“It’s late,” Mason sighed. “I’m tired. I said the wrong word. You want to go in and stare at a corpse, then be my guest. I’m finding a room for the night so I can get to the boat bright and early.”
Garza placed one hand on the door and the other on the pistol tucked under his belt. Before pushing the door open, he asked, “Where’s the body?”
Since he’d fired the Remington in the front room where the flash from the barrel would surely have been seen through the window, Mason only had one way to answer that question. “Front sitting room,” he said, knowing full well that he’d slipped up by not going upstairs to fire the shot.
Mason’s thoughts were flooded with all the different lies he could tell to explain why there was no body on the floor near the front window. He’d even selected the best of the bunch when Garza opened the door to find the man who should have been lying on the floor creeping down the stairs instead.
Simons froze on the staircase as if that would keep him from being seen.
Mason felt a wave of icy cold wash over him as the one thing he’d wanted to avoid above all others came to pass.
Garza stood in the doorway and snarled, “I knew it.”
Chapter 26
Simons was dead.
That was all Mason could think when it became clear that his deception had been discovered. Simons was dead and so was he.
Unwilling to surrender to the inevitable, Mason reached for the.44 under his left arm. It was a foregone conclusion that an overman would be able to draw his own weapon first, and the man in the tattered coat did not disappoint in that regard. Mason hadn’t seen where Garza’s pistol had been holstered, but it cleared leather in a smoothly practiced motion and spat its round through the air.
One drawback to a well-practiced set of motions was that they were difficult to change on short notice. The overman was intent on putting his round through Simons’s head, and when his target reflexively ducked, Simons’s small frame allowed him to drop down just a bit faster than a man of average height. The bullet punched into the wall behind the little man to rain plaster down onto his neck.
After that first shot went off, Mason figured he had enough time to fire one of his own. Seeing as how he was behind the overman, he thought he could even take a moment or two to aim so he could get the job done right. Mason was wrong on both counts.
Without even needing to look over his shoulder, Garza raised his left arm so he could bring his right across the front of his body and point his pistol behind him. He fired a quick shot that didn’t draw Mason’s blood but came close enough to tear through his jacket. Mason hopped backward and pulled his trigger, coming closer to hitting Simons than his true target.
“Stop!” Simons wailed. “I give up. I give up!”
But it was too late for surrender. The overman had a job to do and wouldn’t be swayed by words. Rather than waste another bullet, Garza twisted around to face Mason and line up a clean shot. By the time his shoulders were squared to the front of the room, Mason was no longer in sight. There weren’t many places for someone to hide in that room, but the front door was now mostly shut where it had been fully open a moment earlier. Garza sent a round through the door to flush Mason out. As Mason raced past the window next to the door, Garza fired again.
If Mason hadn’t anticipated that shot, he would have caught a piece of hot lead through his eye. Instead he stopped suddenly while covering his face to avoid the bits of flying glass that sprayed in the bullet’s wake several inches in front of him.
“Gonna kill you!”
Those words stood out to Mason even more than the gunshots, mostly because they’d been completely unexpected. It was Simons who shouted them as he launched himself over the banister of the staircase to fly at the overman like a giant bat. Mason would never have guessed the little guy had it in him to pounce like that instead of seeking shelter somewhere upstairs. For that matter, he didn’t even know how Simons made it over the banister.
Mason watched through the broken window as Simons wrapped his arms around Garza’s neck and held on with every ounce of strength he had. Knowing Simons wouldn’t last very long in that spot, Mason hurried back through the door to lend him a hand.
Despite all Simons’s snarling and thrashing, Garza didn’t show any concern toward the little man trying to choke the life out of him. He even went so far as to clamp one hand over both of Simons’s to keep his passenger locked in place as he aimed his pistol at the front door. The moment Mason stuck his head into sight, the overman took his shot.
Splinters exploded from the doorframe less than an inch away from Mason’s head. That bullet had come so close to ending him that Mason swore he could see it hissing through the air as it passed him by.
“Toss that gun or I’ll wring your damn neck!” Simons said.
Still gripping Simons by the wrists, the overman threw himself backward against the banister to crush the smaller man between it and him. That took the breath from Simons’s lungs, but Garza slammed him one more time just to make absolutely certain. When the overman let him go, Simons dropped like a sack of dirt.
Mason had been preparing to fire but held off so as not to hit Simons. Now that he had a clear shot, he pulled his trigger. Garza turned to one side and then wheeled around to face him. Mason fired again but was unable to stop the other man from charging straight at him. He would have pulled his trigger a third time if the Remington hadn’t been knocked from his hand. That same hand darted toward the sawed-off pistol tucked against his belly, but the overman got to it first.
The rusty stench of blood filled Mason’s nose, combined with the odor of burned gunpowder. There was no time to find the source of the blood, however. Mason was too busy trying to keep from getting shot by his own weapon. Garza had already snatched the.44 from where it had been hidden, so all Mason could do was grab hold of the other man’s wrist and force the Remington in another direction.
