Reaper's Fee

by Marcus Galloway

  Nick wasn’t about to jeopardize the animal’s health, but he also wasn’t about to jeopardize his own by allowing himself to fall too close to the men who were chasing him. Kinman’s presence was always nagging at the back of Nick’s mind. He could feel the other man closing in on him, even though he couldn’t see or hear him coming. Nick had been hunted for too many years to overlook that anxious feeling in the bottom of his gut.

  Kinman pulled back on his reins and slowed down gradually enough for Lester’s horse to get the hint. The bounty hunter’s chest was heaving as if he’d run the last couple of miles on foot, and his eyes darted back and forth within their sockets.

  “What’s the matter?” Lester asked. “Did you lose him?”

  Still glancing around, Kinman slowed his horse so he was directly beside Lester’s. He reached to his belt and drew the hunting knife that was sheathed there.

  Lester squirmed reflexively in his saddle. “All right, fine!” he squealed. “You didn’t lose him!”

  But none of Lester’s pleading was about to stay Kinman’s hand. Seeing that, Lester clenched his eyes shut and waited to feel the blade cut through his flesh. Although he did feel the cool touch of sharpened steel, it was only for a second as it glanced between his wrists.

  When he opened his eyes again, Lester found the ropes tying his hands to the saddle had been cut. The rope connecting his ankles was the next to go. Kinman leaned down and swiped the blade through the rope as if it was warm butter, causing both ends to drop down and brush against the ground. Even Lester’s horse seemed surprised to have the rope removed, since it had gotten used to feeling them on its belly for all these miles.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Lester asked tentatively.

  “Don’t you remember what we talked about? I said I had plans for you.”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Now’s the time to see those plans through.”

  Lester gathered up his courage and glanced up the trail. When he looked back at Kinman, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “We’re still going after them jewels?”

  “Of course,” Kinman said with a humorless chuckle. “That is, unless you’re about to tell me there ain’t no buried treasure.”

  “Oh, it’s there!”

  “Then ride on ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Although Lester faced forward and gathered up his reins, he restrained himself from snapping the leather and setting his horse into motion. Every muscle in his body wanted to move forward. His legs tensed against the horse’s sides. His chest tensed. Even his head stretched forward as if he was anticipating the wind being in his face. Soon, however, he seemed more like a turkey stretching his neck along the chopping block.

  “We should probably stick together,” Lester said. “This is Indian country, ain’t it?”

  Kinman nodded. “Sioux.”

  “You think them Sioux’ll be happy scalping me and just let you pass?”

  “Hell no. If the Sioux are out for scalps, then they’ll get both of us. It won’t matter too much whether we’re separate or in one spot.”

  “I guess that’s true. Why are you letting me go?”

  “We’re crossing into the Badlands and we need to split up. Graves is bound to be watching his back right about now, but he’s only looking for me.”

  “What if he sees me first?” Lester asked.

  “That’s what you should hope for. He’s never met you, has he?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “Good,” Kinman said. “Then he’s got every reason to treat you like he’d treat anyone else. Don’t tell him who you are, just to be on the safe side. Keep him occupied until I’ve snuck around behind him. If he sees me, the plan’s the same, only it’s you doing the sneaking while Graves comes after me. You’ve got the easy job, since I’ll be doing most of the fighting either way.”

  “Do you think Graves knows you’re after him?”

  Kinman shrugged and replied, “I don’t think so, but I ain’t about to bet my life on it. You’ll ride ahead, but we won’t be too far apart. When one of us hears shooting, the other comes in to lend a hand. That’s how you’re earning your freedom, remember? You play your cards right, and I may still throw you a percentage of whatever we find in that coffin you’ve been going on about.”

  Eventually, Lester started to nod. “All right.”

  “Don’t look so cautious, Lester. I could’ve killed you at any time if I wanted you dead. You bolt from me like a coward now, and I can still catch you any time I please. I ain’t got no doubt about that. Do you?”

