Western Omelette

When Motives Collide

"I don't understand, why did you come back?" Hoke thumbed the dead bark off the twig he was fiddling with, sitting on a rock in the field behind the livery.

Alicia had resisted talking in front of the others, and after the sheriff wrangled the Santiagos into jail, and Edward had given her, her room key, she had followed him down the street to the edge of town.

"We could have been more comfortable in my hotel room, you know."

"And wouldn't that have raised eyebrows . . . why did you come back, Alicia?"

She related the fact of meeting Morley Gravestoke at the stage depot, and learning why he and his friends left. Then she began her mini tirade against so-called friendships and civic duties, leaving Hoke wondering whether to laugh or cry.

"But what did you think you could do?"

"Stand by you." She looked fierce and beautiful at the same time.

Hoke shook his head and began a soft laugh that grew to include a hard knee slap. He looked at this bundle of determination, and asked himself how had he warranted such wild loyalty.

"Alicia, you- your offer means more than you might imagine, but this is not just arguing something trying to make sense, this is killing someone so's you don't have to argue."

"But he's a gunfighter! You aren't a gunfighter, Hoke."

"No, but I'm pretty handy with my gun."

Her look was incredulous. "You don't even wear one!" Alicia stood up and whacked him with her parasol before storming away up the middle of the street. He reshaped the crown of his Stetson, thinking it was taking a lot of punishment lately, and watched her go, unable to suppress a grin.

****

Harold Meeker was fed up with the silence he was receiving from Easterly. What was happening? What was going on? He wanted to know, and in the end, decided to travel to Nugget and find out for himself.

When he finally arrived, he learned that Hoke Easterly was renting a room at the hotel, and yes, a Miss Potter was staying there as well. Harold puzzled over the hotel business, remembering Hoke had said he owned a cabin not far from town. He arranged for his own room and then went to find Hoke.

"Harold!" Hoke stood shocked after answering the door.

"What the devil's going on?" He demanded, pushing into the room and glancing about. "You don't report in. You don't answer my telegraphs."

Hoke closed the door and folded his arms. "Hang on there, Harold. I don't report to you, for starters, and I've been pretty darn busy looking after more than your hair-brained scheme. Which by the way, backfired big time when Alicia learned what it was about."

"Was she mad?" His contriteness replaced his indignant attitude in a flash.

"Why don't you go bang on her door and find out for yourself. She's on the floor below."

"What happened to your cabin? I thought--"

"My neighbour burned it down just before Alicia got here."

"Burned! What--"

"It's a long story, Harold, and right now I don't have time to waste tellin' you."

Harold sat down firmly on the bed, frowning. "You're too busy to talk to me? I've come a long way, Easterly. I don't like being dismissed . . . what are you doing . . .?"

Hoke grabbed him by the collar of his coat and dragged off the bed to the door.

"Go and explain to Alicia why you came all this way, I'm busy." The door opened, and Harold watched it slam in his face as he was thrust into the hallway.

"Hoke? Hoke? Open this damn door." Harold banged futilely, and sulked away after no response.

****

It was dusk when the two riders rode into Nugget at a slow trot. Most businesses were closing, only the hotel and the livery showed activity. It was early to bed for the bulk of the community, being farmers and ranchers. They stopped in front of the saloon and climbed down, surveying the street and the gathering shadows.

What do you say, Cody, a drink, maybe a woman and then see to this Hoke fella?" The man wiped a rough hand across his mouth.

"One drink. As fer the woman, you can do what you like, I'm going to bed and get a good rest – and I ain't waitin' around for you in the mornin'. I want to get this done, take my money and run."

"You don't need to worry about me. I'll be ready. Just thought a man could use some recreation to clear his mind. Woman can do that."

"Women ain't my pot of stew, Egan, and my mind's as clear as a summer sky."

They climbed the steps and entered the hotel, Egan splitting off to the saloon and Cody headed for the desk.

"'Member what I said now."

"Sleep tight, Cody, I aim to."

Harold paused on the bottom step, watching the lanky cowboy stroll to the desk. He knew that face. Where did he know it from? He casually approached, waiting off to the side to see if he could hear anything that would give him a clue. The man looked at him. Dark brown eyes, steady and penetrating.

"Can I help you, Mister?"

"Huh- no, no. Just waiting to speak to the clerk." Harold wet his lips.

"How long you aim to stay?" the clerk asked Cody.

"One night." He polished his silver boot tips, one at a time, on the back of his legs.

"Two dollars. Bathtub's on the first floor – extra fifty cents."

The cowboy threw down the money, took his key and moved past Harold with a final, menacing appraisal. Edward gave a small cough for attention, and Harold snapped around.

"Scary fellow wasn't he. I feel like I know him from somewhere. What's his name?"

"I don't give out the names of guests."

There was a staring standoff, which Harold finally lost.

"Fine. It turns out another friend of mine is staying here. Miss Potter. Could you tell me her room number . . . please."

"She's a friend of yours! Huh, if you think that Duart was scary . . ."

Harold's mouth opened, and he grinned. "Cody Duart. I knew I knew him."

Edward silently scolded himself and said nothing more. Harold stroked his chin, thinking. What would a gunslinger like Duart be doing in Nugget? He switched back to the clerk and asked again for Miss Potter's room number. Edward gave it out through clenched teeth, and immediately disengaged.

Harold nodded his thanks and scooted back up the stairs. He found Alicia's room, adjusted his tie and removed his hat, running a smoothing hand over his dark hair, and knocked. The door opened, and he pasted on a huge smile, hands out in greeting.

"Harold!" She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

"'Licia, my darling, surprise!"

"I'll give you surprise, you- you sack of deceitful self-interest."

"Huh?"

The door swung shut with a crash, crunching both of Harold's outstretched hands. He hopped around, wincing in pain, then called her name. "Alicia, what did I do?"

"Well, when you realize that, you'll have another surprise," came the final angry reply.