Do you know that for certain?”
Seeing the frustration bubbling up behind Kinman’s eyes, Lester quickly answered, “Graves knows for sure where Cobb is buried, but there’s a few others who know as well.”
“Let me guess. Some of those men you were talking to?”
Lester nodded. “They got no reason to lie. We was going to go and dig up that grave, on account of that’s where those jewels and all that money is buried.”
“Who started that rumor?”
“Men I can trust. They’re my kin, so it’s got a good chance of being true. Since them jewels was stolen, they ain’t never been found. That money’s buried right along with whatever’s left of Barrett Cobb. I know it.”
As much as Kinman wanted to knock out the rest of Lester’s teeth just so he wouldn’t have to listen to the man’s voice, there were too many words that stuck in the back of Kinman’s mind. He came to a complete stop a few paces away from the stable.
Lester may have been hurting, but he wasn’t blind. A thoughtful look had come into the bounty hunter’s eye, and Lester latched onto it like a tell from another man in a poker game. “If I’m right, we can both become rich.”
“And I suppose you’d want me to let you go in exchange?”
“Only if this pans out. If I’m wrong, you can still take me to Texas. That asshole rancher hasn’t forgotten about me by now, so he probably never will. That means I’m the only one with anything to lose here.”
“What about these other men who filled your head with this nonsense?” Kinman asked. “I suppose they’re going after this supposed stash of jewels, too.”
“Yep, but there’s a reason they came to me in the first place. I know a shortcut through the Badlands to get us in and out without catching much attention from the savages who frequent the area.”
“Indians shouldn’t be your biggest concern,” Kinman said. “If you think you can make me a fool, you’ll find yourself being dragged back to Texas by your balls.”
Lester didn’t even flinch. “When we find that treasure, you’ll be more’n happy to cut me loose.”
Rolling his eyes, Kinman shoved Lester toward the stable. “Let’s get moving.”
TWO
Ocean, California
Ever since a bar had been built into the back of the Tin Pan Restaurant, business had been good. It wasn’t a big enough bar to change the place into a saloon, but it was enough to attract a few more customers while giving the regulars an excuse to stick around a while longer after they were through with their meals. One drawback to the Tin Pan’s newest addition, however, was the fact that some customers overstayed their welcome.
One prime example of such a customer was a cowboy named Switchback Gil. He was new in town, but everyone knew his name, mostly because he’d loudly introduced himself to everyone in the place when he’d arrived. After moving to the bar and having a few drinks, he introduced himself all over again.
“Why the hell’s this place called Ocean anyway?” Gil grunted. “There ain’t no water in sight.”
The stout man who’d been hired on to tend the bar was in his late fifties and had lived in Ocean his entire life. Normally, he jumped at the chance to explain the town’s history to newcomers. This time, however, he shrugged and said, “Don’t rightly know.”
“Aw, come on! You gotta know! And call me Gil. Switchback Gil’s the name!”
Wincing at the stench of liquor that flowed from Gil’s mouth as he kept flapping his gums, the barkeep said, “You mentioned that already.”
“Then let’s hear the story!”
As Gil’s voice echoed throughout the restaurant, a door toward the back swung open. The woman who stepped through the doorway had long, dark hair pulled into a braid that hung to the small of her back. Her dress was simple enough, but not even a burlap sack could have kept her nicely proportioned curves from being noticed.
She carried a large book tucked under one arm and had a pencil in her hand. As she walked toward the bar, her eyes narrowed at the sight of Switchback Gil supporting himself with both hands against the edge of the polished wooden surface. “Could you two keep it down out here?” she asked in a friendly tone. “I’m trying to work through the finances.”
As soon as Gil’s eyes found her, they widened and slowly ran up and down her body. “Well, well,” he slurred. “That’s more like it. Why don’t you come over here and keep me company?”
Shaking her head before looking away from Gil, she focused her attention on the barkeep. “I think our friend Switchback Gil has had enough,” she said.
“You heard o’ me?” Gil asked.
“Everyone on this block has heard of you by now,” she replied. “You’re talking loud enough to wake the dead.”
There were a few chuckles from the diners scattered at some of the tables. It was just past eight o’clock, so most of the dinner crowd was long gone. The ones who remained were picking at their meals, savoring the special of the day.
Gil settled himself so his back was against the bar as he raised his hands. “Don’t call the law on me. I’m just enjoying my firewater.”
The woman nodded and showed Gil a genuine smile. “We’re closing in a bit, but there’s plenty of saloons on Eighth Street. They’ll be open all night long.”
“Will they have ladies as pretty as you over there?”
“Sure. Go see for yourself.” With that, she nodded to the barkeep and turned toward the back room.
The barkeep responded to her nod by shifting his hand away from the polished axe handle that was kept under the bar to discourage drunks from abusing the Tin Pan’s hospitality. When he looked away from Gil, the barkeep saw one of the regulars step up and place his hands flat upon the bar.
“I’d like a brandy,” the man said. “And a glass of wine for my wife.”
“Coming right up.”
Gil let out a low whistle and took half a step away from the bar. “This is one of them fancy places, huh? No wonder you don’t want the likes of me around.”
“Nothing like that, mister,” the barkeep said. “I mean…Gil. We’re just about to close, is all.”
“Yeah. You wouldn’t want a bad element around here. Not when you’ve already got killers like Nick Graves lurking about.”
The barkeep didn’t flinch. He simply shrugged, shook his head and said, “Don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Sure,” Gil said. “And I’m certain that lady who just poked her nose out here a moment ago ain’t never heard of Graves, either.”
The door to the back room hadn’t fully closed, but now it swung open again. The woman stepped out with her hands placed firmly upon her hips. “What are you talking about?”
“Ain’t you Catherine Weaver?” Gil asked.
“I am.”
“From what I hear, it should be Catherine Graves by now.”
“You got my name right the first time. Do I know you?”
Gil walked straight toward Catherine, but was stopped as the axe handle slapped against his chest just hard enough to freeze him in his tracks. The barkeep held the axe handle in his extended arm, which was more than strong enough to keep steady as Gil tried a few times to push past it.
“I’m not out to harm Nick,” Gil said, “but I do need to have a word with him. I heard that you and him were married.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Catherine asked.
