the train but folks who live here for a good month.”
The news didn’t surprise Jared. Green River wasn’t much more than a way station, a quick stop on the way to or from bigger cities west of Wyoming. Places like VirginiaCity, Nevada, where he believed the man with the scar was headed.
He felt that now-familiar twinge of guilt, knowing his questions about Bob Cassidy and Matt Carlton were more of an afterthought. If Jared ever learned those two were headed away from Nevada, he would abandon any thought of bringing in Silver’s runaway fiancé.
Former fiancé.
He thought back to the meal he and Silver had shared with Tom and Whitney. He’d been uncomfortable with the Hanovers’ words of praise as they’d told Silver what brought the three of them together. A man of honor, Tom had called him. A man who wanted justice above all else. It wasn’t very honorable to make Silver believe that finding Cassidy was his top priority. As for justice? It might be what he’d sought for Tom, but it had little to do with his hunt for the man with the scar.
Revenge was what he wanted. Stone-cold revenge.
He headed back toward the hotel, planning to clean up before meeting Silver at the restaurant. But as he walked past the saloon nearest the train station, he glanced through the window and caught sight of another familiar face.
It had been a good six months, probably closer to eight or ten, since his path had last crossed with Doug Gordon’s. The Pinkerton detective was based out of Washington, DC, but his work often brought him west of the Mississippi.
Jared pushed open the swinging door of the saloonand walked inside. Doug looked up from his cards as Jared passed by the table, but there wasn’t even the faintest glimmer of welcome. Yet Jared knew in his gut that Doug had seen and recognized him. Which meant the detective was on the job. Fine. Jared could wait.
At the bar, he ordered his usual sarsaparilla, then turned and leaned his back against the counter. There weren’t many customers in the dimly lit, musty-smelling saloon. Two men sat at a table closest to the doorway with glasses of beer in their hands. The only other occupied table held Doug with two card players and a dealer.
About five minutes later, Doug won the pot in the center of the table. One of the other men rose, grumbling, and left the saloon. Jared took his half-empty glass and carried it to the table. “Mind if I join you?” His fingers touched the back of the recently vacated chair.
“Not at all,” Doug answered.
“My name’s Jared Newman.” He pulled out the chair and sat down.
“Jess Stone.”
That confirmed Jared’s suspicions. Doug was working. He didn’t want anyone at the table to know his real identity or occupation.
Jared glanced toward the other player.
“Perkins,” the man said, sounding less than friendly.
The dealer said, “Five-card stud,” and began shuffling the cards.
Jared turned back to Doug. “Are you from around these parts, Mr. Stone?”
“I’m here to look at some property, but I’ll be returning to the East soon. And you?”
“Arrived today. Headed for Virginia City, Nevada.”
The dealer put cards, facedown, before each player.
“And what takes you there?”
Jared shrugged. “A hunch that I might get lucky.”
“My mother told me a man had to make his own luck.” Doug tossed his ante into the center of the table.
“So I’ve heard.”
Silver checked the watch pinned to her bodice. It was six thirty and still no sign of Jared. He’d left her cooling her heels once again. It made her feel frustrated and angry and a little bit lost. Exasperating man! Well, she wasn’t going to wait for him all night. She was starved half to death.
Looking about, she motioned for the waitress and placed her order. When her food arrived, she ate, but without enjoyment. Not even the berry pie, which had sounded so good as she read the menu, could brighten her spirits.
Jared was the cause. As
The news didn’t surprise Jared. Green River wasn’t much more than a way station, a quick stop on the way to or from bigger cities west of Wyoming. Places like VirginiaCity, Nevada, where he believed the man with the scar was headed.
He felt that now-familiar twinge of guilt, knowing his questions about Bob Cassidy and Matt Carlton were more of an afterthought. If Jared ever learned those two were headed away from Nevada, he would abandon any thought of bringing in Silver’s runaway fiancé.
Former fiancé.
He thought back to the meal he and Silver had shared with Tom and Whitney. He’d been uncomfortable with the Hanovers’ words of praise as they’d told Silver what brought the three of them together. A man of honor, Tom had called him. A man who wanted justice above all else. It wasn’t very honorable to make Silver believe that finding Cassidy was his top priority. As for justice? It might be what he’d sought for Tom, but it had little to do with his hunt for the man with the scar.
Revenge was what he wanted. Stone-cold revenge.
He headed back toward the hotel, planning to clean up before meeting Silver at the restaurant. But as he walked past the saloon nearest the train station, he glanced through the window and caught sight of another familiar face.
It had been a good six months, probably closer to eight or ten, since his path had last crossed with Doug Gordon’s. The Pinkerton detective was based out of Washington, DC, but his work often brought him west of the Mississippi.
Jared pushed open the swinging door of the saloonand walked inside. Doug looked up from his cards as Jared passed by the table, but there wasn’t even the faintest glimmer of welcome. Yet Jared knew in his gut that Doug had seen and recognized him. Which meant the detective was on the job. Fine. Jared could wait.
At the bar, he ordered his usual sarsaparilla, then turned and leaned his back against the counter. There weren’t many customers in the dimly lit, musty-smelling saloon. Two men sat at a table closest to the doorway with glasses of beer in their hands. The only other occupied table held Doug with two card players and a dealer.
About five minutes later, Doug won the pot in the center of the table. One of the other men rose, grumbling, and left the saloon. Jared took his half-empty glass and carried it to the table. “Mind if I join you?” His fingers touched the back of the recently vacated chair.
“Not at all,” Doug answered.
“My name’s Jared Newman.” He pulled out the chair and sat down.
“Jess Stone.”
That confirmed Jared’s suspicions. Doug was working. He didn’t want anyone at the table to know his real identity or occupation.
Jared glanced toward the other player.
“Perkins,” the man said, sounding less than friendly.
The dealer said, “Five-card stud,” and began shuffling the cards.
Jared turned back to Doug. “Are you from around these parts, Mr. Stone?”
“I’m here to look at some property, but I’ll be returning to the East soon. And you?”
“Arrived today. Headed for Virginia City, Nevada.”
The dealer put cards, facedown, before each player.
“And what takes you there?”
Jared shrugged. “A hunch that I might get lucky.”
“My mother told me a man had to make his own luck.” Doug tossed his ante into the center of the table.
“So I’ve heard.”
Silver checked the watch pinned to her bodice. It was six thirty and still no sign of Jared. He’d left her cooling her heels once again. It made her feel frustrated and angry and a little bit lost. Exasperating man! Well, she wasn’t going to wait for him all night. She was starved half to death.
Looking about, she motioned for the waitress and placed her order. When her food arrived, she ate, but without enjoyment. Not even the berry pie, which had sounded so good as she read the menu, could brighten her spirits.
Jared was the cause. As
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