“Well, I might not have had as much excitement, but I did learn a thing or two while I was away,” Nick said.
“Really? What’s that?”
“One of the men I found was planning on heading down to San Trista to meet up with the fellow offering those jobs.”
“So we’re not too late?”
“We’re cutting it close, but we should make it.”
Joseph nodded. “That is good news.”
“Here’s some even better news.” Nick grinned and leaned forward as if he was afraid one of the rabbits in the shadows near the camp would overhear him. “This same fellow’s already gotten word from San Trista that there’s only one or two men waiting there to round up whatever men answer the call.”
“Then we might as well head straight for that ranch, since that’s where folks are going to be in real danger.”
“On the contrary, I think we should get to San Trista as soon as we possibly can.”
Joseph looked at Nick’s face, but still could not figure out what was causing the excitement on it. “All right, I give up. Why should we go there just for one or two of that gang and a few locals?”
“Because those locals are the gang’s backup. If we can swing in there and take out at least those two that are waiting for them, the rest will be cut loose altogether. Remember that signal our friend on the Silver Gorge trail told us about?”
“Yeah.”
“I’d bet everything I’ve got that those two men waiting at San Trista won’t tell the others about that signal until it’s absolutely necessary. Hell, they might not even tell them about it when they get there. What’re a few whistles if you don’t know any better?”
Suddenly, Joseph’s eyes widened as a look of understanding flashed across his face. “This would be like cutting off a supply line.”
Nick nodded and leaned back again. “Exactly!”
“That’s actually pretty smart. It’s a good thing you’re here. I think I’m starting to lose my nerve.”
“Why do you think that?” Nick asked. “Because you didn’t leave a pile of bodies in that saloon?”
“No. Well…maybe not a pile of them.”
“But a few would have been nice?”
Joseph shook his head and looked away, but it was clear that Nick had hit close to the mark. “I guess those just weren’t the men I wanted to see.”
“Well, don’t worry about that. It sounds like we’ll be meeting up with them soon enough.”
With Joseph leading the way, the short ride to San Trista soon became a race between their two horses. Although he’d started out in the lead, Joseph eventually found Kazys nipping at his heels. The older horse had built up a head of steam and ran past Joseph so quickly that his horse shied away.
It took Nick a few miles to rein in Kazys and slow Joseph down as well. By the time the small settlement known as San Trista came into view, both animals were chomping at the bit to keep the race going. They weren’t the only anxious ones.
“What’s the matter?” Joseph asked as Nick slowed to a stop a fair distance from the shacks in front of them. “That looks like the place up ahead.”
“And it won’t be going anywhere,” Nick assured him. “Unlike the men who could bolt from there at a moment’s notice if they don’t like the way we’re riding up on them.”
“There’s only two or three buildings over there. You think there’s a way we can sneak up on them? Hell, they probably already saw us coming.”
“Which is why we shouldn’t look like we’re out to stampede over them. Think for a second.”
Although he wasn’t too happy about it, Joseph finally had to nod. “I guess I see your point.”
“Good.”
“So what are we going to do?”
Nick leaned forward in his saddle toward the small cluster of shacks. Squinting at the crooked buildings, he said, “I can only see a few horses there. Could be the men from Perro Negro, or it could be the ones waiting for stragglers.”
“I say we ride up like we’re looking for work, just like we did at those saloons.”
“Now you’re thinking. This time, though, let me do the talking.”
The town was made up of a run-down general store and a pair of shacks, which were probably home to whoever owned the store. The two men were only thirty or forty yards away from the store when someone came outside, looked in their direction and went back in.
“I don’t like the looks of this,” Nick said.
“Why? What happened?”
“I think he recognized us.”
Narrowing his eyes to angry slits, Joseph checked the guns under his belt and said, “Let’s get moving.”
Before Nick could say anything for or against the plan, Joseph was carrying it out. Nick kept alongside Joseph, watching for any hint of movement around the store.
By the time Nick and Joseph rode up to the storefront, its inhabitants were noisily pushing open its rattling doors. Boots stomped against the ground as men rushed outside.
When Joseph saw George among the men coming out to meet him, the color drained from his face and his voice dropped to a barely audible tone. “I’ll be damned,” he said.
George was with two other men and all three of them were armed. In fact, all three of them had their guns up before Joseph’s surprised statement was out of his mouth. However, it was Nick’s modified Schofield that sent the initial clap of thunder through the air.
The man to George’s left had a wiry frame and a quick gun hand. He was so quick that his trigger was halfway pulled when Nick’s round caught him in the upper chest. The impact of the bullet took the wiry gunman off his feet as his finger jerked around the trigger. His shot went straight into the ground.
The gunman standing to George’s right was barrel-chested and a bit longer in the tooth. He took his time in drawing and firing a shot. If Nick hadn’t already started swinging down from his saddle, he might very well have caught the incoming round. As it was, the bullet hissed over his head and barely caused Kazys to twitch an ear.
Even though George had drawn his gun, he had yet to pull the trigger. It seemed that the frightened young man wasn’t even thinking about firing when he caught the brunt of his former employer’s vicious stare.
