Man From Boot Hill (14 page)

Joseph realized he should have asked for better directions. He assumed “Six-Forty” was the name of the place, but half the saloons he saw didn’t have any signs on their fronts. One of them, however, had an old clock dangling precariously from a copper arm. Sure enough, the hands on that clock were stuck at six-forty. Joseph stepped into that place and wasn’t as affected by the pungent aroma that hit him in the nose. This saloon was a bit bigger than the first one and even had a real bar. Looking around, he spotted a couple of card games going on in the back.

The sound of knuckles cracking against flesh and bone rattled through the stale air, followed by a torrent of raucous laughter as something heavy hit the floor. Two skinny drunks with half a set of teeth between them were fighting. Sitting close to the fracas was a fat man, wearing a gray shirt, who seemed to fit the Indian’s description.

Joseph walked up to the fat man and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Uh?” the fat man grunted as he strained to look up and around at Joseph.

“Are you Schultz?”

“What the fuck do you care?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Sure it is, now go fuck your mother.”

Joseph balled up his fist and slammed it into Schultz’s mouth. The sound brought another wave of cheers from the surrounding drunks, along with two men who stood up and marched toward Joseph with fire in their eyes.

Seeing those other men close in around him, Joseph turned and said the first thing that came to mind. “Stay out of this. I’m collecting money for the Indian.”

One of the other men was a stout fellow wearing at least four different pelts buckled around different parts of his body. He squinted through a pair of light brown eyes and asked, “What Indian?”

“The one behind the bar at the saloon down the street. Which one did you think?”

The men looked at one another, studied Joseph and then looked at the fat man with the fat lip. Sniffing once, like a dog examining a table scrap, the man with the furs said, “Sorry, Shultzie. You’re on your own.”

Joseph did his best to keep the confident look on his face as the other men slowly drifted away. At the very least, he managed to keep himself from looking too surprised when they left him and Schultz alone at the table. By that time, the rest of
the saloon had already found other things to worry about.

“Look here,” Schultz said as he squirmed around to the other side of the table. “I got the Indian’s money. I just don’t got it with me.”

“Then tell me about the men who came through town looking to hire cow hands.”

Shultz squinted and sputtered, “What?”

“You need to be more helpful, or I’m supposed to start taking scalps.”

The moment he said that, Joseph thought he might have pushed just a little too far. Judging by the horrified look on Schultz’s face, however, the Indian barkeep must have been known for worse things than just serving piss to his customers.

“This ain’t a cow town,” Schultz quickly said. “There’s no work for cow hands.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You know what kind of work I mean.”

“Then you already know they was looking for branders and anyone who would get their hands dirty for pay. They also needed scouts.”

“Scouts?”

“Yeah. Riders with fast horses who could cover a lot of ground. My brother weren’t one of them, but one of his friends fit that bill just fine. Anyone looking to work was supposed to meet someone in San Trista.”

“Where is that?”

“A few days’ ride south of here. It’s just a hacienda with a general store that serves drinks. Ride
south until you hit a dried up riverbed. Follow that until it hooks east and turn west, instead. You’ll hit San Trista before long. I don’t know who’ll be there, though. They said not to bother if it took too long to make up their minds.”

“I’ll just have to take my chances.”

“You like taking chances, don’t ya boy?”

“Pardon me?”

Schultz spread the corners of his mouth apart in a wide, filthy grin. He snorted and wheezed with the effort of leaning forward until he was close enough for Joseph to smell the rotten meat stuck in the fat man’s teeth.

“You ain’t asked for the money I owe that Indian,” Schultz grunted. “I bet you can’t even tell me how much it is.”

“Eighteen and a half dollars,” Joseph recited.

“You still seem to have forgot all about it so you could ask about them men that came along to give my brother a job. You the law, boy?”

Every time Schultz called him boy, Joseph felt his teeth grind together. The fat man seemed to have picked up on that right away and now put extra emphasis on the word.

“I asked you a question, boy. You the law or are you just trying to stick yer nose into my brother’s affairs?”

Before Joseph could answer that, he heard boots scraping against the floor behind him. A few quick glances over his shoulders told him that those men who’d been scared off before were now closing in
on him again. As the men got closer, Joseph wondered if he could draw his gun before they made their move. In the time it took to ponder that question, he knew he was already too late.

“We don’t take to the law ’round here, boy,” Schultz grunted. “Fact is, we like to slice law dogs open and pin their badges to the fucking wall behind you. That’s why I prefer this here place over that Indian’s saloon. What do ya say, Stein? You think this asshole’s got another badge to pin to the wall?”

