“We’re happy workin’ for Miss Sutton,” Scratch said. “We intend to keep on doin’ it.”
Nicholson nodded. “I understand. I applaud such loyalty. I would point out, though, that the Argosy can afford to pay you more than the Golden Queen.” He smiled at Martha. “No offense, my dear.”
Despite that, she looked a mite offended anyway, Bo thought. But she just said, “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t try to steal my employees away from me, Mr. Nicholson.”
He laughed. “Of course. Congratulations on getting your shipment through.” He nodded to Bo, Scratch, and Chloride. “And congratulations to you three on surviving your encounter with the Deadwood Devils.”
As Nicholson moved on down the street, Chloride muttered, “You notice he didn’t say nothin’ about bein’ wrong to fire me.”
“He was thinkin’ it,” Scratch assured the old-timer.
Several of Davenport’s clerks emerged from the bank to begin the task of unloading the gold. Bo followed the clerks inside and watched them place the crates full of gold bars into the vault while Scratch and Chloride stayed outside to keep an eye on the wagon. It didn’t take long to get everything unloaded, including the bags of gold dust in the compartment under the seat. Davenport wrote out a receipt and gave it to Martha.
“There you are, Miss Sutton,” he said. “I assume you’ll want some of the funds added to your drawing account?”
“That’s right,” she said. “I’m going to stock up on supplies for my workers and send them back out to the mine with the wagon.”
While they were making those arrangements, Chloride eyed the saloons on the eastern end of the settlement, in the area sometimes known as the Badlands. The fire the year before had wiped out a number of those establishments, but they had been rebuilt. Chloride licked his lips and said, “I could sure use a drink to warm me up. The sun may be shinin’, but it’s still a pretty chilly day.”
“I was thinking more about getting something to eat,” Bo said with a nod toward the Red Top Café.
“That ain’t a bad idea,” Scratch agreed. “I got somethin’ on my mind I need to ask Miz Pendleton about.”
Bo looked over at his old friend. “You’re not thinking about marriage again, are you? I know the idea crops up every time you meet a pretty widow—”
“Especially a pretty widow who can cook,” Scratch said with a grin. “But naw, I reckon I know by now I ain’t ever gonna settle down. I’ve got a question for the lady anyhow.”
“All right, but don’t be surprised if she slaps your face.”
“It ain’t that kind of question,” Scratch said. “Chloride, you comin’ along?”
The old-timer sighed. “I reckon so. Coffee don’t cut the trail dust as well as a shot of red-eye, but it don’t muddle the mind as much, neither.”
Bo told Martha Sutton they would see her later, then the three men walked down the street to the café.
Sue Beth didn’t look surprised to see them when they walked in. As they came up to the counter, she said, “I’ve been hearing all about your exploits. I guess I should have let you pay for those meals a couple of nights ago after all. I just thought that I’d never see you again.”
Bo reached for his pocket. “I can pay you now—” he offered.
“Don’t you dare!” Sue Beth said with a smile. “Next time, though, I’ll have a little more faith in you.” She paused. “I assume there will be a next time?”
“You mean, are we gonna bring in another shipment from the Golden Queen?” Scratch asked. He nodded. “I reckon we will, just as soon as we can manage it.”
Sue Beth shook her head. “Amazing.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, what can I do for the conquering heroes?”
“It’s a little early for supper,” Bo said. “But how about some coffee and a piece of pie?”
“Apple or peach?”
Bo chose apple, while Scratch and Chloride both decided to have peach pie. As Sue Beth cut pieces of pie and put them on saucers, she said, “You’re going to ruin your appetites, you know, eating pie this soon before supper.”
Scratch said, “Considerin’ the food you dish up, ma’am, there ain’t no chance of that!” He sat down on one of the stools at the counter, and as Bo and Chloride did likewise, Scratch went on. “You know, Miz Pendleton, Thanksgivin’ is comin’ up.”
“Is it?” Sue Beth asked with a twinkle in her eye as she placed the saucers in front of the three men. “Out here on the frontier like this, it’s hard to keep up with holidays.”
“Yes’m, it is,” Scratch said solemnly. “Where Bo and me come from, back in Texas, we always have a big feast on Thanksgivin’ with turkey and all the trimmin’s.”
“I believe that tradition started with the Pilgrims, not in Texas . . . but go on, Mr. Morton.”
“Well, ma’am, I was just wonderin’ . . . if we can come up with a turkey, how would you feel about fixin’ it for us?”
“A Thanksgiving feast, you mean?”
Scratch nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Sue Beth took her time in answering, but Bo had a hunch she was just teasing Scratch. Finally, she smiled and said, “I think that can be arranged, Mr. Morton.”
A relieved grin broke across Scratch’s face. “I’ll be much obliged, ma’am. You don’t know how much. I can’t remember how long it’s been since Bo and me had ourselves a real Thanksgivin’ feast.”
“Well, this year you really have something to be thankful for, don’t you? You brought that gold shipment in successfully . . . and you didn’t get killed by the Deadwood Devils!”
CHAPTER 12
After they finished their pie and coffee, Chloride drove the wagon down to Hanson’s Livery Stable. The Texans walked along behind, leading their mounts. When they got there, the wizened liveryman said, “Miss Sutton came by and told me you’d be leavin’ the wagon and those mules here for the night. Ain’t no charge. She’s taken care of it already.”
“I hope you gave her a fair price,” Bo said.
Hanson bristled at those words. “Of course I did! I treat everybody fair.”
Bo had his doubts about that, but he didn’t figure it was worth arguing over. He gave Hanson instructions to have the mule team hitched to the wagon early the next morning for the return trip to the Golden Queen mine.
“Whatever you want,” Hanson said.
They went to Martha’s office next and found the young woman entering figures in a ledger. She looked up at them with a smile as she said, “Come in. I was just adding the shipment you brought in today to the balance sheets. I have to admit, it makes things look a lot better.”
“And Mr. Keefer said there’s that much again ready to ship,” Bo told her. “We’ll be heading back up to the mine first thing in the morning to get it. Be back in town day after tomorrow, if there aren’t any problems. If that’s what you want, that is. You’re still the boss.”
Martha set her pen back in its holder. “The sooner we get the gold here, the better as far as I’m concerned. When I get through here, I’ll go over to Bullock and Star’s store and give Mr. Star the order for the supplies I want you to take with you. He’ll have it ready for you early tomorrow morning.”
“Sounds good.” Bo nodded and started to turn away.
“Wait a minute,” Martha said. As the three men paused, she went on, “Tell me . . . how are things at the mine? Are the men still in good spirits? They . . . they haven’t given up on me, have they?”
“No, ma’am,” Scratch replied without hesitation. “As far as I could tell, everybody’s workin’ hard and pullin’ for you to make a go of it.”
Bo nodded. “I agree. They’re a mite worried, of course, considering everything that’s been going on—”
“How could they not be?” Martha said quietly.
“That’s right. But like Scratch says, they’re still on your side.”