Western Omelette

Theo Houseman

The sun had dropped behind the buildings in town as Hoke pulled into the livery, helping Alicia down and settling up with the stable owner. He took her arm and led her to the porch in front of the buildings then dropped his hand, surprised when he felt her fingers slide comfortably under his arm as they walked.

"May I ask," she ventured hesitantly, "how is my accommodation being paid for while we wait?"

"Oh . . . nothin' for you to worry about. It's taken care of." He coughed and increased his speed slightly.

"It must be quite expensive, as you require a place to stay too."

"Uhm . . . the company has uh, extended some expenses for the- the- for the case."

Alicia looked at him thoughtfully as they stopped in front of the hotel. His eyes were everywhere but on her and she knew, without a doubt, he was lying.

"Well, thank you for the ride to your property, I quite enjoyed it, well not the circumstance, but the history behind it."

"You're most welcome, ma'am--"

"Alicia, please, not ma'am."

"Right . . . yeah . . . sorry – Alicia."

"So what happens tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes. What do we do?"

"Do?"

"Hoke, for heaven's sake. I can't just sit around here forever doing nothing." His look was so bleak, she thought for a moment he might collapse. "Surely you had something in mind while you waited to see if anything happened."

The look became more desolate.

****

He left the telegraph office after reading the wires from both Harold, and his Pinkerton boss. The former was an excited report on the article written for the paper, how his bosses were all excited about the possibilities. He also wanted to know if Hoke had heard anything yet.

"Dang fool," he muttered, "ink ain't even dry yet."

The latter was a query from his boss as to the progress being made in his questionable scheme.

"Another impatient country heard from," he scowled.

Hoke had ignored Harold, and wired back to his boss that things were progressing – just not as fast as they expected.

Alicia was becoming restless, wasting her time, as she reminded him regularly, and tiring of the fabricated tours of the town and its surroundings. He gathered himself and marched boldly to the hotel, finding her in the dining room at breakfast.

"Mornin'. Sleep well?" Hat in hand.

"Fortunately." She sliced a sliver of white from her egg, and placed it in her mouth.

He sat, tentatively. "Alicia . . . look, I know you aren't happy about--"

The snort made him puff a breath and close his eyes.

"I'm real sorry you feel that way. I'd hoped things would have been different if my place hadn't burned--"

Her head came up, and her eyes riveted him to the spot. "I beg your pardon?"

"What?"

"Are you suggesting this- this scheme of yours would have been more palatable had we been sharing your little cabin?"

"Well I thought- well, yeah, I suppose, you see--"

"That's it." She dropped her fork and looked around for one of the servers.

"Alicia- ma'am. What are you sayin'?"

"What I am saying, Mr. Easterly," she snapped, standing, "is I am finished with this folly of yours. You will make arrangements for my departure on the next stage home – and you will foot the cost!"

Two things struck Hoke like a gunshot. One, an explanation to his company, and two, he had no money for a stage trip. She turned and strode from the room, jaw set, eyes fiery. Hoke stumbled after her, only to be stopped by the big desk clerk.

"Two dollars' is owed for the lady's breakfast."

"Two!" Crumbling inside, Hoke fished out the money reluctantly, and had it pulled from his hand. A vision of Harold, wrung through the rollers of his printing press, clogged his vision.

Alicia refused to open her hotel door, delivering brief replies to his pleading, and reiterating her demand. He slumped away, aware that not only was he now homeless, and broke, the odds of capturing Horn had just been heavily weighted against. Outside, he found a bench in the shade and sat staring miserably, at nothing.

"Hoke!" The plump dry goods clerk puffed up onto the porch and stood breathing heavily. "Hoke, you got trouble."

"Tell me about it," he grumped.

"You know already?" The man sat beside him and blew out a long breath.

"Huh? What? Know what?" He glanced over.

"One of the Double M boys was in the saloon tellin' about how old man Montgomery has hired hiself a gun. Says he aims to get the land he wants for his cows."

Hoke listened without hearing for a moment, then the words registered and he grabbed the man's arm.

"Say again?"

"Ouch, no need to get ornery." He pulled his arm free and repeated his story.

"Is he still there?"

"I reckon. He just came in a short spell ago."

Hoke jumped up and made straight for the saloon.

****

Stepping inside, he recognized Morley Gravestock, the Double M hand, right away; the tall, lean frame, and the cream Stetson with the eagle feather in the band. He went straight over, pushing himself in beside the cowhand.

"So, is what I hear about your boss true, Morley?"

"Hoke!" The initial surprise subsided, and he turned to face him, leaning an elbow on the bar. "I reckon it is."

"Anyone I might know?"

"I don't think I can be sayin' what my boss--"

"I think you can, Morley. I think you prob'ly already told the rest here."

"I need to be gettin' back."

"You don't want me puttin' you on the Pinkerton suspect list do you, Morley?"

"Why? I ain't done nuthin'"

"Right. Exactly right, and until you do, you aren't goin' anywhere."

"How you gonna stop me, Hoke, you ain't even packin'?"

In a move, surprisingly faster than any followed, Hoke snatched Morley's gun from his holster, spinning it on his finger.

"Am now."

"Gimme that back." Morley straightened up, fists clenched.

"The name, Morley."

He looked around the room for some sign of help, seeing none.

"They only paid for your drinks for the gossip. This is just you and me."

"Ain't gossip, Hoke." Morley said, defeated. "It's Theo Houseman."

Hoke watched the man's face grow taut, a tongue slipped out, wetting the upper lip, and the eyes grew a little larger. He felt his feet fasten to the floor, unable to move as he heard the name echo in his head. Slowly, he handed the gun back to Morley, his own eyes suddenly blinking at the images the name evoked.

"He's already here." Morley added.

Nodding, Hoke turned away, making his way to the saloon doors; the past joined him with a chilling arm about his shoulders.