Reaper's Fee

by Marcus Galloway

  Nick kept his movements slight and his voice calm so as not to elicit any hair-trigger responses from the young lawman. “No need to get jumpy. We can straighten this out easily enough.”

  “I ain’t jumpy,” Jim said.

  “There’s nothing to straighten out,” Lester snapped. “Why the hell would I have brought the law here if I was the one doing anything wrong?”

  “I think I know the answer to that,” Nick replied. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with fulfilling your civic duties.”

  Lester looked at Nick with more ferocity than he’d ever shown. “You’re an outlaw,” he said. “A killer. You don’t know a damn thing.”

  “Seems to me like this whole fight is a great way to cover your escape,” Nick pointed out. “You might be on your way across the state line by now if you didn’t have me to worry about. Did you pick one of your cousins to help you inform the law or was it one of the wives?”

  Jim straightened his arm and pointed his gun at Nick. “Shut up, both of you!”

  Lester didn’t even take notice of the deputy’s gun. His eyes were locked upon Nick until the gunfire at the house flared up again. The moment he saw Jim look toward the house, Lester swore under his breath and brought up his gun to take a shot at the only one of the two men who wasn’t ready to shoot back.

  The bullet didn’t draw blood, but whipped a few inches from Jim’s stomach and through the coarse hair along the back of the neck of the lawman’s horse. Feeling the lead nip its neck like that brought the horse up onto its rear legs as it let out a loud, surprised whinny.

  Lester’s shot surprised Nick almost as much as it did the horse. Nick regained his composure quickly, however, and returned fire as Lester took his second shot.

  Nick’s bullet caught Lester in the ribs, but didn’t do much more than scratch him. Lester’s next bullet raked along the deputy’s back, burrowing deeply enough to twist the lawman in his saddle. With his horse still kicking and fretting, Jim toppled from the saddle, just managing to swing his legs down before risking a broken neck.

  As soon as Lester saw the deputy disappear over the side of his horse, he pulled his reins and started to ride away. He fired a shot or two behind him, but that wasn’t nearly enough to buy him a ticket away from there. Before his horse could build up a head of steam, a shot ripped through the air and slapped solidly into flesh and bone. Lester didn’t feel any pain, so he snapped his reins again. His horse’s only response was a pained groan as it dropped to its front knees and started to fall onto its side. Lester was just quick enough to hop from the saddle before the horse flopped over.

  “You shot my horse!” Lester said as he wheeled around.

  Nick rode up to him and swung down from his own saddle. “If you’d rather I shoot you, I’d be happy to oblige.”

  Lester reflexively grabbed for the fresh wound across his ribs. It was barely even bleeding, but he kept his hand there as if to keep his innards from spilling out. “A man doesn’t just shoot another man’s horse.”

  “He’s not supposed to steal another man’s horse, either. Sometimes bad things happen don’t they, Lester? Like the law stumbling upon this place at just the right time. How’d they manage that?”

  “He wrote them a letter,” Kinman said as he rode up to them on the horse that Nick had passed up back at the barn.

  Both Lester and Nick turned toward the bounty hunter. Kinman nodded to Nick and then shifted his eyes toward Lester as he lifted his arm and sent a bullet through Lester’s eye.

  The shot snapped Lester’s head back and spun him around on one foot. The bundle he’d been clutching flew from his grasp and his pistol dangled from his other hand by one finger through the trigger guard.

  “That prick’s more trouble than he’s worth,” Kinman said, climbing down from his saddle. “He ain’t worth as much dead, but that Reaper’s Fee will more than make up for it.”

  Nick wasn’t surprised by much anymore, but seeing Lester’s head explode in such a cold-blooded manner was enough to send a chill through anyone. Keeping his thoughts to himself, Nick said, “I suppose all the shooting from a little while ago was you dealing with those lawmen the same way you just dealt with Lester.”

  Kinman actually managed to look surprised by that. “What? You think I’d shoot those fine lawmen? Me and Marshal Eaves are on friendly terms. He’s even got enough to pay up on the bounty being offered for those two shit stains Lester called his cousins. I did take care of the others in that house, though.”

