Twisted Trails (11 page)

"Look," Uriah said, his craggy face pleading, "I like you—like you a lot, Paul. Work for me here at the store."

The older man's friendship warmed Paul.

"I'd rather not say right now, Uriah," Paul told him. "There's two or three things I want to get settled."

"Such as?"

"For one thing, I'm going to try and find out who paid Big-head to shoot at me. Maybe it was Finch; maybe it wasn't. I have other enemies here, and, knowing about my reason for being here and the quarrel between Finch and me, they might figure they can get away with murder and let Finch take the blame."

"If I can help you in any way, let me know," Uriah offered.

"Thanks, Uriah. Tell me something. Where would Eglund come on five gold pieces?" Paul asked.

Uriah rubbed his graying hair across his head and said, "I reckon he's got a sideline. I ain't a man to interfere in other people's business, so long as they leave me alone. Eglund, backed by another party, is smuggling whiskey where it ain't wanted."

"Who's back of him? Finch?"

"Nope. He was doing it before Finch came here."

"Addie?"

"I reckon Addie ain't after that kind of money. Neither am I, in case you're thinking of asking me."

Paul showed Big-head's purse. "Big-head got five double eagles, too. I reckon the coyote who's back of all this has a fixed price for anything: a hundred bucks flat rate for bullets or booze."

"Might be no connection," Uriah grunted. "I'll see what I can worm outa Eglund. He's right simple once you know how he ticks."

It was getting on into the afternoon. "I've got to go now," Paul said without explanation. Then, thinking of the coming meeting with Hornaby, he added with a grin, "I may be back for some arnica later on."

When Paul entered the Lone Chance dining room the evening rush was over, and he felt a lift as he saw Addie hurrying toward him from the door leading into the saloon. He had washed the blood off his face, but it was still cut and sore, and he saw hurt and dismay come into Addie's eyes when she noticed this.

"Paul—another fight?" she asked softly as she followed him to the rear of the room and sat across from him at a table.

"This was an affair of honor, Addie," he said, and grinned at her.

"You talk as if you'd had a duel."

"I did, sort of. Hornaby made a remark this morning when he was questioning me, and I didn't like it. I slapped him across the mouth, and he invited me out back of the stables after retreat."

"You mean to tell me Hornaby did that after the way you beat up Stebbins and Miles?"

"Oh, he's not really a coward," Paul said; "he just don't know when to be brave." Then he added, "I'm starved, Addie. How about some dinner?"

"Didn't you eat at the Youngs'?"

"I don't live there or work there any more."

Because the girls were through in the dining room and were out in the bar by now, Addie went to the kitchen and ordered food for Paul. When she came back, she said:

"Tell me about the fight."

Paul shrugged. "There isn't much to tell. The major's a good man with his fists—scientific," Paul said, rubbing his jaw reflectively. "He knocked me down a couple of times. That scientific fighting can tire a man out. Too much traveling."

"What did you do to him? You act as though you enjoyed the fight," Addie said.

"Could be," he acknowledged. "Let's say the fight ended in a draw. Leastways, I think the major and I understand each other better now."

The food came, and as he ate, Addie talked to him.

"What are you going to do now, Paul?"

"I'm not sure."

"You going to cut and run without Alonzo?"

"Look, Addie, I've been framed, kicked around, shot at. I've got only a few more days to wait, and I intend to wait. If I live that long, Finch is going back with me."

"In the meantime, what are you going to do?"

"I figured maybe you had a room here for me— I'll just hang around and wait for the warrant." He remembered the letter he had not received and frowned.

"I'm glad you quit your job," Addie said.

"Why?" Paul asked suspiciously. "Why should you be glad?"

"Carmody, Farrow and myself intend to offer you a proposition. They're coming over tonight."

"What kind of proposition could you offer me, Addie? I'm suspected of murder, branded a thief…"

"I think I know who the murderer is," Addie said softly, a note of sadness creeping into her voice.

"Well, for gosh sakes, speak up!"

"Not yet, Paul. I want to be sure. If we pick the wrong man, the right man will go free. When you're through eating, come up to my room." With that, Addie rose and went through the bar and up the stairway.

