Crow Bait

by Robert J. Randisi

  She looked at Ryan, who ducked his head and looked away.

  “What if some other drifter drags his ass here lookin’ for help?” Zack asked.

  “He’ll hafta help himself,” Kimmie said. “I’m comin’ to town!”

  Zack stared at her. He must have seen something in her face that made him say, “Fine, you can come.”

  “I can?”

  “You ain’t gonna gimme a minute’s peace until I say yes, right?” Zack asked.

  “Right.”

  “Then get me some more supper and we can stop talkin’ about it.”

  She went to the stove happily, while Zack continued to stare at Lancaster unhappily.

  “I’m telling you, I had nothing to do with this,” he said again.

  Ryan found it funny, but Zack continued to scowl as Kimmie gave him a second helping.

  The next morning the brothers hooked the team up to the buckboard, then saddled their mounts. Lancaster and Kimmie climbed into the seat of the buckboard, and—with Crow Bait tied to the back of the buckboard—they left for Laughlin.

  Laughlin was bustling when they arrived. There were ruts in the road from the constant traffic. A couple of times the buckboard wheels got crossways of a rut and rattled Lancaster’s ribs.

  “Sorry,” Kimmie said.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m gonna drop you in front of the doctor’s office,” she said. “That is, if it’s where I remember it bein’.”

  “I don’t have the money to pay a doctor,” he said. “Just drop me in front of the hotel.”

  “If you can’t pay the doc, how do you plan to pay for a hotel room?”

  “I’m supposed to have a job waiting here for me,” Lancaster said. “I’m late, but maybe it’s still waiting. I can get an advance.”

  “Then you can see Doc,” she said. “He’s a nice old fella who comes out by us a lot. He’ll wait for his money. And we’ll drop your horse at the livery for ya.”

  “Okay, then,” Lancaster said. “The doctor’s.”

  “Ribs ain’t broke,” Dr. Murphy said, “but they’re sure as hell sore. Put your shirt back on.”

  As Lancaster donned his borrowed shirt, the doctor looked at his feet.

  “Cuts and blisters. The cut over your eye may scar, but somebody cleaned ’em real well.”

  “A girl named Kimmie.”

  “Kimmie Castle?” the doctor said.

  “I guess,” Lancaster said. “Is there another girl with two brothers named Ryan and Zack?”

  “Nope,” the doctor said, “them’s the Castle family, all right.”

  “Well, my horse carried me to their ranch, and they took me in for a few days.”

  The doctor chuckled. “Bet Zack wasn’t happy about that.”

  “He wasn’t, but Kimmie got her way.”

  The doctor laughed again, shaking his head. “She usually does.”

  The doctor looked into Lancaster’s eyes.

  “Kicks to the head don’t seem to have done much damage,” he said. “You got a hard head, boy?”

  “Pretty hard.”

  “Guess that saved ya,” the older man said. “You seem okay to me. Pull your boots back on and come into my office.”

  Lancaster pulled on the boots and got to his feet, limped a bit as he walked into the doctor’s office.

  “What about my memory?” he asked the doctor.

  “It’s patchy, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s from being kicked in the head,” Murphy said. “It should come back.”

  “Should?”

  “Might.”

  “I liked should better.”

  “We don’t know that much about these kinds of injuries, Mr. Lancaster,” the doctor said. “Your memory of the incident should return.”

  “Okay.”

  “I suspect, since you told me you were robbed, that you don’t have the money to pay me.”

  “I have a job waiting for me in town,” Lancaster said. “I’ll pay you as soon as I check in and get paid. Kimmie assured me that you’d wait.”

  “I’m used to waitin’ for my money, Mr. Lancaster,” the doctor said. “Here’s my bill, you pay me when you can.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” Lancaster said, accepting the bill and putting it in his pocket. “I’ll pay it as soon as I can.”

  The doctor waved, and Lancaster left the office.

  Eleven

  Lancaster left the doctor’s office and went right to the local Wells Fargo office. As he entered, the burly man seated at the desk looked up and raised bushy eyebrows.

  “Well, you made it,” he said.

  “Just barely.”

  “Have a seat,” the Wells Fargo man said. “You don’t look so good.”

  “I don’t feel so good.” Lancaster extended his hand to the man, who shook it. Then he took a seat.

  “What happened?” Andy Black asked.

  Lancaster told his friend the story, right up to the visit to the doctor’s office.

  “So you’re okay?” Andy asked.

  “I’ll be okay,” Lancaster said, “as soon as I catch up to the sons of bitches who left me for dead.”

  “Did you see them? Know who they are?”

  “My memory of the event is sketchy,” Lancaster said. “But I’ll get it back. First I’ve got to get outfitted. If I could get some pay in advance—”

  “Lancaster,” Andy said, sitting back and placing his hand on his ample belly, “I’m sorry, but when you didn’t show up I had to give the job to someone else.”

  That wasn’t what Lancaster wanted to hear. He was only in Laughlin because Andy Black had asked him to come to do a job for Wells Fargo. But he had to understand.

