Emily sits down in the leather chair behind the desk and watches Humby moving about the room. She is desperate for an opportunity to read what the note says but doesn't want him to know that she has it.
McLaren smells of whiskey when he arrives.
'Miss Nixon is here as my guest.' Humby says.
'Guest?' says McLaren stupidly.
'The sort of guest that had better not leave without my permission.'
McLaren smiles a leering, drunken sort of smile.
'We're going to be married just as soon as the judge gets here. I have some things to do before he arrives and I need someone to keep an eye on my fiancée.'
'I can do that.' McLaren grins.
'And you can wipe that grin off your face. Don't you think I'm leaving her here for your entertainment. She's mine and I'm marrying her. Nobody harms a hair on her head but me, do you understand? You're to keep watch, nothing more.'
McLaren frowns.
'Don't you trust me?'
'I trust you enough for this. She's going to be staying in here for now. I'm going to lock this door. You can keep watch at Haskins's desk out there.' He points at the large office.
Humby ushers McLaren out and directs him to the desk by the door. Without saying a word to her, he pulls the door shut. She hears the key turn in the lock.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
He takes a familiar route to the cabin, through the trees away from the main track. He is early. The note said 'at sunset'. He still suspects a trap, but he hopes to be early enough to turn the tables. If he can get the money then he can still leave Walkers Creek with a healthy profit.
The stolen horse labors over the steep, broken ground. His own horses and his equipment are all still back at the hotel. He will have to leave them behind if he is to escape the attentions of the sheriff and Humby. He can live without his things. He'll be able to buy new clothes and anything else he needs provided he has some money to take with him. If this money drop goes off the way it is supposed to then it'll be worth more than the value of all the stuff he is leaving behind.
Logan ties up the horse to the same tree that he'd tied his own horses to on the day he dynamited the house. The horse fidgets and shuffles noisily. He talks softly to it trying to calm it down. He misses his own horses, they are so much better for this sort of sneaking around. At least he hasn't had to walk here from the ranch, that would have really tested the ankle he hurt jumping from the window. The horse is a bonus. It has got him here nice and early and got him quickly away from Wilson and Humby. Of course, now that he is a horse thief, it could also get him shot.
He edges through the trees to get a look at the McLaren house. He sits quietly, watching for movement. There is no breeze in the airless heat of the day. Nothing moves, just a gentle shimmer in the air from the sun's heat on the ruins.
He wishes he had his rifle. If he could have just one of the things he has left behind, his rifle would be his choice. More than his own horse, his rifle. A pistol is no use at this distance. If someone were moving around at the house he'd have no chance of hitting them from here. With this gun, he's going to have to get closer.
He keeps looking down at the ground for clues, to see if the Mexican is here already. Each time he looks he curses at the abundance of tracks. Boots and horses. Tracks over tracks. The ground is so well trodden it could be a town's main street. The sheriff and his men have certainly been thorough. There could be a dozen men hiding around the cabin's ruin and they'd have left no different tracks to these.
He creeps as close as he dares in the shade of the trees. He can still hear the stolen horse shuffling and snuffling. If the Mexican is here then he can probably hear the horse too. There is no wind to take the sound away. Should he wait? Maybe he should start to circle the house and check the trees on the other side?
The sun is still high in the sky. It will be some hours before sunset. Perhaps the Mexican isn't here yet. He starts to think about the best spot for an ambush. The trees are too far from the house here. He needs to be closer. Damn that rifle.
An eagle soars high overhead in the silence.
He feels he has sat here a long while and seen nothing that suggests that he isn't alone. If there is anyone else here they are a lot more patient than he is. Slowly he starts to move along the tree line. Pausing from time to time to listen. Nothing. He reaches the point where the trees are closest to the house and peers out along the main track that leads back to Walkers Creek. Surely the Mexican wouldn't just come straight up that track? But maybe he has no reason to suspect that there'd be anyone here before him?
Was that a noise? Logan turns, scanning the trees behind him.
'You are early,' says the Mexican. Logan cannot see him but the voice is clear enough and from somewhere in the trees.
'So are you,' Logan says, after a pause.
'You creep about in the trees, Mr. Tanner. Why do you not go fetch the money?'
He doesn't remember telling the Mexican his name. This isn't happening the way it was supposed to. It is barely after noon and yet they are both already here for a meeting at sunset. An anonymous exchange and yet this Mexican is calling to him by name. Damn, why didn't he bring that rifle? He squints into the trees trying to make out where the Mexican is hiding.
'Go on, go take the money. It is in the chimney like the note said. I place it there already.'
'Why are you hiding?' Logan calls out. If he can't see the Mexican then it won't be wise to move at all. He needs to get this out into the open.
'I see you sneaking about, why would I not hide?'
'It seemed like we had a good arrangement when you hired me. There was plenty of trust between us then. Why not trust me now? Don't you think that if I'd come here to double-cross you I'd have brought a rifle?'
'Okay, I come out.'
There is a rustling in the trees and Logan hunts for the source of the noise, pistol raised at the ready. The flash of movement is much closer than he expects and he fires. The bullet hits a tree and sprays splinters. The sound of the shot echoes around the valley.
'That was not the way to win trust Mr. Tanner.' The Mexican's voice seems to come from somewhere else.
Is he shooting at shadows? Is that thing over there just a bit of cloth on a stick or a man with a gun? Logan's heart pounds. He transfers his gun to his left hand to wipe the sweat from the grip. He mustn't panic. Stay calm and in control, that's the only way to win a game like this. Except he's never played a game like this before.
A crack of a stick breaking underfoot sounds as though it comes from the back of the house. Logan raises the gun again, but there is nothing to shoot at.
He is looking in the right direction to see the muzzle flash. The bullet misses, ricocheting off the rock he was resting his gun hand on. That was too close. The echoing shot sounded like a rifle too. He is at a big disadvantage. What was he thinking? Why did he think that he could just ride up and take the money? The money doesn't matter now. He isn't going to be getting away from here.
No, don't give up, that way is certain death. Stay calm and in control. Find somewhere better to hide, somewhere that's easier to defend. There are too many trees here.
Looking back up the track towards the town he sees that the ground becomes more broken and the trees less thick. There is no need to stay near the house now, any idea of an ambush is gone. If he can get away from the trees and get some open ground between him and the Mexican's rifle then maybe he has a chance.
He starts to shuffle backwards, keeping his head down and watching the spot where he'd seen the Mexican fire from. Crouched behind a tree he takes a deep breath and adjusts his hat. He wipes the sweat from his hand again. The sweat seems sticky and looking down he sees that his hand is bleeding where a shard of rock must have cut him. He has left a trail of little drips of blood as he moved. He wipes it roughly, it seems to be just a scratch. He peers back round the tree in time to see the Mexican moving. He fires, twice, all noise and smoke. He doubts that he has hit the Mexican, he is too far away, but it might be enough to scare him into staying still.