“I’d always like to think I’m useful. Men in my profession strive to serve a good purpose.”
“Serving on a posse ain’t close to anything I’ve ever heard about men in your profession. Of course,” Sprole continued, “this ain’t exactly a proper posse and these ain’t exactly normal circumstances. You strike me as a capable fellow, so I went along with it. Then tonight you surprise me by proving to be someone we can count on out here in the middle of nowhere.”
Knowing there was plenty more to follow, Paul accepted that little compliment with a silent nod.
“I was surprised again when you started shooting like some kind of blind fool who’s never pulled a trigger before.” Holding his hand up when he saw Paul start to say something, Sprole quickly added, “And spare me the talk about being a simple, godly man who never hurts a fly. I make my living off sizing other folks up in as little time as possible. Being accurate in that regard can make the difference between living and dying. While I may not agree when you say you want to catch up to Terrigan to talk some sense into him, I still believe you. I also believe that there’s a lot more to you than what you say or what you wear when you put on that white collar or them strings around your neck.”
Paul reflexively reached for the spot where his preaching tabs would hang from either side of his collar on special occasions or when he was leading his congregation.
“Just about anyone would have gotten rattled when all the shooting started back at that hotel,” Sprole continued. “But you . . . you kept from tearing out of there in a panic. You even managed to step in and capture one of them killers alive. I only wish I could have been there to see how you brought that poor devil down.”
“It wasn’t pretty.”
“Oh, I’ll have to disagree with that. So you wound up here tonight and when another moment came for you to step up, you froze. After standing toe-to-toe with a man who wants to put a bullet into you, firing a rifle from a distance should have been simple.”
“Neither was simple,” Paul said.
“What about firing on one of your own men?” Sprole asked. “How simple was that?”
“That . . . was a mistake. Like I told you, I couldn’t see much in the shadows once Sheriff Noss and that other fellow rode off.”
Sprole’s eyes narrowed again and he shook his head. “Nah. I doubt a man like you makes mistakes. At least, none that are so downright stupid.”
“I’m only human.”
“And . . . like most humans . . . you got a plan in mind.” Backing up a step, Sprole said, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone from an outlaw to a lawman to an old man on his deathbed all the way down to a kid that hasn’t grown into his britches has got some sort of plan running through their head. When I see you fire against the wrong man not once but twice, it makes me wonder what sort of plan you got in mind.”
“It was dark. It still is dark. How was I supposed to make out who was who?”
“Then you should have held your fire,” Sprole said. “But you didn’t. That means you’re either stupid, sympathizing with them outlaws, or you had something else in mind.”
Paul let out a heavy sigh. “Are you going to make me say it?”
“Yes.”
“It wouldn’t do anyone any good if both of those outlaws were captured here tonight. One had to get away so he could lead us the rest of the way.”
“And there it is,” Sprole said with a victorious grin. “Every man’s got a plan rattling around in his head.”
“And what would you have rather done?” Paul asked, trying his best to keep from being heard all the way back at the camp. Sheriff Noss seemed to be finishing up with his prisoner, and both men had to have been exhausted, but Paul didn’t want to gamble that they weren’t paying attention to what was going on. He turned his back to the camp and dropped his voice to a fierce whisper. “If none of those men made it to meet up with the rest of the gang, Terrigan and any of the others in Raynor would probably have just moved along.”
“You don’t know that for certain.”
“Maybe not, but it makes sense. And even if they did stay around for a while, what do you think they’d do once these two turn up missing and then a lawman comes riding into town asking a bunch of questions?”
“You’re assuming the good sheriff would be noticed at all,” Sprole pointed out.
“Raynor isn’t a big place. He’ll be noticed. And when he is, those outlaws will either slip away or wait for the best moment to face him head-on. You’re the one who’s been tracking Terrigan this far. You tell me which you think would happen.”
Sprole closed his eyes. When he opened them again, many of the miles he’d ridden over the last day seemed to catch up with him all at once. “It’s hard to say how well he’ll fare even if he gets the drop on Terrigan.”
“So our best bet is to at least let one of those men loose so they can show us the way to Terrigan. Raynor may be a small place, but we don’t know where to go once we get there.”
Drawing a slim knife from his boot and flipping it from one hand to another, Sprole said, “Oh, I believe I could have convinced one of them to let us know where they were supposed to meet up with Terrigan.”
“I don’t want any part of torture.”
“You’d rather have a hand in whatever damage that Price fellow may do between here and Raynor? He’s a desperate man now, on the run with the hounds nipping at his heels. Could be he’s twice as dangerous as he was before.”
“And it could also be that he’s sloppy and panicked enough to play right into our hands,” Paul said.
“You’re making it sound like you’re really going to be out there in front when the lead starts to fly.”
“I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”
“Sure,” Sprole replied. “But that’s only because you’ve slithered along like some lizard stuck to our boots. And that brings me to what I’ve really wanted to ask you about.”
