“Seems like it’s just us,” the gambler said in a dead man’s hollow voice.
Cord only grunted. He looked at his cards again, then at the pot, easily thirty dollars now. He frowned, then set his hand aside, face down.
“Fold,” he said.
The gambler nodded once to Cord. Then he gathered the chips into his pile without the smallest sign of triumph. A pair of men dragged the unconscious miner away and another man immediately took his place.
“I’m out,” Cord said. Then he rose and skirted around the table before moving to the bar.
The barkeep knew him well by now. He handed Cord a shot of rye. Cord slugged it down and plucked an apple off the bar before heading outside.
He strolled down the street to the south edge of camp, then set about eating the apple beneath the shade of a crooked cottonwood that stretched out over the river.
Half his men were in town, the rest in a narrow, tree-lined valley a few miles to the south. Supplemented with a few oats, there was grazing enough for their horses—John took care of the beasts—and, more importantly, there was a high overlook where a man on guard could see for miles.
Far enough to warn the camp should trouble come.
Jacob was on watch today. He’d been sore when Cord hadn’t allowed him to come to town, but he’d climbed the ridge to watch.
“Boss,” Dunlap said. He came alone toward the water at a quick trot. Red must have stayed at the bar.
That suited Cord. He cared little for the unkempt Red. Truthfully, he cared only a little more for Dunlap, but the man was good at finding scores.
Dunlap was in no way impressive, a trait that served both him and Cord well. He was of average height and build, his complexion tan, with brown eyes and matching hair. Even his voice was unremarkable. If Cord had tried to describe him, he would have struggled for words.
“What is it?” Cord said.
“Boss, there’s someone in town you should know about.”
“Who?”
“Some fellow just rode in with a big haul. I never seen him before, not anywhere.”
Cord eyed Dunlap thoughtfully.
“A big haul, eh?”
Dunlap nodded. “He went into DeMourey’s with a set of saddlebags. Seemed stuffed full, and they looked awfully heavy.”
Cord sliced off another piece of apple and slid it between his teeth.
“Do you know where he came from?”
“No, never saw him before. He didn’t seem much like a miner.”
“And what does that mean?” Cord tilted his head.
“Didn’t have the getup. No pick or shovel and his horse was more than a miner could afford.” Dunlap paused. “He looked more like a cowboy.”
“If his horse was so nice, how could a cowboy afford it?”
Dunlap fidgeted with his hands, and Cord smiled.
He’d recognized the gesture from their first meeting. Dunlap was a brave enough man behind his victim’s back. He enjoyed operating from anonymity, striking from behind or in the shadows. He didn’t enjoy being out in the open, especially when Cord put him on the spot.
“I don’t know,” Dunlap finally admitted. “But it was a nice horse.”
“You saw the gold?”
“Well, no…”
Cord took another bite. The apple was fresh and sweet.
“But I’m sure it was gold.”
“How can you be sure?”
Dunlap hesitated. His hands stopped. He licked his lips, and Cord knew he was about to lie. He lied often. Sometimes over important matters, but also over the most trivial of things. That, too, Cord had gleaned from their first meeting.
Fear flashed in Dunlap’s eye. More than once, Cord had shown him the error of lying. Red hadn’t been Dunlap’s first partner.
Finally, Dunlap’s eyes shifted. His hands began to fidget again.
“Red and I, well we—”
Cord raised a hand to cut him off. He finished the apple and tossed the core aside. Then he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He kept the knife out, using it to point at Dunlap’s chest.
“You tried to take him on your own, didn’t you?” Cord said.
