by Mike Resnick
"Who told you that?"
"Someone who worked for him and saw the graves."
"That bespeaks a certain ability to defend himself, doesn't it?"
"If ordinary bounty hunters could get that close, the Angel will kill him," said the Swagman. He paused. "Unless you kill him first."
"Not interested," said Cain.
The Swagman smiled. "You haven't let me make my offer yet."
"Make it and then leave me alone."
"Half," said the Swagman with a confident grin.
"Half of what?"
"Half of the artwork. You keep all the reward and we split the artwork fifty-fifty."
"Stop playing with that damned beetle and go away," said Cain.
"Do you realize what I'm offering you?" asked the Swagman, putting the cube back in his pocket.
Cain nodded. "Do you realize that I'm rejecting your offer?"
"You're crazy!" snapped the Swagman. "Even after I take the pieces I want, the rest of it is worth millions on the black market!"
"Maybe I'm just not an art collector."
"You've made a very foolish career decision, Sebastian."
"Is that a threat?" asked Cain.
The Swagman shook his head. "Just a prediction."
"All right. You've made your offer, I've turned it down. Now what?"
"Now we wait."
"For what?"
"For you to change your mind."
"I'm not going to," said Cain.
"Then we wait for the Angel to kill Santiago."
"He won't deal with you, either."
"Probably not," agreed the Swagman. "But he also won't know where the artwork is, and I've got as good a chance of finding it as he does."
"Then why make an offer to me at all?" asked Cain, puzzled.
"Because you're a reasonable man, and we've already got a partnership agreement, whether you choose to acknowledge that fact or not. The Angel might take a different view of my confiscating the artwork."
"Then let me set your mind to rest," said Cain seriously. "If you try to take anything that belongs to Santiago, whether he's alive or dead, I'll kill you myself."
The Swagman stared at him. "He has made an impression on you, hasn't he?" he said, amused.
"You heard what I said."
The Swagman sighed. "Then I guess I'll just have to check into the boarding house where Father William is staying and await developments."
"Like a scavenger waiting around a kill." commented Cain distastefully.
"An apt comparison," agreed the Swagman with no show of anger. "You'd be surprised how few scavengers die hungry when they follow the right predators."
Cain turned to Father William, who had finished his fowl and was just in the process of polishing off the various side dishes with great enthusiasm.
"We're through talking, if you'd like to join us now," he said in his normal voice.
"Or you could continue to pretend you weren't listening," said the Swagman.
Father William looked across the room and smiled.
"I was eating. God was listening." The preacher spent another moment sopping up the last of the cream sauce with a piece of a biscuit, then walked over to join them. "Did you conclude your business?"
"We agreed to disagree," said the Swagman.
"Are you planning to leave today, or are you going to blacken your immortal soul still further?" asked Father William.
"Oh, I think I'll stay around for a few days." The Swagman suddenly grinned. "Nice place for a vacation."
"Much as I like you, Swagman, if you lift a finger against Santiago, I'll hunt you down like an animal," said Father William.
The Swagman chuckled. "You'll have to stand in line. Everyone seems to have become terribly single-minded."
"Just remember: there's paper on you."
"But not for murder," said the Swagman.
"Don't count on that saving your sinful scalp," said the preacher. "You wouldn't be the first man who got killed for resisting arrest."
"Arrest?" repeated the Swagman with a laugh. "Since when did you become a minion of the law?"
"What do you think bounty hunters are?" demanded Father William. "Out here on the Frontier, we're all the law there is. We may not keep the peace, but we punish the lawbreakers—and even that leads to a proper respect for the law after a time."
"I never looked at it that way," admitted the Swagman. "Still, I suppose there's some truth to it."
"More than you know, Swagman," said Father William seriously. "I suggest that you keep it in mind."
"Maybe you'd better tell my partner here," said the Swagman. "He's thinking of helping a wanted criminal."
"You know," said the preacher, "it might be best for all parties concerned if you just went back to Goldenrod and admired your ill-gotten gains."
"I thought it might be more fruitful to try to add to them."
"The only reason you're still alive is because he hasn't told me to kill you yet," continued Father William. "This is his world, and you're trespassing."
"I'll try not to lose any sleep worrying about it," said the Swagman.
"Maybe you'd better start worrying about it," suggested Cain.
"Kill me, and Santiago had better start worrying," retorted the Swagman confidently. "If I don't report in to Goldenrod every day, one of my robots will tell my menials where I am."
"They won't care," said Cain.
"They will when the robot informs them that this is Santiago's world." The Swagman grinned. "You don't really think I'd come here without taking some precautions, do you?"
"I've seen your menials," said Father William. "They're not much."
"But they talk incessantly," replied the Swagman. "You know, for years I've been trying to figure out how to get them to keep a secret. Now I'm glad that I never found an answer."
Father William and Cain exchanged glances.
"All right," said the preacher after some consideration. "You can stay."
"How hospitable of you," said the Swagman ironically.