  “And the women?”

  Kinman nodded slowly. “Can’t be too careful. Them bitches had guns.”

  “So where are those lawmen now?”

  “I sent them off in the other direction, but I suppose they’ll be back before too long.” Kinman kept his gun aimed at Nick as he walked to Lester’s body. “At least I hope they will,” he added. “I could sure use the backup.”

  Nick had no trouble picking up on the shift in Kinman’s voice. He didn’t have an explanation for it, however, until he saw Jim moving his horse up alongside Kinman’s.

  “Marshal Eaves sends his regards,” Kinman said to the young lawman.

  “Who are you?” the deputy asked.

  “Ask Eaves. He’ll vouch for me. The name’s Alan Kinman.”

  The deputy nodded and relaxed a bit. “I heard of you.”

  Feeling what little advantage he’d gained slipping away, Nick stepped between Kinman and the bundle Lester had dropped. The moment he took that step, Nick saw the deputy snap his gun up and aim it at him in a shaky grip.

  “You don’t want to do that, boy,” Nick said. Before he could say anything else, Kinman interrupted.

  “You hear that?” the bounty hunter asked. “Sounds to me like this outlaw’s threatening you.”

  “That dead man there said he was Nick Graves,” the deputy replied. “Is that true?”

  Kinman holstered his gun as he walked over and scooped up the leather bundle. He opened it, took a look inside and smiled. “It’s true, all right. Don’t you know a wanted man when you see one?”

  Wincing and pressing his free hand against the deep scratch along his back, the deputy said, “No.”

  “Well, why don’t we go and fetch the marshal? It’d be wise to have all the help we can get in bringing this animal to justice. They should be just east of that house back there.”

  The deputy was hesitant to take his eyes off of Nick. “What do we do with him? I heard tell that he rode with Barrett Cobb.”

  “That was a while ago,” Kinman said. “He don’t have as much fight in him these days. Ain’t that right, Nick?”

  Nick let out a slow breath as he weighed his options. For all he knew, the kid might have his price, like most other lawmen, or he could be a straight shooter just trying to do his job and earn his wages.

  “You’re finished, Graves,” Kinman said. “You can talk as tough as you want right now, but we both know you ain’t fast enough to shoot us both before we put you down. Lord knows you’re too old to run.”

  Nick’s gun weighed heavily in his hand as he looked at the other two men. The longer he waited, the smaller his window of opportunity became. He was down to two choices. One of those choices simply couldn’t be allowed to pass.

  Kinman nodded with a confident smile still embedded in his face. “You got a rope, Deputy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bring it over here and let’s get this mad-dog killer ready to be delivered to a cage, where he belongs.”

  Jim took the coiled rope hanging from his saddle and climbed down from his horse.

  Lowering his head, Nick allowed his gun arm to drop. “Maybe you’re right, Kinman. I’ve done some things that no man should be proud of. I’ve robbed more money than I can count and I’ve killed more men than I care to think about. Perhaps I do belong in a cage.”

  “Cobb’s paid his fee,” Kinman said. “Time for you to pay yours.”

  Nick nodded as his face shifted into an expression
that was the coldest thing the bounty hunter had ever seen. “Maybe it is,” Nick said. “But I’ll be damned if a bastard like you will be the one to collect.”

  Kinman’s instincts were good enough to know what was coming. He just wasn’t fast enough to do anything about it.

  Nick brought up his gun, aimed, and fired from the hip in less time than it took to blink an eye. His modified Schofield barked once to send a round up into Kinman’s chin that dug a tunnel that opened at the top of his skull.

  The bounty hunter’s arm was bent midway up to take a shot of his own, his finger clenching around the trigger, and that shot went into the soil near Nick’s left boot. When his back slammed against the dirt, Kinman dropped the bundle and spilled several rough diamonds to the ground.

  The deputy was so startled by Nick’s lightning-quick shot that he nearly dropped the rope and his pistol. To his credit, he did manage to lift his gun and point it more or less in Nick’s direction.

