[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

He must be careful. There might be a trap, something dangerous to him.
Waggoner put water on the stove for coffee and then looked around again,
finding nothing out of place or disturbed.
He made his coffee and sat down at the oilcloth-covered table to think. He
lit a cigar and gazed out the small window that afforded a glimpse of the
town.
He had failed to rob the coach and get those shares, but how could he have
succeeded? And who tipped them off? The first shot had been fired from the
coach before Teem even lifted his voice. In other words, they were ready and
waiting.
His unknown employer? It made no sense. There was no way he could be a threat
to him, and he was needed.
Teem? Teem knew nothing until he told him and not much then, nor had Teem
been out of his sight before the holdup.
He put down his cup suddenly and sharply. The stage was coming in. He would
go down and listen to what was said. Moreover, he wanted to find out who had
shot at him.
Closing the door behind him, he went down the slope, his boots crunching on
the gravel. The stage was drawn up at the edge of the walk, and people were
getting down.
The first person he saw was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He
looked, then looked again. Another girl stood beside her, and two men.
Baggage was being unloaded. He strolled across the street and stood with the
others who were watching, staring at the newcomers. His eyes went from one to
the other, looking for a man with a rifle; he saw none.
Jacob Teale had drawn back through the crowd and was leaning against the
wall, a seemingly uninterested bystander, lacking any association with the
stage. Yet he saw Waggoner, caught a glimpse of him walking down the street
with every indication of direction and purpose, now standing idly by,
searching the crowd with his eyes, watching everybody who got off the stage.
Teale studied Waggoner with care. Now maybe, just maybe. The man had come
down the street in a hurry as if he was to meet somebody, but now he was
standing back and just watching. For what?
Manfred looked around. The streets were crowded, buildings were going up,
there was the pound of stamp-mills and compressors. Everything spoke of money
to be made.
"Isn't it exciting?" Grita exclaimed. "A real mining town!"
"There's money here," Manfred replied, "the place reeks of it. Give them
entertainment and we can run forever."
She turned and for a moment her eyes touched those of Waggoner. She saw him
clearly, a rough-looking, broad-shouldered man with strong jaw and cheekbones,
a rock-hard face with big strong teeth.
She shuddered. "Richard, take me inside."
Page 172
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
There was something in her voice that turned him sharply toward her. She was
ashen, obviously frightened. "What's wrong? Are you ill?"
"No, just It was that man," she said, and turned to indicate him. Waggoner
was gone.
Jacob Teale was suddenly beside them. "Ma'am, if you need me, I'll be close
by."
"Mr. Teale? Did you see that man? The large man who "
"I seen him. You know him?"
"I ... I've seen him. I'm sure of it!"
Hesketh had gone inside immediately. His apartment was here, and he went to
it to change clothes. He was angry and a little frightened. He needed time to
think, to plan, to do.
Everything, all he had planned for these past dozen years, was on the line.
If Will Crockett learned Grita Redaway was in town and realized she had the
shares, he would be relegated to second place, something he could not abide.
Crockett would have him out, outside where he could do nothing.
Find Crockett somehow, and kill him. In any tight situation it was his
immediate reaction, to kill whatever stood in the way, to strike out.
Nor could he take chances on Grita Redaway. She was lucky; something in him
fought down the idea that she might be shrewd or clever. He would concede that
to no woman. But she was lucky, and men liked to do things for her, all but
him.
He would have to move fast. His chance was here. He was an important man on
the Comstock. He knew nobody liked him, but that was of no importance because
they feared him, and before he was through with the Comstock they would fear
him even more.
If a big if if he could somehow get those shares. He needed control. Then he
would take care of Trevallion.
Trevallion had enemies. If Waggoner couldn't bring it off, he'd find someone
who could.
He dressed with meticulous care. He would dine in the main dining room
tonight, alone. He would be served in princely grandeur, and she would see who
he was.
He had a feeling she despised him. Well, he would show her!
He thought ahead to his next move. He had supposedly worthless claims that
bordered on two of the best claims in the district. The owners were small fry.
Soon, by one means or another, he would have those claims. He would avoid
Hearst and the other big ones, for the time being.
For a moment he considered Crockett. The man was too trusting, but he was no
fool. He was shrewd, intelligent, and not without guile.
Hesketh crossed to his desk and, getting out his key, inserted it in the
lock. He turned the key, then turned it back. The desk had been unlocked!
Page 173
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
He always locked it, and he distinctly recalled locking it before he left,
yet it was now unlocked.
Somebody had been here, in this room. Somebody had opened his desk.
XXXIV
ALBERT HESKETH HAD been born with another name in a tall two-and-a-half-story
white house that stood in an empty field on the edge of town. His father was a
slender, slightly bald man who clerked in a grocery store. The town itself was
small, less than two thousand people.
Years later, when another name became necessary, Albert took that of one of
the town's prominent families. In the town of his birth the Hesketh name had
immediate identification. The Heskeths not only owned the most imposing house
in town but were somehow connected with the bank as well as other enterprises.
The Heskeths had no children.
Albert was a humorless child who did reasonably well in school, who made no
friends and wanted none. Once, when he was seven, he was suddenly pushed over
another boy's back. The boy had, unknown to Albert, dropped to hands and knees
behind him and the other boy pushed him over his back. It was all in fun, but
Albert's fall was shocking to him. He leaped from the ground, and grabbing up
a piece of broken board, he took a swing at the offending boy. The edge of the
board caught the boy above the ear, knocked him down and out and cut his
scalp. The cut necessitated several stitches, but when asked, the boy said he [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]