Logan turned to the nearest customer and hunched his shoulders, the action masking his placing the glass on the bar. When the weight left his hand, he slipped his hand down. Then he jerked around sharply while crouching, his gun coming to hand.

  He’d picked his moment well, as the man was facing Carl who was gesturing toward the stairs. The distraction meant his gun was no longer aimed at Logan. Logan made him pay for his mistake and an explosion of gunfire tore out.

  Hot lead slammed into his opponent’s chest. The man squeezed out an involuntary shot that cannoned over Logan’s shoulder and into the wall, but by then Logan was firing again. With time to aim accurately, he delivered a shot to the man’s forehead that cracked his head back.

  The man swayed and then keeled over. Logan dismissed him from his thoughts and hurried over to Carl.

  “I’m obliged,” he said, kneeling at his side.

  “You’re still doomed,” Carl said. Fright widened his eyes. “We are. Everyone is.”

  Carl beckoned with a finger for Logan to come closer. When Logan leaned over him the finger straightened and then jerked to the side. The gesture was the same one as he’d made earlier, so Logan turned quickly.

  Carl had picked out a man who was climbing the stairs to the saloon’s upstairs rooms. He was walking stealthily while the customers concentrated on Logan and Carl. The man registered with a flinch that he’d been noticed and then threw his hand to his gun.

  He’d managed only to draw when Logan’s deadly shot slammed high into his chest, making him fold over. Then he stumbled and, head over heels, he tumbled down to the bottom of the stairs, where he lay still.

  “Are there any others?” Logan asked.

  Carl sighed and then relaxed. Logan took that to mean he’d dealt with the danger, so he moved back to the bar and let the customers deal with the aftermath. While four men took the two dead men away, their matter-of-fact manner suggesting this wasn’t an unusual occurrence in the Lonesome Trail, Logan sipped his whiskey.

  He poured his new friend a drink, but when he didn’t join him, he turned around. Carl was beating a hasty retreat to the door. A moment later the hubbub in the saloon room silenced and someone stepped up to the bar beside him.

  Logan turned to one side. He blinked hard in surprise before he smiled. A woman had arrived and her piercing blue eyes, pleasing smile and tightly drawn-in skirt told him that she was Virginia Snyder, joint owner with her husband of the Lonesome Trail.

  “Two dead men in here,” she said, her lilting tone seemingly amused, “another one at the station and Carl venturing in here for the first time in a month. You’ve been in town for only an hour. I wonder what could happen in the next hour?”

  “That depends on whether I’m in your company or not,” Logan said, smiling.

  She giggled. Then she leaned closer, drawing his eyes down to her low-cut bodice.

  “Finish your drink and then join me,” she said in his ear before turning to the stairs. “Don’t keep me waiting. I get bored quickly.”

  Then, with a slow sashaying walk that drew the gaze of every man in the saloon, she headed to the stairs.

  Chapter Three

  Norton Wells took a deep breath, slicked down a wayward lock of hair and then raised a tentative hand to rap on the door. To his surprise, a moment later the door was thrown open and Virginia Snyder appeared. She sneered before raising herself to check behind him.

  “Oh it’s you, Norton,” she said with a distracted sigh. “Go away. I’m expecting an important visitor.”

  She moved to close the door, but Norton jumped forward and wedged himself into the gap.

  “Would that visitor have anything to do with all the shooting in town?” he asked. “I hear that—”

  “Nobody cares about anything you hear, least of all me.”

  With a bored sigh, as if the matter of his presence was no longer worth worrying about, she raised her hands and walked over to a dresser. She sat down and applied a layer of rouge, although to Norton’s eyes her cheeks were already adequately colored.

  Norton reckoned this was the nearest he’d get to an invitation to enter her room, so he shuffled in and closed the door behind him. For a while he enjoyed watching her performing a task.

  Then the thought came that this was the first time he’d ever been alone with her. An involuntary cough rose from deep in his chest. He fought it down, but that increased the pressure in his chest until with an explosion of noise a racking, wet cough tore out followed by several more as he fought to clear his throat.

