Turnback Creek (Widowmaker) by Robert J. Randisi Read Free Book Online Page A

shaking out here on the porch.”
    “I trust Mr. Locke’s judgment,” she said. “If he deems the marshal fit to go up the mountain with, that’s good enough for me. Why would he risk his life with a drunk?”
    Crowell turned in his chair to face her. “Molly, why would you put so much faith in a stranger?”
    “I have a good feeling about him.”
    “You’re attracted to him,” Crowell accused.
    She didn’t answer.
    “That’s what it is, isn’t it?”
    “George,” she said, “I think it’s time we said good night.”
    Crowell lived in a small shack near the mining office. Molly had never been inside and did not intend ever to be.
    “Molly—”
    “Good night, George.” She said it without looking at him. Slowly, he got up from his chair, stepped off the porch, and left.
    Molly closed her eyes for a moment, imagining that John Locke had been watching, waiting for George to leave so he could come back, come to her bed. Locke was the kind of man she’d been waiting for all her life, despite the fact that he was much older than she was. She wondered what kind of woman he’d been waiting for.

    Hoke Benson watched from across the room while John Locke and the sheriff had a conversation. There were enough men sitting between him and the bar that he felt certain Locke would not be able to see him. He just wanted to take some time to observe the man. Hoke was still trying to decide if they should hit the payroll at the train, between Turnback Creek and the train, or on the mountain. He was also waiting to hear from the other men he’d “invited” to participate in the robbery to get back to him. Word had gotten out that it was John Locke who was taking the money up the mountain. There weren’t a lot of men who wanted to go up against the Widowmaker, but Hoke felt sure that in the end, the money would overcome their fear. Besides, wherever they did it, they were going to ambush Locke and Cooper, so the two old legends would never know what hit them.
    The lawman left, and Locke stayed for a few moments before also leaving. Eli and Bailey were playing faro, but Hoke left them alone. He didn’t feel there was any need to follow Locke back to his hotel. They had all day tomorrow to keep an eye on the man.

    Locke watched the lawman leave, then finished his own beer and set the empty mug on the bar.
    “’Nother one?” the bartender asked.
    Locke was tempted. In two days’ time, he was going to put his life on the line for five hundred dollars. That was a lot of money to Dale Cooper—a lot more than it was to Locke. In all Cooper’s years as a lawman, he had probably never made that much money in one year. He certainly had not seen that much at one time during the past ten years. But it wasn’t enough to John Locke to risk his life for.
    Now, his friendship with Dale Cooper, that was something worth risking his life for, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be nervous about it. A lot would depend on how Cooper performed with his gun tomorrow—a new gun in a shaky hand, at that.
    The bartender was still waiting for a reply.
    “No,” Locke finally said. “No more, thanks.”
    After riding Cooper all day about his drinking, the last thing Locke could do was get drunk himself. And it would be an easy thing to do—a far too easy thing to do—to have another beer, and then another, and then just keep going and going …
    Locke stiffened, straightened up from the bar, and forced himself to walk out the front door and go back to his hotel room for the night. Even in his room, and in his bed, that next beer was still calling to him.

FOURTEEN
     
    T he next morning, Locke left his hotel and walked down the street to the rooming house where Dale Cooper was staying. He hoped the ex-marshal had been able to stay in his room last night and had not sneaked out to any of the saloons. If he had, then Locke was prepared to saddle up and head out of town. Leaving Molly Shill-stone in the lurch was no problem for him.