conversation about fetching his horse for him.
Logan sips his coffee and watches. This should be his last day in this town. That is the plan. He should have been paid the rest of the money by now. That is all that is keeping him here. It makes no sense to stay around any longer while the town gossips and speculates about what happened up at the cabin. One rumor suggests that it was a whiskey still that exploded. Another that the dynamite was a trap for the sheriff and his deputies and that one of them was ambushed when they went to investigate. Such outlandish stories, it won't take them long to get round to pinning the blame on the recent visitors to the town. As the man clinks his spurs to the front door of the hotel, Logan wonders if there was a way of making it look as though that stranger was to blame.
'Huevos, senor.'
He looks up as a plate of eggs is put down in front of him. He is surprised to hear the girl speaking Spanish. Nobody has spoken Spanish to him since the Mexican arranged the McLaren explosion with him back at the mining camp. He tries to get a good look at her to see if he recognizes her, but she darts back into the kitchen as quickly and quietly as she arrived.
The eggs are good. Satisfied, he pushes the plate away and as he does so he spots a piece of paper underneath. Checking that nobody else in the room is watching him, he teases the paper out without lifting the plate and sees that it is the message that he has been waiting for. In a careful hand, written in Spanish it says:
So that is the plan then, to collect the money from the ruins of the McLaren house. Sunset is a damned inconvenient time. He won't be able to get far with the money he has collected. This smells like a double-cross. Perhaps the Mexican plans to get his money back as soon as he has handed it over.
The kitchen door opens and he turns round hoping to see the Mexican girl who delivered his food so he can ask her about the message, but it is a fat woman with lank brown hair who waddles out carrying breakfast.
'You've had yours?' She says, standing over his table. The food on the plate she's carrying doesn't look or smell as good as what he's just eaten.
'Yes. A girl brought it out.'
'Ain't no girls working here, just me.' She giggles at the idea of being called a girl. Her chins wobble as she giggles.
'No, I'm quite sure. A girl, about this tall,' he demonstrates, 'Mexican looking. I'd quite like to speak to her if I can.'
'Nope. No girls, just little me.' She giggles again and waddles back to the kitchen shaking her head as she goes.
He is confused. He isn't imagining that a Mexican girl has brought him breakfast, there is certainly no way he could have been mistaken with that woman. Had the girl come into the kitchen just to deliver him that note? Perhaps she works elsewhere in the hotel, or maybe the kitchen woman is a few cards short of a full deck?
He leaves the table, pocketing the note, and goes to ask Renault.
'A Mexican girl you say?'
'Yes. She brought my breakfast.'
'I can assure you sir that there is no such thing in this establishment.'
'What do you mean?'
'I mean, sir, that there are no Mexican girls here. We aren't that sort of place. I mean that if you want that sort of thing you should go to the saloon. They have all sorts of girls there. Perhaps they'll have one to your liking.'
He shakes his head in disbelief. Renault in his green velvet jacket and red cravat seems to be enjoying sneering at his customer.
'And if you'd be so good as to not bring her back here when you do pick one out.' Renault adds as Logan turns to go.
He is sure he sees the girl riding up a side street opposite the hotel. He might be able to overtake her if he can get after her quickly. He grabs his horse from the stables and swings up onto it bareback and rides out trying to spot where she has gone.
The narrow street he saw her ride down is empty and there is no sign of her or her horse. A few people pass by on foot. Perhaps she has put the horse in one of these stables? Why would she do that? It would make no sense to mount up a horse for such a short distance. It seems she has only come to send him a message so if she rode away then she must have come from further away than this.
He rides on to the end of the street and sees that it fizzles out into a narrow trail that winds its way up the hill, a trail just wide enough for a horse. Did he see her cresting the ridge or was that his imagination playing tricks? He kicks the horse on a little faster, finding the lack of saddle a real challenge on the uneven ground.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Emily rode out early hoping to catch her sentinels unaware, but they were awake before her. The black shirted deputy that Mannion said was called Wilson seems to have been replaced by another man, a tall man who sits with his back bent as though trying to keep his head down.
She watches him from the corner of her eye as she does the rounds of the ranch. He keeps his distance but never lets her get out of sight. He doesn't seem to care whether or not he has been seen.
Gradually she works her way round to the corner of the ranch closest to the town. This is the land that Humby most wants. The town will expand in years to come. He will want to build new houses here.
She stops by the creek and dismounts, enjoying the sound of the water and the little flowers on the banks. Her sentinel is still watching from the hill behind her. She sees another rider coming quickly over the trail from the town. Is it another deputy? She stands by the head of her horse allowing him to drink. She is delighted to see that the rider isn't a deputy at all.
'Good Morning Miss Nixon,' says Logan touching the brim of his new white hat. 'Did you see a Mexican girl ride this way?' he asks her.
A Mexican girl? She can't help making the connection with the cheap whores she has seen with the miners.
'Has Humby sent you out looking for girls for him? Tell him he should try the saloon.'
He stops his horse beside the creek.
'I should have put you right yesterday,' he says, 'I don't work for Humby.'
'You don't?'
'No, that was just a misunderstanding. I don't work for anyone but me.'
She is a little confused to hear he doesn't work for Humby, but delighted. It didn't really fit, now that she thought about it, that she should find someone so nice working for the mayor.
'So you're out looking for a Mexican girl for yourself? Now I didn't take you for that kind of man.' She teases him.
'What sort of a man would that be?'
'Well, I'd say the sort of man who--' she laughs. 'I hadn't taken you to be the sort of man who'd need that explaining to you.'
'Would it help if I protested that it isn't what you think?' He is smiling too, enjoying the banter.
'But you still chased her this far from town. Was she not willing or were you not paying?'
'Like I said, it wasn't like that, and if it was don't you think I'd be a little more wary of telling you about it?'
'Oh come now, let me have my fun.'
He laughs. 'Fair enough. It doesn't seem to matter now, I was just intrigued. Nobody at the hotel seems to know who she is, but she served me breakfast.'
'Perhaps you imagined her?'
'Imagined?'
'Or made her up so you'd have something to talk to me about?'
'Yes, that must be it, I've been tracking you all morning but I needed to think of an excuse to be out here so I