  When he’d stopped coughing and he’d wiped the spittle from his chin, she was facing him with her lip curled in horror. Then she shook her head sadly and picked up a pitcher of water and a mug.

  She filled the mug and then backed away quickly, as if she expected him to start coughing again, but the water eased his throat and, in an odd way, despite the embarrassment, Norton felt more relaxed.

  “Thank you,” he said, handing back the mug. “That was very kind.”

  She turned to the door, suggesting that she’d now dismiss him, but instead she sat down and leaned back with her legs crossed. She arranged her bell-shaped skirt to display her petticoats.

  “Why are you here?” she asked as a trim calf emerged through a previously unnoticed split in the material.

  She waited for an answer, but the sight of her knee and the knowledge that he’d already spent more time in her company than he’d expected meant Norton couldn’t remember the speech he’d rehearsed back in his mercantile.

  “I wanted to see you,” he said lamely.

  “You can see me every night in the saloon room.”

  “Your husband barred me from the Lonesome Trail last month. He said he didn’t want me annoying you no more.”

  “I know, but that’s not stopped you looking through the window, has it?” She folded her arms, the motion hitching her skirt and revealing more of her leg above the knee. “Which raises the question of how you sneaked in here tonight.”

  “Nobody stopped me.” Norton gestured at the door as he struggled to make this meeting play out in the way he’d hoped it would. “Are you waiting for one of your many admirers?”

  She giggled and fluffed her hair. “I am, and he’s sure to be more entertaining than you’re being.”

  She cocked her head to one side clearly expecting a retort, but when Norton didn’t reply immediately, she stifled a yawn behind a lace kerchief.

  “I admire you,” Norton said, at last remembering one of the things he’d wanted to say. With his confidence growing, he became aware of the comforting weight in his jacket pocket.

  She must have noticed his change of attitude as she sat up straight and then unhooked her legs before standing. She walked across the room to stand before him.

  “I know about your feelings for me,” she said. “I’ve known since the day Jasper brought me to New Town and you and all your other little friends couldn’t believe that a man like him could bag a woman like me. But there’s a small problem: I have no interest in you.”

  She planted a finger on his chest and pushed, her gentle motion making Norton stumble backward.

  “You should.” Norton took a deep breath. He knew he shouldn’t reveal everything, but he had to dangle an intriguing hint. “I have secrets.”

  That comment proved to be too oblique for the fickle Virginia and she again turned to the door.

  “We all have secrets, and I’m sure yours are of no interest to me.”

  She was wrong, but he smiled. “I have money, lots of money. I can help you.”

  She snorted with disdain. “What you call a lot of money is not what I’d call—”

  She broke off to utter an excited squeal when Norton withdrew a handful of bills from his pocket.

  “What were you were about to say?” Norton said, his heart pounding.

  She bounced on the spot, backed away, swirled around twice and then came forward with a huge smile on her red lips. She raised her arms to rest the wrists on his shoulders. Then she ran the back of a hand across Norton’s cheek, her touch the softest he’d ever known.

  “I was about to say that a man like you could interest me, after all,” she purred.

  “You don’t like me, do you?” Todd said when he and Rick were approaching Norton’s mercantile.

  “I don’t,” Rick snapped. “You’ve taken my job, not because you’ll do it well, but because of your parents.”

  “You’d be nowhere without my mother helping you out.”

  Rick had expected this retort, but it still irritated him.

  “I tended bar for her for five years,” he said. “If that’s somewhere, I’d prefer to be nowhere.”

  Todd didn’t reply and the two men moved on down the boardwalk. When they headed into the store, they found the body lying on its back behind the counter. The face was contorted and the clothing was askew.

  Two furrows cut through a layer of corn husks on the floor and led into the back store, where Rick found a discarded sack. He examined it while Todd loitered in the doorway with his upper lip curled in disgust. Then Todd shuffled on to join Rick, adopting the casual air of a potential customer.

