Nick bristled and didn’t try to cover it. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him he might be able to catch sight of you at the gun shop.”
That was the second time in two days Catherine had surprised him. Nick squinted as if he was trying to see through a fog before saying, “I thought you weren’t going to have any part in that business.”
“If I want us to work together, that’s what we should do. Me hiding things from you and trying to undo them behind your back won’t do anyone any good. All I ask is that you return the favor.”
“Okay. Why the gun shop?”
“Because it’s not close to my restaurant or this parlor. You could avoid it if you chose. Also, he talked about you like he only knew you from your wild days, so it seemed like the sort of place he would expect to find you. It was either that or the saloon, and I didn’t want to set up anything with that much potential for a backfire.”
Nick was speechless. All he could do was shake his head and laugh quietly under his breath.
“What’s so funny?” Catherine asked.
“Are you sure you never met Barrett?”
“I’m sure. Why?”
“Because that’s the same amount of thinking he put into every little thing he did.”
“And I suppose you never planned ahead a step or two?”
Nick chuckled once again, but at his own expense. “I was more the kind to steam ahead and try to dodge some of the hell I kicked up along the way.”
“Yes, well, try not to kick any up today. If you want to see what’s on this fellow’s mind, I know I can’t stop you. If you’d like to keep things quiet for a change, avoid the gun shop and then chase him out of town wearing that badge of yours.” Cautiously, she added, “You do still have the badge, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Catherine took the basket and pointed to the bottles that were still on the counter. “That’s sarsaparilla. You’re not getting any of that vile liquor you forced me to buy until after business hours.”
“Not vile,” Nick corrected. “Vodka.”
“Same difference.”
With that, Catherine patted Nick’s cheek and walked out of the parlor.
It was funny how such a simple thing as lunch could make such a big difference. In fact, Nick hadn’t even realized how glum he’d been until the clouds had lifted. Now, when he looked around, he saw a prosperous business in a friendly town. That business had now been cleaned, which made it seem even better.
A bit of Nick’s budding optimism faded when he thought about the other news that Catherine had brought. As attractive as the idea of chasing this stranger out of town seemed, Nick simply couldn’t do it. There were too many possibilities attached. His old friend Barrett had taught him that much.
Then again, it was sometimes healthier to avoid Barrett’s advice like the plague.
FIVE
Willhemene Pass, Colorado
January 1865
“Give me all your money,” Barrett said as he stomped into the cabin like a dog nosing its way through the back door. He wasn’t normally a big man, but the layers of furs, coats, shirts and long johns he wore added a considerable amount of bulk to his frame.
Nick was asleep in a corner, huddled there in a position that might have been uncomfortable if he still had any feeling in his legs. As it was, the cold chewed at him all the way down to the bone. He was so cold, in fact, that reaching for his pistol was the first time the young man had ever heard his joints creak.
“Go to hell, asshole!” Nick snapped as he finally managed to take his gun from its holster.
Barrett didn’t even flinch when he found himself staring down the barrel of Nick’s pistol. His eyes were wide open and he trembled with something other than cold or fear. “Don’t be such a cocksucker, Nick. I’m serious.”
“I am, too,” Nick replied as he thumbed the hammer back. “Serious as hell. And you’ll be dead as hell before you take the money I got.”
“I helped steal most of that, too, you know.”
“And you ain’t stealing this.”
Nick’s face reflected anger as well as pain from awakening his previously deadened nerves. The shack wasn’t much bigger than an outhouse, and had been put together so poorly that it let in more snow than it kept out. Nick’s boots scraped against the floor as he fought to sit up. When he pressed his back against the wall for support, it caused the boards behind him to creak like an old man begging for mercy.
“The only one to steal from us is you, remember?” Barrett said with a grin.
“That was different. That was to get in one of the biggest poker games in the area.”
“That’s what you say about all of ’em, and when the hell are you gonna take my advice? Faro’s where the real money’s at.”
Nick was tired of arguing. A stiff wind ripped over the side of the mountain and tore through the shack like a set of wolf’s fangs ripping through an exposed neck. “What do you need money for?” Nick asked as he tucked his gun under the outermost of the blankets wrapped around him. “We don’t even got enough to pay for a hotel.”
“How much do we have?”
After staring at Barrett for a few more seconds, Nick realized the other young man wasn’t about to go anywhere. Nick let out a sigh and started going through the arduous motions of peeling off the blankets surrounding him like a cocoon. Once the blankets were gone, Nick was still wrapped up in a tangle of garments, ranging from an old sailor’s coat to a few layers previously worn by federal infantry.
“I wanted to go into town,” Nick grumbled. “I wanted to get someplace to stay. Even a back room in a goddamn saloon would be better than this.”
“This,” Barrett said, rubbing his hands together, “is perfect. Nobody knows it’s here, so it’ll make a perfect spot to hole up.”
Nick stopped what he was doing and snapped his eyes back up to his friend. He’d known Barrett Cobb since they were both kids. They’d formed their first gang together. They’d run off to start robbing general stores together. They’d robbed armories and a train together. They’d also watched various members of their gang drop like flies when the shooting started.
At the moment, Barrett and Nick were the only members of their gang still in Colorado. The rest of his friends could have been dead or in Oklahoma, for all he knew. “You got something planned, Barrett?” Nick asked.
Barrett shrugged and didn’t even try to cover the grin that was creeping onto his face. “Maybe, but it’ll take some cash to get going.”
“How much?”
“At least a hundred. Maybe two.”
Nick’s hands curled into fists inside his pockets. “If I had that much money, why the fuck would I be curled up in a ball in all this goddamn cold?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you’ve been holding out.”
“You calling me a thief?”
“No. I said maybe you were holding out. You know…for an emergency.”
Slowly, Nick’s scowl faded and he took one hand out of his pocket. Apart from a few scars and several calluses, it was in perfect working order. The whiskers on his face may have been long, but they weren’t nearly thick enough to form a beard or come close to hiding the resignation on his face. He opened his fist to reveal a few wadded bills and some large coins. “There’s twenty-four dollars and fifty cents.”
Barrett scowled, but it was more good-natured than the expression that had darkened Nick’s features. “I’ve got thirty. Seems like we were both holding out.”
“I ain’t handing it over until I hear what you got planned.”
