Pat's eyes moved down and up to take stock of the man in front of him. "You're barely even dressed."

"It's been a long couple of days. I suppose it's all just catching up to me."

"Well I can bring you some fresh water to splash on your face. Maybe you can get a bath when you're in town." Leaning forward and sniffing the air surrounding Lester, Pat added, "Definitely get a bath in town. There's a good spot where a friendly redhead will wash your back real thorough, like. Know what I mean?"

A blind man would have known what Pat meant, but Lester nodded as if to play along with the other man's attempt at subtlety.

"I'll let Wesley know you're pulling yourself together," Pat said. "I'll bet some coffee will help speed things along."

"That would be fine."

"All right, Cousin. I'm just going to get some things situated in the barn. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah I know what you mean."

After a quick nod, Pat turned and walked away from the door. Lester closed it and sat down on the edge of the little bed. The room was decorated spa.r.s.ely and had nothing to cover the warped wooden slats of the floor. A small table stood in one corner next to the creaky bed. Actually, it leaned in that corner, since one of the table's legs was an inch shorter than the others.

Lester placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes. The room wasn't on the side of the house that caught much sunlight, so pressing his face against his palms brought complete darkness. It wasn't much of a comfort, however, since Lester's thoughts were still rushing through his mind like whitewater flowing over jagged rocks.

One of the things that bothered him the most was the set of rumors that had nothing at all to do with outlaws or the Reaper's Fee. They'd circulated among Lester's own family regarding another cousin of his that had gone missing shortly after Pat and Wesley had taken up their guns and stepped onto the wrong side of the law.

Lester hadn't known his cousin Matt too well. What he did know was the kid had always been a h.e.l.l-raiser since the day he could walk. Word had it that Matt was in on the first job that Wesley and Pat ever pulled. Supposedly Matt got greedy and was killed for it. Matt was then buried quietly and n.o.body in the family talked about him much anymore.

Lester really hadn't thought about Matt until now. Something in Wesley's eyes had bothered him ever since Wesley had shown him those jewels, though. Now Lester wondered if that had been the same look Matt had seen when his time on earth was drawing to an end.

Thoughts like that were just another set of teeth gnawing at the inside of Lester's gut. With all the other worries he had, Lester was surprised he still had any guts left. Suddenly, one of his thoughts popped to the surface and made him snap his head up with his eyes wide open. Instead of another problem, Lester had actually come up with a solution. In fact, the more he thought about it, his solution might actually clear up some of the other problems that had been nagging at him.

"Oh my G.o.d," Lester whispered to himself.

Unlike some of his other ideas, this one actually stood up to a second glance. It even stood up to a third and fourth glance.

Lester hopped to his feet with renewed vigor. He looked around his room, but only found the same spa.r.s.e furnishings that had been there before. As he turned toward the door and reached for the handle, someone knocked on it. Lester nearly cleared the floor, but managed to control his shock so he could open the door.

"Pat, do you havea"

Lester stopped when he saw who was out there. Instead of Pat, it was Pat's wife, Stephanie. She was a pretty young thing with short dark brown hair. Her face was a little plumper than it had looked the night before, but that could simply have been because she was looking straight at him now rather than down at the knitting upon her lap.

Stephanie smiled warmly at him and held up a basin br.i.m.m.i.n.g with water. "Pat said you'd need some water," she said. "Mind if I come in?"

"Oh sure," Lester said as he opened the door all the way.

Moving with smooth, easy steps, Stephanie walked past him to the small table in the corner. Her hips swayed beneath her loose-fitting skirt, which was just thin enough for Lester to be fairly certain she wasn't wearing much of anything else beneath.

Setting the basin on the table, Stephanie bent at the waist so she could fuss with it for a few extra seconds. Under normal circ.u.mstances, Lester would think she was taking too much time. However, considering the disrepair of that table, he was amazed she got it to support the basin at all.

When she turned around to face him, Stephanie dried her hands on the sides of her skirt. After the first few rubs, it seemed more as if she was caressing her hips rather than simply getting rid of excess water.

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked.

Lester's response was as quick as it was enthusiastic. "Yes. That would be perfect."

Stephanie lowered her head a bit as she walked past him. Her hand eased out just enough to brush along his stomach as she went.

