‘‘Make it half price and you’ve got a deal,’’ Sol said.
After glancing down at his list of prices tacked to the back of the case, the salesman grinned and nodded. ‘‘You run a hard bargain, sir, but I will agree to that.’’
‘‘Excellent. I’ll take the pistol, the holster and a few boxes of ammunition.’’
Without wasting another moment, the salesman turned and collected all of the items with a flurry of reaching arms and clawing fingers.
‘‘You find yer gun or not?’’ Nester hollered.
‘‘I sure did.’’
‘‘You get the bullets too?’’
‘‘Yes, sir,’’ Sol replied as if he were placating a nagging parent.
The old man waved once and said, ‘‘Fine and dandy!’’ He then turned toward the people that had been gathered in his section of the trading post and raised his voice so he could be heard clearly throughout the entire place. ‘‘It’s been fun and all, but we’ve got appointments to keep. If you’d all be so kind as to toss your valuables into one of them sacks over there.’’
The salesman froze and looked up at Sol. When Sol looked back at him with a similar amount of confusion etched into his face, he turned and leaned to get a better look at Nester and the rest of the people in the building.
Nester waved his gun at all of the folks in front of him, but kept it centered mostly upon the men who’d walked in most recently. When one of the younger fellows decided to make his move, the old man spotted it and answered by pulling his trigger. The younger fellow staggered back and knocked his shin against one of the display tables. He made a halfhearted attempt to draw his gun and then fell over.
‘‘Anyone else want to try their luck?’’ Nester snarled.
Nobody accepted the offer.
Sol felt as if he stood there motionless for a good half hour. It was actually closer to a few seconds.
‘‘Why don’t you get a rifle for me while ye’re over there?’’ Nester shouted. ‘‘And be quick about it.’’
Slowly shifting his eyes away from Nester, Sol spotted his gun lying on top of the display case. When he looked up, he noticed the salesman had spotted the very same thing. The salesman twitched, and Sol lunged for his pistol. There was no way for Sol to know if the salesman had been trying to grab the gun or if he was about to scratch his nose. The only thing Sol knew for certain was that he got to the gun first.
‘‘You heard him,’’ Sol said as he fumbled to get his finger beneath the trigger guard. ‘‘Get me one of those shotguns . . . and . . . and a box of shells.’’
The salesman stood up and held both hands up high. "Y-you don’t have to do this. Please . . . I . . .’’
‘‘Shut up,’’ Sol said as he extended his arm and shoved the gun closer to the salesman’s face. ‘‘Just do what I told you.’’
Contending with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking, the salesman took the closest shotgun from the rack. ‘‘Is . . . this the one you wanted?’’
‘‘Yes. That one’s fine.’’
‘‘The shells are behind me in a crate. Can I . . . ?’’
Sol nodded and waved the pistol at him. ‘‘Just do it fast.’’
The salesman lowered himself so unsteadily that Sol swore he could actually hear the man’s knees knocking. Some of the shotgun shells clattered against the floor and rolled along the base of the display case as the salesman fumbled to scoop them up.
‘‘Keep quiet,’’ Nester snarled. ‘‘You hear me? Keep quiet!’’
‘‘I think you killed him,’’ a woman sobbed.
‘‘He ain’t dead,’’ Nester replied as he took a few steps toward the spot where the younger man had dropped.
Sol leaned to get a look at what Nester was doing. The old man sauntered across one aisle and over to another. As he moved, Nester scattered another pair of men who looked like they should have been big enough to toss Nester through the front window. Rather than try anything so bold, those men scampered away on all fours before Nester could get too close.
Leaning down a bit, Nester asked, ‘‘You dead, boy?’’
The grunts that followed weren’t exactly clear, but they had plenty of steam behind them.
‘‘See?’’ Nester said as he swung around and corralled the remaining customers and workers into one group. ‘‘He just stepped out of line, is all. Hopefully the rest of you learned yer lessons. What about you, Sol? You get that shotgun yet?’’
‘‘Just about.’’
