Lacy Jane Weston was older than she looked, a reality that became surprisingly less and less desirable as she aged. In her youth, she had found a reckless young man and married him. Her father had seen to a swift annulment involving the barrel of a shotgun. He had found her next match, one he approved of because the man had ambition and drive and direction. Unfortunately that direction had led to Elodie, and the gold mine there was said to be in its nearby hills. As it turned out, there was no gold and there should not have been a mine. Now widowed, Lacy found her youthful aspect attracted men who were far younger than she, and who were unreliable and inconceivably rash. She, on the other hand, had matured, and now sought only stability for her life, especially during this trying time of the year.
But between her vixen looks and her running a saloon, Lacy had virtually no chance of attracting any man who was worth having. And so she resigned herself to hopelessly unrequited flirtation with John Holt, the town sheriff, who was in her age range but didn't know it or at least didn't believe it.
It had been she who had unwittingly set the ball rolling the night before when she'd come over to the sheriff's office with their customary brandy nightcap. Sheriff Holt would not accept her flirtatious advances, but he had never once turned down her booze, and last night had been no different.
She had told him of the Cartwrights, and the money they were carrying. Casually -joking really- she had suggested what she and Sheriff Holt could do with so much money, for themselves and the town. It was a romantic fantasy, the sort she wove with practiced expertise. But this time Sheriff Holt had been at least half listening to her. Before she knew it, the joke was no longer funny and nobody was laughing.
It is surprising how quickly desperation can turn to greed.
Sheriff Holt went and woke half a dozen men, and repeated Lacy's notion to them. Instead of telling him he was crazy or even taking his badge before locking him up for proposing such a notion, the men had supported him. Sheriff Holt had guarded the town for a long time, even though there was no profit in it. The town was dying, and everybody knew it. Here at last was a tiny, insane chance of breathing life back into Elodie. The men grasped at it as if they were drowning and the idea was a life raft.
In a way, Lacy supposed they were. Sheriff Holt and she were single, but past their prime and with no place to go. The deputies were mostly married or aspiring to be, though a couple of them were just hanging on in Elodie because there was nothing else for them. They had no families to go to, and had become cut off one way or another from their roots. Elodie was all they had.
Lacy supposed, quite rightly, that neither Joe nor Hoss would be interested in an explanation as to why she and her fellow townsfolk had decided upon this course.
"Lacy," Sheriff Holt acknowledged her with a nod from behind his desk, "What brings you here? And where's the wolf?"
"The wolf's a dog, as you know well, and I haven't seen him in days. He comes and goes as he pleases; always has, always will, Lacy said, then added, "I've brought lunch. For you and for them," she indicated the jail room with a tilt of her head.
Sheriff Holt had sent the deputies out to scour the countryside for Canaday, leaving only himself and Deputy Mayer manning the sheriff's office. Mayer was a sweet man who had come out to Elodie with his parents and brother. His father and brother had been killed when the epidemic swept through that one year, leaving only him to take care of his broken-hearted mother.
Mayer was good looking, even tempered and Lacy unfortunately looked to be about his age. Mayer had never been interested in her, but his presence was a subconscious reminder to Sheriff Holt that Lacy was much younger than he was, even though she vehemently denied it. Sheriff Holt was less friendly and more guarded towards Lacy whenever Mayer was around.
Sheriff Holt grimaced at the mention of lunch, but said "Mayer, take her back there. See the prisoners don't give her no trouble. Shoot 'em if you gotta, but try not to. We need them alive just now."
"Sure thing," Mayer replied, jumping up from the chair he'd been reclining in, eager as a puppy to serve, "This way, Miss Weston."
Lacy had tried in vain to get Mayer to call her by her first name, but the most his severe case of formal etiquette towards women allowed him to unbend was to call her Ms. instead of Mrs.
Mayer was a lot more relaxed around men, particularly those in jail cells.
"Alright you two," Mayer's voice gained an unaccustomed hard edge, "Lunch time. Back against the wall. And don't try anything," he drew his pistol from its holster.
Joe and Hoss didn't know Mayer any more than they knew anybody in this town. They didn't know how easily provoked into shooting he might be, and so they chose to obey him and moved to the wall on the opposite side of the cell from the door and watched closely as Mayer moved forward cautiously and unlocked the door, never taking his eyes off them, then stepped back to make room for Lacy.
