Chapter Eighteen
"Nathan Harper, someone will see us!"
Nathan wrapped his arms around Christine and nuzzled his lips against her neck. "You say that every week." He laughed.
"But…" Christine Willows giggled as Nathan tickled the base of her throat with his tongue.
"We've been meeting her every week for a month," he whispered softly into her ear, remembering the passionate afternoons of lovemaking hidden here beneath an overturned derelict dory sitting near the edge of the water. They had stored blankets, towels and a canteen of water. "Even got the candles in case we fall asleep like we did that one time."
He saw her eyes glance toward the gash in the side of the dory no bigger than a mailing envelope.
He quickly tucked the top edges of a black handkerchief behind splinters of wood above the gash covering the hole like a curtain. "Now, no one will see us."
Nathan began undoing Christine's bodice, his fingers grown accustomed to the small buttons. "Now, come on, we…"
Nathan and Christine froze at the sound of men's angry voices. There was seldom anyone walking down the alleyway toward the water at this spot on the river. The new stores, frequented by the train passengers, were up the river a few hundred yards. Carefully pulling back the make shift curtain, Nathan saw Jackson Sutter and Marvin Kendal roughly leading a tall blond man past the alleyway onto the sandy shore. The flash of sunlight on the muzzle of a pistol caught his eye. Christine nearly gave them away when she yelped at the sight of Sutter smashing the blond over the head with the butt of his gun then the two of them dragging him toward to the water. They watched in morbid fascination as Sutter tied the man's hands behind his back and Kendal lashed his ankles, a buggy weight attached to the other end of the rope. Christine grabbed Nathan's arm, squeezing it in horror as they watched Sutter and Kendal lift the man and toss him into the river.
"My, God, no!" Christine cried softly.
Sutter and Kendal didn't wait to see their victim sink beneath the surface. They were already running back toward the alley.
Nathan scrambled out from beneath the dory and tugged off his boots.
"Nathan, what are you doing?" Christine crawled out behind him, her blouse still unbuttoned.
"He could still be alive."
Christine tried to hold him back. "But what if they see you?"
"They won't." Nathan whipped his arm free from Christine and dove into the cold Missouri River. It wasn't deep so close to shore, maybe fifteen feet. But the current was swift and if he didn't get to the man in time he would be pulled down river. He spotted blond hair lazily floating in the water. Nathan was thankful that he hadn't gotten to the undressing stage with Christine and still had his belt on with his scabbard and knife attached. He reached the stranger, his body still not settled against the sandy bottom, and quickly cut the rope attached to the buggy weight, dragging him toward the surface. There was no resistance from the blond. He kicked toward the surface, his lungs aching for air. The man was his height but more muscular. He feared for that last moment before he broke the surface, that he would have to let the man go and save himself.
Christine was waiting for him with the blanket already spread out on the sand.
Nathan carried the man out of the water, laying him face down on the blanket, and began slapping him hard on the back, not taking the time to cut away the rope around his wrists.
"Come on, breathe!" he yelled. "Breathe!"
The stranger suddenly jerked and choked as river water and everything else he had eaten that day came up. He wretched and coughed and doubled up in stomach spasms. Nathan quickly cut the rope around the man's wrists and turned him on his side, rubbing his back in large circles.
"That's it, Mr. Lancer. Get it all up."
The man coughed and wheezed and tried to raise himself up on one elbow. "Do you know me?"
"No. I heard Sutter and Kendal call your name. I don't know who you are or what you did to rile someone that bad, but those two are known thugs around here."
"I don't know anyone around here," the man gasped, flopping down on his back. Nathan knew they had to get him someplace safe and warm.
Nathan grabbed Christine's arm and pulled her closer. "I'm going to hide him under our boat and get him out of these wet clothes. You go find my uncle and tell him what's happened. And be sure to bring some dry blankets. Then find my brother and tell him we need to use his place for a day or two." He looked down at the stranger, his wet hair plastered to his face, his lips trembling from the cold water." We have to keep him out of sight."
Christine nodded, quickly buttoning her blouse. "I'll be right back. But be careful, Nathan. If they come back…"
Nathan didn't wait for Christine to disappear down the beach before he wrapped the man in the blanket and dragged him to the dory, slipping beneath it and pulling the blond in behind him.
"We'll be safe here," he promised as he began to strip the man down. "My uncle is one of the town's two doctors. The better one in my opinion."
"You're taking a big chance helping me," Lancer croaked before he collapsed back onto the blanket, barely conscious.
Nathan took off the last of the stranger's clothes and wrapped him in the wet blanket. It was better than the sodden clothes. "I don't like to see men killed in front of my eyes when there's something I can do about it. Now you try to get some rest. It takes the body some time to get over a thing like nearly drowning."
Nathan felt a flash of unbelievable anger at the thought of this man dying. The genuine smile he saw as Lancer's eyes slid closed and he fell into an exhausted sleep was all Nathan needed to knowthat this man was not the usual thug Sutter and Kendal went after. And Nathan was bound and determined to find out who and why he was here.
