offered. “She sat with his kid when Brionne fought the fire.”
Cotton mulled it over, hitching his gun around into his lap. He liked none of it. Brionne’s showing up at Promontory couldn’t be an accident. It was too pat, too easy.
“We got to keep nosin’ around until we find where he’s gone,” he said finally. “You can bet somebody knows.”
“Maybe he went huntin’ Brennan’s mine,” Peabody suggested. “You say he was thick with the girl.”
“I don’t think Brennan had any mine. If he had, he’d of told us. You think he’d of stood all we did to him without tellin’? It don’t stand to reason.”
“I saw the silver,” Hoffman said. “He surely had silver—some big chunks of it.”
“He was no miner. You said so yourself.”
“He might know somebody who was. How about that old man he was forever staking to money? Ed Shaw—wasn’t that his name?”
Cotton thought that over. “Well,” he said at last, “the Gopher did say Shaw spent a lot of time down in the mountains east an’ south of here.”
He looked up, his flat, cruel eyes on Hoffman. “You round up that conductor friend. If Brionne left town on a train, he should find out. And Peeb, you go talk to that Irishman down to the stable where Brionne got his horses. He might know something.”
Hoffman spoke up. “There was another gent on that train. Kind of a tow-headed man, looked like a Texican. Him and Brionne talked some.”
“Forget him. If we paid mind to ever’ gent Brionne talked to or ever’ girl he made up to we’d never find him.”
“I still think we ought to keep an eye on that girl. She didn’t come way out here for nothing. I think she knows where that mine is.”
“If there
is
any mine.” Cotton’s mean eyes were thoughtful. “All right. I’ll have a look at her. But don’t you forget, we got to kill that boy. If he grows up to have half the nerve his ma had…” He paused, remembering. “That woman had sand. Chills me to think of her settin’ there…waitin’.”
Outside, Hoffman started to walk up the street, then paused. “You be careful, Peeb,” he said. “That sheriff they’ve got here is a tough one.”
Peabody did not seem to hear. “That woman bothers his head,” he told Hoffman. “Ol’ Cotton’s killed twenty-five, thirty men I know of—nine of them in face-up gun battles—an’ he’s killed four, five women, but none of them ever made him think twice. Only that Brionne woman.”
“I heard Tuley speak of her. Cotton says he don’t want none of her get growin’ up to know who he is. I think he’s more set on gettin’ the kid than on Brionne.”
“He’d better not be. I hear tell this here Brionne is hell on wheels with a gun.”
They were silent for a few moments as they went up the street together. Then Peabody went on, “On’y there’s nobody can use a gun like Cotton, not even ol’ Tuley, an’ he’s mighty handy…almighty handy!”
“You think we’ll find Brionne?”
“Sure! This here’s a big country, but no man can cut down through it without leavin’ some notice of himself. If he’s set on huntin’ us down, we’ll just give him the chance.”
“There’s one thing,” Hoffman commented after a moment. “Brionne don’t know Cotton…nor Tuley. He never laid eyes on them.”
“On’y that kid.”
“I don’t like that,” Hoffman muttered. “I never killed a kid.”
“Nits make lice,” Peabody replied shortly. “What difference does it make?”
They separated at the corner. Hoffman hesitated, thinking, then he started for the Golden Spike. That was where his friend the conductor hung out. If Brionne had used the railroad he would have heard some talk of it.
A tow-headed cowboy, the one who had helped fight fire when it endangered the train, was loafing on the corner. Another drifter. The town was full of them.
Chapter 6
----
A LONE IN HER room at Pat Brady’s place, Miranda Loften counted over her money.
Seventy-four
Cotton mulled it over, hitching his gun around into his lap. He liked none of it. Brionne’s showing up at Promontory couldn’t be an accident. It was too pat, too easy.
“We got to keep nosin’ around until we find where he’s gone,” he said finally. “You can bet somebody knows.”
“Maybe he went huntin’ Brennan’s mine,” Peabody suggested. “You say he was thick with the girl.”
“I don’t think Brennan had any mine. If he had, he’d of told us. You think he’d of stood all we did to him without tellin’? It don’t stand to reason.”
“I saw the silver,” Hoffman said. “He surely had silver—some big chunks of it.”
“He was no miner. You said so yourself.”
“He might know somebody who was. How about that old man he was forever staking to money? Ed Shaw—wasn’t that his name?”
Cotton thought that over. “Well,” he said at last, “the Gopher did say Shaw spent a lot of time down in the mountains east an’ south of here.”
He looked up, his flat, cruel eyes on Hoffman. “You round up that conductor friend. If Brionne left town on a train, he should find out. And Peeb, you go talk to that Irishman down to the stable where Brionne got his horses. He might know something.”
Hoffman spoke up. “There was another gent on that train. Kind of a tow-headed man, looked like a Texican. Him and Brionne talked some.”
“Forget him. If we paid mind to ever’ gent Brionne talked to or ever’ girl he made up to we’d never find him.”
“I still think we ought to keep an eye on that girl. She didn’t come way out here for nothing. I think she knows where that mine is.”
“If there
is
any mine.” Cotton’s mean eyes were thoughtful. “All right. I’ll have a look at her. But don’t you forget, we got to kill that boy. If he grows up to have half the nerve his ma had…” He paused, remembering. “That woman had sand. Chills me to think of her settin’ there…waitin’.”
Outside, Hoffman started to walk up the street, then paused. “You be careful, Peeb,” he said. “That sheriff they’ve got here is a tough one.”
Peabody did not seem to hear. “That woman bothers his head,” he told Hoffman. “Ol’ Cotton’s killed twenty-five, thirty men I know of—nine of them in face-up gun battles—an’ he’s killed four, five women, but none of them ever made him think twice. Only that Brionne woman.”
“I heard Tuley speak of her. Cotton says he don’t want none of her get growin’ up to know who he is. I think he’s more set on gettin’ the kid than on Brionne.”
“He’d better not be. I hear tell this here Brionne is hell on wheels with a gun.”
They were silent for a few moments as they went up the street together. Then Peabody went on, “On’y there’s nobody can use a gun like Cotton, not even ol’ Tuley, an’ he’s mighty handy…almighty handy!”
“You think we’ll find Brionne?”
“Sure! This here’s a big country, but no man can cut down through it without leavin’ some notice of himself. If he’s set on huntin’ us down, we’ll just give him the chance.”
“There’s one thing,” Hoffman commented after a moment. “Brionne don’t know Cotton…nor Tuley. He never laid eyes on them.”
“On’y that kid.”
“I don’t like that,” Hoffman muttered. “I never killed a kid.”
“Nits make lice,” Peabody replied shortly. “What difference does it make?”
They separated at the corner. Hoffman hesitated, thinking, then he started for the Golden Spike. That was where his friend the conductor hung out. If Brionne had used the railroad he would have heard some talk of it.
A tow-headed cowboy, the one who had helped fight fire when it endangered the train, was loafing on the corner. Another drifter. The town was full of them.
Chapter 6
----
A LONE IN HER room at Pat Brady’s place, Miranda Loften counted over her money.
Seventy-four
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