  Lester studied Kinman’s eyes for a second. That was all it took for him to get the answer he needed. “Nope,” he said.

  “Good. That proves you’re a smart fellow. Now get moving toward that ridge,” Kinman said, pointing to the east. “I’m heading up north and will keep riding that way for a mile or so.”

  Lester swallowed and nodded as all the color drained from his face.

  “What’s eating you now?” Kinman asked.

  “I feel more like bait in a trap right about now.”

  “At least you’re still live bait.”

  Seeing Kinman’s hand inch a bit closer to his gun, Lester pointed his horse to the east and snapped the reins. Even with the sense that he might get shot in the back at any second, Lester did feel good to be somewhat on his own. It wasn’t long before he’d worked most of the kinks out of his arms and legs so he could keep moving in time to the horse’s motions. Soon he built up some speed and was racing toward the ridge Kinman had pointed out.

  When he looked over his shoulder, Lester didn’t see more than a cloud of dust to indicate the bounty hunter had been there.

  He tapped his heels against his horse’s sides and let out a sharp yell to get the animal moving even faster. For the first minute or so, Lester wasn’t even looking for Graves. Instead, he kept his eyes open for a sign of Kinman’s approach or a good spot to make a sharp turn before the bounty hunter got there.

  What he found when he cleared the ridge was something that put a whole other kind of dread into Lester’s gut. The cold touch of it seeped down like a poison that had been slipped into his water and it spread out in all directions once it got to his stomach.

  “Oh shit,” Lester said under his breath when he spotted the row of horses approaching him from the left. He wasn’t close enough to see the riders’ faces, but he could most definitely spot the feathers tied to their heads, saddles and rifle barrels.

  Lester counted four Indians, but knew there would be more coming from a small village he could see less than a mile or so away.

  “Son of a bitch knew this was gonna happen,” Lester rasped as he bunched up his reins and used them to whip his horse’s flank. “I don’t know how he knew, but he knew. I’m sure of it.”

  Muttering a silent prayer, Lester steered away from the Indians and hoped that would be enough to get them off his tail. Sometimes, all they wanted to do was scare folks away from their villages or sacred burial grounds. Lester was no expert on the matter, but he had enough common sense to know when to give the savages a wide berth. Since he’d caught sight of the village, he figured they were just a couple of braves out to gain a reputation by putting the fright into a white man.

  Lester’s horse was breathing heavily and slowing down. He let the animal ease up a bit so he could turn and take a quick peek over his shoulder. The Indians were even closer than he’d thought, and were gaining ground fast.

  “Come on, you sack of bones.” Lester grunted as he turned back around and whipped the horse’s side. “Get your ass moving or we’re both dead.”

  Lester knew better than to think his horse could understand him. The horse may not have even been able to hear him over the pounding of its own hooves or the sound of Indians sweeping in on him like a plague of locusts.

  Every bit of sense in Lester’s head told him to take a shot at those Indians before they got any closer. If he’d had a gun on him
, he might have done that very thing. Even if he had a knife, he was getting desperate enough to turn and throw it at the first feathered head he could find.

  Since he didn’t even have anything in his pockets to throw, Lester snapped his reins again and hoped his horse wouldn’t keel over before carrying him far enough away for those savages to lose interest.

  Nick used his dented spyglass to watch the Indians ride closer. He knew they’d be coming, since he’d been the one to ride past their village close enough to draw their attention. Just for good measure, he’d kept on riding to the nearby burial ground so that he would lead Kinman or whoever was following him straight through the spot where no paleface should go.

  Having ridden through this section of the Badlands several times throughout the years, Nick knew that most anyone heeding the warnings they were given were allowed to change their course without too much trouble.

  Anyone who pushed the Sioux further than that deserved whatever they got.

