Milo Talon Read Free Page B

I’d taken a man’s money and I meant to do the job he paid me for, but there were questions for which I needed answers.
    It was not unlikely in this country, which some considered wild, that such a man as Jefferson Henry might have a bodyguard. If he was truly looking for land he would need someone who knew the country. More than likely the man in the car was a railroad detective, but that was not necessarily so. Nor was there any reason I should have been informed of his presence. Nobody had said we were alone nor was Jefferson Henry making a secret of his search.
    To find a girl missing for twelve years might sound impossible in such an area of fluctuating populations. First, I must find a point of departure.
    Her father was supposed to be dead, but was he? And what had become of the mother? If I knew something of her I might find a lead. If her husband did die, might she not return to relatives? Or to some familiar place?
    The West might seem a place to lose oneself but actually such was not the case. People rarely traveled alone, and travelers must deal with others for shelter, for food, clothing, or transportation. People talked, and destinations were commonly discussed in the search for information about conditions, trails, waterholes.
    The Pinkertons were shrewd operatives accustomed to inquiries, and some of their operatives had come from the West, but did they know the country and its people as I did?
    The ranching couple left the restaurant, and then the drummer arose, tried to catch the girl’s eye and failed, then walked out.
    Suddenly, turning toward me ever so slightly, the girl spoke, very softly. “Sir? Please, will you help me?”
    “What can I do?”
    The railroad men were leaving and one of them lingered, glancing my way. He hesitated, then walked out. Something in that glance and the hesitation fixed my attention. He acted as if he wished to speak to me.
    Why?
    “My supper, sir. I am very sorry but I cannot pay for it. I was very hungry.”
    “It would be my pleasure.”
    Her situation disturbed me. The West was a hard place for a woman alone and without funds. After a moment I asked, “You are passing through?”
    “I was, sir, but I have no more money. I must find work.”
    “Here?”
There was nothing in such a place for a decent girl. There were not sixty people in the town.
    “I—I had to get away. I just bought a ticket as far as I could go. I thought surely—”
    Being a fool with money would be no fresh experience. Despite the fact she was overdressed for the town, there was a freshness and innocence about her. She had all the skittishness of a deserted fawn who doesn’t know whether to run or stay. And there was something about her that I immediately liked. That she was pretty undoubtedly helped, but there was a firmness about her chin that I admired.
    “Have you no family?”
    This time I believe she lied. “No, sir.”
    “I am going to give you some money. You might find a job in Denver, in Santa Fe, or some larger town. There is nothing here—” An idea came to me as I spoke.
    “I wish to stay. I like it here.”
    Here?
What was there here to like? It was a mere station on the railroad, a cattle-shipping point for nearby ranchers with sidetracks and loading pens, a few scattered places of business and the homes of their owners. It was a bleak, lonely place, bitter cold in the winter, hot and dry in the summer, windy all the time.
    “I will give you one hundred dollars,” I said. As I spoke I was thinking what a fool I was. That was three months’ work for a cowhand.
    She flushed. “Sir, I—”
    “I said
give
. If you wish it can be a loan. This is a dead end. There’s nothing here for anyone unless they have cattle to ship.” The thought of a moment ago returned. “Unless German Schafer can use you. He might need a waitress.”
    What of Maggie, the absent owner? What would she have to say about that?
    Taking five gold pieces from my pocket, I reached across to her