Death of a Bad Man

by Ralph Compton

  ‘‘You got real good eyes, boy.’’

  Sol shoved Nester away from him in the hopes of knocking the old man against a tree. Instead, Nester got his feet set and steadied himself before staggering back more than a foot. Somehow, the old man managed to keep his eyes on Sol and his chin up the entire time.

  ‘‘You didn’t know what was comin’ back there, but you made it through just fine,’’ Nester said. ‘‘Not only that, but you came out with a profit. Tell you the truth, I was just hopin’ you’d make it outside without gettin’ shot.’’

  ‘‘And what if I did get shot?’’ Sol asked.

  ‘‘Then both of us would be through with this little adventure of yers. What’d you think?’’ Nester asked. ‘‘That this would be one ride after another and free money bein’ tossed yer way? That haul you got from yer old employer was a fluke. You were in the right spot at the right time, but a man can’t live his life hopin’ for another fluke. Things just don’t happen that way.

  ‘‘Ye’re just learnin’, is all,’’ Nester added as he stepped forward to drape an arm around Sol’s shoulders. ‘‘Since there ain’t no school for what I do, you gotta learn the same way any other outlaw learns how to conduct himself. You watch someone who’s kept himself alive for more than a few days on the run and you get some good partners to keep you alive until ye’re ready to run on yer own.’’

  As he listened to the old man, Sol felt the burning in his gullet die down. He even smirked as he said, ‘‘I’ve sure learned not to trust my partners when they say they just want to look around inside a store.’’

  Nester chuckled and said, ‘‘There you go! That’s exactly right. And the best way to make sure you know about the job you take next is to be the one that’s doin’ the planning.’’

  When he looked over to see the eager smile on Nester’s face, Sol didn’t know quite what to make of it. One thing he knew for certain was that he didn’t like being the one who was literally under the old man’s wing at that particular moment. The last man to put his arm around Sol like that had been his father. With a sideways step and a twist of his upper body, Sol pulled away from Nester and took a few steps before turning back around to face him.

  ‘‘Can we do anything to modify this gun?’’ Sol asked as he walked over to pick up the Smith & Wesson.

  Reaching into his pile of mismatched stolen items, Nester replied, ‘‘That’s what I stole this file for. Hand over that pistol.’’

  Sol held on to the pistol and turned it so it caught the light in different ways. ‘‘Will this be ready by the time we reach Albuquerque?’’

  Wearing a rattlesnake’s grin, Nester asked, ‘‘You’ll get yer chance for payback against that mining company. Just promise me one thing, Solomon. Don’t set revenge in yer mind above everything else. Vengeful men don’t make good partners.’’

  Sol shook his head. ‘‘Whatever revenge I wanted, I got by taking Charlie’s money away from him. Seems like that’s all anyone truly cares about anyway.’’

  ‘‘Ye’re in a spot to take away a whole lot more’n that and you know it. Just the fact that ye’re thinking about riding back with that price on yer head tells me that you’d like another shot at those boss men. Maybe you’d like to finish what you started?’’

  ‘‘No,’’ Sol replied. ‘‘It’s not like that. Charlie was holding back a whole lot of money. There’s no reason why he should just get away with that.’’

  ‘‘You remember what I said to you about thieves bein’ thieves and stealin’ from everyone including each other?’’ Nester asked.

  ‘‘Yes.’’

  ‘‘Businessmen ain’t nothin’ but thieves in fancier clothes. The worst things you can do when facing a thief is to turn yer back on ’im or underestimate ’im. You go riding into Albuquerque all filled with righteous fire and you’ll get sloppy. This may be a big job and it may be a job you got some other stake in, but it’s just a job. Keep yer head on yer shoulders and be smart or you’ll make a mistake that’ll cost yer life. Maybe both our lives. You got that?’’

  Sol nodded. ‘‘Yeah.’’

  Nester snapped his hand out as if he meant to crack Sol against the head again. This time, Sol ducked to one side and raised a hand to defend himself. The old man smirked and nodded approvingly. ‘‘You got that?’’

  ‘‘Yes. I do.’’

  ‘‘All right, then. Now hand over that gun so I can start in on these modifications.’’

