by Jim Heskett
“Your friend shot one of my favorite girls. I can’t let her walk out of here after that. Just think of how such a thing would look in the public eye? Can you imagine what would happen to my reputation and standing if something like that became common knowledge?” Fenton sat back and pushed out a breath that stank of onions. “But, I am not without reason. Maybe we can work out an arrangement.”
“Like what?”
“How about a game of chance?”
“What game of chance?”
Fenton smiled. “Do you play Fours?”
“A little.”
“Excellent. I will make you a deal. Come back tomorrow, and you and I will play a game of Fours. If you win, you and your friend walk out of here, no questions asked. But, if I win, then you stay here, too. You work for me with no reservations and no complications.”
Yorick’s lip trembled. He was a decent Fours player, but not enough to gamble his and Malina’s life on it. Would he get a better offer though? Fenton held all the power.
Plus, waiting one more day put them closer to the deadline to reach Cheyenne.
No time to debate the question. Fenton raised his eyebrows, awaiting an answer.
“Yes,” Yorick said. “On one condition. If I win, not only do I get my friend, but you give us a car so we can leave town.”
Fenton tented his fingertips for a moment, brow scrunched, then he stood up. “You have a deal, young man.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When Valentine entered the town, she first saw what was clearly a brothel, judging by the Girls Girls Girls line. The sign must have been new because she couldn’t recall it being there last time she’d passed through Rock Springs.
It did make her realize she was thirsty, but she would seek out a different sort of establishment. In her nondescript, non-White Flames clothes, she didn't worry too much about being spotted.
Foremost on her mind was finding out who had killed Red, Blaine, and Galeno. Next, looking for Yorick and his friends. Depending on the number of soldados in this town, any investigation might prove a fruitless exercise. Or, maybe she could kill a few of those idiotas before they took her down too.
They deserved to die for what they’d done.
Poor Galeno. She would miss him most of all, and his repeated attempts to woo her. Red and Blaine, she could forget. But Galeno didn’t deserve such a terrible ending.
She wandered another five hundred meters down the street until she found a suitable pub where she could get a drink and a meal. Inside, there was a lively crowd, a mixture of rowdy soldados and normal citizens. Music blared from speakers anchored to the ceiling.
Valentine sidled up to the bar and ordered an ale. The bartender was a stout man with a deep scar across his forehead like a ditch along the side of a road. He set the drink in front of her and leaned close. “Odd times, miss, wouldn’t you say?”
Valentine studied the man’s eyes, and he flashed a quick glance to the soldados at the tables. He was trying to signal to her, and she definitely caught the message.
“Yes, these are odd times. Thank you for the ale.”
“How about some food?”
She nodded as she leaned a little closer. Something about this man told her she could trust him, and the volume of the music masked their conversation. “Yes. I’m interested in something else, as well.”
His eyebrows lifted a centimeter. “Happy to help. I do know how to get a thing or two around the Springs.”
“I’m looking for the ones who put my friends on pikes outside of town.”
“Nasty business, that was. I don’t know for sure, but I can reason a guess. So, if you have to ask…” he drifted off as he flashed another look at the soldados.
“That’s what I thought, but I had to ask.”
“Always happy to help out a friend. I would caution you that retaliating out of anger would be a foolish action. In times like these, I keep my head down and my mouth shut, and I advise others like us to do the same. You have to consider the numbers.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He offered a wry grin. “I’m sure you will. I’ll fetch your food.”
When he left, she positioned a small hand mirror against the glass and pivoted it around so she could spy the patrons. There was one man she recognized among the drinkers. She didn't remember his name, but she knew he was one of the White Flames. He’d ditched the clothes, but she could see the edges of tattoos on his neck, hidden under a shirt with a high collar. She had definitely seen him before, in Cheyenne, or Laramie, or somewhere else recently. Maybe he was smart enough to hide his identity under a set of new clothes, but he wasn’t too smart to abstain from drinking in the middle of the day, surrounded by a host of hostile soldados.
What was even more interesting was when this secret White Flames man stood up from his chair and approached a nearby table occupied by two members of the soldados. Both of them already drunk and singing odes to the king.
When the scavenger appeared before them, their songs ceased. Valentine pivoted on the barstool to listen to their conversation. A tickle of anxiety made her arm hair stiffen. Nothing good would come of this.
"What?" asked one of the soldados.
"I've seen those wanted posters," the scavenger said. "And I know where you can find those four people that got the bounty on them."
Valentine gleaned several bits of information from this drunken man’s poor choice of boasting. One, that her four pieces of prey were indeed somewhere in Rock Springs. Two, that they had not been caught by the soldados yet. And three, that this drunken fool was about to mess everything up for her.
Valentine slid a gold piece onto the bar, enough to pay for her drink and her food. She didn't know if she would return.
As expected, the soldados stood and escorted the man out the front of the pub. They would want to talk about this in private.
Valentine left her bar stool and followed them out the door. She caught them rounding the corner of the building, and then drew her knife as she kept pace with them. Looking around to see if anyone was watching. No one was.