  “Okay, Andy,” he said, pushing slowly to his feet. “I understand.”

  “I’m really sorry, Lancaster.” Andy stood up and reached out to his friend.

  “Forget it, Andy,” Lancaster said, heading for the door.

  “Hey, wait, wait,” Andy said, coming around his desk. “How you gonna get outfitted, or even get a hotel room? You got a horse?”

  “The same one that carried me out of the desert.”

  “I thought you said he was crow bait?”

  “I said that was his name,” Lancaster said.

  “Look, Lancaster,” Andy said, “wait a minute.”

  He went behind his desk to the Wells Fargo safe, opened it, and took out a steel lockbox.

  “I don’t need a handout, Andy,” Lancaster said.

  “This ain’t a handout, Lancaster,” Andy said. “At least let me cover your expenses. You’re only here because of me.”

  He came around the desk. “Here’s enough to pay your doctor bill, a meal, and some clothes.”

  “Thanks, Andy.” Lancaster accepted the money.

  “And we keep a couple of hotel rooms at the Laughlin House Hotel for when some Wells Fargo personnel come to town. I can let you have one of those rooms for as long as you stay—that is, as long as none of my bosses come to town.”

  “I really appreciate this, Andy,” Lancaster said. “I’ll pay you back.”

  “It’s company money,” Andy said. “I’m sure you’ll be workin’ for us at some point soon. So why don’t we just go ahead and call it an advance, like you asked for in the first place?”

  Lancaster shook his friend’s hand and said, “Agreed.”

  “Meet me here after five and I’ll buy you a steak,” Andy said. “We can catch up—or talk about how you can find those three bastards.”

  “Okay, I’ll be here.”

  “I’ll send a message over to the hotel now,” Andy said. “Your room will be waitin’ when you get there.”

  Lancaster nodded his thanks and left the office.

  After paying his doctor bill—to the surprise of the doctor—he went and checked in at the Laughlin House. True to Andy’s word, a room was waiting for him. In fact, it was a two-room suite, which was more than he needed.

&nb
sp; What he needed was a bath, and some new clothes. After that, a meal with Andy, and maybe some conversation that might bring his memory back into focus.

  And he had to see about Crow Bait. He decided to do that first.

  He found the livery and told the man he was there about the Indian pony.

  “That crow bait?” the man asked. “You the crazy man who’s payin’ for that horse to take up one of my stalls?”

  “I’m the crazy man,” Lancaster said. “I want him well fed and cared for. I want to put some weight back on him. Understand?”

  “I understand,” the man said, “but I don’t know why. It’ll take more than some weight—”

  “How much?” Lancaster asked.

  “How long you gonna be in town?”

  “A few days, maybe.”

  “Gimme three dollars for now.”

  Lancaster gave him the money.

  “My name’s Mal. I’ll take good care of him, but I don’t know how much good it will do.”

  “My name is Lancaster, and I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  He had a bath, then bought some new clothes, but he spent the money Andy Black had given him sparingly. One shirt, one pair of trousers, one pair of boots, socks, and underwear.

  “I’ll need a saddle,” he told the clerk. “Where can I get one in town?”

  “A good one?”

  “A good used one.”

  “Is your horse at the livery?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then that’s where I’d get the saddle.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Lancaster said. “Thanks.”

  He left the general store, wearing all of his new clothes—except for the hat, which was the same one he’d been wearing in the desert. A new one could come later.

  He walked over to the Wells Fargo office at five minutes to five.

  Twelve

  Andy Black took Lancaster to a steak house a few streets away and ordered two steak dinners with everything.

  “Eat up,” he said. “Your horse isn’t the only one who needs to eat.”

  “I was only in the desert for a couple of days,” Lancaster said. “I was beaten, but not starved.”

  “And you were at the Castle place for a few days,” Andy said. “I bet you lost a little weight.”

  “Kimmie Castle is a great cook,” Lancaster said. “I don’t think so.”

  “Kimmie Castle,” Andy said. “Haven’t seen her in a long time. Still pretty?”

  “Very.”

  “And her brothers?”

  “Not so pretty. Zack wasn’t happy that she was nursing me back to health.”

  “Zack’s never happy,” Andy said. “They in town?”

  “They all brought me here.”

  “All of them? Her, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s an event.”

  The waiter brought the steak dinners and they each dug in. Andy ate as ravenously as Lancaster did.

  Halfway through Andy said, “How’s your memory?”

  Lancaster frowned. “Three men rode me down. Shot my horse. Before I knew it, they were on me, putting the boots to me. I went in and out of consciousness. Whenever I came to they knocked me out again.”

  “See anything? Faces?”

  “No.”

  “Anything at all?”

  “Boots,” Lancaster said. “And I heard voices.”

  “Saying?”

  Lancaster frowned again. “I think I heard one saying they should kill me, and another saying…”

  “What?”

  “That wasn’t the plan.”

  “What plan?”

  “I don’t know that,” Lancaster said.

  “So they were paid to ambush you and leave you in the desert to die?”

  “That’s how it sounded,” Lancaster said.

  “So,” Andy said, “all you need is to think of who wants you dead that badly.”