Scott was aware of a warm fire and the familiar smells of saddle soap and gun oil. Johnny had often spent his evenings in his room working the leather in his holster until it was as smooth as silk. He remembered sitting across from Johnny in his brother's room, the lamp's wick turned down so only a soft light bathed the small table sitting in the corner. No words were spoken between them. None were needed. This was a ritual that Johnny had replayed for far too many years. Scott felt honored to be allowed into the personal world that his brother coveted so closely. He'd watched as Johnny's long fingers broke down the gun effortlessly. Johnny didn't even look down at the disassembled gun until he began cleaning it. Scott knew that Johnny could break down, clean and reassemble a gun in the time it took most men to simply break the weapon into parts. But this night was not about speed. It was about taking care of a friend who had been at his side, had never let him down. That could not be said for the people in Johnny's life. Until now. Yet Johnny still needed this comfort from his past.
The smell of coffee pulled Scott from his memories and he realized he was not at Lancer. He hadn't been for days. It was no longer his home. And Johnny wasn't there either. He was in Boston looking for answers they should have been looking for together.
"You must be hungry." The voice was deep and steeped in a drawl that Scott did not recognize. He opened his eyes to find his clothes hanging in front of a roaring fireplace and himself lying on a cot, nestled beneath a ton of blankets.
"Uncle Jed said you'd be hungry when you woke up. If you weren't, then that meant the water got to yourbrain."
Scott had to smile at the statement. "I am starving," he said, turning over to see who belonged to the voice.
The man certainly didn't fit the voice. He was short and thin, verging on skinny. His pristinely bald head took Scott by surprise at first. Dark eyebrows suggested that he had had dark hair at one time.
"Good ta hear. My name's Bradley Harper, but most folks just call me Harp. Nathan said Sutter and Kendal nearly made a ghost of ya. Those two are rough customers. Feel strong enough to sit at the table? Uncle Jed'll be by in awhile to have another look at ya. You were lucky that Nathan and Christine were…well…you were just lucky they were there."
Scott nodded. "I don't remember much, but I hope I have the opportunity to thank him."
"Oh you will. Nathan comes here most nights for supper. 'Spect he'll bring Uncle Jed with him. Here, I got some of Nathan's clothes." Harp held up a pair of brown trousers and a white dress shirt. "They should fit ya. Yer about the same size. He only wears these when he's pretending to court Christine like a gentleman." A huge smile wrinkled Harp's forehead and Scott couldn't keep from laughing himself. "I had ta wash the sand out of your clothes before I hung them up ta dry. They should be dry by tomorrow morning though."
Scott looked around. The room was large, but every corner seemed filled with clutter. It wasn't an unkempt house, just one that could use a good reorganizing. Plain white cotton curtains covered the window, letting light in, but making it impossible to see out.
"What time is it?" Scott asked as he began getting dressed in his borrowed clothes. He didn't miss the faint scent of cheap cologne. It appeared that Nathan went all out when he was pretending to court his Christine.
"Near three. You been here 'bout two hours. Uncle Jed said you'd sleep awhile. Near drowning makes a man tired."
Scott stood up slowly, his legs feeling wobbly, and walked over to the rough honed wooden table with bench seats sitting on either side.
"Uncle Jed said ta feed ya something easy cause your throat was gonna be sore and your stomach churned up. So I got some oatmeal with cinnamon on top. Hope you like it that way."
"It's my favorite way."Scott sat down and took a hesitant taste, surprised and glad that it was really quite good. "Maria makes it just like this."
"Maria yer wife?"
Scott looked up at Harp, astounded he would ask a question like that until he remembered this man knew nothing about him.
His thoughts were diverted by the sound of heavy boots outside the door. He wished now he had his gun. It was still sitting in his traveling bag at the bookstore. Scott wondered if there was a way for him to get his bag and not be traced back here.
The door opened and a man as tall as himself walked in. Every other thing about him was different. He was thin, not as thin as Harp, but close to it. His full head of curly hair was dark brown and hung almost to his eyebrows. An easy smile lit his face when he saw Scott sitting at the table.
"Good to see you up and about, Mr. Lancer." Nathan crossed the room quickly to shake Scott's hand. "Nathan Harper. I'm the one who pulled you out of the lake. Me and my girl…well we was taking in the sunshine." The young man's face turned beet red.
The man who followed in after him was shorter, and older. His gray hair still streaked with dark brown like the younger Nathan.
"I am in your debt," Scott said, shaking Nathan's hand warmly. "It was my good fortune that you were there."
Nathan coughed discreetly and the older man harrumphed loudly before walking over to the table and extending his own hand. "Dr. Jed Harper, young man. It's good to see you looking somewhat better. I would like to examine you though, before I leave. Near drowning is nothing to be lax with. And I see that you have eaten some of Harp's good oatmeal. It's about the only thing he does cook well. I remember one morning…"
Scott was suddenly unsure if he was really awake, or this was some kind of strange dream. The doctor's voice droned on. He talked as much as his nephew Harp, and though Nathan had little time to say anything, Scott was sure he would be as talkative when given a chance.
