Considering how well she kept a straight face, Nick might have been the only man alive to know that she was kidding. "No. n.o.body died, but I'm considering shooting someone just so I can get back in business."

She waved that off and picked out a sandwich for herself. "Nonsense. The Tin Pan's doing great. Even though the new bar brings in a few dregs, it's turned out to be a good investment. We can afford to wait around for the next funeral." Snapping her fingers excitedly, she added, "Missus Nordstrom looks fairly pale. We might be in for some prosperous times yet."

Nick shook his head and took a bite of an apple. "That's terrible."

"I know," Catherine replied with a crinkle of her nose. "I'm a devil."

They ate for a few more minutes without saying much of anything. It was good to savor the quiet times. Being in an undertaker's parlor didn't put a dent in either of them. They simply ate their lunch and then cleaned up when they were done.

After packing the remnants into the basket, Catherine said, "By the way, that man came by the restaurant for breakfast."

Nick bristled and didn't try to cover it. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him he might be able to catch sight of you at the gun shop."

That was the second time in two days Catherine had surprised him. Nick squinted as if he was trying to see through a fog before saying, "I thought you weren't going to have any part in that business."

"If I want us to work together, that's what we should do. Me hiding things from you and trying to undo them behind your back won't do anyone any good. All I ask is that you return the favor."

"Okay. Why the gun shop?"

"Because it's not close to my restaurant or this parlor. You could avoid it if you chose. Also, he talked about you like he only knew you from your wild days, so it seemed like the sort of place he would expect to find you. It was either that or the saloon, and I didn't want to set up anything with that much potential for a backfire."

Nick was speechless. All he could do was shake his head and laugh quietly under his breath.

"What's so funny?" Catherine asked.

"Are you sure you never met Barrett?"

"I'm sure. Why?"

"Because that's the same amount of thinking he put into every little thing he did."

"And I suppose you never planned ahead a step or two?"

Nick chuckled once again, but at his own expense. "I was more the kind to steam ahead and try to dodge some of the h.e.l.l I kicked up along the way."

"Yes, well, try not to kick any up today. If you want to see what's on this fellow's mind, I know I can't stop you. If you'd like to keep things quiet for a change, avoid the gun shop and then chase him out of town wearing that badge of yours." Cautiously, she added, "You do still have the badge, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Good." Catherine took the basket and pointed to the bottles that were still on the counter. "That's sarsaparilla. You're not getting any of that vile liquor you forced me to buy until after business hours."

"Not vile," Nick corrected. "Vodka."

"Same difference."

With that, Catherine patted Nick's cheek and walked out of the parlor.

It was funny how such a simple thing as lunch could make such a big difference. In fact, Nick hadn't even realized how glum he'd been until the clouds had lifted. Now, when he looked around, he saw a prosperous business in a friendly town. That business had now been cleaned, which made it seem even better.

A bit of Nick's budding optimism faded when he thought about the other news that Catherine had brought. As attractive as the idea of chasing this stranger out of town seemed, Nick simply couldn't do it. There were too many possibilities attached. His old friend Barrett had taught him that much.

Then again, it was sometimes healthier to avoid Barrett's advice like the plague.

FIVE.

Willhemene Pa.s.s, Colorado

January 1865

"Give me all your money," Barrett said as he stomped into the cabin like a dog nosing its way through the back door. He wasn't normally a big man, but the layers of furs, coats, shirts and long johns he wore added a considerable amount of bulk to his frame.

Nick was asleep in a corner, huddled there in a position that might have been uncomfortable if he still had any feeling in his legs. As it was, the cold chewed at him all the way down to the bone. He was so cold, in fact, that reaching for his pistol was the first time the young man had ever heard his joints creak.

"Go to h.e.l.l, a.s.shole!" Nick snapped as he finally managed to take his gun from its holster.

Barrett didn't even flinch when he found himself staring down the barrel of Nick's pistol. His eyes were wide open and he trembled with something other than cold or fear. "Don't be such a c.o.c.ksucker, Nick. I'm serious."

"I am, too," Nick replied as he thumbed the hammer back. "Serious as h.e.l.l. And you'll be dead as h.e.l.l before you take the money I got."

"I helped steal most of that, too, you know."

"And you ain't stealing this."