Knowing all too well how perfectly suited the shorter pistol was for close engagements, Mason strained every muscle to its limit to push it away. The overman was quickly asserting himself and when Mason felt the blunted iron brush against his torso, he grabbed the back end of the pistol so its hammer dropped on the meaty portion of his left hand instead of the next bullet’s firing cap.
Pain spiked through Mason’s hand to lance all the way up his shoulder. He kept his hand in place until Garza tore the pistol away with one brutal, bloody pull. Since Mason was still only inches away from him, the overman swung the Remington back in an attempt to knock Mason’s head from his shoulders. Mason ducked down while stepping back. As the pistol sailed over his head, he drew the knife from its scabbard at the small of his back. Mason waited until Garza’s arm was extended as far as it could go before lunging forward to press his blade against the larger man’s throat.
“Drop the gun,” Mason said.
The overman kept his arm in place but didn’t relax his grip. “You kill me,” he snarled, “and you’re still dead. Greeley and the rest will come after you.”
“Not if they think everything went according to plan here tonight.”
“You gonna cut my throat? ’Cause that’s what it’s gonna take to keep me from putting you down.”
Pushing the blade against Garza’s neck hard enough to draw a few drops of blood, Mason said, “Tell me what’s really going on here. I know Simons isn’t just someone who refuses to pay a debt.”
The overman shook his head, not caring how his flesh dragged against the edge of Mason’s blade in the process. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Kill him!” Simons said from the relative safety of another room. “Do it and be done with it!”
“The little fella’s got a point,” Garza said
“No man’s ready to throw his life away over something like this,” Mason said. “This is just a job to you.”
“That’s right. And I didn’t get paid to answer questions from a swindling cheat like you.”
When the fight had started, Mason needed to defend himself. The odds of that overman sparing his life were so long that they weren’t even worth considering. When he’d drawn the dagger and placed it to Garza’s throat, Mason knew what needed to be done. Now that the fire in his blood had cooled a bit and he’d gotten a moment to catch his breath, the certainty he’d felt not too long ago was fading.
The overman’s cold eyes studied Mason carefully. Most likely, he’d seen the change within him as well. “All right, Mason. It’s over.”
“Drop the pistol.”
Holding his arm out to one side, Garza opened his fist and allowed the Remington to hit the floor. “Now what?” he asked.
That was the very question that was plaguing Mason. If he only had an extra moment or two to think it over . . .
“Kill him!” Simons shouted. “He’s gonna do the same to you. Just kill him before he gets the chance!”
Garza had his hands in front of him and held at waist level. Even though he was the one in the most immediate danger at the moment, he was also the most relaxed. He glanced in the direction of Simons’s voice but was unable to pin down exactly where the small man had crawled off to.
Mason shifted on his feet and stepped on some of the knotted linens he’d used to tie up Simons. He kicked them toward the next room and said, “Simons, get in here and tie this man’s arms and legs.”
Simons poked his head out of the shadows from that room. “You can do it yourself.”
“Get over here now!”
“I can barely walk. I think my back was broke when I hit that banister.”
“Your back is not broken!” Mason roared. And then he committed a critical mistake by allowing his eyes to dart toward Simons. As soon as that happened, Garza took advantage by shoving Mason away. Now that he had some room to maneuver, the overman pivoted toward the gun he’d dropped to scoop it up with one hand.
Mason didn’t have to think about what to do next. He took a quick step backward while flipping the knife around in his hand. The instant he felt the flat part of the blade slap against his fingers, he cocked his arm back and sent the dagger flying. It turned once in the air before sticking solidly into Garza’s chest.
The .44 was in the overman’s hand, but he’d lost the strength to move it any farther. His finger clenched around the trigger, sending a bullet into the wall several feet to Mason’s left. When he looked at Mason, Garza was clearly surprised by something. Whether he was surprised that Mason had actually stricken the killing blow or just taken aback by whatever he was seeing as he gave up the ghost would remain unknown. Garza dropped to all fours, rolled onto his side, and was still.
Mason slowly walked forward. Every muscle in his body was just as tense as when the fight was at its peak. The Remington was only a few inches away from Garza’s outstretched hand. Mason reached out tentatively at first and then snatched up the pistol as quickly as he could. At the first hint of movement, he thumbed the hammer back.
Simons froze after stepping from the darkened room. “Just me,” he said.
Mason stood to his full height, pointing the.44 down at the fallen man while using one foot to push him onto his back. Garza let out half a breath. Some pink foam bubbled at one corner of his mouth and his eyes stared up into nothingness.
Approaching to stand near the staircase, Simons looked over at the grisly remains. “Looks like you got him good,” he said.
“Shut up.”
Simons backed up so quickly that he once again slammed into the banister.