Paul went into the bar and saw Alonzo Finch drinking at the bar with a couple of miners.

Paul sauntered up to the bar, caught Finch's attention and said, "How about drinks all around?"

The miners looked at Paul with respect and friendliness. "We sure would be proud to drink with you, Scott."

"Does hay hauling pay so well that you can afford to treat, Paul?" Finch asked.

"It doesn't pay as well as some other things, Finch," Paul replied. He took out Big-head's purse and tossed it on the bar in full view of Finch.

"Where did you get that?" Finch said, the slightest hesitation in his guarded voice.

"Do you recognize it, Alonzo? I took it off Big-head Larson."

"But I thought you said you didn't kill him."

"I didn't. But you know what I think, Finch? I think you paid him what's in that purse to kill me!"

The miners moved uneasily. Finch, though his gun was hidden, was armed, and Paul wore his forty-five in full view on his hip.

"Paul, you're still a nuisance. One of these days you're going to find yourself in trouble," Finch said evenly. His soft-looking body appeared to harden and grow taller.

"How about now?" Paul asked, pushing back from the bar.

Finch shrugged. "Why should I do the law's work?"

Addie appeared at the foot of the stairs and beckoned to Paul. He picked up the purse that had belonged to Big-head, threw a coin on the bar and told the others to order up. Then he turned to follow Addie to her room.

For a moment he felt uncomfortable and out of place in the luxuriously furnished room, that smelled of perfume and cosmetics. Candles shed a soft radiance upon the silk bedspread and the brocade furniture.

"You've got a right pretty place here, Addie," Paul complimented her.

"I've got some good brandy, too," she said. "That stuff at the bar isn't much good, but it's all I can get here. I have this sent out from New York."

She poured him a small glass of the amber fluid. Her every movement was graceful and yet dead sure. Paul sipped the brandy and felt it burn in his stomach.

"Why did you want me here, Addie?" he asked, watching her.

"Don't you like it?"

"I reckon it's real nice—too nice for a rough man in a rough country to appreciate. It would soften him."

"A man like you can get too hard, Paul."

"I wouldn't know. I know only that somebody is bent on making it tough for me. They're willing to go to any extreme except meeting me face to face. That meeting's got to come, and I can't afford to be soft about it, Addie."

"I was gauging you," she said with ill-concealed pleasure. "We want to hire you as a man to keep the law here…"

Before Paul could reply, there was the scrape of feet in the hall, and Addie let Carmody and Farrow into the room. These men, too, felt uneasy in such feminine surroundings. Addie poured them all drinks and invited the men to sit. Carmody was a typical railroad man, broad of chest, thick of arm. His hands were huge, and the whiskey glass appeared fragile and helpless in his grasp. Farrow was different, a tall, rawhide man of loose construction. His face wore the pallor of the mines, and his eyes were squinted, but at home, in the candlelight.

"You do the talking, Addie," Carmody said gruffly.

"There's not much talking to do. This camp is going to start booming like a mushroom once things get started. We're the people in on the ground floor, and if we keep a tight grip, the town will run our way. You've proved yourself here, Paul, as a man who can fight and isn't afraid. We want to hire you to keep things honest and quiet."

Paul looked about at the serious faces and felt flattered by the offer. "Look here," he said. "Even if I agreed to accept your offer, it wouldn't stick. You couldn't just hand me a lawman's job. I'd have to be appointed…"

"That would come. Right now we need you," Carmody put in earnestly. "Day after tomorrow I've got the payroll coming in. It was stolen once right off the stage."

Farrow, his voice a little wheezy, said, "We've hit a vein of gold up on the hill; danged near pure metal. I've got a special crew mining that gold, men I can trust. But if rumor gets out that I'm holding that kind of stuff, it will be stolen before I can get it to Salt Lake. We can tell folks hereabouts that you were deputized by mail. When the marshal comes, he can do it proper."

"I hope to have him do it proper," Paul agreed, "but just so I can take Finch back to Oklahoma with me. You see I won't be here long enough to do much good."

"Why don't you try it, Paul?" Addie said. "It might give you a chance to find Big-head's killer. Much might happen before you leave here."

