“What about the men who ride with him?” Matt asked. “A Mexican named Paco. A big man named Bates and someone named Schuler.”
“They’re all ridin’ with Odom?” Gabby asked.
“So I’ve heard,” Matt answered, not wanting to give away how he actually knew.
“I’ll be damn. I didn’t know that. Well, I can tell you about two of them fellers,” Gabby said. “Bates, the big fella, is a mean son of a bitch, all right. Word is, he once beat a miner to death with his bare hands. The Mexican, I don’t know nothin’ about. I ain’t never heard of him. But the other fella would be Moses Schuler. Me ’n’ Moses Schuler was friends once. He didn’t start out to be an outlaw, but I don’t doubt that he’s rid down that trail by now.”
“What sent him that way?”
“Whiskey, I reckon. Once whiskey gets aholt of a man, it don’t let him go.”
“You say the two of you were friends?”
“Yes, sir. Moses was a powder monkey with the Cross Point Mine. He was a good one, too. Why, he could shave off shale as easy as cuttin’ butter. But that’s a dangerous job and Schuler started drinkin’ a bit, just to settle his nerves, you understand. Only, he drank too much once, and he double-loaded a shoot. Instead of carving off a little bit of shale, it caused a mine cave-in. There was nine men kilt in that cave-in.
“Moses was never the same after that. He started drinkin’ more and workin’ less until he was fired. I heard tell that he blew a safe during a bank robbery down in Tucson, but don’t nobody know that for sure. You say he’s workin’ with Odom now?”
“Yes, or so I’ve heard,” Matt said.
“That’s too bad. Moses may not be dependable, and maybe he’s even stole a few things. But I don’t think he would ever kill anyone, not with how he was so upset over the accident in the mine.”
“How long since you’ve seen him?” Matt asked.
“How long? Lord ’a mercy, I’m not sure how long it’s been,” Gabby said. “I’d make it three years or more.”
“So he could be riding with Cletus Odom now and you would never know it,” Matt suggested.
Gabby spit out another stream of tobacco juice, then nodded. “You got me there, sonny, you got me there,” he said.
“Sorry I was the one who had to tell you about your friend,” Matt said.
“Don’t worry about it. I reckon I would have found out soon enough anyway. Ah, there’s the relay station just ahead. We’ll grab a bite to eat here, change teams, then be on our way. Oh, and while I’m looking after the teams, would you mind givin’ this to Rittenhouse over there?” Gabby asked. “The marshal wants these posted everywhere.”
Gabby gave Matt one of the wanted posters he had seen tacked up earlier.
“Sure,” Matt said. “I’d be glad to.”
Chapter Eleven
As the coach rolled into the station, Gabby hauled back on the reins and set the brake. With the stage at a standstill, the little cloud of dust that had been following them now rolled by them, and Matt heard some of the passengers coughing below.
Gabby chuckled. “You’re better off up here,” he said. “That dust really gets inside down there.”
“I know. I’ve ridden shotgun guard a few times in my life.”
“I figured you probably knew your way around a stagecoach,” Gabby said. He climbed down and yelled at the passengers in the stage. “Folks, we’ll be here for half an hour. Stretch your legs, take care of your needs, maybe grab some lunch. Miz Rittenhouse runs the kitchen here, and she makes some mighty fine chicken ’n’ dumplin’s.”
“Chicken and dumplings?” one of the men said. “My God, the driver actually said that as if we could possibly find such pedestrian fare appealing.”
Matt climbed down as well, listening to the continuing complaints of the two men who, it would appear, were trying to outdo each other. He was glad he wasn’t riding down in the box.
While the others went inside, Matt walked over to a couple of men who were standing near the corral.
“Yes, sir, what can I do for you?” the older of the two men asked.
“Are you Rittenhouse? Gabby asked me to give this to you,” Matt said, showing him the poster.
The man looked at it for a moment, then whistled. “Five thousand dollars? That’s a lot of money.”
“Yes, it is,” Matt agreed.
“Damn. No picture? No description? How’s anyone supposed to find this fella?” the relay manager asked.
“You’ve got me,” Matt replied.
Rittenhouse turned to the young man to continue the conversation they were having when Matt had walked up.
“So, you are telling me that you are not going to take that string of horses for me?”
“I can’t, Mr. Rittenhouse,” the young man said. “Ma says Cindy is goin’ to have the baby just anytime now, and I wouldn’t want it to come while I was off pushin’ horses.”
“Damnit, Jimmy, I’ve got to get that string to Purgatory,” Rittenhouse said. “Now, suppose you just tell me how the hell I’m goin’ to do that.”
“I’ll take them for you,” Matt said.
Rittenhouse looked at Matt. “I beg your pardon?”
“You have a string of horses you want to take to Purgatory, I’m going to Purgatory, I’ll take them for you. But you’ll have to loan me a horse and saddle, I got here on the stage.”
“Mister, I don’t know anything about you,” Rittenhouse said. “How do you expect me to trust you with a string of horses?”
Matt smiled. “I guess you’ll just have trust your instinct,” he said.
“What’s your name?”
“Cavanaugh,” Matt answered. “Martin Cavanaugh.”
“Cavanaugh? Martin Cavanaugh?” Rittenhouse shook his head. “I know’d me a Martin Cavanaugh oncet. He was a good man, too. A hell of a good man. Cap’n Martin Cavanaugh it was. I served with him durin’ the war.”
“My pa was a captain in the army during the war,” Matt said.
“Your pa, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, I don’t reckon there’s much a chance it’d be the same man or nothin’ like that,” Rittenhouse said. “But just ’cause I’m curious, what outfit was your pa in?”
“Pa started with the First Regiment of the Kansas Militia,” Matt said. “But he was wounded, and after that, he became adjutant to General Cox of the Twenty-third Army of Ohio.”
Rittenhouse broke into a big smile. “I’ll be damn! Yes, sir, that’s him! That’s the same Cap’n Cavanaugh I was talkin’ about!” he said. He stuck his hand out. “Any son of Cap’n Cavanaugh is all right in my book. Are you sure you’d like to take the string on into Purgatory?”
“I’d be glad to,” Matt said.
“All I can pay is ten dollars.”
“Ten dollars will be fine,” Matt replied. “Like I said, I’m going there anyway.”
“Jimmy?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Rittenhouse?”
“Cap’n Cavanaugh was one of the finest officers I ever run across. And his son just saved your job by agreein’ to take the horses. You owe him a word of thanks.”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Jimmy said. “Thank you, Mr. Cavanaugh. I hope you understand, if it weren’t for Cindy about to whelp, I’d’a been glad to go.”
“I understand,” Matt said. “You give your wife my best.”
“Yes, sir, I will.”
“You owe him a bit more than thanks,” Rittenhouse said. “Saddle up Rhoda for him. And get them horses on a line. But before you do all that, get this posted.” He handed Jimmy the dodger on Matt.
“Yes, sir,” Jimmy said, taking the flyer in his hand.
“You can come on in and have some lunch while Jimmy’s getting ever’thing ready for you,” Rittenhouse said.