Reaper's Fee Part 10

Whether he was thinking about collecting the money or not, Nick couldn't help but be startled by that. "A thousand?"

"And for becoming a man wanted for disrupting government process or whatever the h.e.l.l else they try to call it once it's done. Basically, you'd be taking a bullet for Hale once folks start spreadin' the blame around."

"Is that kind of heat worth a thousand dollars?"

"It is if you do it right," Kinman said. "The way I got it figured, we might not even be spotted before this thing is done. The money will still be ours and we're the h.e.l.l out of this s.h.i.t hole."

"We?"

Holding out his hand, Kinman nodded once and said, "Sure. You got a stomach for this."

"What makes you so sure?"

"First of all, you got off that train of yours when everyone else had to have been shaking in their boots and crying for mercy." As Kinman took a breath, a distant rumble marked the collapse of a building in another part of town. "Second," he said without so much as looking in the direction of the rumble, "the way you hefted that body over your shoulder. It shows you ain't the squeamish sort."

"I've worked with plenty of dead folks."

"Yeah. I just bet you have."

Pausing for a moment, Nick said, "I'm a mourner."

"A what?"

Even though there was a more official and complete explanation, Nick let it slide with, "It's like an undertaker." Once that was said, Nick took a more careful look at the hand Kinman was still extending to him. His fingers were curled around a messy wad of money. Nick s.n.a.t.c.hed it from him and worked his fingers through the bills. His half of the money was all there. As much as he wanted to toss it into the street or even back into Kinman's face, Nick shoved the cash into his pocket.

"Oh, I see," Kinman said. "So, do most undertakers see folks get shot right in front of them?" Glancing over at Nick as they walked another couple of paces, Kinman waited before answering his own question. "I didn't think so. Whatever your line of work is, I'd say you're the man I'm looking for. At least, for the hour or two it'll take to get this cakewalk over and done with."

"You call this a cakewalk?" Nick asked.

"For me and you? Sure. For thema" Kinman said as he nodded ahead to where a small group of people was huddled, "anot hardly."

Nick could tell the group had already seen him and Kinman coming. There were four of them crammed into a small alcove between a laundry and a store displaying men's suits. All of them were Chinese and dressed in black or gray pants with simple white shirts. Two were children and the other two were a man and woman who'd positioned themselves to try and keep the little ones from view.

Kinman walked with his hand resting upon his holstered gun. His arm looked relaxed, but the muscles from his shoulder all the way down to his fingertips were as tense as bowstrings. Nick knew that much because he'd walked that same way plenty of times and could recognize it in someone else. If he had any doubts, all Nick had to do was look at the hungry sparkle in Kinman's eyes.

"See what I mean?" Kinman whispered. "Plenty of money to be made here."

Nick reached out to hold him back with an outstretched arm. As soon as Kinman's eyes snapped toward him, Nick said, "Let me take these."

"Sure," Kinman replied. "We was gonna split the money anyhow. Better make it quick, though. They already seen us comin'."

Nick's eyes darted up and down, left and right before centering back upon his main target. In the s.p.a.ce of a few heartbeats, Nick had sized up as much as he could regarding the people around him, what could go wrong and routes that could best be used for escape. Even as he was looking for all of those things, Nick could feel the other man getting more and more anxious beside him.

"Stand back," Nick said as he stepped forward and in front of Kinman. Drawing his pistol, Nick took aim and fired a shot as he moved toward the Chinese family cowering at the mouth of the narrow alley.

Nick's shot punched into the wall several inches to the left of the Chinese man's head. Fixing his eyes upon him, Nick rushed forward with his gun held in front of him and his chin stuck out even farther. Sure enough, it was the Chinese man's first impulse to take a swing at Nick with a balled fist.

Even though the punch had some strength behind it, there wasn't nearly enough to put Nick down. Nick snapped his head back just long enough to get a look behind him. Kinman was standing a few paces back to watch the show. When Nick looked back at the Chinese man, he hissed, "Hit me again."

The Chinese man was so stunned that Nick wondered if he even understood English. Either the man understood just fine or he was fighting mad, because he quickly took another swing at Nick.

As that punch glanced off his jaw, Nick got a better look at the rest of the family as well as the spot they were in. The opening between the buildings could barely be called an alley. It was so narrow that the two children were just able to squeeze into it. The Chinese woman looked as though she might be able to squeeze through, but the man would have a bit more trouble.

"Run," Nick said as he gave the Chinese man a punch that wasn't much more than a tap on the chest. "Find somewhere to hide and don't come out till this pa.s.ses over."

"You will shoot," the Chinese man said.

"Just over your heads as you go." He could feel Kinman's patience wearing thin, so Nick made some noise by slamming his shoulder against the wall, adding, "I could have killed you already. Just hit me, run and make it look good."

The Chinese man looked past Nick at Kinman. That was enough to spur him on, and he delivered a chopping blow to Nick's stomach that legitimately doubled him over. From there, the man shoved his wife in front of him so they could both throw themselves into the narrow alleyway.

