Never Love a Lawman Page 32

“Got a message that someone was coming just before the lines went down. We had a bank robbery a couple of months back, and it seemed like I should get a good look at who might be making the trek from Denver.”

  “Do we look like bank robbers?”

  “I never understand that question. Bank robbers look like everyone else, so yes, you look like you could be a poster on my office wall. It would go a long way to relieving my mind if you told me your name and your business here.”

  “Well, certainly I want to relieve your mind. I am Foster Maddox, the owner of the California and Colorado. My business is in Reidsville, and that’s where I’m taking it.”

  “Not if you’re of a mind to blow up that snow dam, Mr. Maddox. Who’s setting the charges for you?”

  Foster gestured to Daniel Seward to come forward. “This is Mr. Seward. He’s the man directing the operation.”

  Wyatt held out his hand to Seward. “Wyatt Cooper,” he said. “Come with me. I want to show you a couple of things.” He saw Seward glance at Foster Maddox for permission. Wyatt didn’t wait to see if he got it, he simply started out and left it up to Seward to follow.

  “I know the dangers,” Seward said, coming abreast of Wyatt. “I’ve explained them to Mr. Maddox. He wants to get through today.”

  “There’re men from Reidsville working on the other side. They’ve been at it for days.”

  “I figured there probably were. Mr. Maddox thought there should be something done from this side as well.”

  “Abe Dishman is in charge of managing the spur, and he didn’t want a couple of engines stranded up here. Reidsville’s a quiet town. No one’s in a hurry much. A thing like this, it’s better if everyone takes the time to do the job right.”

  “It’s different for Mr. Maddox. We’ve already had quite a few delays.”

  “Hard for it to be otherwise, this time of year.”

  “He didn’t want to wait. As owner, that’s his prerogative.”

  “Do you know his business in Reidsville?”

  “Yes, sir. I sure do. But it’s not my place to tell you. That’s for Mr. Maddox to say.”

  “Fair enough. Are you planning to do as he orders?”

  “I am. I also plan to be standing about a hundred yards to the rear of the last car when the charges go off.”

  Wyatt appreciated that. “All right. I have a suggestion that might suit all of us.”

  “I’d like to hear it.”

  “Then stand close enough to listen to what I have to say to Mr. Maddox. It sounds as if decisions begin and end with him.” Wyatt turned back to the engine cab. He noted that Foster was still standing just outside the cab, refusing to yield the high ground. Tipping his hat back with his forefinger, Wyatt tilted his head in Foster’s direction.

  “Mr. Seward seems to appreciate the dangers, even if you don’t,” he said. “I told him there’re men digging from the other side, but he doesn’t think that’s fast enough for you.”

  “It’s not.”

  “I’d like to propose that you consider coming with me. I can get you around the slide and take you on horseback all the way to Reidsville. You can bring a few men with you, if you like, but only a few because there’s not nearly enough animals to carry everyone. The men you leave behind can start clearing the track. By clearing, I mean digging. Unless you want to risk being trapped in Reidsville until the spring thaw, you won’t insist on blasting.”

  Foster’s sandy eyebrows knit, and he stroked his jaw, considering. “How many men?”

  “Three. The rest will be able to join you shortly.”

  “How long to get to Reidsville?”

  “That depends on your stamina. It’s a different kind of riding in this country than you’re probably used to. I imagine it’ll be well after dark before we get to town.”

  “I’m not worried about keeping up,” Foster said. “I’m not my grandfather.”

  Wyatt thought it best not to comment.

  “I like your proposal, Deputy.”

  “Thank you, sir. Happy to make the offer.” Wyatt glanced around. “How much time you reckon you’ll need before we go?”

  Foster’s smile did not quite meet his eyes. “I reckon that’d be about ten minutes. Do you have another appointment, perhaps?”

  “Not at all, Mr. Maddox. I’m dressed for the weather. I can wait as long as you need me to.”

  “Then wait over there.” Foster pointed to the spot where Wyatt first landed when he came off the hill.