“You mean there’s more?” Paul sighed. “Aren’t you getting tired of raking me over the coals?”
“Not until you answer for the things that outlaw was saying to you when I brought the sheriff back to camp.”
“What are you talking about now? If you’ve got a point to make, I’d like you to just make it so I can get some sleep.”
“The way he was talking, it sounded as if he truly owed you for something.”
“Some folks are grateful for the comfort I can provide,” Paul said.
“No, that one was talking like you truly did something for him. Something you didn’t want to talk about.” Sprole glanced back at the camp, where the sheriff was securing one end of a rope to the trunk of a tree before looping the other end around the chain between Wes’s ankles. “Now, I didn’t hear everything you two were saying, but it sure didn’t sound like the kind of talk I might expect after he thought highly enough of you to confess his sins.”
“You’d be amazed how quickly and frequently folks will change their attitudes when it comes down to practicing what I preach.”
“You’re a real fast talker, Padre. It’s no wonder you managed to talk your way onto this posse when you’ve got no good reason for being out here. Come to think of it, you’re so talented that I don’t even feel bad for going along with such a harebrained plan either. After all, there’s no shame in losing to a better man. I just want to tell you that I know what you’re up to.”
“Really?” Paul mused. “And what might that be?”
“You’re not just some preacher trying to do right by your God. And you’re most definitely not some concerned man with good intentions. You want to know what I see when I look at you?”
“If you tell me, does that mean I can get some sleep?”
Continuing as if he hadn’t even heard Paul’s snide remark, Sprole said, “I see a man
who’s almost as desperate as the ones we’ve been tracking. You’re desperate enough to fire on Sheriff Noss just to see your plan through, which I can only assume means you’d be desperate enough to shoot at me if the need arose. You’re desperate enough to put the fear into that poor idiot that’s trussed up like a prize calf, and you were desperate enough to do something good enough to earn his trust back in Pueblito Verde. Would you mind telling me what that was?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Course you do,” Sprole said. “Every man has a choice. Ain’t that what you were talking about not too long ago?”
“It is,” Paul replied with a weary smile. “And it’s nice to know that someone was listening.”
“I’ve been listening to you, preacher. I also been watching. And I won’t let up on either until I find out for certain what you’re up to.”
Paul’s voice was stronger than a post sunk twenty feet into solid ground when he said, “I already told you and the sheriff why I wanted to come along on this venture, and I won’t be turned back by anyone. Not you. Not anyone, you hear?”
“I sure do. What did you do for our friend with the wounded hand back there when you two were in the doctor’s office?”
“I—I was the one who set him free.”
No matter how much he’d been fishing for some juicy tidbit, Sprole didn’t seem prepared for the one he’d caught. Paul watched to see if the bounty hunter would make a move or even reflexively ball a fist. He was especially careful to watch the knife that was still in Sprole’s hand, but he only got to watch as that knife was flicked into the ground by a snap of the bounty hunter’s wrist.
“You . . . what?” Sprole growled.
Paul nodded as if to himself or some other presence that nobody could see. “It seemed the right thing to do at the time, and I stand by it now.”
“I know a preacher don’t exactly see things the way us normal folks do, but you thought cutting a prisoner loose was the proper thing to do?”
“I said right,” Paul corrected. “As in correct. I’ll be the first to admit it was far from proper.”
“Good,” Sprole said. “At least that shows you ain’t gone completely out of your mind. So, forget about proper. What made you think it was right?”
“There was talk about Terrigan and the rest of the gang coming into Pueblito Verde to look for him. If Wes wasn’t in town anymore, those men wouldn’t bother coming and putting so many innocents in harm’s way. Also, I knew you were going to have a difficult enough time tracking that sharpshooter who fired at you and Sheriff Noss when you went out looking for that first camp. I guessed it would be easier if you could just follow Wes when he went to meet up with the rest of his gang. At the very least, you’d have a fresh set of tracks to follow.”
“And what about that confession you supposedly heard?” Sprole asked. “Was there anything to that or was that just something to make the rest of your story hold water?”
Paul locked eyes with the bounty hunter and said, “I wouldn’t lie about something as sacred as that.”
“But you told me you didn’t normally hear confessions. Maybe it ain’t as sacred to you as it is to someone who makes more of a habit of it.”
“You don’t go to church very much at all, do you?”
Snapping his head back as if he’d been flicked on the nose, Sprole said, “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“You obviously don’t know the meaning of the word sacred. It was a difficult decision to tell you what Wes had told me.”
“And if you were any kind of real, genuine preacher, you would’ve died before parting with something like that,” Sprole said while punctuating his last word with a poke to the other man’s chest. “I’ve gone to church enough times to know that much.”
“You’re trying to goad me into a confrontation,” Paul stated.
“And, by the look in your eyes, I’ve almost got one.”
In the camp behind them, Sheriff Noss was fixing up a bedroll for Wes. Even though the prisoner could only flop onto the blanket like a large worm in a bird’s nest, the outlaw was too tired to complain. Every so often, Noss looked over at Sprole and Paul.