  “How long do we have to stay here?” he grumbled while rubbing his stomach.

  When Rick ignored the question, Todd turned away and, presumably because he hadn’t noticed anything he wanted to eat, he headed to the door. He stood beside the body, shivered and then sat on the counter.

  Rick went back into the main room. While fingering the sack, he noted the body’s suffused features, which were made even uglier by the ridges of scar tissue on one cheek and the black hole of the empty eye-socket.

  “My sister may have talked Marshal Hannibal into employing you,” he said with a softer tone than before, “but you have no interest in this work, so why did you accept?”

  Todd winced. “Because the alternative was worse.”

  Todd slapped his legs and then, without offering an explanation, he jumped down and stood at Rick’s shoulder, although he ignored the body.

  Rick pressed the sack into his hands. “Keep hold of this. You’ll need it later.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you want to avoid that alternative, you’ll have to write a report on this incident and you’ll need to describe the murder weapon.”

  Todd flinched and then held the sack at arm’s length. This revelation piqued his interest for the first time.

  “You’re good at this,” he said, smiling. “I’d thought you were only good at keeping secrets.”

  Rick had been nodding, thinking he had impressed the importance of the work on Todd, but the final comment made the anger that had been gnawing at his guts since Hannibal had sacked him bubble over.

  “Where did you hear that?” he demanded, clutching Todd’s jacket and pushing him back against the counter.

  “What are you annoyed about?” Todd said, cringing. “I just meant my mother trusts you.”

  Rick held on to him for a moment longer, unwilling to concede that he’d overreacted. Then he shoved him away and pointed at the body.

  “This dead man is depending on you to find out who smothered him,” he said, his voice gruff. “Do you reckon you can do that?”

  “I might. For a start, I know who he is.” Todd smirked when Rick raised an eyebrow. “He’s George Fremont, a member of Hedley Beecher’s outlaw gang. I saw his Wanted poster in the law office.”

  Rick appraised the body. George’s poster wasn’t as prominent as Kirby’s was, so he hadn’t made the connection. He regarded Todd without disdain for the first time.

  “He’s the second man connected to Hedley to die tonight,” Rick mused before he cast a grim smile toward Todd. “And you might make a lawman, after all.”

  “My wife’s busy, but you can talk with me,” the voice said through the open doorway.

  Logan had heard about what had happened to Virginia’s husband, so he had already lowered his head when he went into his room. Last year Jasper had fallen in Hollow Cavern, crippling himself for life.

  Now he was sitting at a writing desk in a chair that had two large wheels on either side. With impressive dexterity, he wheeled himself backward and then turned to Logan.

  “I’ve gathered from your barman,” Logan said, “that she wants to hire me to keep trouble away from your saloon, and that the previous man she hired was killed last month.”

  “The dangers of the job shouldn’t worry a man who’s killed three times already today.”

  Logan shrugged. “I’m not worried, but that’s only because I keep myself alive, not others.”

  “My wife can be persuasive.”

  Jasper waited until Logan frowned. Then he beckoned him to follow and, turning the wheels slowly to avoid making a noise, he wheeled himself across the room to a panel that was set into the wall at his head height.

  He gestured and, getting his meaning, Logan slid the panel aside to reveal two round holes. When Jasper backed away, Logan lowered his head to the holes. A moment before his gaze focused on the scene in the adjoining room he heard enough to know what was happening, but by then it was too late to stop himself looking.

  He flinched away to meet Jasper’s amused smile. Quickly he put the panel back in place.

  “You don’t mind?” he said.

  Jasper patted the chair and then his legs, which were as stiff as the wooden chair-frame.

  “Since my accident, I’m only half a man. If you’d finished your drink ten minutes earlier, you’d have been in there.” Jasper winked when Logan balked in horror. He wheeled his chair back across the room. “Later tonight, it could still be you. My wife gets bored quickly, but she never gets tired.”

