“Yes,” Mary said. “They look very much like some of the coins those men stole last night.”
“That’s what I figured,” the marshal said. “Each of the dead men had two coins on him. Well, not Danny. Whoever shot him took his. But the three you killed, Mr. Sullivan, they were each toting a pair of these coins. I suppose they’re yours, but…”
“They’re Mary’s,” Conn said. “Thank you for recovering them.”
“I just wish I’d recovered all of them,” the marshal said. “My guess is Toole kept the lion’s share. Whatever the case, those boys you killed didn’t have much else on them.” He dug in his pocket and came back out with a few small coins and a broken pocket watch, which he handed to Conn.
“I’ll put it toward breakfast,” Conn said, laying it on the table.
“There’s guns and horses and various odds and ends, too. Knives, boots. The one fella had a pair of eyeglasses on him.”
“You know anybody who can use the glasses, they can have them. Same goes for the boots.”
“That’s mighty charitable of you,” the marshal said. “If you want, I’ll sell the rest and set aside the money for you.”
Conn shook his head. “I’ll take care of it.”
“All right.”
“How much are undertaker fees?”
The marshal looked relieved. “Thanks for asking, Mr. Sullivan.”
“I won’t pay for Danny Bump,” Conn said. “Not my bullet, not my bill.”
“No, sir. For the other three, that’ll come to ten dollars.”
Conn nodded, figuring that was fair enough, and paid the marshal.
He was already running low on money, and after he stocked up for the trail, he would be running very low, indeed.
So be it. That was trouble for later.
17
After breakfast, Conn rented Mary a room. He paid for a week up front and had given her enough money that she could stay on for a long time if she wanted.
He hoped, however, that her family would take her back with them sooner than that.
Toward that end, he took her to the telegraph station next.
Bill Sheffield excused himself and said he’d see Conn at noon.
“He seems like a good man,” Mary said.
“Yes,” Conn said, as they neared the telegraph station. “Do you have family close by?”
“Not far,” she said. “My father and brothers are down on the Arkansas River about ninety miles from here. Ever hear of Cañon City?”
“Isn’t there a prison down there?”
“Yes, but not just a prison. It’s a nice town.”
Conn nodded. “I’ve ridden through there. Pretty country.”
“It is.”
“Where’s the closest train to there?”
