“Your father sounds like a good man,” Bo said as he gripped her hand.
“He was. I don’t want to let him down by losing the mine or being forced to sell out to someone like Lawrence Nicholson.”
“That was one of Nicholson’s men you were talking to when we came in, wasn’t it?” Bo asked. “What was that about? Did the Argosy make an offer to buy your mine?”
“That’s exactly what Phillip Ramsey did,” Martha snapped. “And as for who that little weasel is, he’s Nicholson’s chief bookkeeper and secretary. Ramsey runs the office, Reese Bardwell runs the mine.”
“We’ve met Bardwell,” Bo said. “And there was somebody else in the Argosy office when we were there yesterday.”
Martha waved a hand. “There are several clerks who work there, but Ramsey is in charge of them.”
“The fella didn’t look that weaselly to me,” Scratch commented.
“Trust me, he is. I wouldn’t trust him or Nicholson or Bardwell as far as I could throw them. My father never trusted them, either.” Martha changed the subject by asking, “Are you going to ride out to the mine today? I can give you a letter explaining to my superintendent that I’ve hired you to bring in the gold shipments.”
“It’s a little late to be starting out there today,” Bo said. “But if you could write that letter, we can pick it up first thing in the morning when we ride out.”
Martha nodded. “I’ll have it ready for you.” She hesitated. “Do you have enough money to eat tonight? I might be able to find a little money . . .”
“That won’t be necessary,” Bo assured her, thinking about the coins they had gotten back from the liveryman, Hanson, early that morning. “We’ll be fine.”
“All right then,” she said, obviously relieved. “I hope you men don’t have reason to regret going to work for me.”
Chloride was muttering something under his breath as they left the office. Bo didn’t ask him to repeat it.
“I hope you ain’t plannin’ to eat at my place again tonight,” the old-timer said when they were outside. “My cupboard’s pert near bare.”
“Actually,” Bo said, “I was thinking we’d treat you to a meal at the Red Top. We got enough money back from Hanson for that.”
Chloride licked his lips under the bushy mustache. “Really? Includin’ maybe a piece of one o’ those pies that widow lady bakes?”
“Including a piece of pie,” Bo said with a nod.
“I’m much obliged. Maybe throwin’ in with you fellas is gonna work out all right after all. Until the shootin’ starts again, anyway.”
They sat at an empty table in a rear corner of the Red Top this time. Sue Beth Pendleton came over, smiled at them, and said, “Where have you fellows been all day? I heard a rumor you and Mr. Morton intended to become bounty hunters and go after the Devils, Mr. Creel.”
“We thought better of it and spent the day sightseeing instead, ma’am,” Bo answered.
“That’s right,” Scratch put in. “Why go lookin’ for trouble?”
After telling Martha Sutton about it, they had agreed not to say anything about the ambush out on the trail. The fewer people who knew about their clash with the Devils, the better. That way, if anybody brought it up, that would be a potential clue to who the members of the gang might be.
Sue Beth looked at Chloride and said, “Were you the one showing them the sights, Mr. Coleman?”
“Well, ma’am, I reckon I know the country hereabouts as good as anybody in these parts,” the old-timer said.
“That’s true,” Sue Beth agreed, but judging by the shrewd look in the woman’s eyes, Bo thought she might have some suspicions of her own. It would be hard to put anything past her for very long, he decided. She went on, “Are you here for supper?”
“Yes, ma’am, and we can even pay,” Bo told her.
Sue Beth laughed. “I’ll tell Charlie, and then I’ll be back with coffee. It’s fried chicken tonight, by the way. I hope that’s all right.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Scratch said. “Nothin’ better than some good fried chicken.”
The meal lived up to its predecessors. Sue Beth kept their coffee cups filled, and when they had emptied their plates, she brought over saucers with a slice of apple pie on each of them. They didn’t even have to ask for dessert.
Chloride finally leaned back and sighed. “I reckon that’s the best meal I et in a month of Sundays. I’m obliged.”
“Don’t worry,” Bo said. “You’ll earn your keep before this is all over, I expect.”
Chloride grew more sober and said, “Yeah.” He didn’t sound enthusiastic anymore.
Bo took a sip of the coffee remaining in his cup and asked, “What about that hombre Ramsey? You worked for the Argosy. You must know him.”
Chloride shrugged. “I collected my wages from him, but that’s all. Don’t reckon we ever said a dozen words to each other.”
“Is he going to run back to Nicholson and tell him that he saw us in Miss Sutton’s office?”
Chloride thought about it for a second and said, “Yeah, he might. He ain’t exactly what I’d call a toady, but he works for Nicholson, after all, and the Golden Queen is one of the Argosy’s competitors.”
“How did Nicholson get along with Miss Sutton’s father?”