It took a moment for Mason to realize what had spooked the little man. Then he realized he’d raised the.44 to point it at Simons. He lowered the pistol while looking down at the body. “We’re going to bury him.”
Simons shook his head. “I’m not about to go through so much trouble for a damn killer.”
Mason reached down and pulled the knife from Garza’s chest as if he were taking it from a thick cut of steak. For the moment, at least, he wasn’t feeling anxious or much of anything else. That numbness must have shone through, because Simons quickly changed his tune.
“All right,” the little fellow said. “I’ll get the shovel.”
Chapter 27
Mason wasn’t normally of a mind to ride when he couldn’t see more than a few yards in front of him, but he wanted to get out of Sedrich and didn’t care how he did it. After he and Simons had dealt with Garza’s body and parted ways, dawn was swiftly approaching. By the time Mason had ridden halfway along the road that would take him back to the river, streaks of dark orange and purple began to show in the sky.
As soon as there was enough light to see a better portion of the road in front of him, Mason snapped his reins to get moving even faster. He arrived at the Delta Jack and was greeted at the dock by a single overman who stepped off the boat to take the horse’s reins.
“You alone?” the overman asked.
“Yes.”
“You sure about that?”
“If you’re referring to the man Greeley sent to spy on me,” Mason replied, “I don’t know where he is. Last I saw of him, he was staring down some of the men who were trying to guard that little fellow.”
“And where is he now?”
Mason climbed down from the saddle and had to shove past him to board the Jack. “I didn’t even know he was supposed to be there! If I was supposed to be his wet nurse, then someone should have told me.” Handing the bloody little bundle of rags over, he said, “Here. That’s for Mr. Greeley.” Then Mason continued walking onto the riverboat and didn’t much care if anyone tried to stop him. Nobody attempted to get in Mason’s way during the entire walk back to his cabin. Once there, he dropped onto his bed and closed his eyes.
* * *
Mason didn’t know how long he slept, but a knock on his door rudely woke him. The light streaming in through his cabin’s window was much brighter than it had been when he arrived. It took a moment for him to shake off the disorientation that came in the first seconds of opening his eyes, and as he gathered his wits about him, another knock rattled his door on its hinges. Mason had barely heard the first series of knocks and was about to ignore these when he decided to get up and see who was out there before they came back a minute or two later.
When he opened the door, Mason saw nothing. He leaned out a ways and spotted a familiar, shapely backside. “Maggie?”
She was already walking away when she heard his voice, turned around, and ran toward him. Mason was almost knocked to the floor by her enthusiastic embrace. Although he managed to put a little distance between them just so he could get a look at her, she quickly took his face in her hands and planted a kiss on his lips that curled the toes within his boots.
“I thought you were dead,” she said.
Mason stepped backward into his cabin, which brought her along as well. After closing the door, he said, “I wasn’t gone that long.”
“Yes, but there was always the chance that you would be killed before you even got to that man on your list.”
“I still think if Greeley wanted me killed, he could do it at his leisure and he wouldn’t need to leave the comfort of his boat.”
She kissed him again. The hair hanging loosely about her face smelled of clean air and cool river water. “Let’s not talk about that. You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”
“Agreed.”
Stepping up close to him, Maggie smiled while allowing her hands to wander along his shoulders and down over his chest. She didn’t make it to his waist before stopping and saying, “I thought you’d like me to give you a proper welcome.”
“I appreciate it, Maggie. I’m just tired, is all.”
“Would you prefer it if I left you alone?”
“No.”
&nb
sp; She smiled warmly and led him to the bed. Maggie sat at one end of the mattress with her back resting against the cabin’s wall and her legs tucked beneath her. Before Mason could say another word, she pulled him down so he was lying with his head resting in her arms. There wasn’t much space for the two of them on that bed, but neither seemed to mind.
“There,” she said quietly while running her fingers through his hair. “How’s that?”
“That,” Mason sighed, “makes me believe there is a heaven.”
“Good. We don’t have to talk about anything. We just sit here and let the world pass by for a while.”
Mason was inclined to take her up on that offer. In fact, the idea of letting the world pass by for more than just a while seemed very appealing. He closed his eyes, enjoyed the feeling of being so close to her, and listened to everything around them. Between the sounds of the boat itself and its passengers on all three decks, there was plenty to choose from. Eventually the creaking of the timber that formed the Delta Jack’s hull held his attention.
As if sensing exactly what he needed, Maggie placed her other hand on his chest and gently rubbed. Just then the entire boat came to life as the engines began to turn the paddlewheel.
“Sounds like we’re casting off,” Maggie said.
“Good. The sooner we get away from here, the better.”
“I’m curious about what happened while you were away. But if you’d rather not tell me . . . I understand.”
“It went fine,” he sighed. “Just fine.”
“Now, that’s a bald-faced lie,” Maggie said as she continued to soothe him with her touch. “Any man in your condition after the night you’ve had would not be just fine.”
Ralph Compton Straight to the Noose Page 18