"But you'd better be on your ship five minutes after we kill the Angel, or you're a dead man." He paused. "Santiago wasn't born on Safe Harbor; he doesn't have to live out his life here, either. If I were you, I'd keep that in mind before I did anything rash."
"Well," said the Swagman, getting to his feet, "I hate to drink and run, but I think I'd better arrange for my accommodations." He turned to Cain. "Once you've calmed down, I trust that you'll reconsider my offer."
"I wasn't excited the first time I heard it," said Cain.
"Think about it." urged the Swagman, walking to the doorway. "Fifty percent."
"Go away." said Cain, turning his back on him.
The Swagman shrugged and walked out the door.
"Well, Sebastian," said Father William, leaning back on his chair. "I must say that I'm proud of you."
"Oh?"
"You looked into the face of the enemy and didn't blink."
"He's not the enemy." said Cain. "He's what you're fighting to protect."
"A sobering thought," admitted Father William with a grim smile.
"How much worse can the Democracy be?" mused Cain.
"It's not how much worse." replied the preacher. "It's how much more powerful—and hence, how much more capacity for harm?"
Cain nodded. "I know."
"Things aren't as clear-cut as they were when you were a young man, are they?" chuckled Father William.
"No, they're not."
"It's easy to decide to remake a world." said the preacher. "It's more difficult to choose between evils."
Cain sighed. "It is that," he agreed. He paused. "How did you meet him?"
"Santiago?"
"Yes."
"He recruited me, just like he recruited you."
"You knew that was why I was here, didn't you?" asked Cain.
Father William nodded. "I knew almost a year ago that he had decided he wanted you." He chuckled again. "I'll confess I
had my doubts when I learned that you were hooked up with the Swagman and that young woman."
"Virtue?"
"That's the one."
"She's an interesting lady," said Cain. "Sometimes I have the feeling that she's going to come out of this better off than anybody."
"She knows how to get what she wants, I'll grant her that," said the preacher.
"And now she's got the Angel," said Cain.
"I have a feeling that she's going to learn that he's a little more than she wants," said Father William, not without a note of satisfaction.
"Tell me something," said Cain.
"If I can."
"Who's buried in those two graves?"
"Two men who gave their lives to Santiago's cause."
"The Swagman said they were bounty hunters."
"Once upon a time they may have been. I really couldn't say."
"He told me they were after Santiago, and they made it all the way out to the farm before they were killed."
"The Swagman's wrong," said Father William firmly.
"What were their names?"
Father William shrugged. "Who knows? Nobody uses their real names out here—and especially not if they work for Santiago." He paused. "Why are you so curious about them?"
"Inconsistencies bother me."
"Then don't talk to the Swagman. He's never seen the farm in his life. Santiago has no reason to lie to you; the Swagman has no reason to tell you the truth." He leaned forward. "What did he offer you?"
"Half of the artwork."
"That's very generous," said the preacher. "I wonder how he planned to cheat you out of it?"
"I'm sure he's given it considerable thought," said Cain.
Moonripple emerged from the kitchen and approached Father William.
"How soon will you be wanting your dessert, sir?" she asked.
"Right now." said Father William. "Will you join me, Sebastian?"
"Why not?" said Cain.
"You're sure?" asked Father William, surprised.
"I could use a little snack."
Father William looked as if his heart was about to break. Finally he turned to Moonripple. "My child, how long will it take you to cook up another chocolate cake?"
"I have three more in the kitchen, sir," she replied.
"Good. Bring two of them out here." He turned to Cain. "That way neither of us will leave the table hungry."
"Moonripple's right, you know," said Cain.
"About what?"
"You're going to eat yourself to death."
"I need energy for the work ahead," answered Father William seriously.
Cain shrugged. "It's your life."
"No, Sebastian. It belongs to the Lord, just as yours belongs to Santiago now."
"What makes you think it does?" asked Cain.
"I don't think so," replied the preacher. "I know so."
"I don't know any such thing."
"Yes, you do, Sebastian." said Father William. "He chooses his recruits very carefully, and he's never been wrong about one yet. You could have killed him last night or this morning and cashed the biggest reward you ever dreamed about; you didn't. You could have dealt with the Swagman just now: you didn't." His booming voice became almost gentle. "Your mind may be undecided, but your heart knows where you stand."
Cain looked momentarily surprised.
"I suppose it does, at that." he said thoughtfully.
25.
A riddle inside an enigma,
Wrapped up in a puzzle or two.
What man fits these specifications?
The King of the Outlaws—that's who!
* * * *
"How did your meeting with the Swagman go?" asked Santiago, looking up from his book as Cain joined him on the veranda.
"About as expected."
Santiago seemed amused. "He was that obvious?"
"He was that hungry," replied Cain.
"By the way," said Santiago, "I sent one of my men to Silent Annie's house for your belongings. I hope you don't mind."
"It's all right," said Cain, sitting down and looking out over the vast expanse of farmland. "I'll be staying."
"I'm delighted to hear it."
"You knew it all along."
"Yes, I did," admitted Santiago. "But I'm glad that you know it, too. We can use you, Sebastian."