When Valentine reached the furthest she could go without being spotted, she paused. Listened.
"There's this old woman," the drunken fool said. "She's harboring them. We was looking for them yesterday, but we couldn't find them."
“Why were you looking for them?” one of the soldados asked.
“The bounty, o’course.”
"And where does this woman live?"
"I don't know. Nobody knows."
"Then how in the stars do you know they’re staying with some old woman?"
The fool stuttered. "That's only what I've heard. Several people have said the same, so it must be true. Is this enough to earn me the bounty or am I wasting my time here?”
Valentine figured she'd heard enough. She jumped around the edge of the building and swiped her knife at the first throat she could see. The fool. She opened his flesh, driving the knife deep into the lump at the top of his neck.
Next, she raised her leg and kicked one of the soldados to buy her a meter of separation. Then, she jabbed her knife into the chest of the second soldado, plunging it into his heart and killing him instantly. Valentine really had to push to get it past his body armor. Next, she spun and dove for the remaining one, then slashed his throat too.
As drunk and distracted as they'd been, she managed to kill all three of them within five seconds. None of them had uttered a peep, put up any reasonable defense, or drew a gun to fire a single shot. The only sound nearby was the rapid pulse of her heart in her ears. The rush of air in and out of her nose.
Valentine wiped her knife on the pant leg of the fool. "You stupid pendejo. You could've ruined this." She bent down on one knee and looked directly into his lifeless eyes. "No one touches them but me."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Yorick looked down at the cards in his hand. He had two red squares, three blue circles, one green triangle, and three yello
w stars.
Fenton stared at him, waiting for Yorick to make his play. He tried to keep the pressure from affecting him, but he had never in his life invested so much in the outcome of a single game of Fours.
They weren’t even playing by the rules he knew. They were playing by the “official” rules.
In this back room of the brothel, there were only a handful of people watching them play the game. Fenton’s two bodyguards, a couple putas, the bartender from the day before, and Malina. She sat quietly in the corner, awaiting her fate.
Yorick had insisted they not play out in the open. Maybe being in this secluded back room put him at risk, but he didn’t want to take the chance of the soldados or any random White Flames members spotting him and putting a bullet in the back of his head while he was trying to concentrate on his cards.
The room was a simple square, wooden floors and floral wallpaper covering the walls. Small, maybe five meters by five meters, with only two doors. The one leading back into the brothel, and a small bathroom door at the far end of the room. Not a window or a wall decoration in sight.
He sighed at his cards.
The most obvious move with his current hand would be to jettison the green triangle card and one of the red squares. Since, in this phase of the game, the official rules said to draw two and jettison two in each round. There were six phases overall in one match, and the rules changed a little in each phase. Yorick had played with more simple rules back at the plantación, but he could follow along with Fenton’s version, as long as he concentrated on it.
Jettison the green triangle and one red square?
Yorick had a funny feeling about keeping those two red square cards. He’d seen no others dealt in this phase, which meant Fenton probably wasn’t holding any of them. The two remaining reds he needed to pick up to get Fours were sitting randomly in the pile, waiting for someone to pluck them out.
Something in his head told him to hold on to both the red square cards.
“We’re waiting,” Fenton said. He was slouching in his chair, a lazy grin on his face. Fenton had worn that grin since the first round of cards had been dealt, an hour before. His expression never wavered.
Time to make a choice.
Yorick discarded the green triangle card and one of the yellow stars. Then, he reached into the other pile and drew a red square and another yellow star. So now, he had three different sets only one matching card away from hitting Fours.
Closer. But, it also meant Fenton was closer to drawing one of the cards Yorick needed, if he hadn’t already.
The brothel boss studied him. “Good draw?”
Yorick shrugged, pursing his lips. He said nothing.
“How long have you been playing Fours?” Fenton asked.
“This is my first time,” Yorick said, which brought a round of laughter from the group. Everyone except Malina.
“I know that’s not true,” Fenton said, “but I must say you have developed quite the stone face. I can’t read you at all.”
“Good,” Yorick said, and left it at that. He tried not to look over at Malina, but he could feel her eyes on him. She didn’t have any visible bruises, but there was no telling how she’d been treated since these people had kidnapped her yesterday morning.
Fenton leaned forward and discarded two cards, then picked up two new ones. Yorick held his breath as the big man slid the new cards in with his others. His eyes gave away nothing.
“Draw,” he said, meaning he hadn’t achieved any Fours. “You’re a traveler, yes?” Fenton asked after a pause. “I mean, it’s obvious you’re not from here. But, you’re traveling recently, is what I’m asking.”
Yorick considered why the boss was asking the question. Probably to distract him. “Sure.”
“Come down from Pinedale way?”
Yorick elected not to answer and instead gave him a blank stare. He waited for the inevitable follow-up.
“The thing is,” Fenton said, “I heard someone killed the Jefe up in Pinedale. Nasty business. An infiltrator slit his throat while he was sleeping in his bed. A couple of his best guards are dead as well. Of course, it’s a rumor, so who can say if it’s true?”
