Death of a Bad Man

by Ralph Compton

  Nester smirked. ‘‘Just that everything was fine on this end. That means the shipment must be ready to roll. Hopefully whatever men they hired in that other town won’t have itchy trigger fingers.’’

  ‘‘I thought that town was supposed to be two days’ ride from here.’’

  ‘‘Sure,’’ Nester replied. ‘‘It’d take that long for a team of wagons. A single rider on a good horse could cut that down a hell of a lot. Fact is, I heard of some messengers who could bolt outta one place and get where they’re goin’ in—’’

  Cutting the old man off with a few frustrated waves, Sol said, ‘‘I’ll take your word for it. I just don’t want that man killed, is all.’’

  ‘‘Why?’’ Nester asked. ‘‘You squeamish?’’

  ‘‘No. I’m already wanted for one murder and I’d rather not have another one tacked on for no good reason.’’

  Before too long, Nester nodded and gave half a shrug. ‘‘Fine, I suppose. My knots should hold long enough for us to get outta here. I can get him situated so he won’t be a bother to anyone till we’re long gone.’’

  ‘‘But . . . you said . . .’’

  ‘‘I said I didn’t wanna let him go,’’ Nester replied. ‘‘You need to listen to yer elders.’’

  ‘‘Good. The matter’s settled. I’m getting something to drink.’’ With that, Sol turned his back to Nester and walked away.

  But Sol didn’t put that shack too far behind him. Instead, he doubled back after several paces and found a nice, dark spot from which he could watch Nester slink back into the dirty old building. For a few hard moments, Sol couldn’t hear anything. Then the door opened and Nester walked outside. The old man turned to look into the shack and snarled something at the captive that Sol couldn’t hear.

  Nester eyed the captive the way a cat watched a mouse moments before it tore the rodent’s head off. The old man’s hand remained upon the grip of his pistol, but his pistol remained in its holster. As the wind howled and dust was kicked up from the ground, everything was set into motion. Even the shack swayed and groaned beneath the push of the breeze.

  Nester, however, didn’t move.

  Sol held his breath and waited for the old man to put the captive down with one shot. He was ready to draw his gun and chase Nester away, but Sol wasn’t even certain he could do so and follow it up with anything worthwhile. If he drew too slowly, it wouldn’t count for anything. If he made too much noise, he could catch one of Nester’s bullets for himself. If he fired and missed, he would end up the same way. No matter what, all of those outcomes ended with that captive dead on the ground and Sol unable to do much of anything. It might be too late for Sol, but it was sure too late for that pathetic man in the shack.

  And so Sol waited.

  Nester finished what he had to say, shut the door, wedged some rocks under it to keep it in place and then walked away from the shack. After that, he glanced over to Sol and winked.

  ‘‘Testin’ me now, huh?’’ Nester asked. ‘‘Keep them instincts, boy.‘

  Chapter 22

  Sol couldn’t get any sleep. Despite the fact that he felt almost too tired to stand upright, his thoughts were racing around at a dizzying pace and his muscles were too drained to keep up. The first hints of dawn had crept into the sky by the time Sol drifted off. Shortly after he was finally asleep, he was awakened by a couple of sharp shakes. The effect was more than a little disconcerting.

  ‘‘Get yer clothes on and get ready to ride,’’ Nester growled. ‘‘Them wagons have already rolled out of that lot behind the Jessup building.’’

  Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, Sol ran his fingers through his hair and focused his eyes. He didn’t know how Nester had gotten into his room and surely didn’t know how the old man had managed to sneak up on him.

  ‘‘This is gonna be one hell of a day, boy,’’ Nester declared. ‘‘I can feel it in my bones.’’ Judging by the smirk upon Nester’s face, nobody would have guessed that he didn’t like the earlier hours of the day. The old man drew his pistol, spun it around his finger and then dropped it into its holster. After that, he left the room and whistled all the way down the hall.

  Sol gathered up his remaining belongings, pulled on his clothes and set about the necessary tasks. Fees for the hotel and stable were squared away and the horses were saddled by the time Nester showed his face again. After climbing onto his horse’s back, Nester snapped his reins and led the way out of town.