  “That much I can remember.”

  “Good. Who?”

  Lancaster took a bite of potato and said, “Lots of people.”

  After supper Andy Black went home to a small house he had on the edge of town. No wife. He was married to his job. He didn’t gamble, didn’t drink excessively. And he liked his time alone.

  Lancaster decided to go and see the local sheriff. Maybe if he talked out his attack with the law, one of them would come up with something.

  He found the sheriff’s office and entered without knocking because the door was unlocked. The room was odd, L-shaped, with a desk to his right. At the end of the shorter stretch of the room was a door to the cell blocks. The man seated behind the desk looked up at him with interest.

  “Help ya?” he asked.

  “Sheriff?”

  “That’s right.” The man straightened in his chair, bringing the badge pinned to his chest into view. “Sheriff Harlan Race.”

  “My name’s Lancaster. I just came to town today. I was supposed to be doing a job for Wells Fargo, but I got waylaid in the desert on the way here and left for dead.”

  The sheriff pointed to the chair opposite him and said, “Have a seat and tell me about it.”

  Lancaster sat down and started talking.

  “Three men, you said?” the sheriff asked when Lancaster finished.

  “That’s right.”

  “And you didn’t see their faces?”

  “Not that I can remember,” Lancaster said. “The doc says my memory of the incident should come back, and maybe it is, but it’s still got…holes.”

  “So you might’ve seen their faces and don’t remember?” the sheriff asked.

  “No,” Lancaster said. “I don’t think I ever saw their faces clearly.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Boots,” Lancaster said. “Mostly boots.”

  “Anythin’ about them you can remember?”

  Lancaster thought for a moment, tried to bring back into focus the boots that were inflicting pain on him.

  “What?” the sheriff asked. “What’s that look?”

  “Something…” Lancaster said. “Something about the boots.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “The stitching, maybe?”

  “Somethin’…distinctive?”

  “Maybe,” Lancaster said. “I’m not sure.”

  Suddenly, he had a brutal headache.

  “You okay?” the sheriff asked.

  “Headache. I’ll be okay. Were there any strangers in town last week?”

  “A few,” Race said. “I didn’t see three together, though.”

  “Maybe they stayed away from each other,” Lancaster said, “didn’t want to be seen together.”

  “Maybe,” Race said. “Let me think about it. Where are you stayin’?”

  “The Laughlin House.”

  “Okay, if I think of anything I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “Lancaster,” the sheriff said as he started to leave.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you plannin’ on hunting for these men?”

  “That’s the general idea,” Lancaster said. “If I can somehow figure out who they are—or, at least, who one of them is.”

  “From their boots?”

  “From something,” Lancaster said. “Anything.”

  “A man’s boots, that’s not much to base killing him on.”

  “Hopefully,” Lancaster said, “I’ll have more to go on.”

  Thirteen

  When Lancaster left the sheriff’s office, he was thinking about boots. The voice calling him from behind startled him. He turned, his hand going for his gun, but he didn’t have one. He was going to have to remedy that next. Should have asked Andy Black for the loan of one.

  “I been lookin’ for you,” Kimmie said. “Where ya been?”

  “Taking care of some business,” he said. “You and your brothers are still in town, huh?”

  “Sure are,” she said. “Gonna head
back in about an hour.”

  “You’re going back?”

  “Well, sure,” she said. “I mean, I know what I said, but it’s my home, and they’re my brothers.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  They started to walk together.

  “You look better,” she said. “New clothes, a bath. What’d the doc say?”

  “He said you did a good job of nursing me back to health,” Lancaster said. “He said I should start remembering more and more about the attack.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “He said I should start remembering,” Lancaster said, “not that I will.”

  “Have you remembered anything yet?”

  “Jut bits and pieces,” he said. “Nothing that I can put together.”

  “Where are you goin’ now?”

  “I’ve got to find a gun,” Lancaster said, “a cheap gun.”

  “Didn’t you get that advance you wanted from your job?”

  “The job wasn’t there,” Lancaster said, “but I did get some expense money. Enough for some clothes, maybe a cheap saddle and a cheap gun.”

  “There’s a rifle in the buckboard,” she said. “I brought it in case you needed it.”

  He stopped walking.

  “That was real thoughtful of you, Kimmie,” he said. “I should pick it up before you leave.”

  “Okay,” she said. “The buckboard’s in front of the general store. Follow me.”

  He did.

  It was an old Henry, but it was in working order—or would be when he cleaned it.

  “Shells?” he asked.

  “It’s loaded,” she said, “but I didn’t have any more shells.”

  “Okay, Kimmie, thanks,” he said. “Where are Zack and Ryan?”

  “Inside.”

  “Zack know about this?”

  “He won’t care,” she said. “He never touches that rifle.”

  “Okay,” Lancaster said, “thanks, Kimmie, for everything. I don’t know when I’ll be able to repay you…or even if…”

  “Someday, you will,” she said. “We’ll just wait and see.”

  They shook hands awkwardly. He sensed she wanted more, but he didn’t have any more to give.