Luke's Gold by Charles G. West Page B

that nothing ever would.
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    They started out again early the next morning, following the Yellowstone west. Luke commented that it seemed especially strange to him for the two of them to ride peacefully through country that used to be prime hunting grounds for the Sioux when he was last here. At that time, the only safety was in a cavalry patrol. They came upon more than a few cabins that had been built by settlers since the treaties with the Sioux had opened up the land along the river for settlement. By the time they reached the little town of Coulson, Luke was ready to stay over for an extra day—to rest, so he said. But Cade suspected that it was the saloon next to the general store that held the real attraction for his friend.
    A man named Perry McAdow had bought some land on the Yellowstone the year before, and set up a sawmill along with the saloon and general store. It seemed to be a good location to receive the goods brought upriver by the steam-boats. It looked to be a promising venture for Mr. McAdow, for now the little town boasted a hotel, a post office, and a telegraph office in addition to the saloons and general store. “Dang,” Luke exclaimed upon seeing the progress, “if this keeps up, it’ll be as big as Chicago.”
    It was late in the day when Cade and Luke rode into Coulson. “I don’t know about you, partner, but that saloon there is a happy sight for this dusty throat.”
    Cade shrugged indifferently. “I guess I’ve got enough money left to spare for one drink,” he said.
    There were three horses tied up in front of the saloon when they dismounted and tied on alongside. The owners of the three animals were hovering around one end of the bar, nursing a bottle of whiskey. All three paused and gave the newcomers a thorough looking over. Cade merely glanced their way, while Luke ignored them altogether, his mind set on a drink. There being no tables in the saloon, they each propped a foot on a long wooden step that substituted for a brass rail, and waited while the bartender finished wiping a spot for them with a wet rag. “What’ll it be, gents?”
    â€œHave you got somethin’ that’ll burn the hair off the inside of my throat?” Luke asked good-naturedly.
    â€œI reckon,” the bartender replied, laughing. “You fellers are new around here, ain’tcha?”
    â€œJust passin’ through, friend,” Luke answered, his eye never leaving the bartender’s hands as the man produced two shot glasses from beneath the counter.
    â€œWhere you headed?”
    â€œWest,” Luke answered briefly before tossing his drink down.
    Cade noticed that the conversation between the three men at the end of the bar had stopped, and their attention seemed to be captured by Luke’s banter with the barkeep. One of them in particular, a bushy-faced man with brooding dark eyes, continued to openly stare at them. Luke, oblivious to the scrutiny, continued his casual conversation with the bartender. Cade, however, being of a more cautious nature, moved around to the other side of Luke, where he could keep an eye on his friend and the three strangers beyond.
    Bushy-face whispered a few remarks to his drinking partners, then moved up the bar to join Luke and Cade. “Couldn’t help but notice you, friend,” he said. “I’m thinkin’ your name might be Tucker.”
    Surprised, Luke turned to face the man, looking him over. “Yes, sir,” he replied, “I’m Luke Tucker. Do I know you?”
    â€œLuke Tucker, that’s right,” Bushy-face replied, affecting a wide grin. “Corporal Tucker, right?” When Luke was obviously struggling to recall the man before him, Bushy-face said, “I’m Lem Snider from C Company. We served together under Lieutenant Parker.”
    â€œOh, yeah,” Luke finally replied, although without a great deal of enthusiasm it seemed to Cade,