  Ignoring the sound of approaching horses, Nick kept perfectly still…perfectly quiet…and watched until he finally saw the deputy’s eyes flicker toward the jewels scattered upon the ground.

  “I don’t want to shoot you, boy,” Nick warned.

  “But…but I saw what you did.”

  “Kinman was the murderer. He killed those women in that house. Ask your marshal what he found in there. Or, better yet, go see for yourself.”

  The deputy shook his head. “I know who you are. I saw what you did.”

  The other horses were getting closer. It had taken them a while to pinpoint the location of Nick and the deputy, but they seemed to have narrowed down the general direction.

  “Well, now,” Nick said with a sly grin. “Looks like we’re going to have to work something out.”

  Less than a minute later, Marshal Eaves and his other two deputies rode up with their guns drawn. They surrounded Nick in a matter of seconds and took aim the moment they saw him standing amid the two bodies.

  Eaves was a tall man in his early sixties who wore a battered felt hat that might have been older than his other two deputies put together. The gun he carried was a newer-model Colt, however, showing that the marshal at least had his priorities straight.

  “Don’t you move a muscle,” Eaves said. “Where’s my other deputy?”

  “He’s gone,” Nick replied.

  Eaves couldn’t take his eyes off of Lester’s body, which lay facedown in the dirt. Nodding to one of his deputies, he said, “Go check that one there. That other body looks like Alan Kinman.”

  The deputy climbed down from his horse without once taking his aim away from Nick. He circled his target cautiously until his boots nearly tapped the side of Lester’s head. Kneeling down and taking a closer look at Lester’s face, the deputy stood upright and got away from the corpse. “It ain’t Jim.”

  “You know who it is?” Eaves asked.

  After thinking for a moment, the deputy shook his head. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him.”

  Eaves looked to Nick. “Is that one of the boys who lived with Wesley and Pat?”

  Nick nodded. “He was their cousin.”

  “Well, he’s dead now. So’s Kinman and everyone who lived in that house. Even the ladies were gunned down like dogs. What’ve you got to say about that?”

  “Me and Kinman were after the bounty being offered for Wesley and his cousins,” Nick replied with a shrug. “One of the men tried to kill me, so I shot him. Kinman shot up the rest of that house.”

  The marshal showed Nick a humorless grin. “That’s mighty handy. What about that dead man lying there?”

  “Kinman shot him, too.” Looking up so his eyes met the marshal’s, Nick added, “That bounty hunter was one hell of a shot.”

  So far, both deputies had been content to keep their mouths shut and watch the marshal. When Eaves seemed to be at a loss, the deputy still on his horse said, “He’s carrying a gun, Marshal.”

  “Go on and get it from him, Chuck.”

  Chuck climbed down to walk past the first deputy. Unlike the other deputies, Chuck held his gun in a steadier hand. His eyes didn’t have the unchecked energy in them that made him look like he would act without thinking first. He stopped well out of Nick’s reach and kept his gun trained on him.

  Nick held up his hands, palms out, so everyone could get a good look at the mangled remains of his fingers. The deputies winced slightly, but the marshal didn’t flinch. When Chuck snatched the pistol away from Nick, he looked as if he’d been forced to pick up a cow pie.

  “This thing’s barely even a gun,” Chuck said.

  The marshal was quick to reply, “Take it from him anyway, and step back so we can tie his hands.” Looking at Nick, he said, “You’re coming with us, mister. What’s your name?”

  “Nicolai Petkus.”

  The marshal took the Schofield that was handed over to him, and the two deputies tied ropes around Nick’s wrists and ankles. “I ain’t never heard of a Nicolai Petkus.”

  “I suppose that’s a good thing,” Nick said.

  “Yeah, well you’re still gonna hang for killing these folks, Nicolai.”

  “Don’t I get a trial?”

  “Sure do.”

  Nick held his chin up and said, “Then I shouldn’t hang. There’s not one witness here who saw me kill anyone who wasn’t shooting at me first.”

