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CHAPTER 18

      ELLIE HOPPER opened up the firebox of the stove and threw in another log. Bread was baking in the oven, and a big pot of good-smelling beans and bacon simmered on the stove.

      She had never before seen Euclid in such a state as he was when he got home that morning. Her husband was like a crazy man, kicking the furniture, cursing, staring through every window with his brass field glasses, sitting hour after hour watching everything that was happening in Tres Marias. He took a bottle of whiskey from the shelf and sipped at it, not even using a glass. When she asked him what was wrong he stared at her as though a stranger, then turned away. When she persisted he said coldly, "You better let me alone. There are things you can't understand."

      "I'm your wife," she said. "If something bad's happening, or you're in some kind of trouble, you better tell me."

      Then he embraced her, and blurted, "Nugent is going to send somebody to kill me, and I've got to him first."

      He wouldn't say anything more after that, no matter how often she asked him, but just the look of him frightened her. She felt a terrible foreboding, she had to admit that there were plenty of things about him she couldn't understand. He was a silent drinker and never let fall the slightest hint of what he was thinking, but afterwards, when he slept, he'd wake shouting, in a cold sweat, and trembling. Strange behavior in a man who whistled as he washed the dead and sewed up their lips in smiles. He seemed untouched by death and sadness, even when he buried children. Maybe, she thought, it was something that had happened to him in the war. Something he was ashamed of, she guessed, because he never spoke of the war at all. Whatever the secret thing within him was, it had hardened his heart. She had a wifely duty to Euclid and tried to be a good wife to him, but it was not always easy.

      When it was dark outside, he got her the rifle and told her to use it if she had to. He made her promise to put the bar in the door when he was outside, and he took his Colt and rifle and the rest of the bottle, and went to the shed, where he hunkered down in the darkness by the hearse and he could see out the open door to the wagon track leading to the house fairly well.

      It was cold in the shed, but Hopper didn't mind it. He just sat there and watched the little valley grow white with snow under the moonlit clouds.

      In the first two hours there was no sound except a couple of gunshots down in the town, and the faint sound of men singing. He had been sipping the whiskey steadily, and the bottle was now half empty. He thought the singing, thin and distant in the cold air was a sweet sound, and his eyes filled with tears. Although he was dressed warmly, he grew stiff with cold as the hours passed, and was about to get up and pace around a little when he heard the sound of a horse coming toward him. He stared into the darkness, the rifle cocked and ready.

      It was a lone rider, hunched over, trying to make as little noise as possible. About 30 yards away from the house, the man dismounted and tied his horse to some brush, and slid his carbine out of the scabbard. In the dim light, Hopper couldn't tell who it was, but he could see a silhouette moving carefully in a crouch toward the house.

      As the man passed the shed, Hopper stepped out behind him close and whacked the rifle stock sharply on the back of his head, knocking him sprawling. Hopper scratched a match and in the sputtering light he saw that the man he had hit was

      Homer Gaines.

      Gaines was doing Nugent's bidding, Hopper thought grimly, and had come to kill him. He touched Gaines' head with the rifle's muzzle and started to squeeze the trigger, but Gaines' eyes fluttered open and he saw Hopper standing over him with the gun, and he cried softly, "No, don't shoot. I've come to tell you somethin'."

      Hopper paused. He asked himself what Gaines would do if the situation was reversed, and he knew Gaines would have killed him without hesitation. But Hopper had always thought he was a better man than Gaines, and besides, he had already hesitated.

      Well, he could kill him later just as easy as now.

      "Get up!" Hopper said. He picked up Gaines' carbine and took the .45 from his belt, then stood back while Gaines groggily got to his feet. "Walk to the house. If you give me trouble, I swear I'll kill you."

      Through a window, Ellie saw them coming. She had no respect for Gaines, unless you could call fear respect. It was he who kept the whores, the poor fallen creatures. And more than once Ellie had seen him staring at her as she imagined he looked at them, with a wet mouth and sly insinuating eyes. Ellie felt his presence soiled the air.