  The desert air hung like a sandy curtain draped over Albuquerque. Within an hour after leaving, Sol and Nester spotted the wagons that had been behind the Jessup building, so they steered away from the trail and circled around to put plenty of space between them and the shipment. After signaling for them to fall back even more, Nester pointed toward a rocky slope that would give them a vantage from higher ground. The two of them made it to the slope, ditched their horses halfway along the rocky surface and crawled to the top upon their bellies.

  It wasn’t a steep rise, but was good enough to keep the horses hidden while Sol and Nester gazed out upon the caravan. Sol wished he had a spyglass, but Nester seemed to be doing just fine with the eyes God had given him.

  The caravan was a slow-moving beast that crawled as though each horse was a limb scraping at the sandy ground to gain another inch. Two wagons made up the body of this beast and they rolled along noisily enough to be heard with just a bit of concentration on Sol’s behalf. He could only assume there were two men on each of the wagons, but there could easily have been more. Riding alongside the wagons, spaced fairly evenly to the left and right, were three riders on each side. Six men on horseback accompanied the wagons: One man on either side rode a few yards ahead of the wagons. Another two rode a few yards behind and the remaining two drifted in between. Every now and then, a stray beam from the sun would glint off of bared gunmetal, but Sol figured it would be safest to guess that all the men in that group were armed.

  ‘‘See them over there?’’ Nester asked as he pointed away from the caravan and to the southeast.

  Sol squinted and shook his head. ‘‘No.’’

  ‘‘Don’t spend so much time gawkin’ at what’s easiest to see. That’ll still be there when you want to look again. Try gettin’ a glance at what’s off to the sides. That’s where the real goodies are.’’

  Rather than rebuke the old man’s advice, Sol took it. He shifted his eyes away from the rolling caravan and gazed off in the direction that Nester was pointing. It took a bit of scowling and squinting, but Sol eventually caught a glimpse of another horseman at least a hundred yards or so away.

  ‘‘How in blazes did you see that?’’ Sol asked.

  Nester chuckled without taking his eyes from the sight. ‘‘I know what to look for, is all. I count two other riders keeping clear of the rest. How about you?’’

  ‘‘I only see one. Wait a second. There might be another one even farther ahead.’’

  ‘‘That’s my two.’’

  Sol would have loved to catch sight of another rider keeping pace with the caravan, just to get one over on the old man. Then again, the notion of there being even more guns out there only served to tighten the knot in Sol’s gut. Once he’d drifted to both ends of that scale, Sol settled somewhere in between and took an earnest look at what was in front of him. ‘‘Just those two,’’ he finally admitted. ‘‘That’s all I see.’’

  ‘‘Good. That makes things easier.’’

  ‘‘Easier? There’s eight men on horses and at least two or three on each of those wagons!’’

  Nester slapped his hand against Sol’s mouth and then shoved him toward the ground. Sliding down so his own shoulders were scraping rock and dirt, the old man snarled, ‘‘Keep yer voice down. You wanna give us away?’’

  Sol lowered his voice, but didn’t take any of the edge from it. ‘‘None of those men can hear us. And how the hell do you consider this easy? We should turn back.’’

  ‘‘This is the life, boy. You
wanna be a bad man, you gotta be ready to ride in and take what you want. You think the only thing keepin’ men like us from bein’ rich is the letter of the law? Most men carry guns to shoot two things: snakes and us. The difference in fights like this comes in who’s more prepared to shoot back. Right now, that’d be us.’’

  ‘‘How do you figure?’’

  ‘‘Because we see them and they don’t see us. That’s just about all it takes.’’

  ‘‘Just about?’’ Sol asked.

  Nester drew his gun and held it up to his cheek as if he were about to kiss it. The weapon was dented and worn away in spots, which made it look as if it had been brought into this world at about the same time as its owner. With a flick of his fingers, Nester checked the rounds inside the cylinder. He closed it with a snap of his wrist and rolled onto his belly so he could get another look at the caravan. ‘‘I’d say the only way for us to get close to them wagons would be for you to take out that rear guard first. That should buy me enough time to ride in and drop a few of them guards. After that, you can ride in behind and catch a few of them boys by surprise.’’

