Turnback Creek (Widowmaker) (21 page)

J
ohn Locke drove the buckboard with the mismatched team into the Shillstone Mining camp to the cheers of the miners, who knew why he was there. They crowded around him when he halted the team in front of a shack that had a handwritten sign above the door that said “Shillstone Mining.”

“Mister,” a man said, grabbing his hand, “we been waitin’ a long time for you.”

“Are you the foreman up here?” Locke asked.

“I’m the manager,” the man said. “Name’s Sam Allanson.” Allanson was a barrel-chested man in his fifties, and the dirt on his hands told Locke that he got down into the mines with his men and didn’t manage the operation from a chair.

“Well, Mr. Allanson,” Locke said, “I got your whole payroll here, maybe minus a few coins.”

“A few coins?” the man asked with a frown.

“Yeah,” Locke said. “I’ll explain it to you. Meanwhile, I need a few men for a burial detail.”

“Burial?”

“I got a dead man in the back of the buckboard.”

Locke threw the tarp off the crates and off the body of Dale Cooper. The miners crowded around, to get a look at either the body or the gold.

“Who is that?” Allanson asked.

“His name’s Dale Cooper,” Locke said. “Used to be a marshal a few years back.”

“Yeah,” the manager said. “Yeah, I heard of him. Didn’t know Mrs. Shillstone had hired him to deliver the gold.”

“Yeah, it was his job to deliver the payroll up here. He called me in to help him. We got hit a few different times by different groups of men bringing the gold up here, and the second time, he caught a bullet.” Locke turned and looked at the assembled miners. “He died so you fellas could have your pay.”

The men shuffled their feet and looked around.

“Mister,” one of them finally said, “we really appreciate what you and your friend did, and we’re sorry he’s dead.”

“We’ll give him a real nice send-off, if you like,” Allanson told Locke. “Won’t we, boys?”

The miners whooped and hollered their agreement.

“I’d like that a lot, boys,” Locke said. “And I guess the marshal would, too.”

At least, the old Marshal Cooper would,
he thought.

On the way back down the mountain to the town of Turnback Creek, Locke stopped the buckboard and retrieved the body of Sheriff Mike Hammet. Some critters had gotten to it, but it was still largely intact, and he wanted to bring it back to town. He also had recovered the man’s badge from the pocket of Hoke Benson.

However, he had no intention of hiding the sheriff’s part in trying to steal the gold, the way he had hidden Dale Cooper’s. He had nothing to gain by keeping it a secret, and he still had some unfinished business to take care of with Molly Shillstone that the sheriff might help him with, even in death.

When he reentered Turnback Creek, he drove the buckboard directly to the office of Shillstone Mining. He set the brake and dropped down, went to the door, and knocked.

“Come in!” a man called out.

He entered, and George Crowell looked up at him from the desk. He studied the man’s face intently, to see if it would betray surprise at seeing him. It did not. Apparently, Crowell had fully expected Locke to return from the mountain.

“Mr. Locke,” he said. “Delighted to see you.” Crowell rushed out from behind the desk to shake Locke’s hand. “I assume, since you are here, that the payroll was delivered safely?”

“Safely, Mr. Crowell,” Locke said, handing him a slip of paper that had been signed by Sam Allanson, “but not without incident. Marshal Cooper is dead.”

“Oh, no!” Crowell said, looking aghast. “How did it happen?”

He explained how they’d been jumped several times by men interested in the gold. He lumped in the two men who had tried to kill him, just for the sake of simplicity. Then he told how they’d had a shoot-out with the seven men up at the Devil’s Basin. “They were little more than gold-hungry store clerks, and they all ended up dead.”

“The Devil’s Basin?” Crowell asked. “What were you doing all the way over there?” Crowell continued to look concerned.

Locke realized he’d made an error in mentioning the basin. Now he had to cover it.

“We took a wrong turn, but that’s where we ran into the seven men,” he went on quickly, before Crowell could ask any more questions. “I believe they had been planning it for some time. They had an expert tracker with them. And I wouldn’t be all that surprised if these were the same men who grabbed the first payroll.”

“And what happened to those men?”

“They’re all dead,” Locke said. “It was during a gun battle with them that the marshal was also killed.”

“How terrible,” Crowell said. “Did you bring his body back to be buried, or did you bury him on the mountain?”

“I took his body to the mine with me, and they were kind enough to bury him there.”

“They’re a good bunch of men,” Crowell said. “This dispute between them and Molly … it could have been—”

“Avoided?”

“Yes,” Crowell said with a frown. “Avoided. It’s almost as if—”

“Almost as if what, George?”

Crowell didn’t answer.

“Almost as if she didn’t want to settle with them?”

Crowell looked guilty for a moment, and Locke knew that was what he was thinking. But then, like a man in love, he rushed to her defense. “That would be crazy,” he said. “Without a settlement, she could have lost the mine.”

“Tell me something, George,” Locke said. “The money she sent up there in gold? Was that the last money she could have gotten her hands on if things hadn’t been settled?”

“Well,” Crowell said slowly, “it was the last of the company’s operating capital.”

“Why would she put that much money at risk on this mountain?” Locke asked.

