Higher Ground

Chapter 6 – Cold Comfort

"What? I just had lunch with him." I holstered my gun and opened the door, letting the sheriff in.

"Why do ya think I came to talk to ya?"

"How'd it happen?" I sat down on the bed, leaving the chair for Manning.

"Somebody shot him in the back, at the store. You didn't go back there with him, did ya?"

I shook my head. "No, he went there and I came back here. I've been here ever since. Was it a robbery?"

"Doesn't look like it. Money in the cash box. Nothin' taken outta the store. Did he talk to anybody at lunch?"

"No, just the little gal that took our order. Somebody got it in for him?"

"Not that I know of. Everybody liked Tom. What about those two friends a yours?"

I didn't like what he was implying. "They're not my friends. They're outlaws and thugs. And what would they want with Tom?"

Manning shrugged his shoulders and had a bewildered look. "Maybe they thought he was a friend a yours?"

"I've got no reason to believe they made it through the pass before the snowfall."

About that time the door opened and Bret walked into the room. If he was surprised to see the sheriff there, he gave no indication. "Manning."

"Maverick." The sheriff turned back to me. "If you think of anything, let me know, would ya?"

I nodded and the sheriff left. "What was that all about?" Bret asked.

"Somebody I had lunch with got killed." I watched my brother's face, and he didn't seem phased by what I'd told him, either.

"Should we be worried?" he asked as he unstrapped his gun belt and laid it on the bed.

"I don't know. Sheriff's got no idea about who or why, that's why he came to see me. Graspin' at straws."

"You already got somebody killed? You work fast." I knew that Bret wasn't serious, but I wasn't laughing. Tom seemed like a nice enough fellow; I was really hoping that his death was just a coincidence. He saw the look on my face and got real solemn. "Who was this guy?"

"Somebody I met playin' poker," I answered. "I was at The Gilded Lady until I went to lunch with him. Name was Tom Miller. He owned . . . . . . "

"The General Store," Bret finished. "Sorry. Wasn't tryin' to be funny. You down at The Lady playin'?"

"Yep. Didn't feel like comin' back to the room. Played until a little after one o'clock. Tom asked me to lunch, and I went with him. There's a place down the street called - "

"Minnie's Café." Bret nodded, the second time he'd finished my sentence for me. "That's where I've been for the last hour or so. Pretty decent food."

"How'd you do at Pete's?"

"Won a little," he answered. "Met a couple interestin' people. You?"

"Same. Got invited back to the group for their usual game at ten o'clock. Course, that's before one of their regulars got killed."

Bret rubbed his chin. "Do you think – "

My turn to interrupt. "I hope not."

XXXXXXXX

When I walked into The Lady at a little before ten, I had no idea what kind of reception I was going to get. Joe and Saul were already there, looking somber. For obvious reasons Calvin would be late, I was informed. When Rally came in we were introduced and spent the next few minutes talking about Tom. From what Simmons had to say, Tom Miller was a good friend.

After some discussion it was decided to go ahead and play poker tonight, in honor of Tom. Once we sat down at the table Rally ordered a round for everyone, to toast the deceased man, and even though it was against my better judgement I participated. When you don't drink that stuff it doesn't take much for you to feel it, and I certainly did. I immediately ordered a cup of coffee and wasted no time drinking it. Joe started the deal and we were off.

Somewhere around midnight Calvin got there. Rally again ordered a round, but this time I declined, explaining that I didn't drink and had joined in to honor Tom and for no other reason. I thought I might have a problem there for a minute but it was all settled amicably, and I joined in the second toast with my coffee.

Rally was a better poker player than all of them. He bet smart and played the games with a joie de vivre that the others lacked. I had to pay close attention to detail to beat him consistently, and it presented me with an interesting challenge. How to win enough to be profitable BUT be invited back. I must have pulled it off because I was invited to join them again tomorrow night, at nine o'clock instead of ten. Tom's funeral was tomorrow at noon if they could get a grave dug for him. Either way I committed to being there.

We played until three or three-thirty and then a halt was called due to the day's events. I checked my funds discreetly and was about five hundred dollars ahead. Not a significant amount but better than being behind.

Everybody but Saul went to Minnie's for food and I joined them, but just for more coffee. I hadn't eaten since the lunch with Tom, but food wasn't really appealing right then. It was interesting that I went; Maggie from the hotel dining room was working here this morning. She was a whole lot friendlier once we were introduced, and I found out that her last name was Sawyer. I discovered she was going to the service for Miller and arranged to stop by Minnie's at eleven thirty and pick her up.

After she left the table Rally looked at me and asked, "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"I've been trying to get Maggie to let me take her somewhere, anywhere, for months and she's always refused. You get introduced to her tonight and she's going with you tomorrow?"

"Rally, I'm escorting the lady to a funeral, not a barn dance. I wouldn't get excited about that."

"Maybe because he treated her like a lady," Joe Mercer interjected.

Rally didn't seem thrilled with Mercer's comment, but he didn't say anything. Finally I set my empty cup down. "Gentlemen, I'll see you tomorrow at the funeral. Thank you for a pleasant night." I pulled my coat closed as far as I could and braced myself for walking the block back to the hotel. It was so cold outside that my breath froze, and I was in such a hurry to get inside that I didn't pay any attention to anything around me. If I had, I might have felt like I was being watched.

When I got back to the room I was darn near frozen. I stoked the fire and put two more logs on, hoping to get it nice and warm. Bret wasn't back yet, and I climbed into the far side of the bed. Funny, we grew up sleeping in separate beds, but we have no problem sharing a bed as adults. Maybe it's because we're too frugal (cheap?) to pay for two rooms.

I was mostly asleep when I heard Bret come in. Actually, I heard him whistling as he came up the steps, which meant he'd had a good night. The whistling stopped when he got to the door, just in case I was there. Since I was generally asleep I stayed that way. We've both nearly perfected the art of undressing and getting into bed without making too much noise, and by the time Bret was ready for sleep Brother Bart had drifted back off. Neither of us is what I would call a restless sleeper, and Bret's snoring doesn't even bother me – as long as I get to sleep before he does. I've asked him if I snore, and his answer varies depending on his mood, but it's mostly 'no.' That's a comforting thought.