Uncomfortable with the plowboy appearing on the scene, Buck raised his rifle to his shoulder and held the lone rider in his sights. Fortunately he passed on Buck’s side of the coach, giving him a clear shot, should one be necessary. The rider slowed his pace as he passed the raised vehicle, tipped his hat to the passengers, said something and continued on. Lowering his rifle, Buck used his binoculars to maintain surveillance of the stranger until he turned into a side road, leading to a farm house a mile away. By then, the coachman had remounted his box and resumed their travel.
Instead of being a source of relief, the false alarm served to heighten Buck’s awareness of the danger ahead.
#
Dusk was approaching as the coach pulled into St Matthews. The stage compound on the western outskirts of the hamlet seemed more suited to storing grain than accommodating travelers. Buck told the driver and passengers to remain outside while he checked within. The dimly lit downstairs common room reeked of last winter’s wood fires.
A man in his fifties wearing a leather apron came through a low doorway at the far end of the room.
“Welcome, welcome, sir. Name’s Jim Hopkins. Y’all are right on time. How many in your party, sir?”
“I’m Dr. Thomson. There are six of us altogether, but we’ll only need accommodations for four. The driver and guard will remain with the coach. The ladies would prefer to stay together if you have a room large enough to accommodate them.”
“They can have the big room, sir. Two beds and a real nice wash stand. I’ll help you bring in their things while my wife Matilda sets the table. Supper’ll be ready in a few minutes. How about a drink first? Reckon you’ve had a long day.”
“It has been long, but I’ll pass on the drink.”
The innkeeper was obviously disappointed. “Whatever you say. Maybe later.”
“Perhaps,” Buck replied, not wanting to dampen the man’s enthusiasm.
They went outside. Tracker was helping Freddie lower the carpet bags from the roof. Janey opened the door below them, got out and held it for Sarah.
“Wait a minute, mister,” the innkeeper said brusquely to Buck, “you didn’t say nothing about no darkies being with y’all. The girl can bed down in the hay barn and the dandy can sleep any damn place he wants, long as it ain’t under my roof.”
Buck could tell Janey had overheard the man’s remarks, but seemed to ignore them. Tracker, however, was less indulgent. Seeing him reach inside his coat, Buck placed a restraining hand on his arm. The two men made brief eye contact. A second later Tracker withdrew his hand.
“Mr. Hopkins,” Buck said firmly, “the ladies—” he emphasized the word “—will be pleased to accept your offer of the big room. And Mr. Bouchard and I appreciate your furnishing us two separate bedrooms.”
“See here, mister, this is my place and I decide who stays in it. And no damn darkies are welcome.”
“Times have changed, Mr. Hopkins. The war’s over.” He put his hand inside his jacket, where his pistol was clearly outlined. “It would be a pity, now that the shooting’s stopped, for you to add your blood to the cause. I sure would hate to have to kill you in front of your wife.”
A scrawny woman, wearing a threadbare dress with a mismatched patch along the hem, came up behind the depot manager and said quietly. “Jim, hush your mouth. Ain’t gonna do neither of us no good if you get yourself killed.”
“Tillie, get inside and leave this to me.”
“Jim, we need the money,” she implored, then addressed the travelers. “Y’all come along now while my husband sees to the horses and totes in y’all’s things. Supper’ll be ready soon as I take the biscuits out of the oven.”
The innkeeper shifted his jaw, shot glances at Tracker and back at Buck. “Y’all be eating together?”
Buck took his hand from inside his coat. “As soon as your dear wife has the table set.”
The man started unhitching the horses. Buck considered reminding him of his wife’s offer for him to help with the luggage but winked at Tracker instead and picked up the nearest suitcase.
“I wonder, doctor,” Tracker commented as he hefted the other portmanteau, “if Mr. Hopkins realizes his wife just saved his hide.”
“What can you tell me about the plowboy you encountered this afternoon?” Buck asked.
“He’s not Rufus Snead, if that’s what you’re worried about. This guy had dark hair. Real, not dyed. He was more like thirty than twenty, and he had two good eyes, very blue eyes.”
“That’s a relief,” Buck responded. “He looked so much like Snead from a distance that—”
“One thing I can tell you about him,” Tracker added, “is that he was no plowboy. His hands were too soft and clean.”
So who was he?
#
“Good work,” Rufus told Mundo. So the coach had been stuck on the road because of a bad hub. They’d been sitting ducks, except Rufus didn’t know that then. He expected Mundo to pass by the moving coach. By the time he was able to work his way back to the gang, the coach had already arrived in St Matthews.
“I swan, those women are bodacious fine,” Mundo added. “The white woman is pretty as a turtle dove, and that dusky gal makes a man feel right pert.”
A one-track mind, Rufus thought, emphasis on the one track, not the mind.
“You’re randy for anything in a skirt,” Clem commented a few feet down the bar. He tipped his mug and gulped foamy beer, let out a belch and turned to Rufus. “Why didn’t we hit ‘em today, boss? I don’t understand why we’re waiting.”
“You don’t have to. We hit ‘em when I tell you to.”
In fact, knowing now the pickle they’d been in when they stopped to repair the wheel, he probably should have attacked them. A lost opportunity. But he didn’t know then what he knew now. Besides, there’d be other chances to exfluncticate Doc Thomson and his friends. After all, coaches broke down all the time.
Zeke came bounding into the long barroom. “Hey, boss, I found it.”
“Found what? Your ass or your elbow?”
“The perfect spot for your ambush tomorrow.”
“Where?” Rufus asked. “And what makes it so damn perfect?”
Suppressing a grin of pleasure at being one up on the one-eyed runt, Zeke told him. “On the road to Holly Hill. A long narrow bridge through the swamp. We’ll be able to hear ‘em when they get on it. There’s woods on both sides. I know how you like being up in trees, boss. They can’t turn the coach around on that bridge, so they’ll be sitting ducks.”
Rufus smiled. It did sound perfect. “Get some sleep,” he ordered. “We’re gonna be up real early tomorrow. And remember the doc is mine.”
“He’s all yours, boss,” Mundo said. “I prefers women.”
Chapter SIXTEEN
The sun was pinking the eastern sky when Buck tapped on Tracker’s door. Hardly a moment elapsed before it opened and the man stood in front of him fully dressed.
“I’m riding out to see what there is to be seen,” Buck told him. “I expect to be back by the time y’all have finished breakfast, but don’t leave until I do. I want to make sure the road’s clear and check out any bad spots.”
“We’ll be waiting for you.”
Buck started to walk away.
“I’ll have Mr. Hopkins pack some biscuits for you,” Tracker added, “to eat at your leisure.”
“Uh, thanks.”