Cobb finished his coffee, set his cup down on the desk. His lips vibrated as he blew out a breath. “Have it your way, but we both know they’ll be coming for you. It might be better if you have someone watching your back. It can’t be the Davis boys or Max Salter. I know from what Jem’s said that he doesn’t have a good sense about what might be going on at your place. I’d guess that’s true for all of them. You think about that, Longstreet, on your ride home, and keep looking over your shoulder. It won’t surprise me at all to learn those men jumped the train somewhere between here and Cheyenne since that’s the direction they came from. It’ll have been somewhere close to where they left their horses and guns and gear.”
Morgan’s features remained impassive as Cobb paused to let his words settle. He said nothing.
“I’ll ask some questions, find out what happened to them after they boarded, and I’ll let you know because that’s my job, not because I think I owe you for coming to me in the first place.”
Morgan put down his cup and reached for his gloves. He stood slowly. “Don’t ride out alone with your information, Bridger. In fact, it’d be better if you don’t ride out at all. If it’s the Wellings, now that they know what you look like, they won’t pass on an opportunity to kill you. The best thing you can do until this sorts itself out is to look over your own shoulder.”
Jane sat with Max and Jake at the kitchen table. She had made a pot of coffee for them. She was drinking tea. At her elbow was a battered green tin half-full of gingersnaps. More gingersnaps were in a pile equidistant from the three of them. In addition to the pile in the middle, they were each guarding short stacks of gingersnaps with their forearms.
Jane was learning to play poker. Max and Jake were trying to eat each other’s chips.
“Now,” said Jane, “if I have five cards almost in sequence and not in the same suit, is that worth anything?”
“It’s worth folding,” Jake said. He tried to lean in toward Jane to get a glimpse of her cards, but she pulled them close to her chest. He feigned a wounded, innocent look. “I was trying to see if I could advise you.”
“Sure you were.” Jane stole a glance at her cards again. She waved Jake’s hand away as his fingers walked slowly toward her winnings and addressed Max. “I will have one card, please.” She placed her discard on the table.
“Are you certain, ma’am? Just one?”
“Yes.”
Max peeled a card off the top of the deck and slid it toward her. “I don’t think you’re gettin’ the hang of this, if you don’t mind me sayin’.”
“If that’s true, then why do I have more cookies in front of me than either of you?”
“Well, we’re eatin’ each other’s for one thing, and you’re sneakin’ them out of the tin when you think we’re not lookin’.”
Laughter tickled Jane’s lips as she tried to hold it back. She picked up the card Max gave her, looked at it long and carefully, and then closed her hand. She picked up a stack of four cookies and added them to the middle. “I call.”
“Three snaps is a call,” said Jake. “Four is a call and raise.”
“All right. That is what I will do.”
Max folded, but Jake stayed in. “Let’s see what you have, ma’am.”
Jane was halfway to revealing her hand when her head snapped up. She tossed her cards on the table and jumped to her feet. “I hear something. They’re back.”
She had not taken a full step from the table when Max put out a restraining arm.
“Let me look first.” He cocked his head as he stepped in front of her. “I think you’re right, but this is one of those times no one should be wrong.”
Behind Jane, Jake Davis was also on his feet. He edged toward the window and tried to see out. Until the lantern light appeared, all he saw was his own reflection in the glass. “It’s them,” he said as Max began to open the door. “That’s Jem holding up the lantern. He’s got the whitest damned teeth. Sorry, ma’am, but it’s God’s honest truth about his teeth.”
Jane was hardly listening. Once she knew it was Morgan returned to her, she squeezed past Max and ran out the door.
Jake jutted his chin toward the yard. “Bet she’s gonna kick my little brother’s ass.”
Chuckling, Max held the door open for Jake and they followed Jane as she sprinted toward the barn.
Morgan was dismounting when Jane caught up with him. She appeared so suddenly that he had no opportunity to hide his grimace or pretend his groan was anything but what was. She had a sharp look for him, but a sharper one for Jem. It faded quickly enough, replaced by genuine concern as she took in the extent of Jem’s injuries.
With the skill of an old cowhand, she cut the two of them away from the others and herded them up to the house. Jake, Jessop, and Max were left to take care of the horses.
Jem was obliged to sit at the kitchen table and suffer Jane’s ministrations. He protested a few times, but every one of those was for form’s sake. He was quick to turn the other cheek, even when she was applying astringent. Every once in a while, she would put some pressure on a particularly tender spot, and Jem would wince mightily. That’s when she would give him a gingersnap.
When Jane was done, she sat back and examined Jem’s face with the critical and objective eye of an artist. She studied her work, not the battered and bruised features of her subject, and concluded she had done her best by him. She gave him another cookie and sent him on his way.
Morgan, who had been standing with his back to the warm stove, took a seat at the table when Jem was gone. “You are diabolical.”
