“Not today, sir,” Tripp said, all friendly about it.
Henry just ignored the man and kept walking. How much money did hardware stores keep in the till?
Not enough. He needed an exciting job, something to turn these men from a passel of shiftless drifters into a gang of hardened desperados.
Knocking over a hardware store for a pocketful of pennies wouldn’t do that.
He needed a big job. More money. Something to get them fired up.
That’s what he needed. But right now, what he wanted was a closer look at this woman with the blond hair.
“There she is,” Tripp said and pointed out the back door to where the woman and the tall man stood, talking to Tim Blye, who worked here.
Henry went out there, pretended interest in a keg of nails, and snuck a glance at the woman.
She had her back to him, so he couldn’t see her face, but he sure could see the rest of her, including that honey-colored hair where it wasn’t covered by her bonnet. She wore a pale blue dress. It was modest, of course. The best-looking women always covered themselves up, but he could still see she had a figure to die for. Wasn’t no dress in the world could hide that.
The tall man turned then, as if he sensed Henry looking at his wife.
But if that was the case, the man sure was friendly about it.
He smiled and nodded.
Henry nodded back, irritated as much by the man’s face as his great height and broad shoulders. Because he was handsome, too, despite a big scar that ran down one cheek, with a square jaw and a straight nose and gray eyes.
Which made Henry even angrier, even though he didn’t waste any time wondering why.
Then the man turned his attention back to Blye, who handed him a sheet of paper and said, “All right, Mr. Sullivan, you take that in to Mr. Diems, and he’ll get you all set up.”
“Any idea when you can make delivery?” Sullivan asked in a deep voice.
“Should be just a few days is all,” Blye said. “And that’s good. You’ll want to get a roof on that barn before the snow comes down from Mt. Sherman.”
Sullivan nodded. “We’ll get the barn up, roof and all, before the snow flies.”
“Well, I like your spirit, Mr. Sullivan,” Blye said, “but I do wish I could deliver sooner. This is Colorado. You never know when the next storm’s coming.”
Sullivan smiled. “A few days is fine. It’ll give us time to finish prepping the site and dig our postholes. Besides, Mary and I haven’t spent much time in town, so we were looking forward to doing some shopping and maybe trying one of your restaurants instead of working today.”
“That’s nice,” Blye said. “If you’re open to suggestions, I would recommend you folks try the Barton Inn. They’re a little pricey, but their food is the best I’ve had this side of the Mississippi.”
“Well, then, we’ll just have to try the Barton Inn,” Sullivan said. “Thank you, sir, for the recommendation.”
“Yes,” Mary Sullivan said, speaking at last, and her voice was nearly as angelic as her face, which Henry finally saw as she and her husband followed Blye back into the building, probably to pay for the lumber before going out on the town.
Seeing her beautiful face with its big blue eyes and rosy cheeks filled Henry with sick heat. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Anywhere. Even back east. Even in New York.
“Golly,” Tripp said, shaking his head after the woman had disappeared back inside. “Some guys get all the luck, huh?”
“Until their luck runs out.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t worry about it. Come on. I want another look at her.”
He went inside and picked up a length of pipe in case anybody asked what he wanted. Then he got up close to where the Sullivans were standing at the counter.
“We’re south of town on the Cody Road just below Joe Jacobs’s place,” Sullivan said.