Although he enjoyed watching her leave, Lester was even gladder once she was gone. He had to keep reminding himself that Stephanie was Pat's wife. No matter what she was doing to him or how much she seemed to enjoy doing it, Lester simply couldn't allow himself to give in.

Lester shook his head and dipped his hands in the water. While splashing his face, he did his level best to force those thoughts from his mind. Before he'd even put a dent in them, his door swung open once more.

He felt a gentle touch upon his shoulder at the same time the smell of coffee reached his nose.

"I would have brought you a whole pot, but there's nowhere to put it," Stephanie whispered to him.

Lester turned around so quickly that he almost knocked the cup of hot coffee from her hands. Now that he was closer to her, Lester found her face to be even softer and kinder than before. Her eyes were as clear as the water in the basin and the warmth he felt inside of him had nothing to do with the steaming cup being offered to him.

"Thanks," he said. "That looks real fine."

"Why don't you try some?"

Lester reached for the cup of coffee but bypa.s.sed it altogether so he could slip his hand along the side of her body. Stephanie responded by holding the cup away from them so she could press herself against him without fear of spilling the coffee onto the floor. Her lips pressed against his and opened almost immediately.

Although Lester had been the one to move first, he quickly felt as if he'd taken one step onto a downward slope and was quickly stumbling toward a h.e.l.l of a fall. Stephanie's leg slid up and down along his side.

"I need something, if it's not too much trouble," Lester squeaked.

"I need it too, Sugar."

It took a h.e.l.l of an effort to keep his mind on track, but Lester forced himself through it because he knew that effort wasn't going to get any easier if he waited. "Could I get some paperaandamaybe a pencil? I need to write a letter."

Stephanie let out a slow breath that heated up the side of Lester's neck. "We'll have plenty to write about real soon," she promised.

Most of Lester's brain was still trying to cut through the haze that was thickening in his skull. As much as he wanted to make certain she'd heard him the first time, he simply couldn't get his tongue to go through the process of repeating itself. There were just too many things vying for his attention. Lester could feel the curves of Stephanie's body rubbing against him and just as he was about to stumble further, she quickly pulled away.

Lester was left with an ache in his trousers and the cup of coffee in his hand. He felt as if he'd just been pulled out of a deep sleep when he heard his cousin's voice thunder through the room.

"You comin' or not?" Wesley barked.

Looking around, Lester found Stephanie closer to the basin than she was to him. She fidgeted with the crooked table while shooting a quick, knowing glance over her shoulder. "I'll get you that paper and pencil," she said calmly.

"Iauhawas just having some coffee," Lester said, praying to the Lord above that Wesley bought it. "And I also wanted to write a letter to Unclea""

"Just get your a.s.s ready to go," Wesley snapped. "I'm leaving in two minutes with or without you."

Hackett hadn't been much of a town since the nearby vein of gold had been picked clean. Lester could see remnants of the town's former glory reflected in the dirty, broken signs that hung above most of the storefronts. Places like the Golden Saloon and Strike It Rich Gambling Hall lined the streets. Turning a corner allowed him to see mining supply stores and a.s.sayers' offices that were now either empty or boarded up altogether.

Like most towns that were past their prime, however, the saloon trade was still booming. Wesley rode past a place called the Nugget and craned his neck to get a look through the front window.

"They put on a h.e.l.l of a show in there," Wesley said. "Watch the girls kick up their skirts and then watch them kick up their legs for ya in a back room. h.e.l.l of a place! Don't look like there's anyone on stage right now, though."

"It's not even noon," Lester pointed out.

"It's always a good time for that kind of show."

Hearing that, Lester couldn't help but think about Stephanie. As if to distract himself from those thoughts, he patted his shirt pocket to find the letter he'd hastily written before saddling up. "Is that the sheriff's office?" he asked, nodding toward a small building with a shattered front window.

"Yeah," Wesley replied with a snorting laugh. "He's a marshal and he knows folks around here don't like him much."

"What about a post office?"

Wesley shifted in his saddle to show Lester an open-mouthed sneer. "You looking to settle here, or are you just flapping your lips some more?"

In response to that, Lester took the letter from his pocket and held it up.

It took Wesley a moment, but he finally nodded and turned back around. "Post office is that way," he said, jabbing a stubby finger toward a row of broken storefronts that looked like gaps in a filthy mouth. "In the back of the dry goods store."