"What's the good of feeding us when you just plan to kill us anyway?" Joe asked bitterly.
"Who said anything about killing you?" Lacy inquired politely, stepping just inside the cell and setting the tray she was carrying on the stool right inside the door.
"That crazy sheriff, for one," Joe replied.
"Sheriff Holt?" Lacy straightened and stood inside the cell for a moment, "He can be a little temperamental. I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it."
"Well why don't you go an' ask him if he meant anything by it," Hoss suggested, "An' let us know."
Lacy didn't reply. She backed out of the cell, unwilling to take her eyes off of either Cartwright. She could see in their eyes that they were desperate men, capable of just about anything if it would help to free them, and she figured that included accosting a woman.
She stood back while Mayer locked up the cell. Only then did he return his pistol to its holster. Mayer led the way to the door of the jail room, and held it open for Lacy before following her through. In the main office, Lacy did turn to Sheriff Holt.
"The younger boy says you intend to kill him and his brother," Lacy said levelly, "Is this true?"
Sheriff Holt leaned back in his chair, looked up at her and said, "Yup."
At that answer, Lacy strode around to stand on the opposite side of the desk so she could look Sheriff Holt straight on. He sat up in his chair, but wouldn't stand. Lacy knew he had a bad knee, and so excused the apparent rudeness without a thought. The knee was why he had not joined the posse himself in going after Canaday, though why he'd kept Mayer back instead of another deputy was anyone's guess.
"Why?" Lacy asked, "If their father pays up, why not just let them go?"
"Because I ain't suicidal," Sheriff Holt replied in his easy drawl, "An' I got a passel o' deputies to think about too. Them Cartwrights are known for a lot more'n jus' their money. They got a code they live by, one that won't let 'em ignore criminals or injustice. If we turn those boys loose, they'd have the law down on everyone in Elodie before you could spit."
"I see," Lacy said.
"If you'd done a little askin' around about 'em like I have," Sheriff Holt continued, "You'd know that Cartwright is a military man, an' he with his sons have all been involved in law enforcement at one time or another, as deputies and as sheriffs. They'd bring an army down on us an' wipe us right out."
"I see," Lacy repeated quietly, but Holt wasn't finished.
"We can't keep 'em here forever, an' we can't let 'em go. Only other option is to kill 'em when this is all over, and wipe out any trace of 'em ever bein' here."
"Why not before? Cartwright has no way of knowing if his sons are alive or not," Lacy said.
"Cartwright may ask for proof," Holt replied, "We may have to arrange that somehow."
"I guess that makes sense," Lacy agreed, "Have you talked to Josh?"
Josh Jones was the owner and operator of the town's livery stable, where the two Cartwright horses and Canaday's animal were still stabled. Lacy knew every one of those horses bore the Ponderosa brand. Even if they hadn't been so branded, the pinto was so distinctive in color and conformation that it would take a blind man to miss him, and the big brown was equally noticeable to anyone used to horses. The chestnut might be possible to change the brand of, but anyone who'd been up close to him would know even the least remarkable of the three. They would need to be gotten rid of somehow.
Holt shook his head, "He took the saddles, but I haven't explained to him what I want done with the horses just yet. Haven't had time."
"What is it you want done?" Lacy asked.
"I want 'em taken outta town, far out, an' tacked up like normal, then turned loose. They'll either hightail it for home or else be found roamin' around miles away from here."
"Throwing the hounds off the scent, so to speak," Lacy said, then added after a moment, "Sheriff, why don't I take a run over to the livery and talk to Josh for you?"
"I'd sure appreciate that, Lacy," Sheriff Holt replied.
Lacy smiled. She knew it was not a good thing they were doing, but that was okay with her because they were in it together. And with plenty of money, she would be able to close down her saloon, and become a more respectable lady, one Sheriff Holt might become interested in. Even aside from that, going along with him on this was sure to impress him in some fashion. And if not... at least she would never want for anything materially again.
She supposed that if the most she got for Christmas was an expensive fur coat and a bottle of fancy wine, that would be enough. After all, she'd had much less in years past and never complained; she deserved some of the finer things in life as a reward for long years of patience and hard work.