As he straightened up, Nick saw Kinman moving up next to him. Nick acted as if he didn't know where the other man was so he could pa.s.s off his next move as an accident. He let out a few vicious curses, stepped back and knocked into Kinman along the way. Bringing up his pistol, Nick stepped back and fired into the alley. His first shot hissed straight down the alley and well over the family's heads. His next shot tore through the side of one building and his third sent a bunch of splinters flying from the other wall.

Besides causing a whole lot of noise, Nick's shots also filled the narrow s.p.a.ce between the buildings with gritty black smoke. A lot more of it rolled straight back into the faces of the two men still standing at the front of the opening.

Nick's eyes narrowed reflexively as the burned powder drifted into his face. Since he couldn't see much more than a bit of movement within the alley, he knew that Kinman must have been similarly impaired.

"Dammit," Nick snarled as the echoes of his gunshots died away. "I'll crawl in there after them."

Kinman clapped a hand on Nick's shoulder and pulled him back a bit. "Don't bother," he said. "These Chinese are like rats. They got hidey-holes all over the G.o.dd.a.m.n place. Going after them now is just asking to walk into a shotgun blast or some other ambush."

"Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it. There's plenty more where they came from. You want in on that railroad job?" Kinman asked.

"Sure. I could use the money."

"Let's do some more hunting and then we can go back to Hale's place for dynamite. Where you headed from here, Nicolai?"

"Up into the Dakotas."

Kinman smirked and said, "What a coincidence. So am I."

THIRTEEN.

Kinman was right. There were plenty more Chinese to be found inside of Rock Springs. As he and Nick made their way up and down the streets, it got harder and harder for Nick to pretend that he didn't see someone hiding in a doorway or rushing into a building. More than once, Nick thought he would be called out on his attempts to draw Kinman's attention away from those desperate faces.

Fortunately for those frightened souls, Kinman seemed more intent on talking up Hale's plan to blow up the railroad tracks. As he spelled out the plan to Nick, he acted as if he was sharing the details of a surprise birthday party. Nick listened, nodded and kept looking for another way to keep from having to put another local in harm's way.

"I need a drink," Nick said as they walked down another street.

Kinman shook his head and replied, "You're out of luck there. The saloons are closed."

"What? Why would they be closed?"

"The barkeeps are trying to keep from adding fuel to the fire by getting these arsonists liquored up. Don't try talking your way in either, because I gave it my best shot. Some of these saloon owners say they're trying to settle things down, but my guess is that most of them just don't want to be blamed for making things worse."

Nick nodded and looked at the darkened windows of the nearest saloon with newfound respect. "They may be onto something," he said.

"They're just covering their a.s.ses." Kinman grunted. "I'm inclined to toss a brick through one of these G.o.dd.a.m.n windows just so I can get my hands on a bottle. In facta"

Recognizing the glint in the man's eye from all the other times he'd been around dangerous men with too much time on their hands, Nick reached into his inner jacket pocket and took out a dented flask. "Here," he said, handing the flask to Kinman. "Maybe this'll help."

Kinman looked at the flask and then back up at Nick. "I thought you wanted to head into a saloon to get a drink."

"I just didn't want to take a dent out of my personal supply."

Kinman seemed more than a little skeptical. But once he screwed open the flask and sniffed the contents, he grinned and nodded. "Ah. Now I see. This ain't your typical gutter-brewed whiskey."

"I can't even find it in most saloons," Nick said. "Sometimes, there ain't anyone in town who's ever heard of vodka."

Kinman tipped the flask back just enough for a healthy taste of the clear liquor. His eyes closed as the liquid heat worked its way through him and warmed his stomach. "That's a h.e.l.l of a treat," he said, handing back the flask. "Thanks."

Nick took a drink as well, savoring the taste and the feel of the liquor the way some folks savor a cigar or a finely cooked meal. When he let out the breath he'd been holding, Nick felt as if he were exhaling steam from the potent liquor burning its path down his throat.

"Seems like the fires are being put out," Nick said as he put the flask back into his pocket.

Kinman nodded and spared a quick glance toward the section of town that had been ablaze. "Maybe we do got the saloon keepers to thank for that. The men who set them fires only burned down Chinese houses."

"Houses?" Nick asked. "Not businesses?"

Shaking his head, Kinman replied, "Chinese businesses may have a few white investors. Chinese laundries may have some white folks' clothes hanging in the back. Nope, they just stuck to the houses because that's where they could burn down the most Chinese with the least bit of fuss."

Nick felt his stomach shift within him in a way that had nothing to do with the vodka. He was taken slightly aback when he found the same disgusted look upon Kinman's face. "Why would you take money from someone like Hale?" Nick asked.

"Why wouldn't I? You think someone else wouldn't just step up and do what I done? It's easy work and it was gettin' done with or without me. Sheriff Young's got his hands full with the fires and the a.s.sholes setting them for now, but he'll crack down on Hale so hard that p.r.i.c.k won't know what hit him."

"What about the Federals?" Nick asked.

