Reaper's Fee (10 page)

Pulling on Kazys’s reins, Nick pointed the horse eastward and touched his heels to the animal’s sides. Kazys was more than willing to get moving again and the smoking remains of the wagon were soon lost behind him.

On his way out of town, Nick spotted more than a few grateful Chinese faces looking out at him from darkened windows. He hoped the Federal train would arrive before the situation in Rock Springs could get any worse.

Nick’s mind wandered as he rode out of Rock Springs. Tearing out of a town with the grit of smoke in the back of his throat and the law possibly on his heels was nothing new to him. In fact, running away sometimes felt more natural than walking. He was ashamed to consider that it was more natural than any of the skills his father had taught him.

After taking a moment to get his bearings, Nick steered Kazys toward the northeast, making certain head away from Rock Springs. He couldn’t be precise, but that put the Dakotas more or less in front of him.

When he heard another horse coming in his direction, Nick reflexively reached for his gun. He stopped short of clearing leather as Kinman drew to a stop a good distance away from him.

“Keep riding that way and I’ll catch up to you,” Kinman shouted.

Nick waved him off and kept moving. “Don’t bother. I’ve got business to tend to.”

“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 passed 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.

“Damn, Lester,” Kinman said with a wince. “What the hell 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 goddamn mind?” Lester snapped the instant he was able. “This whole town’s going to hell 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 can…” 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 coffin—”

“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 cocked 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 ass if he pissed 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 damn 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 ass bumped 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 damn mouth and count yourself lucky that I haven’t put a bullet through your skull and dragged your carcass 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 may—”

“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 shithouse 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.

“I…uh…I 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 ass in for the reward? I already told you I don’t like being taken for a damn 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 of…” 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 mean…yeah!”

“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 plan
nin’ on how to escape or how to stab me in the back, but get that shit 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.”

“Wh…what’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. Uh…alone.”

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.

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 passed 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 hell 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 damn 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.”

“But…the horses need rest.”

“We haven’t been working them that hard.”

Lester gnashed his teeth together and shifted 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.”

“Nobody asked you.”

Since Kinman seemed more interested in the ground under his feet than the conversation at hand, Lester stood up in his stirrups and made a show of looking left and right. “I don’t see him or anyone else around here. Maybe you’re just trying to get me to agree to giving you most of the money we’re set to find.”

“You think so? Then maybe I should just shoot you and take you back into Rock Springs. I’ll bet they’d know where to go to turn your carcass in.” Surprisingly enough, there wasn’t a scowl on Kinman’s face when he turned around. “Don’t piss yourself just yet, Lester. I think I just found what I was after.”

“Really?”

Kinman drew his horse to a stop and climbed down from the saddle. Lester would have liked to
climb down with him, but his feet were tied to his stirrups, which were also connected by another rope that crossed underneath the horse they’d stolen for him to ride. Leaning forward, Lester stared intently at where Kinman was going.

“You see Graves somewhere?” Lester asked. “I told you we shouldn’t have circled town so much when we left.”

Ignoring the other man’s ramblings, Kinman walked to a small patch of open ground that was just a little way from the trail. He reached a spot where the dirt had been smoothed out and ran the tips of his fingers along the earth. Kinman looked around slowly, taking in everything. When he spotted the deep set of horse’s tracks, he grinned and nodded.

“What’d you find?” Lester asked. “Where is he? I don’t see nobody.”

Standing up but not moving from his spot, Kinman turned and studied every inch of ground in the vicinity one more time. Only then did he allow himself to disturb another speck of dirt with his own boot. “He was here,” Kinman said as he walked back to where his horse was standing.

“How do you know it was him?”

Plenty of things rushed through Kinman’s head that would serve as good answers to that question. Things ranging from the freshness of the tracks to the direction they were headed would have been good enough. There were also things
like instinct and a knowledge that he’d gained after spending years of hunting down his fellow man that would shed some light on the matter. With all those things in mind, Kinman simply looked over to Lester and grunted, “It don’t matter how I know. I just do.”

Lester’s instincts told him a few things as well. Namely, that it wasn’t a good idea to press the matter any further. “All right,” he said. “I was just askin’.”