The rattling behind the counter had stopped. Sol took another look at the salesman and found him fumbling while trying to get a bullet into the cylinder of one of the display pieces. As soon as he saw he’d been spotted, the salesman shoved the bullet in as best he could.
‘‘Don’t,’’ Sol said as he pointed his gun at the salesman.
Either the salesman had gotten a big dose of courage or he was too scared to hear, because he didn’t take Sol’s advice. Instead, he held the pistol in trembling hands and gritted his teeth as he tightened his finger around the trigger. Fortunately for Sol, the salesman had grabbed a single-action revolver and was so nervous he hadn’t cocked the hammer back.
The joy of still being alive flooded through Sol in a rush. And, in another rush, it was replaced by blinding anger directed at the man who’d taken it upon himself to try and end his life. It wasn’t charity or good sense that had kept Sol alive. Instead, the salesman was just too stupid to get the job done.
‘‘Gimme that gun,’’ Sol growled as he reached out to snatch the pistol from the salesman’s hand. ‘‘What’s the matter with you? I wasn’t gonna shoot. I told you not to try anything!’’
‘‘Sorry,’’ the salesman whined. ‘‘Sorry!’’
‘‘Where’s the damn guns I wanted?’’
Fumbling to gather up the shotgun and pistol Sol had chosen, he groaned, ‘‘Right here! They’re right here, just please don’t shoot me.’’
‘‘Shut your mouth, you sniveling little rat.’’
‘‘All right. I will. Just, please don’t kill me.’’
The more the salesman begged, the more Sol wanted to fire. He didn’t even know where the desire came from. What puzzled him even more was the way his own anger grew as the salesman kept groveling and whimpering. If Sol had come across an animal behaving like that, he would have shot it just to put it out of its misery.
‘‘Here,’’ the salesman muttered. ‘‘It’s all here. Please!’’
‘‘The money too,’’ Sol growled.
‘‘What?’’
‘‘Oh, now you wake up?’’ Sol asked. ‘‘That man over there has already shot someone, I’m pointing a gun at you and you don’t grow a spine until someone threatens your money?’’
The fire in the salesman’s eyes flared up in a way someone might expect from a mother protecting her young. As it turned out, the salesman was protecting eighty-four dollars and sixty-two cents. As he dumped the money into the sack that also contained the guns and other items, the salesman balled up his fists and took another run at Sol.
Since scooping the money from the till had been such a gut-wrenching affair for the salesman, Sol had been expecting some sort of final display before letting it go. He just hadn’t expected the display to be so pathetic.
The salesman’s first punch landed and bounced off of Sol’s shoulder without enough force to put a dent in his jacket. Judging by the vicious snarl on the salesman’s lips, however, one might have thought he’d just single-handedly won a war.
‘‘Get away from me,’’ Sol barked as he backhanded the salesman to the floor. ‘‘Just sit there and stay put.’’
A second ago, the salesman was making a stand. Now he was back to crying. ‘‘Yes, sir, I’m so sorry.’’
It was all Sol could do to keep from pulling his trigger. He wanted to at least wound the salesman out of principle for being such a sniveling, impotent little coward. Since money was all the other man seemed to care about, taking that from
him made Sol feel a little better.
Nester nodded proudly as he backed toward the front door. He held his gun in hand and smiled when he saw Sol rush toward him carrying the sack full of money and guns.
‘‘You folks have been real good,’’ Nester announced. ‘‘With a few exceptions, of course. Now, we’ll be on our way. You folks be sure to sit tight and don’t stick yer heads out of this store or . . .’’ Nester pulled his trigger and sent a round through a rack of dishes against the wall. The gunshot and shattering that followed was enough to make everyone in that trading post press themselves flat against the floor and clench their eyes shut.
‘‘After you, Sol,’’ Nester said as he stepped away from the door.
Sol winced at the sound of his own name being announced so prominently, but figured that was the least of his problems. Every step he took through the front door felt like there was a grizzly running after him and he was forced to walk for his life when he so desperately wanted to run. But he knew better than to run. He didn’t know how he knew.
He just did.