  ‘‘I’ve got a better idea,’’ Sol said. ‘‘I’ll go in first.’’

  ‘‘And what?’’ Nester snapped. ‘‘Show that famous face o’ yours to a bunch’a men who plastered them notices all over creation? What the hell you got in that head of yers? It’s gotta be mush or some sort of stew because it sure as hell ain’t brains.’’

  ‘‘Riding at them now would be like trying to charge a fort that’s already barricaded and ready for an attack, ’’ Sol said. ‘‘Especially this early when they’re all sharp and ready to shoot at something. I’ll sneak in to get a closer look at what’s in there.’’

  ‘‘Why you?’’

  Sol didn’t hesitate one bit before replying, ‘‘Because I’m not the one itching for a fight. I’m also the one who helped put a few of Charlie’s shipments together back in Warren. All that money won’t just be sitting in those wagons. It’ll be locked up in a safe or a lock-box or . . . I don’t know. It’ll be locked up, that’s for sure. I’ve worked in enough mines and whatever’s shipped out of there is always locked up. They use decoys or any number of tricks and I might be able to see through whatever tricks these men are using.’’

  Nester scowled at Sol for a few seconds and then took a few quick glances at the wagons. Just when it seemed his eyes couldn’t be angry enough, the storm behind them lifted and he shrugged. ‘‘All right. Fine.

  You wanna go in and try to get in close to get yer revenge? You best do it real careful. If you take a wrong step and ruin this, ye’re on yer own. I ain’t about to risk my neck comin’ in to rescue you.’’

  Sol nodded. ‘‘That’s fine. This isn’t about revenge. I’ve already told you that.’’

  ‘‘So glad you agree.’’

  ‘‘And tonight, when they’re in camp,’’ Sol added, ‘‘I’ll sneak in and have a word with one of them bosses.’’

  Nester snapped his head back and looked Sol over as if he were inspecting the younger man for the first time. ‘‘Just crawl right into their camp, huh? You could barely handle robbin’ a trading post and now you think you can handle this?’’

  ‘‘It’s why I’m here.’’

  ‘‘Damn, boy. You might have a bit of sand in ya, after all. Still some mush between yer ears,’’ Nester added, ‘‘but plenty of sand.’’

  True to his word, Nester rode along for the rest of that day without firing a shot at the caravan or even riding too close to it. The old man focused so much attention on those wagons and the horses surrounding them that he barely seemed to blink. The only other words he spoke during daylight hours were the occasional grunt to signal for a stop and another grunt when it was safe to ride again.

  It didn’t take long for Sol to pick up on what Nester was doing and what caused him to do it. By midday, Sol could spot the scouts that rode ahead and behind the wagons. Sometimes, Sol would only see a wisp of dust kicked up by those distant horses, and other times, he could spot when one of those scouts slipped up and skylined himself by cresting a rise or dwelling for too long upon a tempting piece of high ground. When that happened, both outlaws got behind cover and stayed there until the scouts moved on. If there wasn’t available cover, Sol and Nester would drop from their saddles and pull the horses down along with them so all four of them could lie on the ground with their bellies against the dirt. It didn’t take long before the horses were more accustomed to this drill than Sol himself.

  Throughout all of this following, watching and hiding, Sol never stopped thinking about what he intended on doing. It was obvious that Nester was the better choice to sneak among those wagons when they would eventually come to a stop. Still, Sol meant to follow through on his declared course of action. As he’d already told Nester, it was why he’d come this far.

  If the rest of that mining company would get their comeuppance for all the cheating and stealing they’d done, Sol was going to be there when it happened. He’d been there to put Charlie in his place, so it was only fitting that Sol finish the job.

  It wasn’t revenge. Sol had told himself that over and over again.

  Nester didn’t speak out against Sol’s plan the entire day. It wasn’t until nightfall that the old man even broached the subject. The wagons had come to a stop alongside a wide stream that wasn’t much deeper than a puddle. The horses were being unhitched from the wagons and the scouts had taken up positions about sixty yards to the north and south of the camp.