  “I won’t get caught up in your twisted lives. I have other matters to deal with.”

  Logan turned to the door, but Jasper coughed, making him stop.

  “Even if you don’t want to sample what my wife will offer you freely, tonight has proved that Edison’s trial will be a dangerous time. She’ll still pay generously for protection.” Jasper chuckled. “Whatever she offers you to carry out her wishes, I’ll double it to do mine instead.”

  “Nobody plays games with me,” Logan said, rounding on Jasper.

  “Then you’ve come to the wrong place,” Jasper said, unconcerned by his anger. “When you’ve thwarted whatever dangers come our way, she’ll make you an offer to kill me.”

  “And you want me to kill her instead?”

  “No. I want you to ignore her.” Jasper noted Logan’s incredulous expression and spread his hands. “Since my accident, the only pleasure left to me is foiling my wife’s every move.”

  “In that case, I’ll accept your offer, and hers,” Logan said in a resigned tone.

  “I’m obliged.” Jasper held out a hand, but Logan didn’t take it.

  “But I don’t want your money.”

  Jasper nodded without a flicker of concern. He wheeled his chair back and forth until he’d aligned himself with Logan.

  “What are your terms?”

  “Only one.” Logan waited, but when Jasper didn’t respond, he accepted that, despite appearing to know plenty, Jasper didn’t know who he was. “Ask me for my full name.”

  Jasper narrowed his eyes. “What’s your name, Logan?”

  Logan edged closer, searching Jasper’s eyes for his reaction.

  “I’m Logan Reed, Ogden’s brother.”

  Chapter Four

  “I’m pleased you came back,” Marshal Hannibal said.

  Rick made his feelings clear by walking slowly past what had once been his desk to the stove.

  “Unlike your new deputy, I have a sense of duty and pride,” he said. “I’ll stay on until the judge arrives tomorrow. Then I’ll kick your good leg from under you and walk out of here, never to return.”

  Hannibal uttered a supportive laugh, but Rick only scowled at him, unwilling to lighten his aggrieved mood.

  “Where is my new deputy?”

  “He’s in Martha’s Eatery. Apparently the strain of pretending to be attentive for fifteen minutes exhausted him.”

  “Todd’s not as stupid as you make out. He might overhear something useful.” Hannibal smiled at Rick’s dubious expression and then continued. “While you were gone, the gunslinger Logan shot up two more men in the Lonesome Trail. They also worked for Hedley.”

  “That means my sister will need me, so I’ll see out my last hours in the Lonesome Trail.”

  “She won’t need you. She’s hired Logan for protection.” Hannibal licked his lips. “With a gun like that behind her, she’ll be squealing with delight all night.”

  Rick pointed at him. “My sister annoys me, but that doesn’t mean you can insult her. I was joking about kicking your good leg away, but make one more comment like that and I’ll do it.”

  Hannibal lowered his head and Rick poured himself a coffee, now feeling unwilling to go to the saloon.

  “Then try this: I need you,” Hannibal said, his voice low. He gestured at the grille in the corner of the office and then pointed at a plate of hard bread and even harder cheese. “Edison’s due his meal and my leg’s hurting real bad. I don’t reckon I can get down there.”

  Rick put his mug back on the stove and treated Hannibal to a sarcastic grunt of thanks for admitting he needed him. Then he collected the plate and took it to the grille. He had visited the jailhouse only once before and that was shortly after Hannibal had locked up Edison.

  Since then, Hannibal had dealt with him, his twice-daily ritual of overcoming the slippery steps being one he entrusted to nobody else. The law office had been built over a cavern of the kind that had first attracted miners to Old Town.

  The only entrance was a chimney over which the grille had been set. To date, no prisoner had ever escaped. Once he’d raised the grille, Rick walked down the circular steps that had been carved into the rock and then onto the wooden steps that took him down to the base.

  The cavern was forty feet across, although only the central section was high enough for a man to stand comfortably. Four cells had been placed under the lower section, adding to any prisoner’s discomfort.

 

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