The tallest of the men standing behind Joseph laughed under his breath and dropped a hand on Joseph’s shoulder than felt more like an anvil. “If he don’t, I’m sure his balls’ll do just fine.”

As the men closed in behind him, Joseph could hear them all laughing to each other. They were looking at him as easy pickings and that, alone, sparked a fire inside his gut.

Balling up his fist, Joseph turned and swung his arm around like a whip. The side of his fist cracked against a man’s head, making him stagger back and to the side. Pain flared in Joseph’s hand, so he swung his other one with the same amount of fury.

“Get ’im Stein!” Schultz hollered.

The man who responded to that was taller than Joseph and outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. His blond hair was cropped so short that it looked like bristles on a brush. He grabbed hold of Joseph’s shoulder and shoved him hard enough to spin him like a top.

Joseph’s first reaction was to take a swing and Stein stood there to let him do it. His fist made solid contact, but thumped uselessly against a wall of pure muscle. He swung again, but only got a pain in his knuckles for the effort.

Stein grabbed the top of Joseph’s head in an iron grip. He pulled back his left fist and smashed it into Joseph’s face.

For a moment, Joseph thought that Stein was the only thing holding him up. His legs turned to pudding and he couldn’t feel the floor beneath him. He only realized he was falling a split-second before his backside hit the floor. When he dropped, all the air was forced from his lungs.

It took a second for Joseph’s vision to clear. He was sitting on the ground with his legs splayed out in front of him, leaning back on his arms for support. Above him, Stein was trading jokes with Schultz as the fat man pulled himself out of his chair to get a better look.

Joseph couldn’t see everyone else in the saloon, but he could hear them shouting and cheering as if they were watching a stage show. When Stein looked down at him with a cruel purpose in his eyes, Joseph knew he had to make a move before he was knocked out for good. Frantically grabbing for the gun tucked under his belt, Joseph fumbled a few times before finally managing to pull the weapon free.

“Lawman’s got a gun,” Stein growled. “But he don’t got the sand to use it.”

Holding the pistol in hand, Joseph placed his thumb on the hammer and immediately thought back to the man he’d killed with that same gun. The longer Joseph waited, the wider Stein’s smile grew.

“Maybe he ain’t no law dog,” Shultz said.

Stein slowly drew a gun from his own belt. In the big man’s hands, the weapon looked like a toy. “Maybe, but he sure as hell won’t be walking out of here.”

Joseph couldn’t hold his gun up. It weighed his arm down to the point that the end of the barrel tapped against the floor. When he heard that sound, Joseph snapped his eyes up as well as his arm. The pistol made a satisfying thump as he slammed it straight up into Stein’s groin.

Stein’s knees bent and his body slumped forward. He dropped the gun so he could move his hand between his legs. For a second or two, Stein didn’t make a sound. He then let out a strained moan and lowered himself to one knee.

Joseph collected the gun that Stein had dropped and jumped to his feet. Holding a pistol in each hand and keeping the rest of the saloon at bay felt good enough to make him forget about the throbbing pain in his face. “Anyone else interested in trying their luck?” Joseph asked.

There were no takers.

Swinging one of his guns to aim at Schultz, Joseph said, “Put any weapons you got on the table.”

The fat man complied, producing a gun from his holster and a knife from his boot.

“How many men came through here looking for hired guns?” Joseph asked.

The fat man sputtered for a bit and then spat out, “Five or six.”

“And how many took them up on the offer?”

“Maybe another five or six. I don’t know for certain.”

Joseph glared over the barrel of that gun as he tried to think of anything else he should ask. Unable to come up with anything, he nodded and backed toward the door. “All right, then,” he said. “Anyone who wants to push their luck can follow me out this door.”

The rest of the men that had been fighting on Shultz’s behalf lowered their heads and backed away. Everyone else in the saloon was just waiting to make sure the show was over.

Once he was on the street, hardly anyone bothered to look at Joseph. The fact that he still had a gun in each hand didn’t seem to carry much weight. Joseph tucked his gun back into its regular spot and then found another space under his belt for the one he’d taken from Stein.

Passing by the next saloon, Joseph went straight to the one at the end of the street simply because it was far away from the rest. He went inside, ordered a drink and downed it in one swig. The next drink went down just as fast.

“So,” Nick said as he walked up to Joseph a while later, “you get into any trouble?”

Although the question was meant as a joke, Nick could tell Joseph was rattled by it. His eyes quickly picked up on something else, as well.

“Where’d you get the second gun?” he asked.