"Look, Addie, the warrant I'm waiting for might be here day after tomorrow."

"Will you take a special job?" Carmody asked, then, his big hands fondling the empty whiskey glass.

"Doing exactly what?"

Carmody looked around as though making sure nobody outside the room could hear. "I want you to ride out and meet the stagecoach when it comes in, and act as a special guard."

"Don't they carry a guard?"

"Sure, but I want to make it look good. It's just for looks, to keep 'em guessing."

"How do you mean that?"

Carmody grinned, his big, round face lighting up slyly. "The payroll won't be on the stage. This is a secret between us here. Addie knows about it, and so does Farrow. We've all used the same trick now and then. The payroll money is coming with an old trapper in a dilapidated buckboard. It's a hard-scrabble outfit nobody would suspect was worth thirty cents. We've banking on him getting through, but to make it look right, I want the extra guard on the stage. Do you savvy?"

"I savvy all right, Mr. Carmody, but I'm not sure I want to get shot up guarding something that isn't there."

"You don't have to carry it as far as bullets. Besides, the mail will be on the coach. It might carry the warrant you're wantin' so bad."

"Things are getting worse here lately," Addie took up the argument. "I don't like men being shot at, I don't like murder. We'll hire you as a sort of special agent until we see how it works out. Grievy was once a deputy, and I've still got his star. What do you say, Paul?"

"Keep your star, Addie," he said, and saw the accusation in her eyes. They all looked at him, judged him, and thought he was afraid. "But I'll take the special job, Carmody. I'll guard the stagecoach, because I've got a stake in the job myself. I want that warrant or any other kind of orders that come through that will give me a legal hold on Finch. Reckon, though, the marshal from Salt Lake might bring the warrant personally."

Addie said, disappointment in her low, husky voice, "That's your answer, then?"

"I'm sorry, Addie," Paul said softly.

Farrow said solemnly, his pasty face grim, "I think you're making a mistake, Scott. I don't know what Finch did to you back in Oklahoma, but if you're not there it can't hurt you. You're cut out for this land, Scott. It's a growing land, and you can grow with it. There's stuff to fight for here, and you can fight."

"What Finch did to me in Oklahoma isn't important only to me. My folks are still alive there. They're entitled to the respect and trust of the community. My brothers did some bad things, but not so bad as they were painted. I want to take Finch back and force the truth out of him."

"Suppose he murdered Big-head," Addie said. "Then you could get him here in the territory for murder."

"Oklahoma has first chance at him," Paul said stubbornly. "If he has any time left, this territory can have him."

Farrow rose and stretched. "You're your own man, Scott. Don't stand in your own way." Farrow said good night to Addie and went out.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Carmody said. "The stage comes in day after tomorrow; that will give you time to make plans."

He found himself alone once more with Addie and the perfume and silk and lace.

"You can share the room off the kitchen with the night cook. It's warm there, and safe," she told him.

Thanking her, Paul went on down the stairs and outside without looking toward the bar.

When Norah awoke after a restless night, she appeared in the kitchen for breakfast dressed in her flannel shirt and buckskin pants. At sight of her, her mother's face lost its animated glow and changed to an expression of critical disapproval.

"What's the matter with you, child? Why in the world do you have to dress like that?" Helen asked.

"I intend to haul the hay to the post today, Mother."

"Don't you realize you're a grown woman? That job isn't for you any more. It was all right to do it once in a while when you were tomboying around here, but now you need some dignity."

"I don't feel, Mother, that dignity suffers through honest labor. It's a job I can do. I feel responsible for Paul being thrown off the post."

"Eglund can do it," Helen said. "What do you think Major Hornaby will think of you, dressed like a man and doing a man's work?"

"It isn't important to me what the major thinks," Norah replied, her voice level. "As for Eglund hauling the hay, he's got too much to do already. If he hauls the hay, it means that Uriah will have to do double work."

"I thought Alonzo Finch might become interested enough in you to marry you and take you away from here. I see now that it's hopeless," Helen said.

"I don't want to go away from here," Norah said fiercely. Then, changing the subject, she asked, "Did you see the letter Uriah brought for Paul night before last?"