“Where the hell are you going?” Joseph snarled as George backed away. He nearly stumbled over the planking in front of the general store in his haste to get back inside. The barrel-chested gunman took a quick glance, but he had a full plate already, since Nick was still intent on using his Schofield.
As Nick moved forward, he took in the scene as if he was admiring it from afar. His eyes calmly darted from one spot to another, watching for any additional threats while keeping track of the ones already in front of him. His arm remained extended and he stopped firing once he saw his target drop behind a stack of old crates piled up near the store.
“Joseph, watch out!” Nick shouted when he spotted Joseph headed straight for the store.
But Joseph did not seem to care that he was heading toward the other gunman. Joseph’s only concern was George inside.
Although he couldn’t see the barrel-chested gunman, Nick had no trouble figuring out the man’s intentions. As Joseph was about to pass the crates where the gunman was hiding, Nick shot his last two rounds through the dirty wooden boxes. Dust exploded from the splintering wood and Joseph stormed through it on his way to the door.
Nick kept his eyes on those crates as he went through the well-practiced motions of reloading his gun. Holding the pistol in his left hand, he plucked spare bullets from his gun belt using his right little finger and flipped them into his palm. He slid each round slid into the cylinder, transferred the pistol to his right hand and shut it with a snap of his wrist.
Before Nick could do anything else, the crates were knocked over as the barrel-chested gunman stormed toward him. He still was too busy reloading to take a shot. After snapping the cylinder shut, the stocky man balled up his fist and drove it into Nick’s mid
section.
“I hear you’re the one that killed J. D.,” the gunman snarled as Nick doubled over and let out a pained grunt. “Fucking gravedigger shot him in the back. J. D. was my friend.”
Nick struggled to straighten up, but wasn’t even able to draw a breath. He was surprised to find that he still had his gun in his hand.
The bigger man seized him by the throat and pressed his gun barrel against the top of Nick’s head. As soon as the iron touched his skull, Nick’s instincts took over. He flattened his left hand and shot it straight up, catching the gunman’s wrist and forcing his pistol into the air. The gunman’s finger snagged against the trigger, sending a shot above their heads, as Nick fired a bullet of his own into the gunman’s foot.
It was the only shot that Nick could take that had no chance of missing. Hot lead drilled through the top of the gunman’s boot and foot, and dug several inches into the ground beneath it. The instant he saw the man’s wounded leg jerk up reflexively, Nick leaned forward and knocked the him on his ass.
The man landed with a heavy thump and let out a surprised grunt. His wounded foot stayed in the same spot, while his gun arm splayed out over his head. His eyes focused on Nick standing directly over him, the modified Schofield aimed directly at the outlaw’s face.
“Be smart and toss the gun,” Nick warned.
The man glared up at him and swore under his breath. He surprised the hell out of Nick by doing exactly what he was told.
TWENTY-SIX
George stumbled through the general store, knocking blankets off their tables and tipping over barrels of flour along the way. He had a gun in his hand, but had forgotten all about it as he strove to distance himself from the door.
“What’s going on out there?” the silver-haired store owner swhouted. “I thought you men were leaving!”
“Shut up,” George snapped. “Just shut up!”
A moment later, the door swung open again and Joseph stomped inside. He, too, seemed to have forgotten about his gun. In his case, however, it wasn’t because of panic.
“Who’re you?” the old man asked. “Jesus, how many more are there?”
Joseph ignored the store’s owner completely as he lunged straight for his former ranch hand.
George’s efforts to move away were blocked by a table stacked high with brushes and blocks of soap. His back knocked against the edge of the table, and he pushed himself on top of it so he could scuttle backwards over it.
“Trying to run off again, Georgie?” Joseph said, knowing how much the younger man hated to be called that. “Or are you just trying to set up another party in my honor?”
George swung his arm around, preparing to finally fire his gun. In his haste to be rid of Joseph, he pulled his trigger way too early and his wild shot hit one of the store’s glass display cases.
“God dammit!” the owner shouted as he fixed his distraught eyes upon the shattered case.
Joseph remained focused upon George. He lifted his gun and took a shot, which caught the ranch hand in the hip. Joseph kept moving forward until he was close enough to grab hold of George’s shirt. “You son of a bitch! You’re the one that killed my family!”
George’s eyes grew wide and he wildly shook his head. “No! No! I didn’t fire a shot that night!”
“But you got everyone out of there so those bastards could ride right in! You watched as my wife was killed! You watched my little girl die!”
George’s mouth flapped open and shut as he tried desperately to say something in his defense. When he heard the shots being fired outside, George remembered the gun in his own hand. He tried to take aim, but Joseph slammed the handle of his gun into George’s wrist.
The slender bones of his hand snapped on impact and George let out a high, feminine scream.
“You!” Joseph snarled as he pounded his gun down once more in the same spot. “You let them kill my family!” With tears burning his eyes, Joseph brought the gun up, pointed it at George’s eye and stared down its barrel.
Not only was George crying, he was sobbing. It was a pathetic mix of pain, fear and regret as he slowly shook his head while muttering, “I didn’t know it would be like that, I swear. I thought they’d just take your herd.”