Yorick shrugged. “I’m not sure what to tell you. Last time I saw him, he was alive.”
“Indeed,” Fenton said, grinning. “Interesting.”
Yorick looked down at his cards while he tried not to think about who had killed Jefe. He had three sets of three, and he needed to jettison two cards. Go for one card each of two different colors, or risk big and get rid of two cards of the same color and shape? In one more round, they would begin the next phase of the game, which meant jettisoning three cards per turn and gaining the ability to steal cards from the other player.
He sighed, then picked two yellow stars to drop into the pile. His hand shook a little as he reached over to the pickup pile. He watched Fenton watching his hand quiver and ordered himself to calm down.
The first card was a blue diamond. He slid it into the other cards. His nervous fingers again touched the draw pile. He pulled it back. Turned it over.
The next card he drew was a red square. That made four. He’d done it.
Yorick could barely contain his excitement as his heart thumped against his ribcage. He turned the cards around and had to swallow a couple of times to find the words. “I have it. Four red squares. I have Fours!”
Yorick jumped up, knocking the chair back. Legs wobbly. He’d finished the game. He’d won.
The two bodyguards reacted to his sudden movement, dropping their hands to the pistols holstered at their respective hips. Each of them pulled closer to Fenton, positioning their bodies at an angle in front of his.
Fenton sat back and plopped his cards on the table. A disgusted look on his face. He huffed a sigh and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
Yorick was about to open his mouth to ask for his prize of Malina and keys to a car, but the door burst open behind him. Yorick pivoted around to see three soldados standing there, brandishing rifles.
One of the soldados took a step forward. “Someone in this room killed two of our men outside a nearby pub yesterday. No one is leaving until we figure out who did it.”
In an instant, the room’s energy changed and filled with noise. The bodyguard to Fenton’s left made the first move. He lifted his pistol, finger on the trigger.
The soldados didn’t wait around to ask questions or attempt to deflate the tension. The most threatening bodyguard took the first bullet, his chest exploding in a spray of red.
Yorick dropped down as bullets flew over his head. His eyes locked onto Malina, cowering in the corner of the room. On his hands and knees, he scurried across the hard floor to her. As he crawled under the table, the thing shook as a body flopped onto it. Fenton’s lifeless hand hung down over the side, a dribble of blood cascading down his wrist. Bullets raced around the room. Yorick couldn’t even tell who was shooting or from where.
A bodyguard dropped in front of him, his pistol clattering to the floor next to him. Yorick snatched it and then turned around, on his back. He lifted the gun and blasted a couple of shots in the direction of the doorway. With all the chaos, he couldn’t see much, but he heard the sound of a bullet hitting one of the king’s soldados.
And then silence. A residual echo of mayhem lingered, but there were no further shots.
Yorick rose to his knees, pistol out. Everyone in his field of view was dead. Fenton, the soldados, the bartender and the two putas. Yorick turned around and saw Malina there, curled into a ball on the floor.
But, still alive. No puddle of blood around her.
He stowed the pistol and clamored to his feet to race across the room to her. He grabbed her by the wrist, and she looked up at him as if waking from a long sleep.
“Yorick?”
“We have to go. Now. The shots will bring more of them.”
He jerked Malina to her feet before she had a chance to disagree or get a word in. Fortunately for the
m, Fenton hadn’t thought to shackle her or hobble her, so Yorick escorted her across the room with no complications.
They ran over and between the bodies, Yorick practically dragging her. He tossed a look at Fenton, dead on top of the table, his blood soaking into the pile of Fours cards.
Yorick had received only half of his prize. Malina was safe and sound, but with no transport out of town. If Yorick had the time, he could dig around the man’s pockets and maybe find the keys to a car, but it wasn’t worth it. Not with the storm about to descend on them for killing the king's soldados while there were still so many of them around.
He needed to get back to the others and figure out the next step. Their slim chance at survival was growing slimmer.
As they burst into the street in the late afternoon sun, pandemonium followed. People running away from or toward the shots. Since the initial slaughter of White Flames after the soldados had arrived yesterday, the town had calmed considerably. Not at the moment, though.
And, across the street, Yorick met the eyes of the woman with the long, deep red hair, the one he’d first spotted from the plane wreckage. The missing woman. He hadn’t seen her with the other three White Flames on the subsequent occasions they’d had their encounters.
But she was here now. She scowled and reached behind her. She drew a knife and bore down, ready to run at him.
“Hello, Yorick,” she said as she marched in his direction. “Call me Valentine. I let you go before, but that was a mistake. I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Yorick seized Malina’s hand and changed direction. They ran. As hard and as fast as they could. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the woman duck behind a car when soldados started shooting in her direction. Within a few turns, he no longer saw this Valentine person behind them. Still, they did not stop running.
And, as they sprinted into alleys and jumped fences to scramble through backyards, a funny thought occurred to Yorick. The shiny object he’d seen hanging on the wall of the house of the little old lady who’d been harboring them.