  Wyatt kept his tone perfectly civil. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  Foster made eye contact with the men he wanted to step forward. They complied quickly. “Did you hear the suggestion he made?” When all three nodded, he went on. “Can you do the kind of riding he’s talking about? If you can’t, tell me now, because I won’t hesitate to leave you on the trail.”

  No one spoke up, not even Randolph Dover, the C & C’s accountant, although he did swallow visibly.

  “Very well.” Foster’s question had been primarily aimed at Dover. He hadn’t decided if he’d really accept the man’s defection, but his hand hadn’t been forced. Dover’s fear of him was apparently greater than his fear of horses. It would make for an interesting journey.

  “Get your guns,” Foster told the other two men. He wasn’t worried about their ability to ride or shoot. He’d hired them for their talent at each of those things when he got to Denver, and they’d already proved their worth. They weren’t loyal to him through long association, but they were loyal to his money. In many respects, it was a better arrangement.

  Wyatt merely raised an eyebrow when he saw that two of Foster’s party had strapped on gun belts. The quartet approached him after Foster had given direction to Seward about clearing the track. “The horses are on the other side,” Wyatt told them. “We have to climb first.”

  “Lead on,” Foster said, his mouth twisting wryly as he made a slight bow. “We’re prepared to follow.”

  Wyatt thought about the rifles that would be aimed at Foster and his group if he just gave the signal. It helped him shrug off Foster’s condescension. He started to climb, never looking back to see how the pack was faring.

  He didn’t take them past Will’s post, nor past any of the others. It made for a winding route, but he avoided the possibility that his own men would be seen. By the time he reached the other side of the snow dam, the miners were back in position, working in a steady rhythm as they cleared away ice and debris.

  Wyatt couldn’t have asked for a better response. They’d read the situation perfectly, and when he asked if he could have some of their horses to take Mr. Foster Maddox and the others back to Reidsville, they didn’t blink an eye.

  It took them a little while to saddle up, especially with Mr. Dover being more skittish than any of the animals. Wyatt suggested that he stay behind, but he wouldn’t hear of it, and Wyatt supposed that had a lot to do with the fact that Foster Maddox wouldn’t have approved.

  They rode out in silence for the first five miles. Wyatt led some of the time, but fell back when he needed to so he could make sure Dover didn’t drop too far behind them. It was out of concern for the accountant as much as it was a practical decision. Wyatt was very aware that Will and the others were following at a cautious distance. If he allowed Dover to hang back, it was more likely they’d be discovered before they were in their proper positions.

  “Sorry to hear that your grandfather passed,” Wyatt said as he rode up to Foster. “There’s a lot of admiration for him in this part of the country.”

  Foster glanced sideways, grunted softly.

  “You ever been this way before?”

  “Never.”

  “Not much for conversation, are you?”

  “You seem to be loquacious enough for both of us.”

  “Loquacious. Now, that’s a four-dollar word. I make a study of words from time to time. Read up on their meaning. You’re sayin’ I talk too much, is that right?”

  “In a nutshell.”
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  “Huh.”

  Foster Maddox reined in his horse and let Wyatt go ahead of him. He missed Wyatt’s grin entirely.

  Wyatt stayed out in front as they came upon the Hancock Creek tunnel and led them through. The rails gleamed like silver ribbons at the far end where light appeared at the opening, but the middle third of the tunnel was just about pitch-black. Rather than light his lantern, Wyatt talked to his companions as they rode through the darkness and bored himself with the inanity of his chatter.

  It did the trick, though, and when they emerged from the tunnel, Will and the rest of the men he’d handpicked were only twenty yards behind them. He pulled Raider up and swung the gelding around so he could face Foster, Dover, and the two guard dogs. “Let’s break here, gentlemen. Stretch your legs.” He smoothly reached for his Colt and held it up, pulling back the hammer in the same motion. “This is as good a place as any for you to get rid of your guns. Don’t pretend to do anything else. My men will shoot you in the back. You, too, Mr. Maddox. Ease that derringer out from under your coat sleeve.”