Although the tone in his voice left no room for doubt, Kinman didn’t turn his back on the spot he’d found. He bent at the knees so he could run his hands into the upper layers of dirt. In a matter of seconds, his fingertips found a few scraps of food and the remnants of what had to have been a very small fire. Those things were enough to tell him that Nick had been trying to stay out of sight when he’d stopped there.

If he’d been waiting for Kinman to arrive, Graves wouldn’t have minded building a larger fire. In fact, he might have built a sizeable one to make certain he was spotted. There was always the argument that Graves wouldn’t have been anxious to be seen considering the circumstances in which they’d left Rock Springs, but any man should have known that the law in that town would have had their hands full with more important matters.

Kinman nodded to himself and straightened up.
Graves had been there, all right. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. Now, the trick would be to catch up to him without drawing too much suspicion.

“Looks like he headed to the northeast,” Lester said. “I can see some horse tracks from here.”

Kinman looked in that direction. His eyes followed the tracks, which he’d spotted less than a second after he’d spotted the campsite itself. The imprints were fairly fresh, which meant they’d probably been put down when the sun wasn’t even high enough in the sky to chase away the shadows. They seemed to be evenly spaced, so the horse wasn’t taking off in a rush. That either meant the rider was taking his sweet time, or was level-headed enough to walk when he knew damn well he should have been running.

Of course, there was always the third option. Nick Graves could have put down those tracks to give the impression of the first two possibilities. Having lost Graves’ trail so many times over the years, Kinman knew that was a distinct possibility. He also knew it was useless to try and second-guess his prey’s motives while standing still.

“Jesus Christ,” Lester mumbled. “A slug could’ve gotten to the Dakotas by now.”

Kinman wheeled around quickly enough to make Lester twitch in his saddle. As he climbed onto his own horse’s back, Kinman said, “For the first time, I agree with you.” He then snapped his reins and got moving.

Since Lester’s horse was tied to Kinman’s saddle horn, the other man had no choice but to follow.

Nick pulled in a lungful of air as the wind whipped past his head. Gripping the reins in a fist, he hunkered down low over Kazys’s neck and leaned into the torrent of wind caused by the horse’s galloping stride. The thunder of Kazys’s hooves reminded him of the rumble of the train’s engine that had carried them both all the way from California. At the moment, it was hard for him to believe that Kazys couldn’t have covered that same amount of ground in half the time.

The entire country was spread out in front of him like a giant multicolored blanket. Mountains, rivers, plains and forests all rushed past him in a continuous display. As more dusty wind blasted his face, Nick grinned and choked down the grit that had collected in his throat.

The scenery was starting to look more familiar. Although he wasn’t one for memorizing trails or shortcuts, he always had a good sense of where he was going. When he and Barrett had ridden together, the rest of the gang always knew that Barrett could figure out the quickest way to get where they were going and Nick could always get them home.

Nick was still amazed that he was the one riding back into the Dakotas wearing a few streaks of gray in his hair and Barrett was the one cooling his heels under several feet of dirt. No gambling man would have bet on Nick living through his twenties.

Kazys kept charging forward as if he was trying to rip away the upper layers of earth with his hooves. Nick steered away from the main trail at his first opportunity, while looking for the spot where he could eventually circle back onto the main course.

The tracks had grown deeper and farther apart. That caught Kinman’s eye right away, telling him that Nick was moving faster. Even though there weren’t many sets of fresh tracks in sight, Kinman had to trust his instinct that the ones he was following truly belonged to Nick Graves.

There were plenty of Indians in these parts. There were also scouts, messengers, couriers, and any number of men who might be riding by themselves and traveling in a rush. Come to think of it, Kinman guessed that anyone wanting to stay ahead of the Crow or Sioux would be riding pretty damn quickly right about now.

Even as all that raced through his mind, Kinman didn’t consider slowing down. There were times when a man needed to be careful and there were times when he needed to throw himself headlong into whatever path he’d chosen. This was one of the latter times and Kinman raced down his own path, not caring whether it led to a coffin full of jewels or a slow death.

There was no time to worry about what lay in between.