  But Nick didn’t see any surprised lawmen when he looked through the spyglass. He didn’t even see Kinman. What he saw was a stranger who looked as if he was about to piss his pants because he was so afraid of the wild-eyed Indians coming his way. More than that, the frightened stranger seemed to be unarmed.

  “Aw hell,” Nick muttered.

  Since he’d gone through so much trouble to keep himself distanced from anyone that had been following him, Nick studied the surrounding area just to make certain he wasn’t being drawn out. Not only was Nick soon convinced that the stranger was genuinely terrified, but he cursed himself for waiting so long when the man might just be ready to stumble into some serious trouble. So far, the Sioux scouts were only shouting and firing a few warning shots over the stranger’s head. The longer the stranger held his course, however, the madder the scouts became. In no time at all, Nick was certain they’d start aiming their shots just low enough to draw blood.

  Nick snapped his reins and got Kazys moving along a path to intercept the stranger. He was careful not to draw his gun. In fact, he rode with his back straight and his arms held at an angle so anyone could readily see that he was only holding the reins in his fists.

  As soon as Nick was visible to the Indians, he could hear them yelling back and forth to one another. He knew a bit of the Sioux’s tongue, but not enough to fully understand what they were saying. Nick didn’t need a translator, however, to tell that the scouts weren’t saying much of anything good.

  Nick snapped his reins again and tapped his heels against Kazys’s sides. The horse didn’t appreciate the extra prodding, but responded by adding a bit more steam to his strides.

  Using a method Barrett had always talked about, Nick continued to keep his back straight and his shoulders squared. He felt like he was doing a poor impersonation of paintings he’d seen of various Indian riders, but Nick kept up the brave front as he came to a stop in the middle of the space between the stranger and the approaching Indians.

  For some reason, the stranger tugged on his reins and circled back around to Nick rather than riding on. “What the hell are you doing?” Lester asked breathlessly.

  Nick held his hands up and out as he said, “Just don’t make any more sudden moves. Point your nose south and keep riding.”

  “But I’m not headed south.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Nick snarled, doing his best to keep his temper from flaring up. “Just go that way and I’ll try to make sure you get away from here in one piece.”

  Nick felt as if he was speaking a different language. Lester just wouldn’t follow his directions. As his frustration bubbled to the surface, Nick dropped his hands and gestured to the stranger to get moving.

  Unfortunately, Nick’s movements got more of a reaction from the Sioux than from Lester.

  One of the Sioux raised a clenched fist, and the others fanned out, immediately surrounding Nick and Lester. A few of them carried bows with arrows already notched and drawn back to be fired. The remaining seven riders brandished rifles decorated with beaded strips of leather, strips of fur and a few long feathers.

  “What’s your plan?” Lester whispered.

  Nick kept his face passive, but the aggravation was more than clear in his voice. “My plan was to hold them off so you could get away. Since you’re so intent on staying here, maybe you’d like to come up with something else.”

  “I…uh…”

  “Didn’t think so,” Nick snapped. “What the hell are you doing here anyway?”

  After scouring his brain for a suitable lie, the best Lester could come up with was, “Just passing through.”

  “And you just happened to be following me?” Nick asked.

  Although Lester managed to shake his head, he couldn’t get any words out.

  “We can settle that later, I guess,” Nick said. “That is, if either of us is drawing breath once this is over.”

  EIGHTEEN

  The Indians surrounded Nick and Lester without once taking their eyes off of them. Their dark faces were painted sparsely with a few lines here and there. Feathers and bits of bone rattled from strings and leather straps hanging from armbands, head-bands and rifle barrels. One of the Indians barked out a few words, which fell upon at least one set of ignorant ears.

  “What the hell did he just say?” Lester asked.

  Nick kept his eyes locked upon the one who’d spoken as he replied, “I’m not sure. Let me try something.” With that, Nick uttered a string of syllables that only made Lester wince.

  “You speak their language?” Lester asked.

  “We’ll find out in a moment.”