Ben tried to concentrate on his work. He certainly had enough to do to keep himself occupied. Even had there not been paperwork to go over, plans to make and the like, Ben had enough hobbies to keep busy. It should not have been difficult to find at least one thing to occupy his attention and time. But his mind just kept going back to the inexplicable worry. Over and over, he found himself wondering where his boys were, what they were doing, if they were in trouble.
It was not his habit to worry senselessly, or to let worry prevent him from doing his work. But that was assuredly what was happening now. He couldn't focus on what he was doing, and he found himself looking up at every sound, expecting someone to come in with bad news about his boys, even though that was ridiculous even if something was wrong. They were a long way from home. Too far.
He found himself getting up and pacing around, or alternatively standing and staring out the windows.
He tried distracting himself with coffee, but to Hop Sing's intense annoyance, Ben found himself forgetting about it and getting lost in thought. He sugared it several times before he finally gave up and returned it to the kitchen without its having been tasted. Hop Sing let out a steady string of curses in Chinese and began to bang pots around.
Eventually, unable to stand staying around the house anymore, Ben decided to go for a ride. He didn't know about the snow storm that had hit up north where his sons were, because it had barely gotten this far. There was a little snow, but not even enough to fully cover the dry winter grass.
Ben's buckskin wasn't very fond of it. Buck was an intelligent animal, and he enjoyed being ridden over peaceful countryside on nice days. Unlike Joe's pinto, Buck didn't get much of a winter coat and felt the cold a bit more keenly than some of the other horses. His breath clouded in the winter air, and he wanted to go right back to his warm barn.
Of course, Buck could also read his rider's agitation even before they rode out, and that made him act out a bit. But Buck's way of acting out was simply to try and turn away, go back home. Despite his name, he never bucked nor reared, and seldom bolted even at the sound of war whoops and gunshots. He was a calm, generally agreeable horse, and accustomed to being treated like one.
So when Ben refused to let him head back for home, Buck accepted his fate and went along peaceably.
Buck fell into an easy gait that could not rightly be called a trot or a canter, but somehow felt between the two. He had a smooth stride and Ben had always enjoyed the horse's easy movements.
He didn't really intend to ride in to Virginia City, but that's where he wound up. He'd been letting the easy ride and cold air clear his thoughts, and convince him that he was worrying over nothing. Buck slowed down on his own as they entered town. The horse knew Ben's habits well, and knew the man preferred to ride into town at a walk normally. Ideally the streets were clear, but Ben knew that sometimes there were people visiting from back east who didn't seem to understand the rules of the west, and also sometimes little kids would run out into the street. A fast moving horse was an accident waiting to happen in a town or city, and so Ben preferred to take his time.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when he rode in, but Ben felt his concerns coming back.
He decided to go see Sheriff Coffee, though he wasn't really sure why. He just had a feeling...
The boys were not particularly interested in lunch. It looked from a distance a lot like what they'd had for breakfast, and they weren't eager to have a second helping. A closer look didn't make it any more appealing and neither of them was hungry enough to try it and find out if it was really the same stuff. So instead they just sat with their backs to the wall, staring at it balefully.
"How far do you think Candy's gotten by now?" Hoss wondered aloud.
"Assuming he's still on the horse," Joe said slowly after a moment's thought, "I'd guess he's made Dewton by now. That's the next town, right?"
"Yeah," Hoss nodded, "That's kinda what I figured too. Oughta be okay if he gets there, shouldn't he? Town's got a doctor and a telegraph office, and that's all he really needs."
"I suppose so," Joe agreed, "I hadn't really thought about it that way, but I guess he doesn't need to get all the way home," then he frowned and fell silent.
"What?" Hoss asked.
"I was just thinkin'... that sheriff said he sent a deputy to send a telegraph. That deputy might be in Dewton, or somewhere on the road to it. If Candy meets up with him... he won't stand a chance. Especially since everyone in on this has seen us and knows what we look like, but Candy won't be able to recognize the deputy except by the badge."
"An' even then, he's got no call to avoid the law in general, just the Elodie deputies," Hoss realized, "An' he won't know it's an Elodie badge except from up real close."
Joe nodded mutely, and went back to staring at the inedible looking lunch.