at the livery stable, out of the cold in nice warm stalls. Now they dealt with their own accommodations, stopping at the hotel to make sure they had rooms before heading to the Red Top Cafe for supper.
Sue Beth Pendleton greeted them with her usual friendly smile. “I heard you were back with another shipment from the Golden Queen,” she said as the three men came up to the counter. “It’s quite a big day for Deadwood. Another gold shipment gets through, and the cavalry shows up to chase down the Devils.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that last part,” Chloride said.
“You don’t think the soldiers will be able to deal with those outlaws?”
“I ain’t got a heap o’ confidence, let’s put it that way.”
“Well, I hope you’re wrong, Chloride,” Sue Beth said. “Those killers and thieves have been a blight on these parts for long enough.”
No one could argue with that.
“I suppose you’re here for supper?” Sue Beth went on. “It’s beef stew tonight, piping hot.”
Chloride licked his lips, and Scratch said, “Sounds mighty good to me, ma’am.”
“By the way, where’s that turkey?”
Scratch heaved a sigh. “We didn’t spy nary a gobbler while we were gone. But I ain’t givin’ up. It won’t be Thanksgivin’ for a few more days yet.”
They sat at a table this time. Sue Beth brought over bowls of steaming stew and a plate full of thick slices of sourdough bread. After a day on the trail, Bo, Scratch, and Chloride attacked the food with gusto.
They were still eating when the cafe’s front door opened, letting in some chilly air and the intimidating presence of the sergeant who had ridden in earlier with Lieutenant Holbrook. As the non-com closed the door behind him, he looked around the room. After a moment his gaze settled on Bo, Scratch, and Chloride, and to Bo’s surprise, the sergeant came toward them with a heavy, determined stride.
He stopped next to their table and asked in a voice that held a hint of a Scandinavian accent, “Are you men Creel, Morton, and Coleman?”
“That’s right,” Bo said. “What can we do for you, Sergeant?”
The sergeant unsnapped the flap of his holster and rested his hand on the butt of his revolver as he said, “You can come with me, that’s what you can do.”
CHAPTER 15
The other customers in the cafe heard the sergeant’s blunt declaration and saw his threatening gesture. A tense hush fell over the place as everyone waited to see if trouble was going to break out. Behind the counter, Sue Beth paled a little as she watched the confrontation.
Chloride opened his mouth to say something, and Bo had no doubt the old-timer’s response would be an angry one. He silenced Chloride with a lifted hand. In a situation such as this, staying calm might be a better idea.
“Are we under arrest, Sergeant?” Bo asked.
“No, but the lieutenant told me to bring you, and he didn’t make no bones about it. I won’t be taking no for an answer.”
“Why does he want to see us?”
The sergeant gave a curt shake of his head. “He didn’t tell me, and it ain’t my place to ask. Now, are you coming along peaceful-like?”
“Back to your camp?”
The sergeant grunted, and Bo heard a faint note of contempt in the sound. “No, he’s over at the hotel,” the non-com said.
“We haven’t finished our supper yet,” Bo said. “Why don’t you sit down and have a cup of coffee while you wait?”
“The lieutenant told me to find you and bring you—”
“Well, there’s no way of telling how long it took you to find us, now is there?”
For a second, Bo thought the man was going to stick to his guns. But then the ramrod stiffness of the sergeant’s back loosened a little, and he said in a more relaxed tone, “I looked several places for you before I got here. I don’t suppose Lieutenant Holbrook would know exactly how many places I had to search to find you.”
Scratch grinned, looked over at the counter, and said, “Sue Beth, could we get another cup of coffee over here?”
She looked relieved that there wasn’t going to be trouble. “Right away,” she said.
The sergeant snapped his holster flap, pulled out the empty chair at the table, and sank wearily into it. “We’ve been in the saddle all day for several days getting here,” he said. “But that’s the army for you. I can’t complain.”
“You can, it just won’t do any good,” Bo said with a smile. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Bo Creel, that’s Scratch Morton, and the old-timer is Chloride Coleman.”
“Sergeant Olaf Gustaffson,” the non-com said before Chloride could complain about Bo’s introduction.
“You’ve been wearin’ the blue for a while, haven’t you, Sarge?” Scratch asked.
“My first campaign was the Mexican War, if that tells you anything,” Gustaffson replied.
