“All it takes is one lucky strike,” Clint pointed out. “You’d be surprised how quickly the enemies pile up after that. At least, we already know who was coming after him.”
It took Olivia a moment, but she was soon able to snap her thoughts away from the bundle on the table. “Right! The Nagles.”
“Would they have known if your uncle had come into any money?”
“Abner and the Nagles lived within a few miles of each other ever since he moved away from the Rio Grande. They didn’t get along, but they were always in each other’s business.” Her eyes narrowed and her voice took on a distinct edge. “I could see Wilson Nagle pulling something like this.”
“My guess is that your uncle wasn’t foolish enough to make it well known if he came into money.”
“It wouldn’t matter. That piece of trash Boris always happened to be in the right place at the right time. If he doesn’t hear things, he spies until he does hear something. He probably found out about my uncle’s windfall.”
“All right,” Clint said. “The only thing we’re missing is where that money is.”
Olivia stood up and walked over to the table where the bundle was lying beside the clay jar. “I don’t care where he got it or how much it was. All I want is to put Abner where he wanted to be.”
After taking a breath to steel herself, Olivia took the top from the jar and emptied the bundle into it. For the most part, it sounded like sand being poured into the jar. Every so often, something would clatter against the clay.
She kept her hands against the top of the jar and tried not to think about what could be clattering among the ashes. She also tried not to pour quickly enough to send up a cloud of gritty dust.
Once the gruesome task was finished, she went to the window and clapped her hands outside. “There,” she said quickly. “A little of him here is nice, right?”
“Yeah,” Clint said. “Why don’t I take that to get it sealed?”
“Thanks. I need to wash up.”
TWENTY-TWO
Although he hadn’t been too eager to visit another funeral parlor, Clint’s trip to the one in Dallas was quiet and uneventful. The undertaker was a friendly old man who’d been the one to deliver the clay jar to Jenny in the first place. He’d also been the one to craft it with his own hands. Once Clint handed it to him, the old man wet the part of the jar where the two halves met and then smeared the clay together.
“There you go,” the old man said as he carefully handed back the jar. “Just let it dry overnight. If the seal cracks, wet it some more.”
“I think I can handle that,” Clint replied. “Do I owe you anything?”
“Just take care of that urn and see to it that it gets where it needs to go.”
“You know about this man’s request?”
“No,” the undertaker replied. “Most folks who take ‘ashes to ashes’ so literally usually intend on winding up somewhere other than a grave. If I may ask, where is he going?”
Clint had been around too long and had dealt with too many snakes like the Nagle brothers to leave any bread crumbs lying around. Rather than tell anyone where he was headed just so they could possibly tell someone else, Clint said, “The river.”
That seemed to be enough for the old man, because he smiled and nodded solemnly. “A real good place. You takin’ him there?”
Clint nodded. He then held up the urn and looked at it from all sides. “Will this stay together during a ride?”
“Long as you don’t drop it. Even then, it should stand a good chance.”
As Clint inspected the urn, he heard the rattling inside. Rather than ask the gruesome question that was rattling around inside him, he looked at the undertaker and held his eyes there until the older man grinned.
“Just bits of bone and such,” the old man said in response to the unspoken question. “Probably some teeth or if he had any fake ones or fillings or the like. Not everything burns up and turns to ash, you know.”
“Guess I just never really thought about it.”
“Most folks don’t. Have a good trip, mister. You’re doing a kind thing by taking someone for their last ride. Whoever he was,” the old man said as he reached out to pat the top of the urn, “he’s surely grateful.”
Clint left the parlor with the urn tucked under his arm. It wasn’t a long walk to the blacksmith’s shop and when he got there, he found Ross with a large set of tongs in his hand.
“Back already, huh?” the blacksmith asked.
“Just thought I’d check in on my horse. I hope he hasn’t been much trouble.”
Ross waved that off after he set down the tongs. “I’ve had a lot worse. By the way, I didn’t get your name.”
“Clint Adams.”
Extending his hand, Ross waited until Clint shook it. As anyone might expect, the blacksmith’s grip was tough and nearly strong enough to crack a few bones.
“That’s a fine horse you got there,” Ross said. “You must take real good care of him.”
Clint nodded and replied, “I try.”
“Well, there’s plenty of folks who don’t try nearly as hard. I just wanted to tell you that.”
“Well, thanks.”
“Now, on to the bad news. I got that hobbler out and there ain’t no more in there, but you should let him have a few days of rest before you ride him anywhere.”
Clint set the urn down and walked over to Eclipse’s stall. The Darley Arabian was a completely different animal from the wild-eyed stallion he’d been before. Not only was Eclipse calmer, but he looked plain tired. “How much damage was done?” Clint asked.
“Luckily, you caught it quick,” Ross told him. “But there’s still a wound there and I’d hate to shoe him just yet. If you absolutely need to move him, I can nail around the spot that was…well…let me just show you.”
When Ross walked over to Eclipse and immediately knelt down to the freshly bandaged front leg, Clint reflexively wanted to pull the man away. He knew Eclipse well enough to figure the stallion wasn’t tired enough not to kick the head off anyone who poked around that sore hoof. But since the blacksmith seemed to be doing well so far, Clint let him go now.
