Kelly’s chair creaked as he shifted his weight. “I’m hauling my freight, Cage. The French are paying big money for laboring men to help dig a canal down Panama way, and there’s talk our own government will soon get involved.”
“Nook, I can’t see you using a shovel and swinging a pick,” Clayton said.
“Maybe not, but I’m going to give it a try.”
Kelly finally lit his cigarette. “You ever think that Lissome Terry might be dead?” he said.
“He’s not.”
“How do you know? All men die, some sooner than others.”
“He’s here, in Bighorn Point. I can feel him, smell his stink.”
Kelly’s breath sighed through his chest like a forlorn breeze. “Cage, marry Emma. Build a new life for yourself.”
Chapter 39
The day was shading into evening when Angus McLean returned to Bighorn Point.
Moses Anderson dropped him off at the hotel where Clayton and Kelly still sat on the porch, content, for this day at least, to let the world go on without them.
To Clayton’s surprise, McLean staggered a little as he stepped down from the gig; then he saw the reason. Moses tilted back his head and drained the last drop from a whiskey bottle before tossing it into the street.
McLean looked at the black man and made a small, unsteady bow.
“A robbing Hindoo ye may be,” he said, “but you’re a bonnie lad and you’ve done me a great service this day.” The little Scotsman hiccupped. “If you’re ever in Edinburgh, pay me a visit and I’ll give ye the best my poor hoose has to offer.”
He turned and, with that stiff-kneed dignity possessed by only the truly drunk, negotiated the two steps to the porch.
“Well, Mr. McLean,” Kelly said, “do you own a ranch?”
“That I do, Constable,” McLean said. “The lassie drove a hard bargain and the land and cattle cost me a lot of silver, but the bargain was made and the deed was done and there’s an end to it.”
He waved a hand, unsteadying himself, and Kelly rose quickly and helped him remain on his feet.
“Thank ye, Constable. Thank ye kindly.” The Scotsman waved his hand again. “Yon black laddie is a robber through and through, but he knows the land and he knows cattle and he taught me much.”
McLean hiccupped again. “I mean, aboot the grass and the water and the coos. And another thing, he can stand his whiskey like a man. Like a Scotsman, if I’m no mistaken.”
Smiling, Kelly said. “Moses has been up the trail a few times. He knows cattle and grass.”
McLean nodded. “That he does. Benighted Hindoo he may be, but he’s a clever lad.”
“When will you move onto the Southwell Ranch, Mr. McLean?” Kelly said.
McLean reared back as though he’d been slapped. “Never, I say! My home is in Edinburgh in bonnie Scotland. No, laddie, this wilderness of dust and drought is not for Angus McLean.” He tapped the side of his nose with a long forefinger. “I’ll hire a manager. He’ll run the place for me.”
“Do you have one in mind?”
“No, not in mind. But my lawyers in Boston will find a likely lad. I’m sure of that.”
“There’s a likely lad right here, Mr. McLean. This is Mr. Cage Clayton and he owned his own ranch at one time. Now he’s looking for work.”
Before Clayton could object, Kelly said, “And he’s getting married soon.”
“Is that right?” McLean said. He looked at Clayton like a molting owl. “What happened to your own ranch?”
“Three years of drought and poor cattle prices,” Clayton said. “But I’m not looking for a job.”
“Do ye know coos and grass and water?”
“Yes, I do, and a lot more besides. But, as I told you, I don’t need a job.”
“And getting wed too.” McLean shook his head. “Ah, weel, you’re a fine young man and you look a person in the eye, and that’s all to the good. So, if you change your mind . . .”
“I won’t.”
McLean nodded. “It’s me for my bed. The drive out to the ranch and the bargaining has fair wore me out.” He lifted his hat. “Good night to ye both, gentlemen.”
After McLean was gone, Kelly said, “Marry Emma and take the ranch manager’s job. Settle down, Cage, and forget Lissome Terry.”
Clayton smiled. “Maybe I’d consider it if I thought for one moment that Terry’s forgotten me.”
Chapter 40
“Think of it, Shad. We can go east—Boston, New York, even Europe. All the wonderful places I’ve only dreamed about,” Lee Southwell said.
“Until the money runs out,” Vestal said. “What then?”
“I don’t care. By then we’ll have lived, Shad, lived my dream. And you by my side, sharing it with me.”
Vestal smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll have thought of a way to make money by the time ol’ Park’s dough is spent.”
Lee put her hand on his arm. “Of course you will, my darling.”
“Before we leave, I have a little job to do for the Hog.”
The woman was alarmed. “Not me, Shad. Please say it’s not me.”
“No, it’s not you.”
A shudder shivered through her and she pulled her shawl closer. “I couldn’t bear that sweating pig grunting on top of me again.”
“He paid us well enough.” Vestal smiled. “We’ll spend his money in Paris.”
Lee lifted her beautiful eyes to Vestal’s face. “It was worth it, Shad, wasn’t it? All the times I let him ride me like a mare?”
“Of course it was worth it. Count the money in your dresser drawer if you need convincing.”
“You don’t mind? I mean, that I was with him for so long?”
Vestal shook his head. “No, I don’t mind. It was only business, just like gunning Park was business.”
The moonlight caught in Lee’s hair and cast one side of her face in shadow. “I thought Parker would never die,” she said.
“Me too. That’s why I helped him along. He rode my bullet into hell.”
The woman laid her head on Vestal’s chest. “You’re so good to me, Shad, and I love you so much.”
“You proved that today, Lee. You proved that when you told the Scotsman that we were the co-owners of the ranch.”
The woman smiled, her mouth still close to Vestal’s chest. “You suppose his check is good?”
“It’s good all right. That little man still has the first penny he ever earned.” Vestal grinned, his voice affecting McLean’s accent. “Dealing with you two rrrobbers will put me in the poorrrhouse.”
Lee drew her head back and laughed. “Let’s go back to the house, darling, and make some plans.”
“No, it’s nice out tonight. Let’s walk some more.”
“I’m getting tired, so only to the cottonwood and back.” She smiled at Vestal. “Where will we go first? Boston? New York? Or should we spend a few weeks in Denver before heading east?”
Vestal smiled. “Well, Lee, I can’t answer that because we have a problem.”
The woman stopped walking and showed alarm again. “What sort of problem?”
“The Hog wants me to kill Cage Clayton first.”
Lee sighed her relief. “Oh, for a moment there, I thought it was something serious.”
“Killing a friend of Kelly’s could be serious.”
“You can take care of Kelly.”
“Sure I can.”
“Then there is no problem.”
They stood under the cottonwood, the moon bright enough to cast skeletal fingers of shadow on the grass. The wind was rising, blowing a tendril of hair across Lee’s forehead.
“We have a bigger problem,” Vestal said.
Lee looked up at him and smiled. “Shad, now you’re just being silly. You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”
Vestal shook his head. “When I was a boy, my ma didn’t stick around for long, but before she left she taught me how to read and do my ciphers.”