Once he was outside, Sol pulled in a shallow breath of the sweetest air he’d ever tasted. The only thing that smelled sweeter was the scent of horses as he climbed into his saddle and took hold of Smoky’s reins.
Nester strolled outside with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. For a moment, he looked like he might even take a bow. Instead, he fired another shot into the trading post.
‘‘What in the—’’
Waving off Sol’s exclamation, Nester said, ‘‘Just breaking some more plates and making sure they stay put. Let’s get moving.’’ After hopping into his saddle quicker than any man his age had a right to be, Nester snapped his reins and emptied the rest of his bullets into the upper portion of the trading post. The victorious yelp he let out was plenty loud enough to be heard over all that shooting.
Sol took hold of his own reins and cinched the upper portion of the burlap sack around his saddle horn. He saw some movement in the trading post and couldn’t tell if it was someone walking to the window or just light reflecting off of broken glass. Just to be safe, he fired a couple of rounds into the wall. The rest of his bullets blazed up to the heavens.
‘‘That’s the spirit, boy!’’ Nester shouted.
Suddenly, Sol opened his mouth and let out a war cry that would have made any Indian brave proud. Smoky started to rear, but then responded to the snap of his reins and broke into a run.
Both men raced away from the trading post amid the thunder of hooves and battle cries. The blood was pumping so quickly through Sol’s veins that he could barely see straight.
Nester led the way through a small field and then across a river. Rather than circle around to meet up with the trail they’d agreed upon earlier, Nester steered his horse back to the river.
‘‘Keep yer horse’s feet wet for as long as you can manage,’’ Nester said cheerily. ‘‘A mile would be good. That way, there ain’t no tracks for the law to follow.’’
‘‘We need to ride in the river for a mile?’’
‘‘Only if you can. You shouldn’t have to go nearly that far, on account of most lawmen bein’ a good mix of lazy and easily discouraged.’’
Sol chuckled and shook his head. ‘‘How much did you get, Nester?’’ he asked.
‘‘Hell, I don’t know. Some food and a canteen.’’ Digging into his pockets, the old man produced a bundle of porcelain napkin rings. ‘‘I don’t even know what these are! Hot damn, it is good to be out and about again!’’
Chapter 19
‘‘You did good back there, kid,’’ Nester said. ‘‘You did real good.’’
Sol and the old man were sitting with their backs against a tree and their legs stretched out in front of them. The burlap sack that Sol had filled was next to him and another smaller sack was next to Nester. Upon closer examination, Sol realized that Nester’s collection hadn’t been put into a sack at all.
‘‘Is that a pillowcase?’’ Sol asked.
Picking up the cotton cover, Nester looked it over. His eyes seemed particularly drawn to the floral pattern stitched around the edge. ‘‘I suppose it is,’’ the old man replied. ‘‘There wasn’t much of a selection.’’ Upending the pillowcase, Nester dumped its contents onto the ground and shook it just to be certain everything was accounted for. There were several sticks of candy and dried strips of jerky, some pouches of coffee and tobacco, sugar cubes, soap, a file and another set of napkin rings.
Sol dumped out his burlap sack and found the shotgun, the pistol and a generous mix of ammunition that covered both guns as well as a few that neither man possessed. Apart from that, there was also a holster and gun belt, a pencil and the money. Sol let his hands drift through the money as he recalled the look on the salesman’s face when he’d been forced to give it up. Soon, Sol’s thoughts were interrupted when he felt Nester’s hand push his aside.
‘‘We split everything,’’ Nester grunted as he helped himself to a more than generous portion of the cash. ‘‘That’s the way it always goes, no matter who ye’re ridin’ with. If someone tries to tell you to keep only what you stole, you tell them you’ll only fire at the assholes that’re firing at you on the next job. That’ll change their tune real quick.’’
Sol nodded and let the old man help himself.
As Nester took his money and stuffed it into his pockets, he reached for the remainder of the cash sitting on the ground. Sol glanced down at the cash, but didn’t make a move to stop Nester from going in for seconds. Nester closed his fingers around a handful of that money, clenched those fingers into a fist and then cracked that fist against the side of Sol’s head.
