Free Turnback Creek (Widowmaker) by Robert J. Randisi Page B

dismounted. They secured the horses and mounted the boardwalk to enter the station. There were empty wooden benches and a long wooden desk with a man standing behind it. “Help ya?” he asked.
    “What time’s the next train comin’ in?” Cooper asked.
    “Tomorrow.”
    “What?” Cooper snapped. “What do you mean, tomorrow? There’s a train supposed to be comin’ in today!”
    The clerk narrowed his eyes and studied both Cooper and Locke. He was in his forties, kind of tired-looking, as if he’d either been up all night or got up real early that morning. “Are you the fella pickin’ up Mrs. Shillstone’s payroll?” he asked.
    “Whaddaya know about that?” Cooper demanded.
    The man shrugged and said, “Just that it’s on the next train.”
    “Which was supposed to be in today, right?” Locke asked.
    “That’s right,” the man said, “but they got engine trouble.”
    “So when are they getting in?” Cooper asked.
    “Soon as they get another engine,” the man replied, “or fix the one they got.”
    “Where are they now?” Locke asked, thinking that maybe they could go to wherever the train was now and pick up the gold.
    “They’re still in Kansas.”
    Locke shook his head. Too far for them to drive the buckboard.
    “What’s your best guess about when they’ll be in?” he asked.
    “Not before tomorrow, that’s for sure,” the man replied. “You fellas’d do well to get a hotel room for the night.”
    “Shit,” Cooper said.
    “You got a telegraph key here?”
    “Sure do,” the man said, pointing behind him. “That’s how I know what’s goin’ on with the train.”
    “You mind if we check back with you later to see if you’ve got any more information?”
    “I don’t mind at all.”
    “Let’s find a saloon,” Locke said.
    “Plenty of them in town.”
    “Say,” Cooper said. “Who else knows about the payroll?”
    “Beats me,” the man said. “Ain’t much of a secret, far as I kin tell.”
    “Okay,” Locke said. “Much obliged.”

    They rode into town, found a saloon called Lucky Lil’s, and pulled up in front of it. Locke tied off his horse, and Cooper hobbled the team. The streets were wet, but at the moment, it was not raining. There were black clouds in the sky, though.
    “Two beers,” Locke told the bartender before they even reached the bar. It was early, and the place was practically empty.
    “Comin’ up.”
    The place was small, with one faro table in a corner, covered for the day. The cover probably would come off around five o’clock. That wouldn’t be for five more hours.
    “Wasn’t the train supposed to get in at noon?” Cooper asked the bartender.
    “Train gets in when it gets in,” the barman said. “Listen for the whistle.”
    Cooper looked at Locke, who shrugged. No point bellyaching about it anymore.
    There were two tables occupied, one by two men who were nursing drinks and the other by three men playing poker for matchsticks. Not Locke’s kind of game, even to pass the time.
    He had drunk half his beer when he noticed that Cooper was finished with his and rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth. He quickly drained his mug and set it on the bar. “Lets go, Coop,” he said.
    “Look what they’re doin’,” Cooper said, pointing to the three men playing poker.
    “For matchsticks,” Locke said. “Not my game.”
    Cooper shook his head. Then he and Locke left the saloon.
    “You want me to drive?” Locke asked.
    “No,” Cooper said, hoisting himself up in the seat of the buckboard. “We’re just goin’ to the damn livery. But you can drive when we leave here with the gold.”
    They figured the weight of the gold was going to double the time it took them to get there from Turnback Creek. Locke’s butt probably would handle the trip better than Cooper’s.
    They pulled away from Lucky Lil’s and headed over to the livery.

TWENTY-FOUR
     
    “T hey looked right at us,” Bailey said.
    “Don’t worry,” Hoke said,