  Having left their own horses several paces back, Nester and Sol crawled in from the east to watch as men guarding the shipment prepared for supper and a pair of dandies stepped out of the wagons to stretch their legs.

  ‘‘You still intendin’ on sneakin’ into that camp?’’ Nester asked.

  Sol nodded, despite the doubts that circled his mind. ‘‘Yeah.’’

  ‘‘Then wait until after they eat. I don’t know what they brought for food, but folks tend to let their eyes wander while they’re fixin’ their meals and while they’re eatin’ ’em. Afterwards, they tend to talk, smoke or give their eyes a rest. That should be a good time to get closer.’’ Glancing at the sky, he added, ‘‘It’ll be darker by then too.’’

  ‘‘What will you be doing while I’m away?’’ Closing his eyes and steeling himself, Sol added, ‘‘Should I even try to look for you if things go bad?’’

  Reaching out to slap Sol on the back, Nester said, ‘‘I’ll be doin’ my part to see to it it don’t go bad. That’s what partners do.’’

  ‘‘What about all that suspicion talk?’’

  ‘‘Oh, that still holds true. Partners can still be suspicious of each other, but that don’t mean we want to see them get killed. If them suspicions turn out to be true, it’s best that you put the traitor down yerself. That way, it keeps the gang from looking weak.’’

  Sol watched the old man for a few seconds, but quickly saw the flicker of a smile on his face. ‘‘So we’re a gang now, huh?’’

  ‘‘Not hardly, but nobody else needs to know that. Do you recall any stories about me robbin’ a Cavalry payroll bound for a fort in Sioux country?’’

  ‘‘Yes,’’ Sol replied as he jumped onto the new path the conversation had taken. ‘‘Wasn’t that the one where you and your partners hit two stagecoaches at once and fought your way through a dozen guards?’’

  ‘‘More or less. There was only one partner and the rest was all talk.’’

  ‘‘So you didn’t rob that payroll?’’ Sol asked.

  Nester chuckled and was quick to say, ‘‘Oh, we robbed the hell out of that payroll. It was just me and one other partner. By the time we got to them coaches, the soldiers had heard so many stories about Nester Quarles and his gang of marauding hell-raisers that they thought it best to hide a portion of the money and hand over the rest just to see if we would take it and leave.’’

  ‘‘So you robbed two stagecoaches using only two men?’’ S
ol asked.

  ‘‘Nah. We kicked up a lot of dust and took the piece of that payroll they were willing to hand over. The point is, we walked away with some easy money and didn’t have to fire a shot because we worked hard to be feared and never showed one sign of weakness. If’n you get into that camp and spy enough for us to hit them wagons at just the right spot, you’ll make us look like a force to be reckoned with and that’s somethin’ we can bank for later. So go do what you gotta do. Just keep yer eyes open and watch yerself.’’

  Sol nodded and pulled in a deep breath. Although it felt good to taste the night air as it filled his lungs, it didn’t do much to dispel the nervousness that had filled him up like mold in a dank cellar.

  As if sensing Sol’s hesitancy, Nester pointed toward the camp and said, ‘‘It ain’t so hard. Just look for the darkest spots and crawl in through ’em. There are bound to be a boss or two in one of them big tents next to those wagons. They’ll know about any tricks or lockboxes and such.’’

  Sure enough, there had been two tents pitched between the wagons. Two more were scattered closer to the fire, but those were more like sheets propped up by a pair of sticks. ‘‘You think I’ll be able to sneak past the gunmen?’’ Sol asked.

  ‘‘If ye’re light on yer feet, maybe. I wasn’t never too good at that sort of thing myself, but I knew a fella we used to call Weasel who could—’’

  Sol cut the story short with a quickly raised hand. ‘‘Maybe you can tell that story later.’’

  ‘‘Sure,’’ Nester grunted with a nod of his head. ‘‘If you get seen by a guard, stab him or cut his throat. You don’t want to make noise by firing a gun unless you got no other choice.’’

  Even with that bit of advice tucked away inside his head, Sol didn’t feel much better about his chances. Then again, after allowing himself to skid this far down the slope, there wasn’t much else to do than keep rolling and pray that he didn’t break too many bones before hitting the bottom.

  Chapter 23