  The Indian who’d spoken was of average height and had a lean, powerful build. His face and chest were marked by a few more stripes and symbols than the other riders, whom he commanded with subtle nods or flicks of his hand. After listening to Nick, he seemed to regard him with a bit more interest.

  Lester shifted uncomfortably in his saddle and grunted. “Can you get them to—”

  “Shut up,” Nick snapped.

  The leader of the Indians nodded and glanced away from Lester as if he didn’t mean to look at him again. Now focused completely upon Nick, he spoke in a low, steady voice.

  Nick kept his face calm and his eyes leveled at the lead Indian. In some situations, his mannerisms might have seemed threatening or imposing. In this instance, however, Nick was merely giving what he was getting. He showed strength to the Indians and didn’t back away from them, but he also didn’t make a move in the wrong direction.

  Although he didn’t understand every word of what the Indians’ leader said, Nick caught enough to have his initial suspicions confirmed. “They’re Sioux,” Nick said to Lester. “They live in that village and don’t like visitors racing through here on their land.”

  “Don’t these Injuns know their damn place?” Lester muttered.

  A few of the Indians glanced at Lester and tightened their grip on their weapons. Lester noticed this immediately and leaned back in his saddle, while his hand drifted toward the spot where his gun should have been. The fact that his gun wasn’t there didn’t seem to matter. The Indians responded by raising rifles to shoulders and drawing their arrows back, waiting for the order to attack.

  Knowing he had less than a second or two to keep things from boiling over, Nick twisted around in his saddle and did the first thing he could think of. His arm snapped out like a whip, catching Lester across the upper chest. Even though he hadn’t intended on hurting the other man, Nick’s blow had enough muscle behind it to knock Lester backward until he was wobbling in the saddle.

  Lester started to pull himself up again, but slipped and toppled off his horse. Landing with a solid thump, Lester’s shoulders slammed against the ground. One leg dangled away from the animal and one foot was snagged in its stirrup.

  Wheezing, as most of the breath was knocked from his lungs, Lester struggled to pull his leg free, a steady stream of obscenities flowing from his mouth.

  Despite the vulgar
ities Lester spewed, the Indians seemed anything but offended. In fact, they lowered their weapons and watched Lester’s struggle with smiles growing on their faces.

  Nick took advantage of the moment by reciting one of the other Sioux phrases he’d learned throughout his years of hiding in Indian country. He knew his grammar wasn’t the best, but the effort was appreciated and the riders were more than willing to cut him a little slack.

  As a show of good faith, the leader of the Sioux looked at Nick and spoke in words that both of the white men could understand.

  “Leave here now and steer away from our sacred grounds.”

  “No problem,” Nick said.

  “Where you go from here?”

  “Northeast.”

  The Sioux leader looked in that direction and nodded. “Keep your friend in line and we will let you pass.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  Lester watched all of this while still dangling by one leg from his stirrup. After one more tug, he managed to free his ankle so he could drop the rest of the way onto the ground. Just as he was about to get to his feet, Lester saw the Indians ride around him so they could get another look, laughing under their breaths. After satisfying their curiosity, the Indians pointed their horses back toward the village and rode away. Even though he didn’t appreciate being the butt of a joke, Lester let it pass.

  Nick waited until all the Sioux had gone before climbing down from his saddle and rushing over to Lester. Extending a hand toward the fallen man, Nick said, “Sorry about that, but they would have killed us if they thought you were about to start any trouble.”

  “I don’t even got a gun.”

  “You were acting like you had one, and that was almost enough to get us killed. I had to let them know I was keeping you in line. Hope it didn’t hurt too bad.”

  Accepting the hand Nick offered, Lester pulled himself to his feet and cautiously put his weight on the foot that had been caught up in the stirrup. “You surprised me more’n anything else,” he said, ignoring the throbbing pain in his chest. “And I think I just twisted my ankle. Guess that makes me lucky.”