  The fact of the matter was that Nick would have staked every bit of that Reaper’s Fee on the fact that there weren’t any witnesses who could attest to his shooting anyone at all.

  At least, he would have wagered those jewels if they were anywhere to be found.

  The Reaper’s Fee was gone. Every last bit of it had disappeared, along with the sole witness to Lester and Kinman’s final seconds on this earth. In return for the Reaper’s Fee, that deputy simply had to ride far away and forget what he’d seen. Jim had been just frightened enough and just greedy enough to take Nick’s offer and start running. Nick’s faith in lawmen was sent right back down to the cellar, but at least those jewels had done some good.

  Somewhere, Nick was certain Barrett was laughing his ass off at how that loot had been put to use.

  Once Nick was bound tightly within those ropes, Marshal Eaves looked him in the eye and said, “I’ve got some bad news for you, Nicolai. I spoke to Kinman before and he never mentioned working with anyone. He did mention rounding up more than just Wesley and Pat, though. He must have had his sights set on someone real good, because the two dipshits who lived here weren’t even worth enough for me to come get ’em myself.”

  “He must have meant him,” Nick replied, nodding toward Lester’s body. “I hear he stole a horse from a man down in Texas.”

  Eaves winced at that and shook his head. “That could be. It ain’t wise to take a Texan’s horse.” Raising his voice as he looked at his deputies, Eaves announced, “All right, boys. Let’s take our prisoner to his cell.”

  “He’s a damn killer,” Chuck said. “We should string him up for what he done to them ladies back there.”

  “We don’t know who the hell he shot,” Eaves replied. “Wesley was a crazy asshole, so he could have done it. This ain’t ours to decide. That’s what judges are for. This man’ll get what’s coming to him once he’s on trial.”

  With that, Eaves snapped his reins and rode toward the trail that led back into Hackett.

  Nick didn’t put up much of a fuss as he was lifted up onto the horse that Kinman had been using. In fact, he did his best to make the deputies’ job easier by going where he was pointed, sitting where he was supposed to sit and keeping his mouth shut. Part of his brain still raced with ways to get away from the lawmen, get out of his ropes or possibly get a weapon, but Nick set all of that to the side.

  Once he was tied to the saddle and bound up like a prize calf in a rodeo, Nick’s options had dwindled down far enough to put that unquiet part of his brain to rest.

  The quiet did him some good.

  TWENTY-NINE

  O
cean, California

  Three weeks later

  Mail was delivered to the Tin Pan Restaurant same as always. It arrived at the usual time, dropped off by the owner of the cigar shop across the street.

  “Here you go,” the cigar shop owner said. “Looks like there’s some excitement for ya.”

  Catherine smiled and took the small bunch of letters. The man from the cigar shop always expected excitement when Catherine got a letter that wasn’t from someone in her family or a notice from a distributor. When Catherine spotted the familiar, florid handwriting on the envelope, she nearly dropped over.

  Since he wrote out most of his own burial notices and funeral invitations, Nick’s handwriting was very distinct. She’d been sick with worry over the last few weeks, and she hadn’t expected to hear from him in this manner. After pouring herself a glass of water, she sat at a table in the back of her place and carefully opened the envelope. She read the letter slowly, savoring each word, but also dreading the next.

  My Dearest Catherine,

  First and foremost, I must insist that you do not worry about my safety or well-being. I have done what I set out to do and made certain that my friend can rest easy once again. I have, however, run into some trouble which finds me in a jail cell in a town called Hackett until I can be transferred to a larger prison. I am to be tried, although I do not know when. If you must know the particulars, you may request them from the Shannon County courthouse. I do not know my docket number, but it should be filed under P for Nicolai Petkus.

  Catherine felt a coldness in her face. When she reached up to pat her cheek, her hand came away sweaty. A few drinks of water helped and she felt the liquid run through her system to chill her all the way down to her core. The name in the letter had struck her as odd, but only for a moment. Catherine recalled Nick telling her about someone in his family by the name of Petkus. Although there was some comfort to be had in that, it wasn’t enough to keep her hands from shaking as she held the letter and read on.