“Well … I’m not sure. She told me the miners demanded the payment in gold.”

“See,” Locke said, “that’s what I find odd, George. Sam Allanson was surprised at two things when I delivered the payroll. First was that there was so much money.”

“She told me the miners wanted to be paid in advance.”

“And second, he was surprised that the payroll was in gold.”

Now Crowell looked confused. “But … she said that was their idea.”

“Where is Molly, by the way? We have some business to finish—that is, unless you can pay me?”

“Certainly,” Crowell said, still confused. “Certainly, I can pay you. What was the amount again?”

“Five hundred dollars … each.”

“Yes,” Crowell said. “You’ll want to collect for the marshal as well. I can take care of that.”

Crowell walked back around behind the desk and knelt in front of a small safe, started to turn the dial. At that moment, the door opened, and Molly Shillstone walked in.

“George, there’s a buckboard out front. Who’s … Locke!” She reared back and stared at him in obvious shock. Crowell was still crouched over the safe, so she was able to recover her composure before he could see her.

“Surprised to see me, Molly?” he asked.

“Surprised to see you … today,” she said, recovering nicely. “Get the payroll delivered already?”

“Safe and sound into the hands of the miners,” Locke said. “Or isn’t that what you want to hear?”

She walked to the desk, turned, and looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll explain,” he said, “after I get paid.”

She looked at Crowell, who was taking money out of the safe. “Is that what you’re doing, George? Paying him?”

“That’s right,” Crowell said. “Only the marshal got killed delivering the payroll.”

“Did he?” She looked back at Locke. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yes,” Locke said. “I’m sure you are.”

“Here you go, Mr. Locke,” Crowell said, approaching him and handing him the money. “One thousand dollars.”

“A thousand?” Molly asked.

“Yes,” Crowell said. “I’m sure Mr. Locke will give the marshal’s share to his family.”

“I understood the marshal had no family,” she said.

“I was the closest thing,” Locke said, pocketing the money. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you, Molly?”

“Well, I really don’t see why the marshal should get paid … I mean, if he’s dead.”

“Molly!” Crowell said.

“Was that why you hired him?” Locke asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“You hired Cooper because he had no family? Wouldn’t be missed if he got killed trying to deliver your gold?”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Yes,” Crowell asked. “What are you talking about, Mr.

Locke?”

“She never intended for the second payroll to be delivered, George,” Locke explained. “She got the sheriff to agree to steal it from Cooper for her—only she didn’t know I’d be along.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Locke took the sheriff’s badge from his pocket and flicked it into the air. It sailed across the room and landed on the desk.

“You’re saying the sheriff tried to steal the gold from you and Marshal Cooper?” Crowell asked. “And you killed him?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“And that he was working for Molly?”

“With Molly,” Locke said. “I think the sheriff thought he was working with Molly, not for her.” He didn’t mention that Cooper had turned the sheriff with the promise of a bigger cut, then killed the man after Hammet helped him get away from Locke.

“This is preposterous,” Crowell said. “Why would Molly want to steal her own payroll?”

“To get out from under, George,” Locke said. “Out from under her father, the mine—heck, maybe even you. Remember, the miners had no idea she was sending extra money up there or that it was in gold.”

“You’re crazy,” Molly said.

“Why would she lie about that?” Crowell asked. “I was bound to find out sooner or later that the miners didn’t request those things.”

“And by that time, she would have been gone, maybe to Mexico or maybe Canada, since we’re closer to there. Either way, gold would spend just as well.”

“I don’t believe you,” Crowell said.

“I don’t care whether you believe me or not,” Locke said. “I wanted to get paid and wanted to let you know what was going on.” He looked at Molly. “And I wanted you to know that I know. That’s all. What happens after this is up to you two.”

Locke turned and walked out. He went to the buckboard, flung the tarp off, picked up the sheriff’s body, and walked back into the office with it slung over his shoulder. Crowell and Molly were facing off, and it looked as if she was trying to explain something to him.

“—Lot of explaining to do, Molly,” Crowell was saying. “I’ve been worried about you for some time, but this—”

“—You know me better than that, George,” she was saying, trying to talk over him. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I love—”

“Excuse me,” Locke said. He split them and dropped the dead sheriff onto the desk, right on top of the badge.

“I believe this is yours.”

He left again, this time closing the door behind him, and went to buy a horse.

When Locke rode out of Turnback Creek, he had no idea how things had turned out between Crowell and Molly. He actually didn’t care what happened to the Shillstone mine. The miners had been paid, several months in advance. If the mine closed down, they’d be taken care of for a while.

Had the mine shown signs of drying up? Was that why Molly was planning to run off with the last of Shillstone Mining’s operating capital? Run out on the bank notes?

He was a mile outside Turnback Creek when he stopped thinking about any of them at all. His thoughts at that point were for Dale Cooper. He was saddened by what had happened to the man, and he was angry at Cooper for forcing his hand and making him kill him. It seemed to him that when the man died, so did all the good memories of him.

He was two miles out of town when he stopped thinking about Dale Cooper.

None of the people he was leaving behind was worth more than an extra two miles of thought, anyway.