Delano lives there, but ten miles out of Red Creek my wagon wheel broke and my horse keeled over. I reckon I will, too, if you leave me afoot.”
Rattigan nodded and patted the seat beside him, and Bradley’s only objection was to mutter under his breath about how Corbin’s woes weren’t his problem. With a relieved sigh Corbin hurried back to the coffin while Rattigan jumped down.
Mindful of Corbin’s comment that the matter was personal he didn’t help him move the coffin. Instead, he lowered the tailboard and shoved items aside to clear a space behind the covered crates in which the silver had been stored.
Corbin slipped the coffin into the freed space. When he deposited the saddlebag inside, Rattigan noticed the plaque on the lid. It held an inscription headed up by initials that, upside down, looked like KD, which meant nothing to him.
Corbin acknowledged that Rattigan had seen the plaque by smiling before he turned away. When they’d both rejoined Bradley, he said nothing for a while as Rattigan moved the wagon on, tracking alongside the dry creek that had given the town its name.
“If you headed to that ghost town, you can’t have been this way for a while,” Rattigan prompted.
“I often come here,” Corbin said, his tone troubled. “I used to live in Red Creek back in the days when you miners passed through regularly.”
Bradley stiffened, but then he snorted a laugh as he accepted that their blackened clothes and the fact that they were heading away from Silver Creek meant that knowing their identities wasn’t suspicious.
“We didn’t know they used this route,” Rattigan said. “This is our first trip out for supplies.”
Corbin winked. “Does that mean Wilson Thorne and Lloyd Fincher aren’t taking out the silver shipments no more?”
Rattigan winced while beside him Bradley tensed.
“They died,” Rattigan said levelly.
Corbin gave a sharp intake of breath and then gnawed at his bottom lip, his concerned attitude removing Rattigan’s suspicion that his knowledge and question had a sinister intent. Bradley didn’t relax and, as they rode beside the creek, he firmed his jaw and muttered to himself. Rattigan judged they were an hour out of Bear Rock when Corbin got their attention and pointed at a formation of boulders.
“My brother lives up in Dead Man’s Canyon,” he said. “So I’ll get off by the boulders.”
“We can take you to his house.”
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”
Rattigan shrugged and decided not to pry. Bradley even mustered a smile, although presumably that was only because Corbin was leaving them. When they reached the boulders, Rattigan halted the wagon letting Corbin jump down.
Rattling sounded as Corbin moved the coffin, making the suspicious Bradley turn to the back of the wagon, although only the front end of the covered crates was visible. Despite his concern, the crates stayed covered and a minute later Corbin slapped the side of the wagon and hollered that they could leave. Rattigan trundled the wagon on and, after a few minutes, he checked behind them, but Corbin had already disappeared from view.
“I still say that was a bad idea,” Bradley said.
Rattigan shrugged, not letting his brother’s ill-mood dampen his developing good mood.
“What are you planning to do first when we get to town?” he asked.
“The only thing on my mind is getting this shipment handed over to Victor Greystone.”
“I agree, but it’s been six months since I last spent time in a big town like Bear Rock.” Rattigan sighed. “So first I’m jumping into the hottest, sweetest smelling bath anyone’s ever poured. Then I’m finding the biggest and noisiest saloon with the strongest liquor.”
Rattigan smiled, but Bradley didn’t take the opportunity to lighten his serious demeanor.
“Visiting a town like Bear Rock is what’s worrying me the most. So put aside those thoughts and start looking out for trouble or you’ll never get a chance to enjoy a bath or a saloon.”
Rattigan frowned, but he did as he’d been told. Despite Bradley’s concern, on the last leg of the journey, they still didn’t pass anybody and, when they approached the first buildings, it looked as if Bradley’s fears were misplaced.
They had timed their journey so that they’d arrive on the pre-arranged day at sundown. When the town opened up to them, few people were outside, although these people all watched them.
Rattigan was about to report this observation to Bradley, but he decided not to when he accepted that these men would work for the railroad. Before they’d left Silver Creek, Frank had detailed the hand-over process.
Victor Greystone would sign the paperwork and take the silver into the station house where the railroad men would take up residence. Wilson and Lloyd had never stayed in town for long enough to see what happened when the train arrived, but Victor’s unblemished record spoke for itself.
Six riders were lined up in front of the station house so Rattigan swung the wagon round to place it beside the office and facing the station where the riders considered them silently. Their arrogance made Rattigan shuffle on his seat with discomfort, so he turned to the office where a man, presumably Victor Greystone, was standing at an upstairs window.
Victor moved away and two minutes passed in silence until, at an unhurried pace, he came outside. He stopped beside a rider and spoke quietly with him. His comments made that man survey the scene before he nodded.
Then they moved on to the wagon. Clutched under Victor’s arm were papers, which he consulted before moving out of view. Bradley and Rattigan both shrugged at his offhand manner before jumping down. They found Victor at the back of the wagon.
“You two are new,” he said.
“Wilson and Lloyd died,” Rattigan said as Bradley lowered the tailboard.
This comment made Victor frown, breaking him out of his dismissive attitude.
“Gallagher, take over,” he said to the other man before he turned to Rattigan. “How?”
“It was in a mine accident. . . .” Rattigan trailed off as Gallagher had seen the coffin lying in the back of the wagon.
Gallagher raised himself and twisted his neck to read the inscription. His eyes opened wide and he dropped back down where he rounded on Bradley.
“What kind of damn fool game are you playing?” he demanded.
“That coffin has nothing to do with us,” Bradley said, still shocked that it was somehow still there.
“Then who. . . ?”
Gallagher turned back to the coffin as the lid went hurtling into the air. From within Corbin rose up with a six-shooter in hand and a grin on his face. Victor dove aside, as did Bradley and Rattigan, but Gallagher stayed transfixed.
He paid for his slowness in reacting when two rapid gunshots tore out. Gallagher went staggering backward with his chest holed before tumbling over on to his back. Rattigan took refuge at the side of the wagon with Bradley as the riders and the other men on the main drag reacting in a quick and well-practiced manner.
Men hurried into positions at the corners of buildings on either side of the station house while the riders spread out seeking to surround the wagon. For their part Rattigan and Bradley shrugged at each other as they thought about what they could do.
Bradley fingered his trusty Colt, but Rattigan was unarmed. Then a ferocious burst of gunfire tore out from the back of the wagon. The firing was so rapid Corbin must be using two guns and although it was too wild to hit anyone, the volley forced the riders who were seeking to close in on the wagon to scatter.
As these men took refuge out of the direct line of fire from the back of the wagon, Bradley frowned, accepting he could do little to help other than get caught in the crossfire. So he and Rattigan hurried to the office and pressed their backs to the wall to await developments.
Thirty seconds passed without further gunfire so Victor barked out an order, dispatching two men to head around to the front of the wagon. They moved cautiously, craning their necks, but when they reached the seat, gunfire cracked and both men went spinning to the ground, their chests bloodied.
As the men became still, another volley of gunfire tore out sending men on the other side of the main drag scurrying into cover. Then Corbin clambered into view on the seat, having made his way along the inside of the wagon.
He took hold of the reins in one hand while training his gun from side to side, seeking out anyone else who was foolish enough to confront him. He treated Rattigan and Bradley to a mocking salute before the wagon moved off.
Then the wagon gathered speed and hurtled out of town heading back along the route they’d taken. As trail dust spiraled into the sky, in short order a ragged bunch of riders launched their pursuit.
“Do you reckon they’ll catch him?” Bradley asked as Victor darted about urging the rest of his men to pursue Corbin.
“From the way Corbin was shooting, I hope for their sakes that they don’t,” Rattigan said.