‘‘Hey!’’ Sol snapped. ‘‘What in the . . . ?’’
‘‘Wake up, boy! Ye’re dealin’ with thieves now. Don’t never forget that. The other men you ride with may save yer skin and you may save theirs, but ye’re all a bunch’a thieves. Someone’s always gonna try to steal from you when ye’re splittin’ up the take. You don’t let nobody step on you then, just like you don’t ever let nobody step on you ever! You hear me?’’
‘‘Yeah.’’
Nester’s fist cracked against Sol’s head in the exact spot it had landed before. ‘‘You weren’t paying attention! I can tell. Now do you hear me?’’
This time, Sol forced himself to look Nester in the eyes and make his voice sound a whole lot calmer than he felt. ‘‘Yes,’’ he replied. ‘‘I hear you.’’
The old man nodded and kept his fist up where they both could see it. ‘‘Good. You never, ever just sit by and watch someone take what’s yers. I don’t give a damn if it’s money or a button you found on the ground that caught yer eye. You start letting folks take from you and they’ll keep on taking. What’s worse is that they’ll think ye’re weak. And if you sit back and let someone take from you, you are weak.’’
Sol nodded. ‘‘All right. Can we just count up this money and dismiss school for the day?’’
Nester scowled and asked, ‘‘You all right? You did real good back at that store. You should be proud.’’
‘‘You should’ve told me you were going to rob the place.’’
‘‘I wasn’t all the way sure until we got there. Besides, you should always be thinkin’ of the next place ye’re gonna hit. I found some of my biggest hauls just ’cause my eyes were open at the right time.’’
‘‘And that man you shot,’’ Sol muttered. ‘‘Did you just decide about that when the chance presented itself?’’
Nester kept his eyes on Sol for a few seconds. His face went through a couple of different changes, but Sol couldn’t tell what the old man was thinking. Finally, Nester grinned and asked, ‘‘You feel sorry for that fella?’’
‘‘No.’’
‘‘Good. Don’t. He thought he could walk over me without even drawing his gun. Can you believe that? He came at me with some ax handle he’d picked up from a bucket or somewheres else they were out for sale. The second I le
t that happen, I might as well start wearing a dress.’’
‘‘Did you have to shoot him to prove your point?’’
‘‘Yeah,’’ Nester replied without hesitation. ‘‘I did. You gettin’ soft on me, boy? Or maybe you was always soft.’’
When Sol jumped to his feet, he didn’t even know what he was planning on doing. When he grabbed Nester’s collar and hoisted the old man off the ground, Sol didn’t know how he was going to get out of this situation without losing a whole lot of blood.
Adjusting his legs so he could support himself, Nester allowed his body to hang from the ends of Sol’s fists like a scarecrow dangling from a pair of hooks. His easy smile was still intact and his eyes were still relaxed and slightly amused, which was exactly how they’d been before Sol had reacted.
And then, ever so slightly, Nester’s eyes changed. It looked as if a small fire had been lit inside each eye, and they grew brighter the longer they were allowed to burn.
‘‘That’s more like it,’’ Nester said. ‘‘At least you got a bit of sand in you.’’
‘‘I got plenty of sand. Just because I don’t go around shooting anyone I can doesn’t mean otherwise.’’
Nester’s smile widened. ‘‘You want to be an outlaw, then you gotta be ready to use that gun of yours. That shopkeeper’s got the law on his side. You want to take yer money, you ain’t about to be paid like that shopkeeper. I thought you was tired of lining up with yer hand out.’’
‘‘I was,’’ Sol said. His eyes hardened before he added, ‘‘I am.’’
‘‘Then you’d best be ready to take yer money my way. An’ since folks ain’t about to pay you on account of yer good looks, you gotta be ready to take it from them.’’ Cocking his head to one side, Nester asked, ‘‘You sure you want this kind of life, boy?’’
‘‘You know one thing I noticed?’’ Sol asked. ‘‘You call me boy when you’re looking at me like I’m something less than what’s on the bottom of your boot.’’
Death of a Bad Man Page 17