cabin, so it had to be somewhere else, probably close by.
Thurman Harlow set cups of steaming black coffee in front of Matt and Sam. He said, “Frankie tells me you’re gonna be stayin’ on with us for a while, Mr. Bodine.”
“That’s right,” Matt said. He picked up his coffee and blew on the strong black brew to cool it. “Until I see what Cimarron Kane and his relatives are gonna be up to next.”
“It won’t be anything good, I reckon you can count on that. I appreciate you offerin’ to help us, and you’re mighty welcome to stay as long as you want.” Harlow looked over at Sam. “I don’t mean to slight you by sayin’ that, Mr. Two Wolves. I reckon you and Mr. Bodine just look at things differentlike, that’s all.”
Sam nodded. “Sometimes that’s true,” he agreed. He looked at Matt, eyes narrowing as he did so. “This happens to be one of those times.”
“Well, any time you feel like ridin’ on out here to see us, you’ll be welcome as you can be.” Harlow turned to the stove. “Them flapjacks about ready, honey?”
Frankie brought a platter full of the hot flapjacks over to the table, along with a bowl of molasses. “Help yourself,” she said as she set the food on the table.
The blood brothers dug in. The meal was simple but delicious, especially when the flapjacks and molasses were washed down with the hot coffee. Matt and Sam both relaxed a little as they ate, and the friction between them was forgotten for a while.
But then the meal was over, and the time had come for Sam to head back to Cottonwood while Matt stayed here on the Harlow homestead. Neither of them knew when they would see each other again.
Or under what circumstances that meeting might take place.
Chapter 15
“There’s one thing we need to get straight,” Matt said as Sam led his horse out of the barn a short time later. The two of them were alone.
“You know you can say whatever’s on your mind,” Sam told his blood brother.
“What you know about the Harlows…and about Loomis’s saloon in town, for that matter…you need to keep that to yourself and not go tellin’ Marshal Coleman all about it.”
“Why would I tell the marshal?” Sam asked as he regarded Matt steadily.
“Because you’re friends with him…and because of the way we both know how you feel about Hannah, whether you want to admit it or not.”
Sam felt his face growing warm as he frowned. “You’re wrong about Hannah,” he insisted. “And as for the marshal, well, enforcing the law is his job, not mine.”
“Even if he talks you into pinnin’ on a tin star as his deputy?”
“I won’t say anything about the Harlows or about Loomis’s place,” Sam promised. “That just wouldn’t be right.” He paused. “What about Cimarron Kane wanting to take over the whiskey business around here?”
Matt smiled slightly. “I reckon you can say anything you want to about Kane. That won’t bother me a bit.”
Sam nodded. He picked up the reins, grasped the saddle horn, and swung up into the saddle. “I’ll be seeing you, Matt,” he said. “You know where to find me if you need me.”
“Likewise.” Matt held up his hand. “So long.”
Sam gripped Matt’s hand. “So long.”
He rode away without looking back. There was no point in thinking about the circumstances or the decision that each of them had made. Sam knew how strong-willed Matt Bodine was. It was almost impossible to change Matt’s mind once he’d made it up. And to be fair, Sam thought with a wry smile, he himself could be a mite stubborn at times.
He headed for Cottonwood, retracing the trail he and Matt had followed the night before. When he reached the spot where the Kanes had ambushed Frankie, he reined in and studied the place in broad daylight this time.
It was a good place for an ambush, Sam thought, with a view of the road and adequate cover on top of the ridge. He was a little surprised that Cimarron Kane hadn’t stood his ground the night before, since there had been at least half a dozen bushwhackers with only him and Matt to oppose them.
However, the blood brothers had been moving fast enough and spraying so much lead at the top of the hill, Kane might not have been able to tell exactly how many men had ridden to Frankie Harlow’s rescue. He could have believed that the odds were much closer to even, in which case staying on the hill and getting pinned down in a cross fire would have been a dangerous thing for him and his companions to do. So Kane had chosen the better part of valor and lit a shuck out of there.
That line of reasoning told Sam that Cimarron Kane was a man who liked to have the odds on his side. Sam tucked that bit of information away in his brain, because you never knew what might turn out to be important in a fight.
He reached Cottonwood by mid-morning and went first to Loomis’s livery stable to put up his horse. Ike Loomis greeted him with a nod and the shift of an unlit cigar from one side of his mouth to the other.
“You boys been stayin’ out of trouble here in Cottonwood?” Loomis asked around the stogie as he took charge of Sam’s horse.
“That’s right. You stay on top of everything that’s going on in this town, don’t you?”
“Yep. Mike gives me a full report ever’ night. Lord knows, there ain’t much goes on anywhere in Cottonwood that I don’t know about.” Loomis frowned slightly. “I don’t know where that partner of yours is, though.”
“He’s tending to some business of his own,” Sam said, leaving it at that. He could tell that the liveryman was extremely curious about Matt, but Loomis didn’t probe for more information, and Sam didn’t offer it.
