Page 9 of A Groom for Millie
Putting the chips in a velvet bag, he’d cash those out and that would be the money he traveled with. The rest would go into the bank where he could wire it to the next stop. Now, it was just a matter of figuring out where that stop would be. He slid the bills and coins into a linen sack and tucked it into the lining of his suit. Grabbing the velvet bag, he moved the chair and opened the door. The hall was empty.
He quickly walked down to the far end of the hall and took the second set of steps down to where Miss Marcy had her offices. Knocking on the door, he spied the saloon owner and another man.
Marcy turned around, “I’ll be with you in a moment.” She was an older woman, about Robert’s mother’s age. She wore a dress of the finest silk with black lace. Her dark hair was swept up in a knot at the top of her head.
The man in her office wore a long dark coat, brown pants, and worn leather boots. His hair was long, brushing below his shoulder. When he pulled his coat aside, Robert caught a glance of a silver star. Marcy turned back to the man standing in the office. “I think that is it, Marshal,” she said, closing the book in front of her.
“Thanks, Marcy,” the Marshal said, picking his hat off the corner of the desk. “Just be on the lookout for that Tyler fellow and let me know as soon as he comes to town.” Placing his hat on his head, he continued. “I’ll jail that man for causing the ruckus overnight. He can go in the morning once I get all his information.
Robert nodded to the Marshal as he moved into the hallway.
“Have a seat,” Marcy offered, pointing to a chair.
“Does the Marshal normally come in here?”
Marcy laughed. “Not normally. He wanted to let me know about some outlaws making their way around the gambling halls.” She crossed her arms over the ledger and leaned over towards Robert. “I heard you had a good night tonight.”
“Word travels fast.” Robert leaned the chair back on two legs and rocked slightly.
“My man came to tell me. Bart is going to spend the night in jail.”
“At least he has a place to sleep.” It didn’t matter to Robert what happened to the men after a game. He had his money and then moved on. He placed the velvet bag on the corner of her desk and noticed a newspaper. He picked it up and perused the front page. “I need to cash out,” he told her as he snapped open the paper.
“You leaving?”
Robert nodded. “Greener pastures are calling my name.”
Marcy scoffed. “Not in this area. It is nothing but snow, snow, and more snow.”
Robert laughed. “I’m taking the stage in the morning. Headed to Grand Platte, then I’ll see where I end up.”
“Must be quite a life. Traveling from town to town.” She picked up the sack and dumped the contents on her desk. Spreading out the wooden chips, she started sorting them into piles.
Robert shrugged his shoulders. “It’s been good so far.” There wasn’t much in the way of news. Mostly it was farming related with a few worthy stories tossed into fill the space. Robert flipped back to the front of the paper to check the date. The paper was from late October. It was nearly a month old.
There were two articles that captured his interest. There was a shoot-out in Kansas City. Apparently, the bank was robbed, several horses were stolen, and six men died. The leader, a Duke Tyler was on the lam and the marshals were trying to find him before it happened again. Robert checked out the date of the robbery and killings. It occurred three days after he left Kansas City. He said a little prayer of thanks that he wasn’t in town when it happened.
He folded the newspaper over and then over again, so he could read the second article. “Listen to this,” he said to Miss Marcy. “Small town survives despite losing most of the men”
“That’s Last Chance.”
“What an odd name for a town.”
“Last chance to get off the stage before it heads into Colorado or Wyoming.” She gave a little chuckle. “I find it rather funny.”
He scrolled over the article while Marcy counted his winnings. It appeared that most of the men in the town were on a hunting trip when a large blizzard came through. It killed off most of the men and livestock. The women, the article continued, had sent out an advertisement seeking husbands and now were just waiting for answers to their plea. Robert snorted.
Husbands.
What kind of town puts an advertisement in the paper for husbands?
He’d have better odds finding someone to marry Bart Carson’s horse.
Where he came from in the East, women were refined. He’d seen the women in the west.
He noticed the further west he traveled; the women were homely. Most of the women he had seen had skin tougher than leather and callouses on their hands from working.
He’d keep going to San Francisco. At least the big city would have a more civilized population of ladies.