  Wyatt wasn’t surprised when they hesitated, but none of them looked back. They were all watching him warily and wondering if they could trust what he’d just said. “Ezra. How about firing off a shot and show these men that you’re really back there?”

  Ezra Reilly raised his Henry rifle and fired it into the trees. Snow fell in clumps from the highest branches, and the sound echoed in the narrow pass.

  “The guns,” Wyatt said. “Now.”

  The Colts were thrown wide of the horses first; then Foster Maddox removed the derringer from the leather strap affixed to his arm and let it fall to the ground.

  “Mr. Dover?” Wyatt regarded the accountant gravely. “Do you have a weapon?” Randolph Dover was quick to shake his head, and Wyatt believed him. “I want you to dismount and pick up the guns. Take care not to shoot yourself.”

  Mr. Dover stumbled a little when his feet touched the ground, but he straightened and gamely went to gather the weapons.

  “So you’re not the law after all,” Foster said, “If your intention is to rob us, then you’re going to have to make do with very little.”

  “That’s not my intention,” said Wyatt. “And I am the law. So are the men with me.” He watched Mr. Dover gingerly pick up the guns, then gestured to him to hand the weapons over to Will. “Back on your horse now, Mr. Dover. Sam, give him a leg up if he needs help.”

  Foster Maddox stirred impatiently in his saddle, causing his horse to move restlessly.

  Wyatt gave him a sharp look. “Control your animal, Mr. Maddox, or I’ll tether you to mine.” He went back to ignoring the C & C owner and made certain Mr. Dover was settled. “Let’s go.” He turned Raider and let him lead the way.

  That no-account Beatty boy slapped his snow-dusted hat against his thigh as he stepped into Rose’s salon. On any other evening, that would have been greeted with a lecture, but Rose was feeling warm toward him because he’d come back to her in one piece. She allowed that she might have overestimated the danger when he set out with the others to meet Foster Maddox’s train, but she simply didn’t care if her glad cry at his appearance was out of all proportion to the situation.

  It helped that no one else was in the salon to see her.

  Will caught Rose as she approached and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her hard, relished the warmth of her embrace, and for a few moments allowed himself to forget that it was business that brought him.

  “Is Rachel here?” he asked, finally drawing back.

  Rose’s immediate disappointment gave way to concern. “She’s here. Probably sleeping. Is everything all right? Wyatt?”

  “He’s fine. No one’s been hurt. He needs her over at the office. We’ve got Foster Maddox in a cell.”

  She stared at him, eyes wide. “You arrested him?”

  “He took a swing at Wyatt. Pretty good one, too. If it had connected, Wyatt would have gone down hard. We mostly put him in the cell to keep him out of trouble—and because Wyatt was feelin’ a mite ornery.” His eyes darted in the direction of the hall stairs. “Will you get Rachel for me?”

  Rose nodded, kissed him again. “Help yourself to the applesauce cake.”

  Rachel took a steadying breath as Will opened the office door for her. Her heart still hammered in her chest, but she mastered the short, panicked breaths that had made her light-headed earlier.

  Wyatt stood up from behind the desk immediately and held out a hand to her. “It’s all right,” he said gently, beckoning her forward. “Thanks for escorting her, Will.”

  “Do you want me to hang around?”

  “You’ll be upstairs?”

  Will nodded.

  “That’s good enough. Appreciate your help.”

  Rachel waited until Will backed out the door; then she took Wyatt’s face in her hands and examined it for bruises. “Rose said Foster hit you.”

  “Tried to hit me. Sam Walker saw it coming and blocked it with his arm.” He caught her wrists and drew her hands away. “You’re cold. You could have taken the time to put on a pair of gloves.”

  She ignored the admonishment and just let him rub her hands. “Where’s Sam now? And everyone else for that matter? I heard you had seven men with you.”

  “I let them all go except Ezra. He volunteered to sit in the back with our guests.”

  “Foster’s really behind that door?”