"Sooner than you think," replied Cain. "The Swagman says that the Angel will be here in two or three more days." He paused. "It might be a good time to select a target and go off on a raid."
"Somewhere far away?" asked Santiago with a smile.
"The farther the better."
"I thank you for the thought, Sebastian, but Safe Harbor is my home. I don't propose to run away from it at the first sign of danger."
"Is it the first sign?" asked Cain. "The Swagman told me that half a dozen bounty hunters had made it this far."
"He was wrong," said Santiago. "The actual number is four—and if I didn't run from them, you may rest assured that I won't run from the Angel. Besides," he added, "would you want to serve a leader who flees from his enemies?"
"I don't suppose it's any worse than serving a leader who's got a death wish," said Cain seriously.
"Believe me, Sebastian—it will take more than the Angel to kill Santiago." He gazed at the horizon and sighed contentedly. "Look at that sunset. Isn't it glorious?"
"If you say so."
"I do." Santiago turned to Cain. "I assume the Swagman is staying on Safe Harbor?"
Cain nodded.
Santiago chuckled. "He's not as inspiring as the sunset, but he's every bit as predictable. What did he offer you to kill me—a third of his profits in addition to the reward?"
"Half."
Santiago looked amused. "Well, why not? He doesn't intend to pay you anyway."
"I know," replied Cain. He paused. "How did you ever get mixed up with him in the first place?"
"The same way you did, I suspect. He had something that I needed."
"What?"
"Certain business contacts."
"And he asked to join your organization in exchange for them?"
Santiago shook his head. "That was my idea."
"Why?" asked Cain, puzzled.
"Some men have a lean and hungry look about them," replied Santiago. "If you're going to have any dealings with them, it makes sense to put them where you can keep an eye on them."
Cain smiled ironically. "If that's your criterion for employment, I'm surprised you don't have a standing army of ten million."
"If there were ten million Swagmen out there who could help me accomplish my goals, rest assured that I would hire them all." said Santiago. "However, it has been my experience that truly competent criminals are almost as rare as truly competent heroes." He stood up suddenly. "But where are my manners? Here it is evening, and you haven't eaten yet. Come into the house."
Cain stood up and followed him inside. "I'm not really hungry," he said. "Watching Father William demolish a ten-pound bird can kill anyone's appetite." He grimaced. "I'm surprised he left the bones."
Santiago laughed. "I know the feeling." He paused. "Well, at least let me offer you a drink to celebrate your joining us."
Cain nodded his assent, and they walked to the living room, where Jacinto was sitting on a couch, reading one of Santiago's books.
"Have you heard the news?" Santiago asked him. "Sebastian has decided to stay with us."
"I know," replied Jacinto. "Father William told me when he dropped him off a few minutes ago."
Santiago walked over to his bar and studied the array of bottles. "Something special," he muttered, half to himself. Suddenly his face lit up. "Ah! The very thing." He reached up and grabbed a bottle. "Korbellian whiskey," he said, displaying the label. "It's made from a plant very similar to barley that they have growing up the sides of their mountains. There's nothing else quite like it." He poured out three glasses and began passing them around. "What do you think of it?" he asked as Cain
took a tentative sip.
"Unusual," replied Cain. He took another taste. "Interesting, though. I think I like it."
"You think you like it?" laughed Santiago. "Sebastian, you've been on the Frontier too long."
Cain downed his drink and held out his glass for a refill. "I'll need another to make up my mind."
"Happy to," said Santiago, filling his glass again. "But be careful. It packs quite a wallop."
Cain finished the second, and suddenly, for the first time in years, felt a little light-headed. "I see what you mean." He grinned. "I think I'd better quit while I'm ahead."
"Good," said Santiago. "I like a man who knows his own limitations."
"Maybe you should suggest that to Father William the next time he comes to dinner," said Jacinto sardonically.
"As far as his capacity to put away food is concerned, the man has no limitations that I've been able to discern," replied Santiago. He shrugged. "Well, I suppose bounty hunters, like revolutionaries, come in all shapes and sizes."
"I suspect that his size gives him an added advantage," said Jacinto.
"Oh?" asked Cain, interested. "What is it?"
"He looks like he's too slow and fat to draw those laser pistols of his. It breeds overconfidence in the enemy."
"I doubt it," said Cain. "What you have to remember is that any man who carries a gun out here is undefeated. You can't afford to get overconfident in this business."
"That's probably why you're still alive when so many men who view things differently are dead," said Santiago.
"Perhaps."
"Have you another explanation?" asked Jacinto.
"When I was a very young man I wasn't afraid of death, and that gave me an advantage over the men I fought. As the years went by, I realized that there was nothing fair or reasonable about death, that it could come to anyone, so I became very careful; that gives me an advantage of a different kind."
"Which you've used with remarkable success," interjected Santiago. "I suppose all good bounty hunters do."
"There are no bad bounty hunters," replied Cain. "Just good ones and dead ones."
"Why did you become a bounty hunter in the first place?" asked Jacinto.