  Sol handed over the gun and sat down again.

  Reclaiming his spot against a tree, Nester got to work filing away the .44’s trigger guard as if he were whittling on a lazy summer evening. ‘‘We should hit a federal bank or maybe raid an armory. You’d be amazed how much money we could get selling stolen guns. You’d also meet a whole new class of businessmen that way.’’

  Sol shook his head and then broke into a laugh. ‘‘You’re either kidding, very confident in me or crazy,’’ he said. ‘‘I can’t decide which.’’

  ‘‘How about most of one and a bit of the other two?’’

  ‘‘Fair enough.’’

  Chapter 20

  Sol was glad he’d found that Smith & Wesson for two reasons. First of all, it fit in his hand a whole lot better than the old gun he’d been carrying around before. Each time they stopped to water the horses or work the kinks from their necks, Sol and Nester went through a few rounds of target practice. While Sol could see an improvement in his own skill, the old man improved a whole lot quicker. It seemed the tales of Nester’s ability with a firearm weren’t too far from the truth.

  The second reason why Sol appreciated that .44 was the modifications it needed. Filing off the trigger guard, filing down the sights and tinkering with the weapon in any other number of ways was enough to keep Nester occupied during most of the ride into New Mexico. Even after they’d crossed back into Sol’s familiar stomping grounds, Nester was content to point out a few old trails they could use to move about unnoticed and reminisce about his younger years rather than look for more stores to rob or federal armories to raid.

  Sol actually grew to enjoy those stories, since a lot of them involved his own family members in one way or another. For one thing, Sol learned that one of his uncles used to ride with Nester on a string of train robberies. Those robberies were all carried out in Missouri, where there was no shortage of other more prominent robbers to take the blame for Nester’s deeds. Thinking back to how many laws he’d broken in someone else’s name put a fond smile upon Nester’s face.

  Also, one or two cousins had sought him out in much the same way that Sol had come looking for him in Leadville. Apparently, one of those cousins was nearly killed in a stagecoach robbery and another wasn’t even able to contend with the icy glares of Nester’s old gang before he ran back home.

  ‘‘They was all just foolin’ about,’’ Nester recalled. ‘‘You know, making like they was gonna tan his hide or use him for target practice. I never seen a boy run so fast as that cousin of yers when he tore away from that camp. Come to think of it, I don’t even think he got to his horse. I believe he ran all the way from Wichita to Dodge City.’’ After letting out a slow whistle, he added, ‘‘That boy must’ve spread some sort of word, because I didn’t never see another eager young Brakefield come callin’ until you showed up on my doorstep.’’

  ‘‘Thanks for making me sound like a lost puppy,’’ Sol groaned. ‘‘I appreciate that.’’

  ‘‘I don’t know about the puppy part, but I think you may be lost.’’

  ‘‘What gave you that idea?’’

  ‘‘This mining company, for starters,’’ Nester replied. ‘‘I been riding along following you without saying much of anything one way or another. Still, you haven’t told me much of anything we’d need to know about this mining company of yers.’’

  ‘‘I told you where it is.’’

  ‘‘Sure. Albuquerque. You gotta know somethin’ more than that!’’

  Sol nodded and looked ou
t to the horizon where the first traces of Albuquerque could be seen. The flat, sandy terrain was plenty more familiar to Sol than the mountains of Colorado. Throughout the entire ride, he’d breathed different air as he’d gone from one elevation to another. This was the first day that he wasn’t feeling some sort of effect from the change of climate. Sol felt even better now that he could see Albuquerque in the distance like some sort of hazy, angular mirage.

  ‘‘Jessup Mining Company. That’s the name of the company that Charlie works for. I saw that name printed upon the bundles that were sent out and I know those bundles were sent to Albuquerque in New Mexico. Is that enough for you, old man?’’

  It hadn’t taken Sol long to know just how to say those last two words so they’d grate upon Nester’s nerves. He bared his teeth slightly and asked, ‘‘You know where to find this mining company? It ain’t like this is some one-horse town we’re about to ride into.’’

