Reaper's Fee Part 12

"Yeah," Kinman grunted. "So do I."

Rock Springs felt as noisy and crowded as a saloon, even at the late hour that Kinman returned to it. Folks walked the streets, talking hurriedly to each other or shouting out to familiar faces they pa.s.sed along their way. Lawmen rode in pairs either dragging someone to jail or keeping their eyes out for another man to toss into a cell.

All Kinman had to do was keep his head down and his gun out of sight. He wasn't too worried about being recognized, since the only men who'd been close enough to spot him before the wagon exploded were either dead or miles away.

Staying well away from the smoldering Chinatown district, Kinman rode to a small house behind a blacksmith's shop. A quick glance into one of the windows made him fairly certain that the little house was still empty. He wasn't too worried if the owners had stopped by, though. Kinman only hoped that none of them had needed to relieve themselves before heading out again.

Kinman rode around the house, swung out of his saddle, and walked over to an outhouse that leaned partially against a tree. The narrow shack wasn't quite as tall as Kinman, himself, and was decorated with a star pattern cutout in the door. Stopping with his hand on the knotted rope threaded through the door, Kinman peeked through the star-shaped hole.

Lester looked right back at him.

"You done in there?" Kinman asked.

Although Lester glared intently at Kinman, he didn't even try to make a sound. After all the screaming he'd done already, he knew well enough that the bandanna that had been stuffed into his mouth was more than enough to keep him from being heard.

Kinman pulled open the door to admire his handiwork. Lester was just as he'd left him: both ankles bound tightly together and both arms tied to up and stuck between his legs. Using his boot to shove Lester's legs aside, Kinman double-checked that the rope was also still looped through the hole he'd knocked in the commode. Sure enough, if Lester wanted to go anywhere, he would have had to drag the entire outhouse along with him.

"d.a.m.n, Lester," Kinman said with a wince. "What the h.e.l.l have you been eating?"

Lester glared silently at Kinman over the bandanna hanging from his mouth.

"Anyone been around here since I left?"

When he saw that Lester wasn't moving a muscle, Kinman placed his right hand upon his holstered pistol and used his left to pull the bandanna from Lester's mouth.

"Are you out of your G.o.dd.a.m.n mind?" Lester snapped the instant he was able. "This whole town's going to h.e.l.l and you decide to take off and stretch your legs?"

"Not just stretch my legs, Lester. I turned a pretty profit as well."

"Doing what? Setting fires? I've been smelling smoke the whole time I was in here. You know those flames we saw when our train was stopped? I think they're still burning somewhere."

Kinman's grip tightened around the bandanna he'd used to silence his prisoner, but his spirits were too high for him to put the dirty cloth back into use. "You're gonna have to be quiet, now. There's something I need to talk about."

"Now you wanna be polite? Now you wanna be neighborly? Why don't you start off by untying me and then we'll see how polite and neighborly I cana" Lester's words trailed off when he heard the subtle brush of iron against leather and found himself looking down the barrel of Kinman's gun. "You were saying?" Lester squeaked.

Leaning against the outhouse door, Kinman announced, "I've acquired a partner for our little venture into the Badlands. His name's Nicolai Graves."

As much as he wanted to respond to that, Lester found himself without enough breath to utter a single word. Filling his lungs was difficult work. It was also not very rewarding considering where he was sitting. "You mean the same Nick Graves who used to ride with Barrett Cobb?"

Kinman nodded.

"This is the Barrett Cobb whose grave we're going to see," Lester pointed out. "You do realize that?"

"Oh, I sure do realize it. And it just so happens that Graves the man might turn out to be every bit as valuable as the grave we're out to find. Whatever you say is buried in that coffina""

"It's in there," Lester said quickly. "I swear it!"

Kinman nodded and patted the air as if he was calming a frantic child. "We'll see about that when we get there. But whatever it is, it's the same as what it was when that last bit of dirt was thrown on top of it. Over the last few years, the price on Nick Graves' head has only been getting better."

Lester squinted and c.o.c.ked his head to one side. "Why? I hear that Graves was nearly killed when he was run out of Montana. Lord knows he ain't been leading no gang like he used to."

"I don't give a rat's a.s.s if he p.i.s.sed off Jesus Christ himself, and all three wise men are the ones putting up the money. All I do care about is that the money's being put up by some very reliable sources. Even if I can't coax a bit more out when the time comes, the reward is pretty d.a.m.n good as it stands."

"Wait a second," Lester said as he suddenly hopped up as if he meant to stand. Before his legs could straighten, he found the limit of the rope tying him to the commode and was jerked right back down again. Even as his a.s.s b.u.mped against the splintered wood, the smile remained upon his face. "You wouldn't be here if it weren't for me. Shouldn't I get a percentage of the reward, too?"

