Turnback Creek (Widowmaker) (3 page)

W
hen Dale Cooper was bathed, dressed in new, clean clothes, and reasonably sober, Locke took him to the small café where he’d first met Molly Shillstone.

“Hungry already?” Felix asked.

“My friend could use some coffee,” Locke told him, “and I didn’t have dessert.”

“Pie?”

“Apple,” Locke said with a nod. “When’s the last time you ate something, Dale?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Bring two slices,” Locke told the waiter.

“Gotcha.”

Several tables were occupied, but Locke was able to grab the same table he’d had earlier in the day. Cooper was morose as Locke seated him and then sat across from him.

“You’re not making me feel very good about coming all this way to see you, Dale,” Locke said. “I dropped what I was doing, even though your telegram said very little, in the name of our friendship. Tell me if you’re a hopeless drunk and I’m wasting my time here.”

After a moment, Cooper looked across the table at Locke and said, “I’m not hopeless.”

“So, you’re a drunk.”

Cooper said, “My life hasn’t been easy since we last saw each other, John.”

“And that’s why you’re a drunk?”

Cooper waited a moment, then said, “I don’t remember you being such a harsh judge.”

Felix came over with the coffee and pie, saw that something was going on between the two men, and withdrew without saying a word.

“John,” Cooper said. “Yes, I am a drunk—or I have been—but I’m trying to quit.”

“Didn’t look that way to me today, Dale. Looked to me like you spent a few days inside a bottle.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never gotten drunk.”

Locke had his own problems with drinking, which had cost him his one and only job as a lawman in Tombstone years ago, but that wasn’t the point.

Of course, it had something to do with his being so judgmental when it came to others.

“All right, Dale,” Locke said. “The past ten years have been hard on you—so hard that you disappeared from sight. I assume it all stems from that day in Ellsworth?”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Cooper said.

“You were the marshal,” Locke said. “Your fault or not, you took the blame.” Much the same thing had happened to Locke in Tombstone, only to a certain extent that was his fault. He wasn’t willing to discuss that with Cooper, though. “That was part of the job.”

“It wasn’t fair,” Cooper muttered.

“Eat some pie,” Locke said.

“I can’t eat.”

“Drink some coffee.”

“I can’t.”

“Drink some damn coffee, Dale!”

Cooper lifted the cup to his lips and took a small, grudging sip. Locke ate a bite of apple pie and washed it down with some coffee while continuing to stare across the table at his friend. Cooper’s pallor was bad, his eyes were moist, and even the bath had not washed away the smell of whiskey as it continued to leak from his pores.

The man needed help.

“All right, Dale,” Locke said. “Why don’t you tell me why you asked me to come here?”

D
ale Cooper ate the rest of his pie as he talked, and he had some more coffee.

“The job is delivering a payroll,” he explained. He went on to tell Locke what he already knew about Molly Shillstone and her mine. Locke allowed him to go on, though, without telling him that he knew most of the story. As Cooper talked, he seemed to sober up and become animated. He also asked for another slice of pie.

“This is a chance to get back on my feet, John,” Cooper said. “They’re willing to pay me and whoever I get to help me five hundred dollars apiece. That’s more money than I’ve ever seen, John.”

Locke wondered how secure this offer was if Molly Shill-stone had approached him—a stranger—about the job.

“This is a done deal?” he asked.

“Completely.”

“You don’t think that sitting around in the bar the past few days might have put Mrs. Shillstone off a bit?”

Cooper shrugged. “What does she care what I do in my off time, as long as I get the payroll delivered?”

“What exactly is the job?”

“Pick the payroll up from the train, bring it up the mountain, and deliver it to the manager up there so he can pay the men. It’s simple.”

“So, the payroll could be hit on the train before it gets here, at the train while we’re picking it up, or on the way up the mountain, which is how it was hit last time, right?”

“Right.”

“And you think two men can handle this?”

“If the two men are you and me,” Cooper said, “yes.”

“Coop,” Locke said, using the more familiar nickname for the first time, “if I take this job, I’ve got to know that you can watch my back.”

“When have I never watched your back?” Cooper demanded.

“It’s been ten years,” Locke said. “How do I know how badly your skills may have … eroded?”