Suddenly there was silence, and Scott realized they were waiting for him to speak. "Thank you," he said. "I am in all your debts." Scott ran a hand through his hair, flinching when he hit the knot from the gun butt.
"You're going to have a sore head for awhile. Lucky those two didn't crack your skull open."
"I'd like to return the favor."
Jed nodded. "I did some checking while you were sleeping. Don't worry, I was discreet. It was easy really. You just have to know the right people, and in this town, that would be Billy Tyler. He does odd jobs around the train station and anywhere else he can find work. But he always has his eyes and ears open. If he likes you, he can give you a wealth of information. If he doesn't, then you'd get more blood out of a rock then information out of Billy."
"And he likes you, Uncle Jed." Harp grinned.
"That he does, Harp. Ever since I dug that nasty splinter out of his backside. Poor man was too embarrassed to ask for help and was getting weak legged from having to stand all the time."
Scott groaned silently. He was in a nightmare.
"Anyway, I found out that you had lunch at Lucy's then went over to the bookstore. I took a walk over there, bought a book I'd had my eye on for awhile and spotted a traveling bag just sitting all by its lonesome in the back corner. Took a peek inside and saw it belonged to Scott Lancer. I know that's you because of the papers in your wallet. Don't worry, we didn't rob ya blind."
Harp happily held up Scott's empty money belt. "The money is all right over there." He pointed to a shelf near the fireplace where Scott's money was spread out to dry.
"That's a lot of money for a man to be carrying," Jed observed.
"I expected to be gone a long time."
"Has it got anything to do with Sutter and Kendal?"
"The money? No. And if it was, they would have taken it. Someone hired them to get me out of the way. I heard them talking. But I'd like to know who."
Jed pulled the bench out from beneath the table across from Scott and sat down. "I asked Billy that too."
"And…?"
"Someone from the westbound train. Got off yesterday, just long enough to look Sutter and Kendal up, then got back on board. And before you ask, he was a well dressed fella, Billy said his shirt had those funny ruffles on them."
"Billy get a name?"
"Billy doesn't miss anything. His name was Masters."
Scott stiffened at the name.
"You know him, Son?"
Scott couldn't believe it was the Masters he knew. It had to be a coincidence. Jefferson Masters had been his grandfather's personal groom for years.
"Did Billy say what he looked like?"
"He said he was tall, had a scar along his right cheek. Billy said it looked like he got knifed."
It was Jefferson. But why? Who sent him? And how would he know he was on the train? Only Arthur Bell knew he was traveling east. He couldn't believe Arthur had anything to do with this.
He thought he read people better than that. But, did he? Did he really know anyone? Scott thought he knew Murdoch, that his father trusted him. Not enough as it turned out. And his grandfather. Who was Harlan Garrett? At every turn Scott found he was not the man he thought he was. Scott knew his grandfather could be ruthless in the business world. However, the more he learned, the more he realized that Harlan Garrett treated everyone with the same contempt he did his business associates. Strike the weak and surround yourself with the strong - but, not too strong. Had he become too strong for his grandfather to handle? Scott felt a shiver run down his back. Was this all his grandfather's doing? And if it was, how could he continue striking from the grave?
"Are you all right?"
Nathan pushed a hot cup of coffee into Scott's hand. "Drink this," he ordered.
"Sometimes Uncle Jed says it helps ta talk 'bout things," Nathan said, his concern for Scott heavy in his voice.
"I don't know," Scott said. "I don't know what's going on. I need to be on the eastbound train tomorrow. Can you buy a ticket for me? I'd do it myself but I don't want to be seen."
"I'll buy one first thing in the morning." Jed tapped Scott's coffee cup. "Drink up, then I want you to get some more rest. You had quite an ordeal today."
Scott sipped at the coffee,grimacing at the bitter taste. "Tastes like Johnny's camp coffee."
Nathan laughed. "Then I'd say whoever Johnny is, he's a lousy coffee maker."
Scott grinned. "Johnny's my brother. And you're right, coffee is not his specialty. But if you want good spicy Mexican food only Maria, our cook, is better."
He suddenly felt light- headed and so very tired. Jed was right. Near drowning did take a lot out of you. He felt hands carefully guide him back to the cot next to the fire. Tomorrow he would be back on the train. And from now on, he wouldn't let his guard down.
But what of Johnny and Sam? Were they all right? He had been worried about them before, now he was terrified. Whoever was behind this had money and connections. And Johnny was a stranger in a strange land. His younger brother needed him like never before. He just prayed he was in time.
As he drifted toward sleep, Scott saw Johnny sitting comfortably in the saddle, Barranca pawing the ground, anxious to be on their way. How he would love to be riding across Lancer with his brother at his side, not a care in the world.
A dark cloud moved in over the riders as Scott fell into a deep sleep.