Despite Kinman's good humor, there was no way for him to hide the murderous glint that came into his eye. "You telling me you had something to do with those crazy fools blocking the railroad tracks?"

"No."

"Then maybe you had some way of making certain Graves and I crossed paths once we were both stuck in this mess?"

As much as he wanted to say otherwise, Lester shook his head. "Nope."

"Oh. Then shut yer d.a.m.n mouth and count yourself lucky that I haven't put a bullet through your skull and dragged your carca.s.s in for the reward."

"Where's Graves now?"

"Headed to the Badlands."

Lester looked at Kinman and waited for a few seconds. When he realized there wasn't anything else coming, he asked, "You let him go?"

Kinman nodded. "I'll catch up with him as soon as I get you out of here."

Tugging at his ropes, Lester strained to get up. "Then what are we waiting for? If he gets too far ahead, he maya""

"He may get an extra couple of hours on his own before I catch up to him again." Tapping the side of his nose, Kinman added, "I got his scent now, just like I got yours. I know where he's headed and there ain't too many ways to get there from here. My only question now is whether you're comin' along as a partner or as baggage."

"Things would be plenty easier if I came along as a partner."

Kinman narrowed his eyes and smirked. "You really think so?"

"All right, but I can be a good partner. I've got no reason to cross you."

"Don't take me for a fool, Lester. I don't like it."

"I'm not taking you for anything. I can help!"

"That's what I want to hear. You tell me how you can help and maybe I'll see my way clear to letting you leave this s.h.i.+thouse alive."

Lester's eyes widened. Suddenly, he looked around at the dirty walls surrounding him as if he'd found himself inside of a coffin. As his brain seized up under the pressure, he saw Kinman slowly lift his pistol and begin rolling the cylinder against his other palm.

"I'm waiting," Kinman said quietly.

"IauhaI can keep an eye on Graves when you're not around!"

"Don't need that. I keep track of slippery cusses like that one for a living."

"I can watch your back in case Graves decides to take a shot at you."

Kinman chuckled under his breath. "You'd work extra hard to make sure I don't come to any harm so I can drag your a.s.s in for the reward? I already told you I don't like being taken for a d.a.m.n fool. In fact, I don't know if there is a reason why I should keep you alive."

Lester laughed uncomfortably at first, thinking that Kinman was just turning the screws a bit tighter. Then he saw the bounty hunter's eyes become as cold as two chunks of ice as he pointed his gun again, and Lester knew there wasn't an ounce of bluff in what he'd said.

"I can find that grave!" Lester spat out. "I can take you straight to it in case things go wrong and you lose sight ofa" Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere with that one, Lester added, "You could kill Graves any time you want! Let him get you close and then shoot him. He can be the baggage and I can take you the rest of the way! I could even work on him to give you a better shot at him!"

Suddenly, the ice in Kinman's eyes began to melt. "You just might be onto something there."

Lester was curled up with his knees against his chest and his arms crossed in front of him. His face was twisted into a frightened wince as if he'd already been shot. Slowly, his muscles relaxed and he blinked uneasily. "Yeah? I meanayeah!"

"You can lend a hand in setting up Graves after we find that cash buried out in the Badlands. You do that and you might even be in for a cut of the reward. That would be a nice little nest egg waiting for you once you get out of jail."

"Or you could keep all the reward and just let me go," Lester squeaked.

Kinman's eyes narrowed again.

"You can even keep a bigger cut of whatever we find buried with Cobb," Lester offered. "If I pull my weight, you can let me go with just enough money to get me across the border and you can ride off with that treasure and whatever money you get from Graves."

For the next several seconds, Kinman stood rooted to his spot. His face became an unreadable mask that seemed to collect more and more shadows around its edges. The gun in his hand didn't waver. From the way he held it, it could be holstered just as quickly as it could be used to blow Lester's head off his shoulders.

Finally, Kinman nodded and said, "I've got something in mind for you."

Lester wanted to ask what it was, but couldn't muster up enough breath to push the question out. The sounds drifting in from the rest of the town weren't as loud as they had been before, but there were still enough shouts and gunshots to make Lester wince at every last one of them.

"You play your cards right," Kinman snarled, "and you could live a comfortable life once you cross whichever border you have your eyes on. Cross me, and I'll see to it that you pray for a bullet in your head."

Nodding as if he meant to shake his head free of his neck, Lester said, "Sure! That sounds like a great deal."

But Kinman didn't move. "I know you're plannin' on how to escape or how to stab me in the back, but get that s.h.i.+t out of your head right now. Unless you think you can kill me, just go along with our plan and I'll cut you free. Even if you do manage to get away from me, I'll make it my life's work to track you down and gut you slow enough for you to feel every second of it."