“You see?” Ross asked as he lifted Eclipse’s leg and peeled back some of the bandages.
To Clint’s surprise, Eclipse merely blinked and shifted his weight. It was hard for Clint to doubt someone who’d gained the Darley Arabian’s trust so completely. Looking down at what Ross was showing him, Clint could see a bloody crack in Eclipse’s hoof.
“That looks like it hurt,” Clint said.
“You’re damn right it did,” Ross told him. “I can make a shoe that can allow that to heal. I can nail the shoe on so it don’t make anything worse. But there ain’t nothing I can do if he bears a full load on his back and runs for miles on end. From what I’ve already seen of this boy, he won’t say no to doing any of that if you’re doing the asking. That means I’m asking you to ease up and don’t push him too hard.”
Clint rubbed Eclipse’s neck and nodded to the blacksmith. “How long should it take before he can be back to normal?”
“A few weeks.”
“All right. Make that new shoe and put it on. Think you can have it ready by tomorrow?”
“I was just about to start on it now,” Ross said. “You in a rush to get out of here?”
“Yeah,” Clint replied as he picked up the urn, “but we can afford to wait a little bit.”
TWENTY-THREE
The next couple of days were quiet.
That, more than anything else, surprised Clint.
Olivia had spent some time with Jenny, catching up on old family rumors as well as swapping a few new ones. They reminisced about Abner and spoke a bit about what was to happen next. Whenever Olivia would spend too much time talking about that, Jenny would change the subject to something easier to handle. For the most part, Jenny understood, and she often eased everyone’s spirits with some freshly baked dessert.
While all of t
his was going on, Clint looked out the windows almost as much as he looked over his shoulder.
It was another quiet, sunny day when Olivia walked up to stand beside Clint on Jenny’s front porch.
“What’s bothering you?” Olivia asked. “Is Eclipse doing better?”
“Yeah, he’s doing fine.”
“Then something else must be under your skin. You haven’t stopped pacing for days.”
“I don’t know.” Lowering his voice as he looked around again, Clint said, “After everything that happened when this trip started, I was expecting something else to happen by now.”
Olivia smirked, crossed her arms, and stared out at the same patch of street that had captured Clint’s attention. “You don’t feel comfortable unless someone’s shooting at you?”
“That’s not it and you know it.”
“Oh, then maybe it’s been too long since you threw someone off a train?”
Clint wheeled around to look directly in her eyes as he replied, “I didn’t throw anyone off a train! I tried to…” But then he saw the grin on Olivia’s face, so Clint turned back around.
“Glad to see you’ve still got some spark in you,” she said. “I haven’t even been able to interest you in visiting my room the last few nights.”
Lowering his eyes, Clint shot a quick glance back at the house. “Are you kidding me? I feel like I’d have to watch for every creaky floorboard and then glue my mouth shut for fear of making too much noise.”
Olivia leaned over and whispered, “That could turn out to be fun, don’t you think?”
“Sure. Only, you’re not the one who might get knocked out by one of those rolling pins or pans I see hanging all over that kitchen of Jenny’s. The women in your family have a tendency to be awfully hard on a man who steps out of line, remember?”
“Oh, don’t be silly. Jenny likes you.”
Clint smiled. “She looks after you like a mother. It’s plenty clear that she wouldn’t take kindly to any funny business going on under her roof.”
“Has that ever stopped you with anyone else?” Olivia asked.
“Actually, no.”
“You’re still worried about one of those Nagles coming after me, aren’t you?”
“Coming after you or Jenny,” Clint said. “If there was just one of you to look after, things might be a bit easier. But those two know you, which means they probably know where to find Jenny. Boris was on that train, so he was on his way to Dallas anyway. Do you think the other one is far from here?”
Olivia shook her head and leaned against Clint. “Probably not.”
“It’s been a few days,” Clint said. “If you’re going to take the ashes to the Rio Grande, we should go soon. The longer we wait, the braver those brothers are going to get.”
“Do you think Boris survived that fall?”
“Honestly, he might not have survived if I hadn’t tried to keep him from falling. The more I think about it, the more foolish I feel.”
“Why? Because you didn’t let a man die?” Olivia rubbed Clint’s shoulder and told him, “A guilty conscience is one thing, but you should never feel guilty for having a conscience.”
“You know what would make me feel a whole lot better?” Clint asked.
“What?”
“If we could get a move on before either one of those Nagles decides to take a run at us.”
“So you’re sure you want to come along for the rest of this?” Olivia asked.
“Of course. I’ve already come this far.”
“Good,” she said with a little smirk. “Because I think I’ve finally found out where we’re supposed to go.”
Clint had to look at her for a few moments to see if she was joking. “I thought you said you knew where to go.”
“I was there a few times when I was small, but I’m not certain about the exact spot.”
“Well, that might be useful. It is a big river, you know.”
When he got no reaction from Olivia, he added, “You don’t know much Spanish, do you?”
She furrowed her brow and asked, “Why?”
“Never mind. What were you saying?”