Cooper glared across the table at Locke, and for the first time, Locke saw the old fire in his friend’s eye.

“You want to go outside with me right now and find out how well I can shoot?”

“I don’t doubt you can still shoot, Coop,” Locke said.

“Then what is it?”

“I’m wondering if you can stay sober.”

“Don’t worry, John,” Cooper said. “For five hundred dollars each, I can stay sober.”

Locke hesitated.

“I need you for this, John,” Cooper said, shaking his head. “I can’t do it with anyone else.”

A much truer statement might have been that nobody else would risk it with him.

“All right, Coop,” Locke said. “I’m your man.”

Cooper sat back and heaved a great sigh of relief. His boozy breath wafted across the table and struck Locke in the face.

“I’ll take you over to the mine office and introduce you to Molly Shillstone,” he said.

“Let’s stop at the general store first,” Locke suggested, “What for?”

“Some peppermint sticks.”

“Kids’ candy?” Cooper asked. “When did you develop a sweet tooth?”

“It’s not for me,” Locke said. “I don’t want Molly Shill-stone smelling that whiskey on your breath.”

Cooper put his hand in front of his face and breathed into it, then sniffed his own breath. “You might be right.”

“Some lilac water might not be a bad idea, either,” Locke said.

“You want me to smell like some fifty-cent whore?”

“Better a fifty-cent whore than a two-bit drunk,” Locke said. “I’ve got to look after my interests, Coop.”

Cooper frowned, then said, “Oh, all right!”

They went to the general store, and while they were there, Locke saw that they sold guns.

“We need a gun,” he said.

“What for?” Cooper asked.

“For you.”

“I got a gun.”

“That thing looks like it would explode in your hand, Coop,” Locke said. “I’m going to buy you some peppermints and a gun.”

“Goddamnit, John,” Cooper said, “I tol’ you I got money.”

“Well, keep it,” Locke said. He pointed to a Peacemaker in the display case and told the clerk, “Let me see that one.”

“Yes, sir,” the clerk said. He took it out and set it on the counter. “A fine weapon, sir, used by—”

“I don’t need a sales pitch from a store clerk, friend,” Locke said.

“Uh, n-no sir.”

Locke picked it, checked the action, and found it satisfactory—to him.

“What do you think?” he asked Cooper, handing the weapon to him. He noticed that his friend’s hands still shook some as he accepted the gun. “Fit your hand?”

“It’s fine,” Coop said, handing it back.

“We’ll take it,” Locke told the clerk. “And the pepper-mints.”

“Shall I, uh, wrap everything?” the clerk asked.

“No,” Locke said. “He’ll wear the gun.” He took the Navy Colt from his friend’s holster and replaced it with the Peacemaker. He was happy to see that all of Cooper’s instincts had not deserted him. He immediately removed the gun from his holster and loaded it.

“Here,” Locke said, placing the old Navy Colt on the counter. “Get rid of that for me.”

A
s they walked to the Shillstone Mining office, Locke wasn’t sure which scent was stronger, peppermint or lilac. Either one was better than the smell of whiskey.

“Are you okay?” Locke asked.

“I’m fine,” Cooper said. He stuck a finger in his mouth. “This candy is making my tooth hurt, and the smell of the lilac water is giving me a headache, but I’m fine.”

“The price of doing business,” Locke said. “I’m just protecting my interests.”

They crossed the street and approached the office.

“I should tell you I’ve already met Molly Shillstone,” Locke said.

“When? Where?”

“Earlier today, in that same café,” Locke said. “We … exchanged pleasantries.”

“Did you meet George Crowell?”

“Saw him,” Locke said, “but I didn’t meet him.”

“He’s her lapdog,” Cooper said. “Supposed to be her manager, but he just goes along with anything she wants.”

“Well,” Locke said, “she is the owner.”

“And a damn fine-lookin’ woman.”

“She is that.”

They reached the door, and Cooper opened it without knocking. He went in first, followed by Locke. Molly Shill-stone was behind a desk, and George Crowell was standing in front of it. They both looked at the two men as they entered the room.

“Marshal Cooper,” Molly Shillstone said. “And Mr. Locke? What are you doing here?”

