James forced his mouth into something resembling a smile, though every instinct screamed at him to push past Bill and keep searching. “That’s kind of you, Bill, but we’re actually?—”
“Nonsense!” Bill clapped a heavy hand on James’s shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. The walking sticks slipped on the wooden floor, and Robert’s hand shot out to steady him. “You boys worked hard on that hay. Let me show my appreciation.”
The stench of whiskey rolled off Bill, and his eyes held that glassy brightness that came with being several drinks past sober. The smell grew even worse when he leaned in. “‘Sides, got me a windfall today. Biggest payday I’ve seen in years.”
The words slid ice down James’s spine. A windfall. A big payday. Like the fifty-dollar reward Vincent offered for information about Rose?
He tightened his grip on the walking sticks, fighting to keep his expression neutral despite the sick dread pooling in his gut. “That so? What kind of windfall?”
Bill’s eyes went unfocused a moment, then he shook his head with exaggerated care. “Oh, you know. Just some work that paid better than expected.”
“What kind of work?” Robert’s voice came out casual, but James heard the edge beneath it.
“This and that.” Bill waved a wild hand toward the bar, nearly taking out the man passing by behind him. “Come on, let me buy you boys a drink. Nelson’s got some decent whiskey in tonight.”
James tightened his jaw. Every second spent playing games with this drunk ranch hand was another second Rose remained in danger. But pushing too hard might make Bill suspicious, might make him clam up entirely if he did know something.
“Appreciate the offer, Bill.” He shifted his weight on the walking sticks, trying to ease the pressure on his throbbing leg. “But we’re actually looking for someone. A woman with red hair, green eyes. She might have come through town this afternoon.”
Bill’s expression didn’t change, but something flicked in his unfocused gaze—too quick to read, gone so quick, it might not have actually been there.
“Red hair, you say?” Bill scratched his whiskered jaw, swaying a little. “Can’t say I’ve seen anyone like that. Then again, been in here since—” He paused, squinting as though trying to remember. “Since noon, maybe? Time gets away from a man when Nelson’s pouring generous.”
The words should have brought relief. If Bill had been drinking since noon, he couldn’t have been the one to spot Rose and turn her in to Vincent. But the sick feeling in James’s gut only intensified. Someone else could have seen her. Could have recognized her from Vincent’s description and collected that reward.
“You know a man named Vincent Dunhill?” Robert’s question cut through the noise of the saloon.
Bill blinked, and his gaze shifted between the three of them. “Who?”
“Dunhill.” Robert moved closer, his voice dropping low enough that the surrounding noise wouldn’t cover their conversation. “City fellow. Maybe asking questions around town.”
Bill’s brow furrowed, his alcohol-fogged mind clearly struggling to process the description. He swayed again, catching himself against a nearby table. “Dunhill? That a first name or last?”
“Last name.” James forced the words past the tightness in his throat. “Vincent Dunhill. Tall fellow, well-dressed. Looks like he’s from back east.”
Recognition didn’t dawn on Bill’s face. The man just shook his head, his movements exaggerated and sloppy. “Nope. Don’t know no Dunhill.”
“He the fellow who looks like he’s from the big city and thinks too highly of himself?” A voice cut through from somewhere behind them.
James turned to the speaker, his leg screaming in protest. A lean man in miner’s clothes sat at a poker table behind them, a half-empty glass in his hand. “I passed him riding out of town an hour ago.”
The words twisted inside him. Vincent had been here. In Walnut Springs. And now he was gone.
With Rose?
The thought sent panic clawing up his throat. “Which direction was he headed?”
“Northwest, I think. Toward that main pass that goes to the Mullan road.” The miner scratched his jaw, his eyes narrowing in thought.
“Did he have anyone with him?” James had to hold himself back from gripping the man’s shirt and hauling the answers out of him. “The man you saw. Was he alone?”
The miner’s brow furrowed. “Looked to be alone, far as I could tell. Though I only saw him for a minute or two when our paths crossed on the trail.”
Alone. Vincent had been alone when he’d left town.
Relief flooded through him. If Vincent had found Rose, he would have her with him. Unless?—
Unless Vincent had stashed her somewhere. Left her tied up while he rode ahead to…what? Scout the route? Make arrangements?