“You told them about the money I was saving.”
“I saw you take some money into your study and told them about it. I thought I knew where it was hid, but…I didn’t know they’d treat An—”
“Don’t,” Joseph snapped, “say…her…name.”
George was still shaking his head as the last shot from outside faded away. “I wouldn’t have done any of it if I knew, Mister Van Meter. You gotta believe me. You folks were good folks. Anne was so nice to me. Laurie was the cutest—”
He was interrupted by a single shot from Joseph’s gun.
That shot roared through the store just as Nick pushed the side door open. He stepped into the store with his gun drawn, taking in what was going on. “How many are here?” he asked the old store owner.
“Just them two. Jesus, they destroyed my new cases!”
Seeing Joseph staring down at George, Nick pointed his gun at the ranch hand and slowly stepped forward. He felt the anger poring from Joseph in waves. Approaching him then was like inching up to a rattler that already had its fangs bared. When he saw the smoke pouring from Joseph’s barrel, Nick knew he was too late.
“Don’t say their names,” Joseph whispered to the dead man beneath him. “I told you not to say their names.”
Holstering his gun, Nick reached out to carefully place a hand on Joseph’s shoulder. Joseph swung his gun around reflexively.
“It’s just me,” Nick said. “It’s over. They’re all gone.”
Joseph looked around in a daze and lowered his gun.
“Get some supplies so we’re set for the next couple of days,” Nick said. “In fact, get as much as we can carry. We’ll need to move fast.”
Seeing the recognition in Joseph’s eyes, Nick knew that the man’s reasoning had come back to him. He then grabbed George by the collar and belt so he could heft the dead weight over his shoulder. For Nick, carrying the body was just another day at work, and he lugged the corpse outside while Joseph started gathering up food.
Outside, the gunman Nick had left flopped onto his belly and began inching toward the gun that he’d tossed. His hands were tied behind him and his ankles were bound, forcing him to move like a caterpillar. He could hear the rusty hinges squeaking and the thump of heavy footsteps behind him, but kept inching his way on the ground while straining his wrists against the ropes.
Suddenly, the footsteps came to a stop. Next, the unlucky gunman heard the heavy crash of something being dropped in front of him. He had to pull his head back a bit to get a look at what it was. “Jesus Christ!” the gunman hollered when he saw the gaping hole in George’s head.
Nick squatted down beside the body he’d dropped. “There’s one of your friends,” he said. Grabbing the gunman’s hair and wrenching his head around to face the first corpse, he added, “And there’s the other. If you want to keep from joining them, you’d best tell me how many men you and George hired on.”
“Four,” the outlaw replied. There was no fear in his voice. Instead, there was just resignation. “They already rode ahead to meet up with the rest.”
“Where at?”
“Some ranch named the Busted Wheel. It’s about twenty miles or so from here, due south.”
“You’re a cooperative sort.”
“What the hell I got to lose? If you were gonna gun me down, you wouldn’t have trussed me up like a goddamn steer.”
Nick studied the bigger man’s face and then nodded. “All right.”
When he saw Nick walk over to pick up the gun that had been tossed away, he asked, “Ain’t you gonna untie me?”
“Nope.”
The gunman was still grousing outside when Nick poked his head into the store. “You got a firearm, old man?”
The store owner
looked around as if he didn’t know whom Nick was addressing. He then pumped his head up and down. “’Course I do. I ain’t stupid enough to make a move against armed killers, though.”
“How many of them were here?” Nick asked.
Scrunching his eyebrows thoughtfully, the old man replied, “Them three you already met and four more. There were a few others who came by a few days ago, but that was just to conduct some business.”
“What kind of business?” Nick asked carefully.
The store owner nodded toward a narrow hallway behind his counter. Standing there, huddled together, were three women in various stages of undress. They appeared to be a little frightened, but curious nonetheless. “That kind of business,” the old man said.
“You run a whorehouse as well?”
“And sell liquor. This is the only store for miles, so’s I figure on taking advantage. I just hope to hell those bastards don’t kill the girls I sent out to them camps when they hear about what happened back here.”
“When are they due back?” Nick asked.
“Tomorrow. Maybe I should bring them back sooner, though.”
Nick blinked a few times and glanced back to Joseph. When he looked back to the old man, he said, “We might just be able to help you with that.”
“How?”
“We’ll go and make sure they get back here without you or anyone else having to risk yourselves.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because that way you can forget it was us who shot these men and you can let anyone who asks know that we’re just working for you.”
The old man squinted at Nick carefully as his face slowly pinched up. “You ain’t the law. Are you bounty hunters?”
“We want to get close to those killers,” Joseph said. “That’s all you need to know.”
Finally, the old man shrugged and said, “Fine. If you can get my girls back, that’s all I care about. You two sure got a better chance of walking into them camps and getting out alive than me and the kid who normally runs my whores. You make it back and I’ll even forget about the damage you caused to my place. It ain’t gonna cover the cost of all that food and supplies you’re takin’.”
Man From Boot Hill Page 16