Nick's face reflected anger as well as pain from awakening his previously deadened nerves. The shack wasn't much bigger than an outhouse, and had been put together so poorly that it let in more snow than it kept out. Nick's boots sc.r.a.ped against the floor as he fought to sit up. When he pressed his back against the wall for support, it caused the boards behind him to creak like an old man begging for mercy.

"The only one to steal from us is you, remember?" Barrett said with a grin.

"That was different. That was to get in one of the biggest poker games in the area."

"That's what you say about all of 'em, and when the h.e.l.l are you gonna take my advice? Faro's where the real money's at."

Nick was tired of arguing. A stiff wind ripped over the side of the mountain and tore through the shack like a set of wolf's fangs ripping through an exposed neck. "What do you need money for?" Nick asked as he tucked his gun under the outermost of the blankets wrapped around him. "We don't even got enough to pay for a hotel."

"How much do we have?"

After staring at Barrett for a few more seconds, Nick realized the other young man wasn't about to go anywhere. Nick let out a sigh and started going through the arduous motions of peeling off the blankets surrounding him like a coc.o.o.n. Once the blankets were gone, Nick was still wrapped up in a tangle of garments, ranging from an old sailor's coat to a few layers previously worn by federal infantry.

"I wanted to go into town," Nick grumbled. "I wanted to get someplace to stay. Even a back room in a G.o.dd.a.m.n saloon would be better than this."

"This," Barrett said, rubbing his hands together, "is perfect. n.o.body knows it's here, so it'll make a perfect spot to hole up."

Nick stopped what he was doing and snapped his eyes back up to his friend. He'd known Barrett Cobb since they were both kids. They'd formed their first gang together. They'd run off to start robbing general stores together. They'd robbed armories and a train together. They'd also watched various members of their gang drop like flies when the shooting started.

At the moment, Barrett and Nick were the only members of their gang still in Colorado. The rest of his friends could have been dead or in Oklahoma, for all he knew. "You got something planned, Barrett?" Nick asked.

Barrett shrugged and didn't even try to cover the grin that was creeping onto his face. "Maybe, but it'll take some cash to get going."

"How much?"

"At least a hundred. Maybe two."

Nick's hands curled into fists inside his pockets. "If I had that much money, why the f.u.c.k would I be curled up in a ball in all this G.o.dd.a.m.n cold?"

"I don't know. Maybe you've been holding out."

"You calling me a thief?"

"No. I said maybe you were holding out. You knowafor an emergency."

Slowly, Nick's scowl faded and he took one hand out of his pocket. Apart from a few scars and several calluses, it was in perfect working order. The whiskers on his face may have been long, but they weren't nearly thick enough to form a beard or come close to hiding the resignation on his face. He opened his fist to reveal a few wadded bills and some large coins. "There's twenty-four dollars and fifty cents."

Barrett scowled, but it was more good-natured than the expression that had darkened Nick's features. "I've got thirty. Seems like we were both holding out."

"I ain't handing it over until I hear what you got planned."

Ever since he was a kid, Barrett had never been able to contain his own excitement. Even now that he was in his early twenties, he seemed more like the boy who was jumping out of his skin to reveal his plot to sneak a peek into a wh.o.r.ehouse with a broken window without getting caught. "There's a bank less than two miles from herea"

"Oh no," Nick said. "h.e.l.l no!"

"What? Why? You didn't even hear what I've got to say!"

"I heard *bank,' and that's enough. We're stuck out here because of that posse that tore after us after that bulls.h.i.t in Leadville. We ain't heard from anyone else in the gang since then, and we ain't set to meet up with no one for another couple weeks."

Barrett listened to all of this without losing the grin on his face. He simply nodded, waited for Nick to run out of steam and then said, "It'll only take two of us to rob this bank."

Rubbing his ears with the palms of his hands, Nick winced at the pain that caused and then leaned forward to stare even harder at his friend. "What?"

"You heard me. I figured out a way for the two of us to rob this bank."

"You must be s.h.i.t out of your mind."

The wind kicked up again and roared so hard that it rattled the entire shack around both of the young men huddled inside. Barrett started to speak, but was cut short as the cold seized up his lungs like a fist clamping around his chest. As the wind kept howling, neither of the two could move. When it finally let up, both young men slumped forward and vigorously rubbed their hands together.