Kinman looked over at him. "Those Federals will roll into town sooner or later," he said. "All we need to do is make it later rather than sooner and we can ride outta here as rich men."

"It could be messy if any Federals get hurt."

"Not if n.o.body knows who did the hurtin'." As Kinman broke into laughter, he slapped Nick on the back and added, "We'll just skin that rabbit when we get to it, as my grandpappy used to say. Speakin' of rabbits, it looks like the Chinese rabbits are all back in their holes. Let's get to work on our other business."

The town had fallen into an eerie sort of calm. More folks were poking their heads out of their doorways and walking the streets, and there were more lawmen making their rounds. Nick figured that many of the men wearing badges were newly deputized or even part of a posse meant to regain order. The look in their eyes said they were both anxious to use their guns and afraid at the same time.

Kinman must have picked up on the same thing, because he became more and more silent as the folks around him got the courage to walk outside again. Even though the night air was filled with more cautious voices and less with gunfire, Kinman glanced around as if he was suspicious of every face he saw.

"Don't let these folks get too good a look at you," he said. "Once the law gets here, they'll be apt to tell them about every stranger they've seen."

"They've got to know about Hale," Nick said. "A man like that surely hasn't been silent while this mess was brewing."

"Oh sure. And I'm positive none of these folks pointed out a Chinese or two to Hale out of spite. I'm also sure none of these folks happen to be miners as well and are looking to get anyone but Hale into trouble for this bloodbath."

Nick nodded and choked down his disgust for his fellow man. "Point taken. Where are we headed?"

"There's a hardware store just up the street. Hale said he'd meet us there with the supplies we need."

True to his word, the hardware store was up the street and marked by a single lantern glowing in the window. As he approached the store, Nick felt like he'd been swept up by a pa.s.sing twister and tossed a hundred feet into the air. Where he'd been before didn't matter, and he was too busy to think about where he was headed. Looking back on it, Nick might have thought a week or two had pa.s.sed since he'd been sitting on that train aching for a way to get off of it. Now that the twister had come, all he could do was try to position himself for the best landing he could manage.

As he followed Kinman around to the back of the store, Nick was reminded of something Barrett had once told him. His friend's words drifted through his head like a phantom breeze, bringing a hint of a smile to his face.

"A man don't get rich without taking a wrong turn now and then," Barrett had said during one of the many wrong turns their old gang had taken. "He's gotta follow his nose no matter where it leads."

"Most folks know better than to live life like that," Nick had said at the time.

Barrett had looked at him and nodded. "That's why most folks are dirt poor, breaking their backs and cursing every minute they got to spend on this earth without the sand to do a d.a.m.n thing about it."

At the time, Nick had liked the sound of that.

Now, it struck him as true but not quite as amusing.

He knew there was something important brewing in Rock Springs the moment he'd spotted the flames. Getting off the train was a bonus, but Nick had to admit he would have preferred to be one of the other folks that Barrett had talked about. At least that way he would still be on his way to Cheyenne with only a few loud children and smelly old men to gripe about instead of carrying an armful of guns and a crate loaded with dynamite.

Those things were handed over by a trio of men with faces that were so dirty, they might never have been clean. Those stern faces were unwilling to meet Nick or Kinman's eyes as they followed through on Hale's commands. Hale, on the other hand, couldn't have been happier.

"These are the only weapons we could get on such short notice," Hale said. "But that shouldn't be a concern toamen like yourselves."

"Yeah." Kinman grunted as he selected one of the shotguns from the pile and hefted it over his shoulder. "We got plenty of guns already. You need help with that crate?"

Nick got his fingers under the crate and lifted it. Since the crate was less than half the size of one of the coffins he'd built over the years, he managed to get the crate up onto his shoulder without much trouble.

"I got it," Nick said.

Hale nodded enthusiastically and pulled a watch from his pocket. "Good, good. You'd better get moving, then."

"Aren't you coming along with us?" Nick asked.

Suddenly, Hale didn't feel like smiling. "Why would I do that? You know what you need to do. Just do it. If I was going to do the job, I wouldn't need to pay you men."

"The locals are starting to walk about," Nick said. "The fires are being put out and the law's even coming around."

When he saw Hale look in his direction, Kinman nodded. "He's right. It's not like we can walk down the street with a load like this and not expect to be noticed."

"Jesus Christ," Hale grumbled. "I might as wella""

"Might as well what?" Nick snapped. "Kill these folks your own self instead of piling up their bodies? Plant this dynamite yourself instead of sitting back and watching the explosions? Or maybe take some of the blame yourself rather than paying us to take it for you. Yeah. Maybe you should do it yourself."

Hale obviously wasn't pleased to hear what Nick had to say, but some of the indignant fire had left his eyes. In fact, Hale seemed to become downright uncomfortable the longer he stood there in front of the two men. Finally, he said, "I see what you mean. Fine, then. Let me get my wagon and I can take you to the tracks. I might even know a spot where you can take your time in planting that dynamite without being spotted."

"See now?" Kinman said triumphantly. "Seems like ol' Nick might know what he's talking about after all."