  Sol closed his eyes and put some effort into trying to recall more details from the front of those bundles he’d handed over to be delivered. Smoky carried him diligently onward in a strong, easy stride as Sol clenched his eyes shut so he could concentrate. When he opened them, Sol was shaking his head. ‘‘I can think of a street name or number, but I don’t know if it’s right.’’

  ‘‘Since you don’t know whether it’s a name or number, I’d bet on it not bein’ right.’’ This time, Nester was the one to let out a sigh as he gazed at the distant city. ‘‘You sure about the name, boy?’’

  ‘‘Yes.’’

  ‘‘Then that should be enough. Do me a favor, though, and let me be the one to go out askin’ about the place.’’

  ‘‘Why?’’ Sol asked with a scowl.

  Nester turned to look at Sol in silence. It was a look that Sol had gotten to know fairly well in the amount of time he’d spent with the outlaw.

  ‘‘I don’t care if this is another one of your tests or not,’’ Sol said. ‘‘Tell me why and don’t make me guess.’’

  ‘‘I’m startin’ to think I knocked you on the head a bit too hard. Did you forget about that notice? You seemed awfully proud of it when you showed it to me before. Fifteen hundred dollars may not be a lot to a mining company, but I’d bet they’ve seen that notice and will have committed that likeness of you to memory.’’

  As much as Sol would have liked to argue, he simply couldn’t. ‘‘All right, then,’’ he said. ‘‘What do you suggest?’’

  ‘‘I’ll be the one to scout out this Jessup Company,’’ the old man replied. ‘‘While I’m doing that, you can scout out the rest of the town.’’

  ‘‘You mean scout out Albuquerque?’’

  ‘‘That’s just what I mean.’’

  ‘‘The whole town?’’ Sol asked.

  ‘‘Are you going deaf? Yes!’’

  ‘‘What would I be looking for, exactly?’’

  Nester held up one hand so he could mark each of his points with a finger and then tic them off one by one. ‘‘First of all, we need a place to sleep. It’s gotta have a good view of the street, be well hidden and easy to get out of if the need arises. Second, we need a place to put the horses and that’s gotta have all those same things as the hotel. Third, we need to know where the law is and how good they are at making their rounds. Fourth, we need—’’

  ‘‘Stop,’’ Sol interrupted. ‘‘My head hurts.’’

  Grinning over at the younger man with his hands still marking the points he’d been making, Nester asked, ‘‘This all ain’t as easy as you thought it’d be, huh?’’

  Sol shook his head. ‘‘Sometimes, I think you’re just putting me through these paces to keep me out of your way.’’

  ‘‘And why would I do that?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know,’’ Sol replied. ‘‘Perhaps you’d like to move in, clean out that mining company and then ride off while I’m scouting for the right stable when the law comes looking for me.’’

  Nester chuckled and replied, ‘‘I see you’ve been listening to me, after all. That’s a good way to think, but I ain’t tryin’ to steer you away from anything.’’

  ‘‘Then how come all the robbers I’ve ever heard about ride in like a thunderstorm, shoot a place up and then ride away? And before you tell me they scouted all those places out, I’ll cut you off right now by saying I don’t believe that nonsense.’’

  ‘‘How many outlaws have you ever ridden with?’’ Nester asked.

  ‘‘One.’’

  ‘‘So how do you know all of this ye’re sayin’ right now?’’

  ‘‘I’ve read plenty of newspapers and heard plenty of folks talk.’’ Before he could be interrupted, Sol added, ‘‘And lots of them were talking from firsthand experience.’’

  ‘‘Okay. Take all of them stories and mix ’em up with everything else you heard about every other outlaw who kicked up enough dust to get noticed. How’d most of them end up?’’

  Wincing a bit, Sol said, ‘‘Some were killed. Some were put in jail or hung. But some got away, like you.’’

  ‘‘Most were put in jail, killed or hung,’’ Nester corrected. ‘‘You know why that is?’’

  Slowly, Sol lowered his head and let out all the steam he’d built up in one long breath. ‘‘Because they didn’t scout their jobs ahead of time?’’