"I'm going there to mail my letter."

"What made you want to start writing letters?"

Lester shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "With all that's happened, I haven't been talking to the family very much. I don't know when I'll be able to write again."

"You ask me, our family talks too much," Wesley said. "All them rumors and stories going back and forth."

Before he could catch himself, Lester spat out, "Like what happened to Matt?"

Wesley looked over at him with an expression that might have come from eating a piece of rotten meat. "Sure."

Lester nodded and pointed his horse toward the dry goods store down the street. "Well, it's only a letter. I'll catch up with you."

"I'll be down on Second Street at Smith's Firearms. Don't take too long. I'll be needing the rest of that money Pat gave to ya."

Lester watched Wesley ride away, and kept watching until his cousin rounded the corner. When he rushed into the dry goods store, he was already out of breath. "This the post office?" he asked the old man behind the counter.

"Yep."

"Where's the sack for the mail to be sorted?"

"Just give her here," the old-timer said as he stretched out a thin, liver-spotted arm. When he didn't feel anything placed in his hand, the old man stared at Lester and asked, "Do you have something to mail or not?"

"I do, buta"

Staring at the envelope in Lester's hand, the old man said, "There ain't no address on that."

Lester slapped the envelope onto the counter where the old man was sitting. Taking a pencil from his pocket, he quickly scribbled a word onto the envelope and then looked up. "What's the marshal's name?"

"Marshal Eaves?"

Nodding, Lester wrote another word on the envelope and handed it over. "I want this delivered to Marshal Eaves, buta""

"You can hand it over yourself. His office isn't far from here."

"I know, but I want it delivered. He shouldn't read it until later."

"You could have something to eat while you wait."

Resisting the urge to jump across the counter and throttle the old man, Lester said, "I'm not going to wait. I've got things to do. I need this delivered to the marshal a bit later."

The old man looked at Lester as if he smelled dung stuck to the bottom of his boot. "I was just trying to save you the postage."

"Here," Lester said as he took out some of the money Pat had given him to help buy the shotgun and rifle ammunition. "Take this as your fee. Just deliver the letter to the marshal and say it came in today's mail. Do whatever you need to make the envelope look genuine."

The old man s.n.a.t.c.hed the money away with a speed that would have been impressive for a fellow half his age. "When do you want the marshal to get it?"

Lester pulled in a breath to steel himself. "Tonight should be fine. Say around five o'clock. Noabetter make it four."

"Four it is." Taking the letter, the old man tossed it onto an empty burlap sack folded on the floor behind him. He then placed both hands flat upon the counter and showed Lester a friendly smile.

Already on his way out the door, Lester shook his head. "That's all I need. At least, I sure hope it is. It d.a.m.n well better be." He was still muttering as he left the store and headed for Smith's Firearms.

TWENTY-SIX.

The tracks took a few meandering turns, but led them toward Hackett. More than once, Nick played with the idea of breaking away from Kinman to do the rest of the tracking on his own, but that would have meant leaving the bounty hunter to his own devices. There were ways to make sure Kinman stayed put, but Nick didn't want to waste time on following those through. Besides, there was still a bit of time for Kinman to prove himself useful.

Nick could see a good portion of the town as Kinman reined his horse to a stop. They'd been riding a bit quicker than the day before, but not quite up to full speed. Kazys was breathing somewhat heavily, but Kinman's horse stood by without even shifting its hooves.

"You want to check the town?" Kinman asked.

"Do the tracks lead there?"

"Not as such, but Lester would've had to get some supplies and he might not be able to get everything from his cousins."

"We're here for Lester, so we'll follow his tracks," Nick said. "We've come too far to be thrown off the scent now."

"All right, then." Kinman shifted so he could look directly at Nick. He crossed one hand over the other as he let out a smooth breath. "Let's get something straight. If those jewels are there, we're splitting them right down the middle."

"We already negotiated this."

"That's when I wasn't sure if we'd be able to find Lester or not. Now that we're here I want to get all of this out of the way before there's any commotion."

Nick's voice was smooth and even as ice on a freshly frozen pond. "There's going to be a commotion right here and now if you push this too far."

"Then let's get it out of the way," Kinman declared, while shifting his coat aside so he could better reach his pistol.

"Or I could just follow the marked tracks that lead past that town and head straight to wherever Lester's holed up."