wagon.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
âHeâs a sure enough dude, if I ever saw one,â Shanghai said, when Durham had gone. âWhat in tarnation is he doinâ out here, with mules and a wagon?â
âLikely one jump ahead of his past,â said Tarno. âNever seen a gambler yet that there wasnât enough skeletons in his closet to start a graveyard.â
âWe donât question his past, unless it catches up to him and begins causinâ us grief,â Faro said. âI doubt thereâs a man on the frontier who hasnât left somethinâ behind that he ainât exactly proud of.â
âAmen to that,â said Collins. âWhatever his reason for having teams and a wagon, and whatever his reason for being here, itâs our good fortune.â
âIâm wonderinâ why heâs takinâ a wagon to California through such god-awful country as this,â Dallas said. âHell, he could have gone north to Cheyenne and rode the old Union Pacific the rest of the way.â
âLetâs get his wagon loaded next,â said Collins. âThen weâll begin loading dynamite and ammunition.â
The loading went smoothly, as Collins allowed the teamsters to pack the goods so that the loads wouldnât shift on the inclines and down slopes. When all the wagons were loaded, Collins drove Durhamâs wagon with the others to the lot across from the wagon yard.
âThis is next to our last chance at town-cooked grub for maybe a year,â Faro said. âSome of us will have to stay with the wagons while the others eat.â
âThe four of you go ahead,â said Collins. âWhen you return, then Iâll eat.â
Faro and his three companions sought out a café and enjoyed a meal with plenty of hot coffee. It was just getting dark when they returned to the wagons, and found Durham there.
âI decided to bunk with the rest of you,â the gambler said.
âThereâs grain for your mules in your wagon,â said Faro. âGo easy on it, as long as thereâs decent graze.â
Durham said nothing. His mind was awash with questions, the most bothersome one being how he was supposed to learn the purpose of this journey. If Slade and his outlaws ambushed the teamsters and seized the wagons, the most they could expect would be a few hundred dollarsâ worth of supplies. Of course, the mules and wagons would add to the spoils, but Durham suspected that Slade had in mind somethingfar more profitable. So far, Durham had been told nothing but the possible destination. For all he knew, this Collins was a Mormon, freighting supplies in for the winter, but there was something that didnât quite fit. When Durham had left Tennessee in 1855, St. Louis newspapers had been full of tales of difficulties with Mormons along the Oregon Trail. They were an independent, self-sufficient clan, inclined to have their own teams and wagons. Turning his mind back to Faro Duval and his teamster partners, it didnât seem likely they would have taken on loads of one-way freight through five hundred miles of desolate, mountainous terrain. Not unless there was more at stake than just teamster wages.
âBy God,â said Durham, under his breath, âSlade may just be right. Thereâs plenty I havenât been told, and much more than meets the eye.â
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Faro and his companions were up before dawn.
âOur last chance for town-cooked grub, gents,â Faro said, âbut we canât all go at the same time. Somebody must stay with the wagons.â
âIâm not hungry,â said Durham, remembering that the McCutcheon sisters were somewhere in town. âIâll stay with the wagons.â
âSo will I,â Levi Collins said. âIâve some last-minute business, and Iâll attend to that when I go eat.â
Collins sat down, his back to a wagon wheel, and