“I don’t mind admitting,” Garrett said, as the flames cast a dancing glow on one side of his face, “that I’d gotten myself into a bad situation out there. I made a few errors of judgment, you might say, and I ended up wondering whether I was going to be able to get home at all. I’m not there yet, of course, but I’m sure glad to have stumbled into you. I think you might have saved my life tonight, Mr. Munvey.”
“Munver,” Munver replied. “It’s Munver, not Munvey. Munver, rhymes with…”
His voice trailed off.
“Uh, I don’t know what it rhymes with,” he added finally, “but it’s definitely Munver. Definitely not Munvey.”
“Of course, I’m sorry. My mistake.”
Garrett crouched down and reached his hands a little closer to the flames. He took a moment; not because he wasn’t sure what to say next, but because he wanted to affect an air of authority, of calm. He figured that would play well with a man like Stuart Munver. He’d felt bad, intentionally getting the man’s surname wrong, but it had been necessary. Dominance was now firmly established.
“I have always had the greatest of respect for men who set out to make their fortunes,” he continued finally. “Too many men prefer a nice safe desk job, with a nice safe salary, but this country will be fine so long as there are always men who are willing to go out in search of something bigger. And, I suppose, so long as there are always new frontiers to explore. I shudder to imagine how things would go if all the world were known. If there were no longer some place a man could take off to, if he grew sick of civilization.”
“It’s a tough life prospecting out here,” Munver said, straightening his back in an effort to seem a little taller, “but someone’s got to do it. I’m no coward.”
“You certainly are not.”
Munver grinned at the compliment, but then his gaze fell upon the window and he saw the cart waiting outside in the snow. His grin remained in place, but he was once more wondering what could be under the sheets and canvasses that covered the cart’s rear, and he could no longer keep his curiosity in check. Whatever was in that cart, he reasoned, might well be enough to make him rich. His heart was pounding.
“Looks like you’ve got a heavy load out there, Mr. Garrett,” he said finally, still looking at the cart. He licked some of the saliva from the corner of his mouth. “Might I ask what you’re transporting?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Garrett replied. “Just a purchase I made a few days ago in Lordstown.”
“Lordstown?”
“It’s a small religious community about seventy miles from here.”
“You went there?”
“To make a purchase, yes.”
“A purchase, huh?” Munver said. He couldn’t take his eyes off the cart, and after a moment he licked his lips again. More drool was getting ready to run. “Must be something pretty important, to make you carry it all the way out here like this in such bad weather.”
“I had a horse, but it died,” Garrett explained. “It just dropped dead a little way outside Lordstown. I decided I could drag everything the rest of the way, or at least to the next town. That seemed better than turning back to Lordstown. I’d have been fine with my plan, too, if the weather hadn’t taken a turn for the worse, and if I’d stayed on the proper trail. I tried to take a short-cut, and that was a mistake. Almost a fatal one.”
“So what exactly is it?” Munver stepped over to the window and set his rifle aside, leaning it against the wall as he peered out at the cart’s covered load. His heart was racing. “What have you got under there?”
“Like I said, it’s nothing.”
“But what is it?”
“A long story.”
“Yeah, but what exactly is it?” He turned to Garrett. “I’m just wondering, that’s all. Just making conversation.”
Garrett paused, meeting his gaze for a moment before turning to look back down at his hands as he continued to warm them.
“I don’t right reckon I can explain it all,” he said finally. “It’s nothing important, and I’d rather not go into the matter. I’m sure you’ll understand.”
“Of course,” Munver said, before turning to look back out again at the cart, “but…”
His voice trailed off. He wanted to ask again, but he knew he wouldn’t get much of an answer. His visitor seemed like he wanted to keep the cart’s contents to himself, and Munver had never been much of a persuader. He watched the cart for a moment longer, and then he turned to see that Garrett seemed lost in thought at the fireplace. If this man wanted to hide the cart’s contents, then it must be carrying something even more valuable than Munver had initially thought.
“I’ve just gotta go out and check something,” Munver said finally.
“I can help you.”
“No!” Munver gasped, raising a hand quickly to stop Garrett. “Stay right there!”
Garrett, still crouching in front of the fire, furrowed his brow.
“I mean,” Munver continued, “you should get warm. Yeah, you need to warm yourself. I’ll only be a moment, and I don’t need any help. I’ve just gotta go and take a check on something I was doing before you arrived. It’s something real important.”
“I see.”
“So wait right there and I’ll be back.” Munver headed over to the door and pushed it open, before turning back to look at Garrett. “You’ll stay by the fire?” he added. “You promise?”
“I won’t leave this fire until my hands are nice and warm,” Garrett replied. “How about that?”
“That’s okay,” Munver said, although he felt a little uncertain. He hesitated, but he didn’t want to say too much more, in case he started to seem suspicious. “Just stay right there. You promise, so you have to. I’ll be right back.”
With that, he headed outside and shut the door.
Garrett, still crouching by the fire, continued to warm his hands for a moment, before glancing over at the nearby chair and spotting a small box next to one of the legs. Reaching out, he picked the box up and saw that it was comprised of several sections of cowhide sewn crudely together. He turned the box around until he spotted a hole cut in one of the sides, and he saw that some kind of hair had been stuck to the hole’s edges. The name Angelica Graft had been written in untidy handwriting. He tilted the box, and slowly a slimy white-yellow liquid began to ooze out.
“Disgusting creature,” he muttered, before tossing the box back under the chair, getting to his feet, and turning to look at the door.
Four
Hurrying through the snow, Munver ducked down as soon he reached the cart and then he glanced back at the cabin to make sure Garrett wasn’t following. Once he was satisfied that he wasn’t being watched, he made his way around to the other end of the cart and, while staying low, began trying to unfasten the straps that kept the load covered.
He’d thought he could just hurry out, take a peek, and then race back inside in less that a minute. He’d thought it would be easy. In fact, he’d already been outside for several minutes now and he was starting to worry that Garrett might get suspicious. Then again, he’d made Garrett promise not to leave the fire and Garrett seemed like an honorable man, so he figured he could take a little longer. As the snow continued to fall, however, Munver was really struggling to deal with the straps, and he was starting to worry that he might never get them loose. Yet he couldn’t help thinking about the riches that were within his grasp.
He was finally going to get his lucky break.
Although he didn’t know what was under the cart’s covers, he’d already decided that he could sell it for a substantial sum. After all this time searching for the gold he’d been promised, he’d found nothing at all. Every day he went out at dawn with his pans, following the routes that had been drawn out by the man in the bar; every evening he returned to the cabin with nothing to show for his efforts. He’d even begun to feel a little dejected and defeated, but now he realized that great wealth was going to come from a slightly more surprising source. He could barely contain his excitement as he struggled to pull the covers away and get to his fabulous haul.