“Wanna know what I think?” Sprole asked.
Matching the bounty hunter’s hushed tone, Paul replied, “I’m sure you’ll tell me either way.”
“I don’t think you’re any sort of preacher at all. I think you’re a liar who was hiding in a pitiful excuse for a town and the only thing you were praying for was that nobody else would notice. Your heart may be in the right place most of the time, which is what threw me off the scent for a spell, but you just keep going back to the plan you got rattling around inside your head.”
“And what plan is that?”
“I don’t know every part of it, but it’s got something to do with Jack Terrigan, and I’d wager there’s more to it than you saving another wretched soul. And before you answer back with some hogwash, you should know how close I am to handing out some righteous anger of my own, and I doubt anyone else would disagree once they find out what’s really been going on.”
Sheriff Noss was almost finished with making certain Wes wouldn’t be going anywhere until morning. It was plain to see the lawman was anxious to find out what had occupied the other two for so long.
“If you’re threatening to tell the sheriff what I’ve done, then go ahead,” Paul said. “It’s bad enough that I felt it necessary to deceive you men, but I never planned on hiding it for any longer than what was necessary.”
“Why hide it at all?”
“For the same reason I set Wes loose. Because it had to be done. You were intent on capturing Jack Terrigan, even if it meant sitting in the Red Coyote and waiting until he came storming into Pueblito Verde. It didn’t matter to you how many folks were caught in the cross fire, just so long as you got your man and collected the reward.”
“I wouldn’t have stood by to let anyone get hurt!”
“But it would have happened anyway,” Paul shot back. “Just like it happened at that hotel. Only things would have been worse. A single stray round through a window can end an innocent life.”
“And what do you think will happen in Raynor?” Sprole asked. “You think Terrigan will just throw his hands in the air and come along peacefully? He’s a killer, and men like that don’t do anything the easy way.”
“Things are bound to be a lot less bloody if Terrigan is caught off his guard. You and Sheriff Noss might just take him by surprise.”
“The hell we will! Any surprise we could have gained was ruined when you allowed that man to get away tonight! But it seemed you had your reasons for that.”
When Paul stared at the bounty hunter, he didn’t care who else was nearby or what could be heard. “I’m doing the best I can with what little there is to work with. If I left it up to either of you, we never would have left town and there would have been a bloodbath where good folks paid the price for one man’s laziness and another one’s pride.
“Sheriff Noss is a good man,” Paul continued, “but he’s more concerned with proving himself than thinking things through. From what I’ve seen, you seem to be a good man as well, but you don’t think much past what will get you what you want in as short a ride as possible. I have my faults. I’ve never claimed otherwise, but I’m trying to get the same job done. The only difference is that I’m able to see the larger picture. Yes, I have a plan in mind and it changes nearly every second. All I can do is try to change with it.”
Sheriff Noss stormed over to where Paul and Sprole were having their discussion, but had to shove in between the other two so he could be noticed. “What is the meaning of all this commotion?”
“Go ahead and tell him, preacher,” Sprole said with a self-satisfied grin.
“You want to be the one to decide every man’s fa
te? Then you go ahead and say whatever you need to say,” Paul said angrily.
“Can it wait until morning?” Noss asked.
Paul remained silent, so Sprole told him, “Yeah. I suppose it can.”
“Good,” the lawman said. “Since you two decided to let me tend to the prisoner on my own, you two can take first and second watch to make sure nobody slips away or sneaks up on the camp. Hopefully that murderous coward with the rifle will come sniffing back around here for his belongings or just to take another shot at us. I’d hate to miss an opportunity to catch him. That would save us some time and effort in tracking him down.”
“Making it awfully easy for him to pick us off, aren’t you, Sheriff?” Sprole asked.
“That’s why I’m putting the fire out. I’ve already set up some decoys that will give that man something else to shoot at, which you would have noticed already if either of you two had bothered lending a hand to help.”
Paul took a more careful look at the camp. Sure enough, the sheriff had been doing more than building a nest for Wes. Everything from rocks and saddles had been covered by blankets to give the appearance of bodies stretched out on the ground. Noss stomped over to kick dirt onto the sputtering campfire and then lowered himself to a spot against a log. From a distance, it would be difficult to distinguish him from the decoys or any number of other shapes in the shadows. Paul felt a bit more at ease once he reminded himself that those shadows alone would have been enough to provide nearly all the cover they would need. That comfort was strained, however, when he thought of all the different threats the desert could offer that might slither or crawl into the camp without a fire to ward them off.
When Sprole slapped a hand onto Paul’s shoulder, odds seemed just as likely for the gesture to be friendly as for it to be hostile. Turned out it was a mixture of both.
“Just tell me one thing, preacher,” he said. “How did you manage to set that prisoner loose? When I checked on him last, he was chained to his bed by two different sets of shackles.”
Ralph Compton Brimstone Trail (9781101612637) Page 16