“John Locke is the man I’ve recruited for the job,” Cooper said. “And he’s accepted.”

“Really?” Molly said, raising her eyebrows at Locke. “I had no idea you were connected with the marshal.”

“I guess I can say the same about you.”

“But I thought we were talking—” George started, but Molly Shillstone cut him off.

“I’m happy that you’ve agreed to join the marshal,” she said. “I’m feeling better about my payroll getting to its destination.”

“About that,” Cooper said. “Is it still arriving day after tomorrow?”

“Supposedly,” Molly said.

“What’s that mean?” Locke asked.

“It means that’s the plan,” Molly said, “but who knows what could happen between now and then?”

“Which train?” Cooper asked.

“There’s only one,” she said. “The twelve-oh-six.”

“We’ll be there to meet it,” Cooper assured her.

“We’ll be where?” Locke asked.

“Kingdom Junction. A day’s ride.”

Molly came around the desk and stood next to her manager. Locke noticed her wrinkle her nose and knew she’d caught the mixed scents emanating from Dale Cooper.

“Do you have a wagon and a team of horses we’ll be able to use?” Cooper asked. “Well need a good team.”

“Out back, Marshal,” she said. “George, why don’t you take the marshal outside and show him? Mr. Locke and I can use the time to get … better acquainted.”

George looked as if he were going to object but then simply said, “Oh, all right.”

Locke nodded to Cooper, who slowly followed the manager out the front door.

“I don’t know what was stronger,” Molly said, “the peppermint or the lilac. Your idea?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard about his drinking this week,” she said. “I was becoming worried.”

“Is that why you were going to offer me his job?”

She hesitated, then said, “Would you like a brandy?”

“Why not?”

He watched as she walked to a sideboard and poured two glasses. She was wearing a man’s shirt and a skirt and boots with just a hint of skin showing in between. Her hair was still in a bun, but he knew if she let it down, it would fall past her shoulders. Cooper had understated the facts. She was a hell of a lot more than just fine-looking.

She crossed the room and handed him a brandy snifter.

“You’re right,” she said, going back around her desk. “I was going to offer you his job. I guess it was fate that you end up working for me.”

“You’re paying me,” Locke said, “but I’m doing this for Coop.”

“Are you good friends?”

“Yes.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

He hesitated, then said, “A while.”

“A long while, I’d wager.”

“No bet,” Locke said.

She smiled. “Were you shocked when you saw him?”

“Yes,” he said, “but there’s nobody I’d rather have watching my back than Dale Cooper.”

“Even drunk?”

“He won’t be drunk.”

“Do you guarantee that?”

“Yes.”

“Without hesitation,” she said. “I admire your loyalty.”

“I wouldn’t be putting my own life on the line if I didn’t think he could handle the job.”

“I hope that’s the case, Mr. Locke,” she said. “If I don’t get that money up to my mine, I’m going to be out of business.”

“We’ll get it up there.”

“There are no-goods in this town just waiting for a chance to grab it,” she said.

“They’ll have to take it away from us.”

“They’ll try,” she said. “That much I’m sure of. You’re going to have to kill a few men to get that money to the mine. Does that bother you at all?”

“If you know who I am, you know that’s a silly ques-tion,” he said. “It’ll be their choice to die, not mine.”

“Good,” she said. “I really do feel better, then. Why don’t we celebrate over dinner tonight? My house?”

Locke hesitated, then said, “Coop and I would be happy to have dinner with you.”

She tossed her head back and laughed, a sexy, throaty sound.

“Yes, by all means bring the marshal. I’ll even invite George. He wants to ride up there with the two of you, you know.”

“Is he any good with a gun?”

“They terrify him,” she said. “He’d just get all three of you killed. I’ve told him I need him here.”

“That’s a good decision.”

Locke finished his brandy and moved to her desk, setting the glass down there. “I better go out and have a look at this wagon and team.”

“It’s a strong buckboard and a good team of horses,” she said. “Don’t you trust the marshal to inspect them?”

“The buckboard, maybe,” Locke said, “but he’s a lousy judge of horseflesh.”

She laughed again, not quite as heartily as before.

“All right,” she said, reaching for her hat. “Let’s both go out and have a look.”