  “Behind the bars behind that door,” he corrected. “He’s sharing a cell with his accountant. The two men he brought along to provide protection are in the adjoining one.” He studied her worried face. “What is it?”

  She hesitated. “I wonder if it was wise to arrest all of them.”

  “Even Mr. Dover attempted to throw a punch,” he said. “It was more for show, to prove that he stood with his employer, so I obliged him by putting him with Mr. Maddox. The other two had more serious intent. Ezra got the worst of it before we settled them down, that’s why he volunteered to stay with the prisoners and why I didn’t send him to Rose’s to get you. Virginia wouldn’t let him out of the house if she saw his face.”

  “Does he need attention?”

  “Doc’s been here and gone. He’ll be fine. He packs a little snow over his eye now and again to keep the swelling down.”

  “Why did they start fighting?” Rachel’s gaze became narrow, suspicious. She removed her hands from his. “What did you do, Wyatt?”

  Her question was more in the way of a scold, and Wyatt was inclined to grin. He tempered that inclination, suspecting that she would fail to see the humor right off. If he even hinted that she was being wifely, she’d think he was patronizing her, whereas he believed it was simply an acknowledgment of how well she knew him.

  He offered up a less provocative response: he shrugged.

  “Wyatt?”

  “I told him you and I are married.” He held up his hands. “I swear. That’s all I did.”

  “Then it must have been the way you said it.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure I was just matter-of-fact.”

  Still skeptical, Rachel sighed. “Very well. May I see him?”

  “That’s why I wanted you here. I don’t think it’s a good idea, Rachel, but it’s also your decision.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you? He was unflattering in his description of you.”

  “I’m sure he was. Can you listen to him say those same things to my face?”

  “Without flattening him?”

  “Without showing any reaction. That’s what he wants to provoke. He’ll want to gauge your intentions, observe your weaknesses. He’s a master at it.”

  “He threw the punch, Rachel. I didn’t.”

  “Yes, and he’ll be looking to settle the account. To his way of thinking, he came up short in that column.”

  “Not surprising, then, that he chose to travel with his accountant instead of his lawyer.”

  Rachel smiled at his dry tone, but her message did
n’t change. “I’ll see him alone if you don’t think you can bear it.”

  “You aren’t seeing him alone.”

  She understood that he hadn’t agreed to anything, but she nodded as if he had. “Where can we talk?”

  Wyatt would have preferred that Foster remain behind bars, but there was no privacy in the jail area. He made his offer reluctantly. “I’ll bring him out.”

  Rachel unwound the scarf she’d loosely thrown over her head and shoulders, but she didn’t take off her coat. If she had to leave, she would rather it were done quickly, without scrambling for her outerwear, or worse, going without it. Every conversation she’d ever had with Foster Maddox tested her mettle. Her caution to Wyatt that he should not reveal any reaction was also a caution to herself, and she hoped she could heed it.

  She was standing on the far side of Wyatt’s rolltop desk, taking advantage of the barrier it presented, when the door opened. Her features remained perfectly still as Foster stepped into the office.

  He had changed very little. There were perhaps a few more lines at the corners of his eyes, and the crease across his brow appeared now to be permanent, but on the whole he looked as fit as she remembered. Where her memory had failed her was in the true accounting of his size. She’d forgotten how fine-boned he was, how slender his shoulders were, how sharply pointed his knuckles could be when he clenched his fists. She had misrepresented the angular nature of his features in her mind, making him broader and bulkier when in fact, he was lean and taut and wound like a spring.

  He stood slightly taller than Wyatt, but the correctness of his posture and the narrowness of his frame seemed to lend him additional height if no more authority. He breathed in his own air of superiority, and as often as Rachel had wished he might choke on it, he never did.

  He crossed to her quickly, and Rachel was hard-pressed to hold her ground. It was only because she anticipated that he would try to crowd her that she was successful.

  “Step back,” Wyatt said. “Stand over here.” He tapped the side of the desk.

  The small smile that Foster offered Rachel was both apologetic and regretful. “It’s an unsatisfactory manner in which to greet a dear friend.”