"I'd like to see you swear around your pappy like that," Barrett said as he blew into his cupped hands.

"My pa ain't nothing but a G.o.dd.a.m.n gravedigger and he won't never be anything more than that. I already got more people who know my name thanathem thataknow his."

"All right, you'd better stop trying to talk. I think your tongue's frozen. Just sit there and hear me out." Even though Nick opened his mouth to speak, Barrett kept saying his piece before Nick could get rolling. "This bank I saw is a little place on the edge of Willhemene Pa.s.s. With the cold and all, there ain't been more than two or three folks working inside at any given time."

Suddenly, Nick found the strength required to lift himself and all those coats up off the floor. Once on his feet, he hunched over like a cobra eyeing an unsuspecting mouse. "You been into town enough times to gather all of that?"

"Yes," Barrett said. "I thought you would have figured that out since I've been gone so much."

"You said you was out getting wood and scouting for the law."

"I brought back wood and I've done plenty of scouting. Haven't you been listening?"

"You know what I been doing? I've been freezing my b.a.l.l.s off out here in this G.o.dd.a.m.n shack while you've been warming yourself in a fire somewhere in town, which is where I wanted to be!"

There were only a few years separating Barrett and Nick, but the calmness in Barrett's eyes made that gap seem a whole lot wider. "You would've spent our money," Barrett said. As soon as those words were out, Barrett realized they'd been poorly chosen. He quickly added, "Besides, your face is the one the law's getting to know. I can still get around fairly well without being noticed."

Nick's eye twitched as he struggled to keep himself from lunging at Barrett's throat. As he thought about that first reward notice he'd seen with his likeness drawn on it, Nick felt his anger subside. "All right, then. But I still want to get into town to make up for it."

"I can show you the bank," Barrett said. "We should be able to live in fancy hotels for a while after knocking that one over." He paused and backed up a bit before adding, "I still need your money."

Nick actually laughed this time. "I ain't holding out on any more than what I already told you about. That means we're still a long ways from that hundred or two you said you needed. What the h.e.l.l do you need that much for anyway?"

"The two of us can rob that bank, but only if we get one of the local law dogs on our side. I figure we'd need a pretty good bribe to get that done."

"You want me to hand over that much money to some f.u.c.king lawman? You must be crazy. How do you know one of these lawmen is even crooked?"

Barrett stomped his feet and rubbed his hands together as another gust of wind ripped through the shack. "There ain't many lawmen out there who can't be bought off. We may find one cheaper, but I just want to be prepared in case we need to kick in a little extra. Believe me, we'll make up our losses."

Nick cracked his knuckles and worked out some of the knots that had been frozen into his neck. "You got any prospects as far as these lawmen are concerned?"

"I found the one that looks to be the weakest link in the chain, and the one that's the strongest."

"Take me to both of them."

"Why?" Barrett asked.

"Because I'm going to save us a hundred dollars or so. Now, tell me the rest of this plan you thought up."

The deputy was the youngest one in town. He walked with his head hanging low and his arms tight against his body as if he was afraid of getting punched in the ribs at any moment. The hat and coat he wore were a bit too big for him. Every time a stiff breeze came along, it nearly plucked the hat from his head or knocked him over.

Main Street consisted of two short rows of storefronts facing each other and very few people walking between them. Only a few carriages traveled the street throughout the day, leaving the spa.r.s.e population of Willhemene Pa.s.s to huddle inside their homes or in one of the town's two saloons to keep warm.

A wind kicked up and howled between the buildings on either side of the street, filling the deputy's ears with a cold roar. That roar was more than loud enough to cover the sounds of footsteps rushing up behind him. When his hat was knocked off his head, the deputy a.s.sumed it was from the wind. If he'd bothered turning around, he would have seen Barrett standing there with his arm still outstretched.

"d.a.m.n," the deputy whispered as he rushed forward to chase his hat. He bent to pick it up as the wind died down. Suddenly, he could hear the second set of footsteps rushing toward him from the side.

Nick placed a hand flat upon the lawman's back to keep him from standing up. "Evening, Marshal," he said with a grin. The deputy was holding a rifle in his hand, but Nick kicked it down and stepped on the barrel to hold it against the ground.