"Whawhat's the plan?"

"There'll be time to discuss that on the ride outta here."

"Is there another train coming?" Lester asked.

"Yeah, but we won't want any part of it. There's plenty of horses around here for us to choose from. This place has got bigger things to worry about than a couple stolen animals. All I need to know is whether or not I can count on you to do the smart thing."

The enthusiasm had faded from Lester's face and was replaced by a frightened, almost sickened expression. After a bit of consideration, he nodded. "All right. Count me in."

Kinman holstered his gun and reached around to take out the blade sheathed at the small of his back. With one quick swipe, he cut the rope that had tied Lester to the outhouse. "Let's get outta here before this town tears itself apart."

Even though Lester could straighten up and move his arms, he didn't follow Kinman.

After taking a few steps away from the outhouse, Kinman looked over his shoulder and asked, "Ain't you coming?"

"Actually," Lester replied sheepishly. "I could use a few more minutes in here. Uhaalone."

Kinman grinned and kicked the door shut as he walked away so Lester could let his fear and nervousness work themselves out of his system.

SIXTEEN.

After all that had happened in the short time he'd been in Rock Springs, Nick found it hard to believe just how quickly he'd pa.s.sed through that town. Compared to all the commotion that was flooding through that place, the quiet of hiding out in the middle of nowhere was a welcome relief.

As much as Nick would have liked to find a spot that was just off the trail and big enough for a campsite, he wasn't eager to be found by anyone following him. There was always the possibility of some lawman trying to catch up to him, thinking that Nick had meant to blow up those railroad tracks. What bothered him more than that was the possibility of crossing Kinman's path.

Nick didn't have to see the man shooting innocent Chinese to know that Kinman had put together a good-sized pile of bodies. Watching that wagon blow to pieces had been like Christmas morning for Kinman. The glee etched across Kinman's face had been almost enough to turn Nick's stomach. It was very similar to the grin worn by the man who'd mutilated Nick's hands.

Nick led Kazys a little further off the trail as he did his best to focus on the ground directly in front of him instead of the ground he'd left behind.

Walking ahead of the horse, Nick kept his eyes trained upon the shadow-covered terrain. His fingers were clenched around Kazys's reins and the horse followed him without question. Before too long, the crunch of their steps against the ground washed away the echoes floating through Nick's mind in the same manner as a steady current washed the rocks from a riverbed.

Nick picked a spot to camp simply by running out of steam on a flat section of land. He wound up a good way from the trail and far enough away from Rock Springs to feel comfortable, so he tied Kazys off and took his bedroll from the saddle.

After he'd had some jerky and stretched out on his bedroll, Nick figured that all the trouble he'd gone through had been worth it just to get the h.e.l.l off that train. Staying on would have only prolonged his misery just to gain a few more miles. Nick might not have been in Cheyenne, but he wasn't far off from the Badlands. He figured it should be a few days' ride at the most. He would be riding by himself, which made the extra time plenty worthwhile.

Nick strapped his holster over his belly, slid his hat so that it covered most of his face and lay back with his head propped up on his balled-up coat. Compared to the rest he'd tried to get with his head bouncing in that d.a.m.n train, it was like floating on a cloud.

"I thought you said you'd know where to find him," Lester said.

The sun's rays were barely working their way across the sky, giving it the first orange hues of dawn. The air smelled fresh and there was a cool breeze blowing in from the west. Despite all of that pleasantness, Kinman still managed to flash a murderous glare at Lester.

Reflexively, Lester turned away.

"I do know where to find him," Kinman muttered. "I just couldn't exactly see every track in the dirt when it was dark."

"Well, the sun's up now. I just hope our friend Graves hasn't gone too far."

Kinman rode slowly with his eyes trained upon the ground. One hand was always resting upon the grip of his rifle, which lay across his lap. His other hand held the reins in a loose grip, allowing him to guide his horse as if by thought alone. "He can't be far from here," he said to himself as much as to Lester. "He either made camp last night or will make camp before too much longer. Either way, that'll allow us to catch up."

"We got to make camp, too, you know." The confidence in Lester's voice was no longer there when he added, "Don't we?"

The look he got from Kinman didn't inspire any confidence.

"We don't make camp," Kinman snarled, "until we find Graves."

"Butathe horses need rest."

"We haven't been working them that hard."

Lester gnashed his teeth together and s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably. After weighing his options, he said, "Then I need rest! We haven't gotten out of our saddles since we left that shooting gallery of a town." Twisting around to get a look behind him, Lester let out a troubled moan. "We're still not far enough away from there, if you ask me."

"n.o.body asked you."