  Nester smiled victoriously. ‘‘You got that right. I lived in Leadville as a fine, upstanding citizen and that’s because I took a good long time making sure everything was—’’

  ‘‘I heard you, the first time you told that story. I’m sorry I mucked things up for you there. For the love of all that’s holy, please just stop rubbing it in,’’ Sol begged. ‘‘I’ll go and find the hotel, stable and even a place for supper. How’s that? Good enough?’’ With that, Sol snapped his reins and got moving a bit quicker toward town.

  ‘‘Wait,’’ Nester said.

  Sol pulled back on the leather straps until Smoky was down to a slow walk.

  Riding up to him, Nester kept right on going. Turning to look over his shoulder, he said, ‘‘I’m going in first. If your face is plastered all over the walls, I don’t want you bringing down all the fire and brimstone in that city.’’

  ‘‘So what do you want me to do?’’

  ‘‘Wait out here for a bit and then ride in using the same road I take. If ye’re the scourge of Albuquerque, I’ll ride right back out to warn you. If not, you can go about yer scouting. We’ll meet up over by that fence out yonder.’’

  Sol glanced in the direction Nester had pointed and saw the broken fence. When he looked back to the old man, Nester was far enough away that he had to shout to be heard. ‘‘And what if you can’t find me to warn me?’’

  ‘‘Then I guess we won’t meet up. Coming here was yer idea, remember?’’ Nester snapped his reins and raced toward the spot where trail became street and open country became a town. He waved over his shoulder and then leaned forward over his horse’s neck.

  When Sol caught himself waving to Nester’s back, he felt like the biggest fool in New Mexico. ‘‘Yeah, I remember,’’ he grumbled.

  The place Sol settled on for a room was a long, short building that looked and smelled as if it had originally been made for horses. Ironically enough, the stable he found nearby was a lot cleaner and newer than the place where Sol rented rooms for himself and Nester. The hotel had no name and was only marked by a faded old sign that said HOTEL in pale green letters. The beds were both uncomfortable and one room smelled slightly worse than the other. Sol knew this for a fact because he’d started off in the worse-smelling of the two and then moved his things to the second. If Nester wanted to force the scouting duties upon someone else, he should be ready for the consequences.

  Rather than concern himself with what Nester was doing, Sol decided to take his lessons to heart and continue scouting. He kept his hat pulled down as far as possible in the event there were more of those notices about and kept his eyes pointed forward. Fortunately, nobody who passed Sol o
n the street seemed too concerned with looking at him anyway.

  In the space of a few hours, Sol not only found several different ways to go from the hotel to the stable and then out of town, but he also spotted a few clean-looking restaurants and a cantina that had a two-man band playing loudly enough to be heard from the street. Sol kept walking until he found what looked to be a business district. The buildings were a bit taller and better maintained. There were more shingles hanging from doorways, and the boardwalks felt sturdier beneath his boots.

  Glancing up, Sol could see the sun had a little ways to go before it started dipping below the horizon. That meant he had a bit of time before he would need to meet Nester. Since a promising shingle hung not too far in front of him, Sol decided to spend his bit of extra time as best he could. And if he beat Nester to the punch, so be it.

  The sign that had caught Sol’s eye was for a local surveyor’s office. A smaller shingle hanging from the sign advertised assayer’s services, which were also available at that same location. Sol walked up to the front door and knocked. When he knocked a second time, he noticed the third sign hanging behind the glass of the front window. That one told him the place was closed.

  ‘‘Can I help you?’’ a stout man in his forties asked. He wore a rumpled brown suit and used a walking stick. Judging by the chips and cracks on that stick, it wasn’t carried for decorative purposes.

  ‘‘Do you know when this office will be open again?’’ Sol asked.

  Without looking at the window or any other part of the office, the man replied, ‘‘Eight o’clock tomorrow morning. That is, unless you have an appointment.’’

  ‘‘I don’t have an appointment.’’

  ‘‘Would you like to make one?’’ Noticing the heightened scrutiny that response brought about, the man in the rumpled suit shifted his walking stick to his left hand and extended his right to Sol. ‘‘My name’s Dennis Farley. I own this establishment.’’

  Catching himself before he spoke a name that might be that of a locally wanted man, Sol cleared his throat and said, ‘‘So . . . nice to meet you. I just got into town, so I apologize if I’m a bit out of sorts.’’