Long Road to Cheyenne by Charles G. West Page B

news.”
    “Mary,” was all he seemed able to say, as if still finding it hard to believe, all the while looking beyond her at the strapping young man by the horses.
    Noticing his obvious curiosity about her guide, she said, “That’s Cam Sutton. He’s a friend and our guide.” Raymond nodded slowly when Cam touched a finger to his hat to acknowledge. “And this is Grace and Emma,” Mary went on, trying to dispel the icy atmosphere between them. “Emma was just a baby the last time you saw them. Girls, say hello to your uncle Raymond.” Their response was less than enthusiastic, bordering on fearful, since their uncle seemed a baleful sort. Grace managed a cautious hello, while Emma chose to cling to her mother’s leg. Raymond lowered his gaze only briefly to look at his nieces, equally disinterested in a reunion. Mary delayed no longer in giving him the news about his brother’s passing.
    When she had finished giving him all the details she knew about Warren’s murder at the hands of a road agent, Raymond at last responded in a more normal nature. “Warren dead?” he gasped, and shook his head in disbelief. “Murdered, you say?” She nodded mournfully. He shook his head slowly back and forth. “That is truly sorrowful news. I tried to tell him to wait till I could go with him. I wish he had listened.” He glanced again at Cam before asking, “What are you gonna do now? I ain’t got much of a place here.” He turned to gesture toward the tent he had been living in.
    “I guess I’ll be going back to Fort Collins after we’ve rested,” Mary said. “I just felt that we should make our way up here to tell you of your brother’s passing. It was the least I could do.”
    Her last statement seemed to give him visible relief, and he warmed a bit. “I sure appreciate it, Mary.” He looked around at the tent again. “I wish I had some more comfortable accommodations for you.” He then smiled, for the first time since their arrival. “Warren and I didn’t build a camp with comfort for ladies in mind.” Quickly reverting to his expression of sorrow, he said, “That sure is bad news about Warren. He and I worked hard on this camp. We got a little bit of dust outta this stream, so I reckon half of it belongs to you now, might be enough to help you get back to Colorado. I’m afraid I’m running awful short of supplies right now, though. I ain’t been able to get down to Custer City since Warren has been gone.”
    “That will certainly help,” Mary said. “It cost me almost everything I had just to get out here, but we’ve got some food with us.”
    An interested witness to the conversation, Cam wondered what the man planned to do when he ran out of food. Remembering what Cecil had said about Raymond being the only one who had anything to guard, he could pretty well guess that he was virtually a prisoner of his success. He couldn’t leave his camp unguarded long enough to go after supplies. Curious, he took a longer glance at Raymond’s tent; the little trench dug around it to drain water away, the large pile of dirt behind it. The pile looked to be enough dirt to fill a hole three or four feet deep, the size of the tent.
He’s dug himself a fort under that tent,
he thought,
and I wouldn’t be surprised to find it’s lined with little sacks of gold dust. I’ll bet the cheating bastard’s planning on keeping Mary’s share of her husband’s gold
. He decided then that he wasn’t going to let him get away with it if he could help it. Since it was obvious that food was in short supply, he volunteered to provide some. “I reckon we’re gonna be here long enough for you folks to visit a little, so I think I’ll go on around the other side of this mountain and see if I can find one of those deer I’ve been seein’ sign of. A little fresh meat would help out.”
    Raymond addressed him for the first time. “That would sure help out,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about going hunting