When Joseph let out his breath, it was thick with the stench of cheap whiskey. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

As they were riding out of Perro Negro, Joseph told Nick about what had happened during his tour of the saloons. Nick listened and nodded, every so often checking Joseph’s face to see if he could spot any hint of a lie. When he didn’t see one, he let out a low whistle.

“Jesus,” Nick said. “All I got was a belly full of bad beer and a few stories about men riding through there looking for cowhands. Sounds like this was your lucky day.”

“Lucky?” Joseph muttered. “I damn near got killed.”

“But you didn’t,” Nick pointed out. “Very lucky.”

It was pitch black, but they kept riding until Perro Negro was well behind them. Nick made a small fire while Joseph threw together a quick meal of beans and coffee. While they ate, both men compared what they were able to gather during their expedition through town.

“I feel like I was the lazy one,” Nick said. “You waded into that mud hole and came out with damn near everything we needed.”

“Cost me twenty dollars, but it was well spent.”

“From what I’ve seen, you’ve got plenty to spare.”

Joseph instinctively looked over to his horse. The strongbox was no longer hanging from his saddle, since the money inside of it had been secreted away between himself, his horse and Nick. “If it costs me all I got to see this through,” Joseph said as he shifted to face the fire, “it’ll be worth it.”

“Well, I might not have had as much excitement, but I did learn a thing or two while I was away,” Nick said.

“Really? What’s that?”

“One of the men I found was planning on heading down to San Trista to meet up with the fellow offering those jobs.”

“So we’re not too late?”

“We’re cutting it close, but we should make it.”

Joseph nodded. “That is good news.”

“Here’s some even better news.” Nick grinned
and leaned forward as if he was afraid one of the rabbits in the shadows near the camp would overhear him. “This same fellow’s already gotten word from San Trista that there’s only one or two men waiting there to round up whatever men answer the call.”

“Then we might as well head straight for that ranch, since that’s where folks are going to be in real danger.”

“On the contrary, I think we should get to San Trista as soon as we possibly can.”

Joseph looked at Nick’s face, but still could not figure out what was causing the excitement on it. “All right, I give up. Why should we go there just for one or two of that gang and a few locals?”

“Because those locals are the gang’s backup. If we can swing in there and take out at least those two that are waiting for them, the rest will be cut loose altogether. Remember that signal our friend on the Silver Gorge trail told us about?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d bet everything I’ve got that those two men waiting at San Trista won’t tell the others about that signal until it’s absolutely necessary. Hell, they might not even tell them about it when they get there. What’re a few whistles if you don’t know any better?”

Suddenly, Joseph’s eyes widened as a look of understanding flashed across his face. “This would be like cutting off a supply line.”

Nick nodded and leaned back again. “Exactly!”

“That’s actually pretty smart. It’s a good thing you’re here. I think I’m starting to lose my nerve.”

“Why do you think that?” Nick asked. “Because you didn’t leave a pile of bodies in that saloon?”

“No. Well…maybe not a pile of them.”

“But a few would have been nice?”

Joseph shook his head and looked away, but it was clear that Nick had hit close to the mark. “I guess those just weren’t the men I wanted to see.”

“Well, don’t worry about that. It sounds like we’ll be meeting up with them soon enough.”

With Joseph leading the way, the short ride to San Trista soon became a race between their two horses. Although he’d started out in the lead, Joseph eventually found Kazys nipping at his heels. The older horse had built up a head of steam and ran past Joseph so quickly that his horse shied away.

It took Nick a few miles to rein in Kazys and slow Joseph down as well. By the time the small settlement known as San Trista came into view, both animals were chomping at the bit to keep the race going. They weren’t the only anxious ones.

“What’s the matter?” Joseph asked as Nick slowed to a stop a fair distance from the shacks in front of them. “That looks like the place up ahead.”

“And it won’t be going anywhere,” Nick assured him. “Unlike the men who could bolt from there at a moment’s notice if they don’t like the way we’re riding up on them.”

“There’s only two or three buildings over there. You think there’s a way we can sneak up on them? Hell, they probably already saw us coming.”

“Which is why we shouldn’t look like we’re out to stampede over them. Think for a second.”

Although he wasn’t too happy about it, Joseph finally had to nod. “I guess I see your point.”

“Good.”

“So what are we going to do?”

Nick leaned forward in his saddle toward the small cluster of shacks. Squinting at the crooked buildings, he said, “I can only see a few horses there. Could be the men from Perro Negro, or it could be the ones waiting for stragglers.”

“I say we ride up like we’re looking for work, just like we did at those saloons.”

“Now you’re thinking. This time, though, let me do the talking.”

