Molly Bull - The Winter Pearl

Lucas brushed through the swinging doors, but he stopped before stepping off the covered porch in front of the saloon. Snowflakes were floating down, melting before they hit the ground. The chilly air and the refreshing sight of falling snow lifted his spirits. He straightened his shoulders and turned up his collar against the wintry breeze. If he expected Ben to provide him with answers, he would need to look composed.

Glancing up and down the street, he took in his town. Until now, he’d seldom seen the place in daylight.

Falling Rock reminded him of Cold Springs, the town he grew up in. He had never realized the similarity until now. Trees lined both sides of the street, and snow-tipped mountains towered in the distance. Neatly dressed people strolled in and out of the hotel and the general store.

Looking down at the gray suit he’d worn since Harriet’s burial, Lucas wished he’d cleaned up a bit before leaving the cabin. A week ago, he wouldn’t have cared. Now, he did. He should look respectable if he expected folks to give him the information he wanted.

Lucas started down the street and turned left at the corner. He’d almost forgotten he would have to pass by the church to reach the livery. He considered turning back, selecting a different route, then decided he just wouldn’t look at the little church with its whitewashed walls and stone porch. Not this time. As a child, he’d had his fill of church and religion.

Yet when he reached the small structure, he found himself peering inside the open doorway. Harriet had once been a member of that church. He guessed she must have been considered a member until the day she died.

A middle-aged man in a dark suit came out and stood on the porch. The preacher? Lucas didn’t want to find out. He stepped up his pace. Hurrying down the street, he didn’t look back.

By the time Lucas reached the livery stable, his breath was coming in gasps. Then he coughed.

The room used for blacksmithing jobs smelled of smoke. Ben Kraken stood in front of a heavy anvil mounted on the stump of a big oak tree. He was hammering a piece of iron into a horseshoe.

“Good afternoon,” Lucas said from the doorway.

Ben must have heard him, but he kept on working. His hammer hit the metal again. Whop! The metal glowed red-hot.

Even on such a cold day, the room was sweltering. Lucas unbuttoned the top button of his jacket and stepped inside. Ben raised the heavy hammer again. When it came down against the soft metal and the anvil, another loud metallic bang rang out.

Lucas stepped closer. “I said hello.”

“I heard ya.” Ben glanced at Lucas out of the corner of his eye. “Good afternoon. Or it will be—if you came in to pay what you owe me.”

Lucas felt his temper rising, but he feigned a pleasant expression. “My niece run off with all my money, and I come lookin’ for her. What else could I do?”

Ben Kraken lifted the hot iron with a pair of long-handled tongs and dropped it into a tub of water. The water sizzled. A puff of gray smoke spiraled upward.

Lucas took a step back from the tub. He had a deep need to punch Kraken in that big nose of his until it bled. Hearing Ben speak in mocking tones and with such a lack of respect was galling. Nevertheless, to get what he wanted out of the man, Lucas would hold back. For now. He could settle the score later.

“Do you know if Honor took the stage somewhere?” he asked in a calm voice.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Lucas stepped forward again. His hands clenched into fists, and his wrath grew, but he held his tongue. Looking Kraken right in the face, he glared at him. “Why won’t ya tell me, Ben?”

“Word gets around.” Ben looked down at his work, ignoring the rage that Lucas could hear in his own voice. “The whole town knows how you treated your wife and that poor girl.”

Ben pulled the horseshoe from the water with the tongs, then turned and thrust the metal into the forge. The blaze licked the iron, crackling and popping. Red and yellow sparks flew.

Lucas jammed his hands deeply into his pockets to prevent them from flying out as fists. “But if I don’t get my money back,” he pointed out, “how was you expecting me to pay ya?”

Ben dragged the iron from the fire. “Knowing you, I doubt I’ll get paid anyway.” The metal had turned a bright red. Heat radiated from it. Ben took the horseshoe back to the anvil and reached for the hammer. “Besides,” he said, “if I can help that girl a little, I will.”

Lucas gritted his teeth. Kraken was asking for it. He counted to ten, trying to calm down. Then twenty. At last he asked, “Did a stage leave for Pine Falls early yesterday morning?”

“As a matter of fact, one did. And somebody robbed it,” Ben said. “I had to send out another coach to take the folks on to Pine Falls.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“If they were, I don’t know about it,” Ben said shortly.

“I guess I’ll ride over to Pine Falls, then, and take a look around. See what I can find out. And thanks for your help.”

“The best thing you can do for me, Scythe, is to get out of my livery stable. And don’t come back without my money.”

Lucas stood in the doorway, glowering at the back of Ben Kraken’s head. He fought the desire once more to punch him and keep on hitting until Kraken cried for mercy.

Lucas turned and headed to the saloon. He really needed a drink now. If necessary, he wasn’t too proud to wash dishes.

When he’d saved enough to buy a bottle of whiskey, he would ride on over to Pine Falls. The trip would take a day or two—maybe more. If he took it slow and easy, his mare should be able to make it all the way.

Maybe he would post a “Wanted” sign in the saloon. He thought for a moment. What should a sign like that say?

Pondering, he scratched his right ear. Twenty dollars. Thirty. That’s it, thirty.

WANTED

Miss Honor McCall for stealing from Lucas Scythe. Thirty-dollar reward for information on her whereabouts.

Lucas spent the rest of the day and most of the night working at the saloon. When the bartender wasn’t looking, he snatched a few drinks. During his supper break, he printed a sign on a piece of wood with some black paint he found in the storeroom.

He kept a close eye on Mitch. When Lucas saw the bartender escort a rowdy drunk outside, Lucas took a hammer, nails and the wooden sign, and sneaked to the pine wall at the front of the saloon where other signs were posted, looking for an available spot. A vacant square of discolored wall was right in front of the door.

Lucas nailed his sign to the wall with one whack of the hammer. Then he crept back to the kitchen and started washing dishes.

When the saloon closed for the night, Lucas stepped up to the bar to get his pay. Mitch handed him a few small coins.

“Is that all I get?” Lucas asked.

“Sorry, Scythe. I saw you steal drinks when you thought I wasn’t lookin’.”

“Have a heart, Mitch, and give me a whole bottle. I reckon I’ll do anything to get it,” Lucas wheedled. “Why, I’ll promise to come in early tomorrow and work until closing time again if you’ll give me a bottle of whiskey. Is that a deal?”

“You think you know how to get what you want, don’t ya.” Mitch shook his head like someone who didn’t want to believe what he’d just seen and heard. “All right, I guess I could give you one bottle. But you better be here tomorrow. Early.”

“You can count on me.”

Lucas rode home, chugging down whiskey as he went. He finished the bottle before falling into bed. With nothing in his belly but liquor, he fell asleep immediately.

Honor opened her eyes and sat up. She was in a bed in a clean room, but had no idea how she’d gotten there. A sharp pain in her head and a wave of nausea caused her to consider lying back down, but she didn’t want to give in to the discomfort.