“We can wrap them in blankets and take them with us,” Jack Coombs suggested. “Have them buried in Coffin Varnish.”
For a drunk it was a damn good idea. Seamus scowled. He would have to do something about Coombs soon. “We’ll do that. Put the bodies on horses that aren’t skittish. Do it right and wrap them good and tight.”
It was half an hour before they were under way again. Seamus had to pretend to be in a hurry without actually being in a hurry. When they were about ready he sent the rich kid, Lawrence Fisch, on ahead again, inwardly chuckling at the lunkhead’s attire.
Seamus noticed that Jack Coombs sat in the saddle a little steadier than before. The liquor was wearing off. Pretty soon Coombs would be as sober as the rest of them, and sober the man was as good a tracker as any who drew breath. Seamus couldn’t have that. He couldn’t have that at all.
Eventually Coffin Varnish reared in the distance. Fisch came riding back to inform them the town was quiet and peaceful and everyone appeared to be asleep although there were a few lamps on. “We will disturb everyone if we go riding on in.”
Seamus liked that, though. He doubted Frost and the woman were there, but if they were, the more noise the posse made, the better the chance Frost would hear and avoid them. So he rode at a gallop, and when they neared the outskirts, he bellowed, “Stay alert, men! That killer could be anywhere!”
A nice touch, Seamus thought. He brought them to a stop in front of the general store, and it was not long before a light glowed and the door tinkled and the mayor, in his nightshirt, peeked out.
“I say. What is the meaning of this? Some of us are trying to sleep.”
Seamus dismounted and brushed dust from his clothes. “Remember me? We are on official business. Law business. We are after Jeeter Frost.”
“He has stolen the schoolmarm,” a posse member said.
“And we have bodies,” Jack Coombs piped up.
“My word!” Chester Luce declared. “Give me a minute to get dressed and I will be right out.”
“Take five if you need to,” Seamus said generously.
Frank Lafferty came over to him. “Shouldn’t we search the town? Go from building to building and turn it upside down?”
“Down the street is an Italian family with kids,” Seamus said. “You want to scare them half to death?” He indicated the eastern horizon. “No, it will be daylight soon enough. We will search then, when it is safer.” He added with secret glee at the extra delay, “We have the bodies to bury first.”
“When it is light I can track,” Jack Coombs said. “It won’t take us long to catch them then.”
That was exactly what Seamus did not want to happen. He leaned against the hitch rail until the mayor reappeared, fully dressed.
“How may I be of assistance?”
“We need shovels to dig with,” Seamus said. “Coffee, too, to keep us awake. We have been in the saddle all night.”
“I don’t have room for all of you in the store,” Chester said. “But there is plenty of room over to the saloon. I will wake Win Curry.”
Seamus could have hugged him. “And the shovels?”
“Oh, those I have. You can borrow a few I have for sale. Just don’t scrape them up if you can help it.”
Jack Coombs glanced at Seamus. “You are forgetting to ask him the most important thing.” To the mayor he said, “Have you seen any sign of Jeeter Frost and the schoolmarm?”
“I have been in bed all night,” Chester replied. “Unless he marched into my bedroom and stuck a gun up my nose, I doubt it.”
Seamus laughed. “Bring the shovels. Any picks you have, too. Then you can go wake Curry.” He stared across the street at the saloon. There was the solution to his problem. “I can sure use that coffee.” But it was not coffee he was thinking of.
Chapter 27
Adolphina Luce did not like to get up early. She always did, to order Chester to fix breakfast, but she always went back to bed as soon as she was done eating. She would stay there until she absolutely had to get up. She liked to lie and slowly let life seep back into her until she had enough energy to rise and do whatever chore needed doing. So she was mildly miffed at the commotion her husband was making so early, and then more than mildly miffed when he came into the bedroom to dress and informed her a posse had shown up, and explained he must attend to them in his official capacity as mayor, and for her not to bother herself but stay in bed and sleep.
There were days when Adolphina would just as soon he had not been elected. He was always scooting off to do this or that, yet often as not she found him at the saloon. But she only had to remind herself his being mayor was a stepping-stone to greater things to temper her annoyance.
On this particular morning Adolphina tried to get back to sleep and couldn’t. Her mind would not shut down as she wanted. The curse of having a keen brain, she lamented. Because the truth be told, she was the brains of their marriage. Were things left up to him, they would be in the poorhouse.
The sun was barely risen when Adolphina reluctantly rose, donned her robe, and padded down the stairs to the store. Her husband was not there. She went to the front window and saw men loitering in front of the saloon.
“It figures,” Adolphina said aloud. Leave it to men to come up with an excuse to drink. She turned and shuffled down the hall to the kitchen. She was surprised the lamp was lit. She was even more surprised to smell the aroma of coffee and food. But neither matched the surprise she felt when a pistol barrel was flourished in her face.
“Not so much as a peep, lady. I am Jeeter Frost and you will do as I tell you.”
Adolphina had never seen the man-killer, but she had heard him described. She was not the least bit intimidated. “What are you doing in my house?” she demanded.
“Having breakfast,” said a spindly woman by the stove. “Would you care to join us, Mrs. Luce?”
“Who are you?” Adolphina snapped. “Are you with this brute?”
“That I am,” Ernestine Frost said sweetly. “Here. Let me pour you a cup of coffee and I will enlighten you.”
Adolphina listened in horror to the schoolmarm’s tale. How anyone in her right mind could wed a nasty speck of bile like Jeeter Frost was beyond her. The only conclusion she could come to was that the poor woman was delusional. Or desperate. Adolphina could understand the latter. There had been a time when she had feared she was fated to go through life unattached. She was no blushing romantic. When she looked in the mirror she saw a big ox of a woman, and few men liked to marry oxen. Then along came Chester, who had never been with a woman in his life but took it into his silly little head that she was the one for him.
Adolphina never could figure out why. Chester could do better. Not a smarter woman, certainly, but better looking. Yet he courted her. She had pretended not to be interested, which only increased his ardor, such as it was, all the while assessing his prospects. As a lover he made a great lump of clay. He not only did not know what to do; he was scared to death to do the little he knew. She’d had to encourage him, which, granted, did not take much. It never did with men. A woman batted an eye and a man was all over her. A pretty woman, at any rate.
As a businessman Chester was so-so. He had a head for accounts and numbers, but not necessarily a sharp head. His best asset was, ironically, his sunny disposition. Chester was friendly with everybody. He always had a ready smile, a nice comment. Ideal traits for, say, a politician.
It was Adolphina who goaded him into his political career by filling his head with visions of the greatness that awaited him if he would do as she wanted. He gave in. He always gave in. But all had not gone as she planned. Instead of flourishing as Dodge City flourished, Coffin Varnish withered on the municipal vine. Forcing her to work doubly hard to catapult Chester to higher office.