The town was made up of a run-down general store and a pair of shacks, which were probably home to whoever owned the store. The two men were only thirty or forty yards away from the store when someone came outside, looked in their direction and went back in.

“I don’t like the looks of this,” Nick said.

“Why? What happened?”

“I think he recognized us.”

Narrowing his eyes to angry slits, Joseph checked the guns under his belt and said, “Let’s get moving.”

Before Nick could say anything for or against the plan, Joseph was carrying it out. Nick kept
alongside Joseph, watching for any hint of movement around the store.

By the time Nick and Joseph rode up to the storefront, its inhabitants were noisily pushing open its rattling doors. Boots stomped against the ground as men rushed outside.

When Joseph saw George among the men coming out to meet him, the color drained from his face and his voice dropped to a barely audible tone. “I’ll be damned,” he said.

George was with two other men and all three of them were armed. In fact, all three of them had their guns up before Joseph’s surprised statement was out of his mouth. However, it was Nick’s modified Schofield that sent the initial clap of thunder through the air.

The man to George’s left had a wiry frame and a quick gun hand. He was so quick that his trigger was halfway pulled when Nick’s round caught him in the upper chest. The impact of the bullet took the wiry gunman off his feet as his finger jerked around the trigger. His shot went straight into the ground.

The gunman standing to George’s right was barrel-chested and a bit longer in the tooth. He took his time in drawing and firing a shot. If Nick hadn’t already started swinging down from his saddle, he might very well have caught the incoming round. As it was, the bullet hissed over his head and barely caused Kazys to twitch an ear.

Even though George had drawn his gun, he had
yet to pull the trigger. It seemed that the frightened young man wasn’t even thinking about firing when he caught the brunt of his former employer’s vicious stare.

“Where the hell are you going?” Joseph snarled as George backed away. He nearly stumbled over the planking in front of the general store in his haste to get back inside. The barrel-chested gunman took a quick glance, but he had a full plate already, since Nick was still intent on using his Schofield.

As Nick moved forward, he took in the scene as if he was admiring it from afar. His eyes calmly darted from one spot to another, watching for any additional threats while keeping track of the ones already in front of him. His arm remained extended and he stopped firing once he saw his target drop behind a stack of old crates piled up near the store.

“Joseph, watch out!” Nick shouted when he spotted Joseph headed straight for the store.

But Joseph did not seem to care that he was heading toward the other gunman. Joseph’s only concern was George inside.

Although he couldn’t see the barrel-chested gunman, Nick had no trouble figuring out the man’s intentions. As Joseph was about to pass the crates where the gunman was hiding, Nick shot his last two rounds through the dirty wooden boxes. Dust exploded from the splintering wood and Joseph stormed through it on his way to the door.

Nick kept his eyes on those crates as he went through the well-practiced motions of reloading his gun. Holding the pistol in his left hand, he plucked spare bullets from his gun belt using his right little finger and flipped them into his palm. He slid each round slid into the cylinder, transferred the pistol to his right hand and shut it with a snap of his wrist.

Before Nick could do anything else, the crates were knocked over as the barrel-chested gunman stormed toward him. He still was too busy reloading to take a shot. After snapping the cylinder shut, the stocky man balled up his fist and drove it into Nick’s midsection.

“I hear you’re the one that killed J. D.,” the gunman snarled as Nick doubled over and let out a pained grunt. “Fucking gravedigger shot him in the back. J. D. was my friend.”

Nick struggled to straighten up, but wasn’t even able to draw a breath. He was surprised to find that he still had his gun in his hand.

The bigger man seized him by the throat and pressed his gun barrel against the top of Nick’s head. As soon as the iron touched his skull, Nick’s instincts took over. He flattened his left hand and shot it straight up, catching the gunman’s wrist and forcing his pistol into the air. The gunman’s finger snagged against the trigger, sending a shot above their heads, as Nick fired a bullet of his own into the gunman’s foot.

It was the only shot that Nick could take that
had no chance of missing. Hot lead drilled through the top of the gunman’s boot and foot, and dug several inches into the ground beneath it. The instant he saw the man’s wounded leg jerk up reflexively, Nick leaned forward and knocked the him on his ass.

The man landed with a heavy thump and let out a surprised grunt. His wounded foot stayed in the same spot, while his gun arm splayed out over his head. His eyes focused on Nick standing directly over him, the modified Schofield aimed directly at the outlaw’s face.

“Be smart and toss the gun,” Nick warned.

The man glared up at him and swore under his breath. He surprised the hell out of Nick by doing exactly what he was told.