By Kirsten Page
Copyright 1999
Kid and Jimmy stopped their horses up in front of the cabin. With one swift moment they had dismounted their trusty steeds. A few moments later, a burly man stepped out to greet them. His eyes were stern, and his body was tense. “Can I help you boys?” He asked, flicking the small stub of his burned out cigar to the ground. At the same time he threw them a look that wasn’t exactly welcoming.
“Uh, yeah, actually,” Jimmy stammered, not expecting such a welcome. “One of our riders was,” the words hung in his throat, “Found dead.”
They watched Wayne’s expression, and he didn’t seem moved by it at all. Instead, he pulled out another cigar and lit it, blowing a buff of smoke into Jimmy’s face.
He tried to surpress a cough, unsuccessfully, “Do you know anything about it?” Jimmy continued.
Wayne considered a moment before he smirked. “Nope, can’t say that I have. Unless you mean that wiry, skinny fellow that rode through here two days ago. If I recall correctly, he was shot by some outlaw.”
Kid clenched his fists. He refused to give in that easily, without an explanation. Jimmy’s reaction was very similar, only he did a better job of concealing his seething anger.
“I’ve had enough of this!” Kid spat out before confronting the man face to face. The brim of his hat was barley touching Wayne’s forehead. “Somebody better start telling me what happened, and fast!” His emotions were rushing, and he felt as if he were on a constant wave of up and down from anger to sadness. It was a horrible entanglement inside of him.
Wayne wasn’t impressed by the young man’s intense response. He tossed his cigar to the ground, and it sizzled as it hit the snow. That sizzle perfectly represented the enraged surge of emotions which were now growing in all three men.
After the action, Kid realized that his abrupt response was quite possibly a mistake. So it was quite regretfully that he backed down slowly before turning his attention back to Jimmy. “I’m going to have a look around,” he said, speaking so that it was obvious he was still angry.
Jimmy nodded, “I’m going too.”
“Be my guests,” Wayne snickered, “But I’m telling you, all you’re going to find is a grave.”
The two men walked side by side not wanting to appear as scared as they were. Part of the fear was the uneasiness of being around the man that appeared to be the stationmaster. The second, and worst terror, was the thought of finding a gravesite which would be the confirmation of one thing......
Cole was mounted and ready to go. The boys had been training him for the past day, and amazingly enough, he had proved himself quite well. His riding and shooting skills were above average.
Although he may have ridden like he was born in the saddle, and could shoot like a gun had been his first toy, the riders still didn’t trust him.
“You think you’re ready to take this next run?” Buck asked, trying his very best not to be sarcastic and pessimistic about the whole situation. None of them had been able to find out any more about the man, nor had they heard from Kid and Jimmy. All that any of them could do at this point was hope, and pray that they would here or discover some news soon.
Cole pointed to himself in a cocky manner, “Me? Look boys,” he stated flatly, “I was born ready.”
Teaspoon couldn’t help but shake his head. Had this been another time, another place, and another situation, he might have found it funny. Cole reminded him very much of how William F. Cody had acted when he was first hired.
“All right then,” the older man replied, “Saddle up, you’re riding out.”
With a short nod, Cole made his way to the barn and gathered his things. This was so perfect that even he couldn’t believe his own luck. Everything had fallen in to place better than he had ever expected. By now delivering the mail and holding this position, he’d have access to everything he ever needed.
A few moments later, dressed and ready, Cole mounted his horse and waited for Cody to come riding in so that he could take the mail and be on his way. It went perfectly, and Cole couldn’t have been more proud of himself. He smiled as he rode away from the station, making his way towards his destination.
Noah came out of the bunkhouse pulling his gloves on as he walked. “Teaspoon, you let him take the mail?”
The Marshal didn’t reply at first. Buck, who also wanted to ask the same question, anxiously awaited his response. Cody just smirked and handed Teaspoon the mail that he had been carrying.
“Boys, you’ve just witnessed the very first spoof this station has ever been a part of,” he said with a self-satisfied smile.
“What do you mean?” Came a chorus of responses.
Teaspoon extended the mail that Cody had handed to him. “I think that one of you boys better be heading on down to the next station. They’ll probably want some mail to go in that mochila that Cole has.”
Buck smirked starting to get the picture, “You mean there isn’t anything in the mochila that he’s carrying?”
“Nope.”
If shock could be measured on the expression of one’s face, the meter would have been on overload with all of the boys. The very idea that Teaspoon would have ever done something like that was beyond all of them. Still, there wasn’t one person standing outside that could have denied that it was a good idea.
“What happens when he finds out that he wasn’t carrying anything at all?” Cody asked as he began brushing the dirt off of his clothes.
Teaspoon smiled, “Who says he’s going to find out?” He paused, “See boys, the only way that you’d find out about that is if you were doing something that you ain’t supposed to be doing.”
“Like what?” Noah probed.
“Digging through the bags, looking for whatever it is that you want,” The older man continued. “The way I figure it is this, if a man comes looking for a job and stoops so low to commit what we think could be murder, he’s got to be after something.” He noticed the questions beginning to form on the rider’s faces and tried to answer them before they were asked, “I’ve already sent word to the next station to tell them to hold the mochila so they’re won’t be any mix-up.”
Noah stepped forward, “Then I guess I better get the real mail through.” Without hesitation, he quickly gathered his things, grabbed the loose mail that Teaspoon was holding, and went on his way.
“You really think this is going to work?” Buck questioned Teaspoon as he headed inside.
“Well, if it does, we may be one step closer to finding out who harmed Lou.”
On to Chapter Seven