      She unbarred the door as the men reached the house, and let them in. Gaines looked sick, but it seemed to her that Euclid was steadier and more relaxed than before.

      "Put down the gun and fix my friend some coffee," Euclid said. He still held the Colt on Gaines, and Ellie noticed that for all his apparent friendliness the hammer was cocked. Gaines took his hat off to her and nodded before sliding into a chair at the table, looking very nervous.

      "Now, Homer, you tell me what you're doing here, and why I shouldn't kill you," Euclid said.

      Gaines sighed. He tried to smile but it looked like a grimace. "This morning Bill Purdy went up and told Nugent you and Amhearst and Weitnaur hired him to kill him. So Nugent bought him off and made a deal with him to get you three instead. Then Nugent went over to Watson's store and told him about it."

      Ellie put down steaming cups of black coffee before them. Hopper gave her a black look. "Go into the other room and shut the door," he said, and she obediently moved the beans to a cooler place on the stove, and went behind Gaines' back into the bedroom.

      "Wait — take this with you," Hopper grabbed up the rifle where she had set it and carried it to her. His eyes, which Gaines couldn't see, plainly told her to watch Gaines, and use the gun if she had to.

      Gaines sipped the bitter coffee appreciatively, and continued, "Then this afternoon Elmer came up to my place and told me about it. Hell, it turns out that we're on your side against Nugent — against Purdy, too, if Nugent hasn't already gone and kilt him."

      "So?"

      Gaines leaned forward and said softly, "So the plan me and Watson hatched up this afternoon is that all of us get together and get rid of Nugent. Then we can do what we want with the business — keep running it — or just go our own ways with our fortunes."

      He waited for a clue to Hopper's feelings, but his face was expressionless.

      "Are you hearing what I'm sayin', Euc?"

      Hopper nodded.

      Gaines wrapped his fingers around the cup. He thought he might be able to fling the hot coffee in Hopper's face, somehow get the jump on him and kill him while he was sitting there, but then he thought that Hopper would just raise the muzzle of the gun and that would be the end of it.

      After what seemed like an interminable wait to Gaines, Hopper said, "Well, I'd rather all of us be against Nugent than against each other." He looked past Gaines' head to the bedroom door, ajar a little, the muzzle of the rifle peeking out. it was good that Ellie was on the job, but he feared that if anything happened and she did shoot, the bullet would go clean through Gaines and keep on going through him, too.

      Hopper had his nerve back now, seeing Gaines sniveling in the chair lying to him. He was certain that Gaines had come up to kill him, and he wished he had simply shot him and gotten it over with. He stood up and walked out of her line of fire, over to the stove, and looked down at Gaines who sensed that things could grow considerably shorter for him momentarily.

      Hopper raised the Colt. Poor Ellie would have a mess to clean up.

      "Hey, I know where Nugent's treasure is hid!" Gaines cried. "It ain't in his safe, and it never made it to the bank in Denver. He never trusted Weitnaur."

      Hopper stopped dead. "What treasure?"

      "His gold! Hundreds of bags of dust and solid bars he got off those miners he cheats. Hell, he's grubstaked a bunch of 'em and got a cut of their gold legally, too. I'll bet he's got a ton of gold hid."

      A ton of gold! Hopper thought about it. He himself had often taken gold for burials, and he himself had a place where gold was hidden.

      Hopper raised the gun again. "Where is it?"

      Gaines took a big gulp of the coffee but his hand was shaking so much he spilled a lot before it got to his mouth. "I know exactly where it's buried. Nugent trusts me, y'know."

      "Sure," Hopper said. "And so do I, Homer. So do I."

      "Come on, I'll take you there," Gaines said.

      Hopper smiled. Maybe Ellie wouldn't have a mess to clean up after all. "Sure," he said. "Let's go get Nugent's gold,"

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