Shaking her head as if she’d gotten some dust on the end of her nose, Olivia moved along. “I’ve been doing more than just swapping stories with Jenny. She had some of Abner’s things that were sent along. I wanted to go through it so I could hopefully find something to jog my memory as to where exactly along the Rio Grande he grew up. I remember going there as a little girl, but that was a long time ago.”
“Doesn’t Jenny know anything about that?” Clint asked.
“Maybe, but I think she forgot as well. When I first started talking to her about it, she didn’t seem to recall much. I figured it might be safer for her if she didn’t know. That way, there’s no reason for Boris or Wilson to bother her too much.”
Clint knew a thing or two about the wickedness that went through a killer’s head. Most killers didn’t need a good reason when it came to inflicting pain. There was some logic to Olivia’s intent, however, and Clint was reluctant to give her one more thing to worry about.
“I think the best thing we can do for her is get out of here before anything happens,” Clint said.
“Right. And now that I’ve remembered where to go, we can get going. It shouldn’t be too bad of a ride if we get started soon.”
Wincing at the sound of that, Clint said, “I don’t know if Eclipse is up for a long ride. What about the train? Is there one bound for wherever we’re headed?”
“I doubt it, but there might be one that’ll get us closer. I could always go on my own, though. It’s been so quiet that—”
“You’re not going on your own,” Clint insisted. “Let’s just see how close the railroad can get us and then we’ll ride the rest of the way. Eclipse just needs to take it easy for a bit.”
“Well, make sure he’s good enough to start walking now,” Olivia said. “He looked like he was in a lot of pain. I’ll go check the train schedules.”
“I’m coming with you,” Clint insisted. “We’ve been careful this far. There’s no need to let up now.”
Olivia seemed annoyed by Clint’s bullheadedness, but brightened up once she saw him offer her his arm. She slipped her arm around his and accompanied him to the train station.
TWENTY-FOUR
Olivia bought two tickets on a southbound train that was scheduled to leave the next morning. Since there were no trains that went to the exact spot where she needed to go, they could afford to be a lot less choosy when it came to picking their destination. Even though there were no rails that came within sight of Abner’s childhood home, the train ride would shave a good portion off their journey.
The main thing was that Eclipse wouldn’t be forced to spend too much time on his bad leg. Clint headed to the blacksmith’s shop to check on Ross’s progress. He also wanted to make sure it wouldn’t do more harm than good to ride so soon.
When he stepped into the blacksmith’s shop, Clint only saw Eclipse. There was no horse in the second stall and Ross was nowhere to be found. Rather than look around the place on his own, Clint tried to catch Ross’s attention the old-fashioned way.
“Ross?” he shouted. “You in here?”
There was no response.
“Ross? It’s Clint Adams.”
“Hold on,” Ross hollered from somewhere past the horse stalls. “I’ll be right there.”
Clint rubbed Eclipse’s nose, and was glad to see the familiar sparkle in the Darley Arabian’s eyes.
“I figured I’d find you here,” someone said from the doorway.
Recognizing the voice right away, Clint turned and placed his hand on his Colt. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face to me again, Boris,” Clint said. “Maybe I should take that hobbler of yours and shove it somewhere so you’ll know how it feels.”
Boris Nagle grinned and nodded. “I wouldn’t hurt no horse. He looks fine to me.”
“Yeah. Why don’t you co
me over here and see for yourself? Or are you moving a little slow as well?”
The grin dropped off Boris’s face. “You tried to kill me, you son of a bitch.”
“You were doing your fair share on that train, if you recall. Besides, you had to have stuck that hobbler in before I laid eyes on you.”
“I suppose I did.”
Clint nodded and resisted the urge to lunge at Boris right then and there. The simple fact that Boris hadn’t moved from his spot or reached for his gun told Clint that he didn’t want to make the first move.
“Tell me, Boris,” Clint said. “Where’s your bro—”
Clint’s question was cut short as something heavy cracked against the back of his skull. The impact flooded Clint’s head with dull pain as his ears filled up with the loud rush of blood. Soon, that rush was joined by the flow of air rushing past his face as he fell to the straw-covered floor.
Wilson stayed close to Clint, even when it meant crouching down over Clint’s unconscious body. He still gripped the club he’d used to put Clint down. In fact, Wilson even raised the short length of polished wood as if he was about to start bludgeoning Clint some more.
“What the hell is going on here?” Ross asked as he emerged from a narrow door in the back wall.
Both Nagle brothers glared at Ross for a few seconds. Neither of them was in a position to convince anyone that they were simply there to pay the blacksmith a visit.
TWENTY-FIVE
It wasn’t long before Ross spotted Clint sprawled on the floor. His thick, callused hands tightened around the new handle he’d gotten from the back room to replace the broken one still wedged into his hammer. “You get away from him,” the blacksmith warned.
“If you know what’s good for you,” Wilson growled as he reached into Clint’s pocket, “you’ll go right back where you were and forget what you saw.”
Ross thought that over for a second or two, which was the amount of time he needed to figure out which of the two brothers he should charge first. Since Wilson was closer and looked ready to cave Clint’s skull in, Ross chose him.
Dying Wish Page 8
