Reaper's Fee Part 7

"No," Nick said as he walked to her. "He sure can't."

Catherine turned within his arms and pulled him into the bedroom.

Switchback Gil was still in the street when Nick finally got around to cleaning up. Someone had draped a blanket over the body, and the bit of street traffic, walking or riding, curved around it as if Gil were a rock in the middle of the road. Nick felt a little bad, simply because his duties as an undertaker were to make certain the departed weren't put through such indignities.

Then again, considering the kind of man Gil had been and what Nick had been doing in the meantime, the slip in professionalism was easily overlooked. Nick came along with his wagon, boxed Gil up into one of the coffins he'd made, and hauled it to his cemetery.

After spending a lifetime digging man-sized holes in the ground, Nick put Gil under a few feet of soil in no time at all. Since he knew it would be difficult to leave if he saw Catherine again, he decided against taking his wagon back and simply left it next to his workshop at the edge of the cemetery.

Nick saddled up Kazys, the younger of his two horses, and unhitched Rasa from the wagon. After scratching the older girl behind the ears, he led the horse in the direction of his house and gave her a smack on the rump. She would be able to find her way home.

As he watched, Nick couldn't help but be a little jealous.

NINE.

Nick hated being on a train.

It wasn't a fear that some folks had of being hitched to a steam engine rolling over two iron bars. It wasn't a fear of Indians derailing the whole locomotive and sending him to a fiery death. It wasn't any sort of fear at all. It was more like a vicious annoyance at the entire process.

Sitting upon a bench that rattled beneath him for hours on end, Nick clenched his eyes shut as tightly as he clenched his fists. He knew there was no other way to get from California to the Dakotas with enough time to have a prayer of finding Barrett's grave ahead of the treasure hunters. If he'd ridden Kazys any farther than the train station, he would be in for the journey that had tested the resolve of so many wagon trains back in the great westward rush.

As much as Nick loved his new homeland, he sometimes cursed it for being so d.a.m.n big. With that thought, Nick caught himself slipping into the mind-set he'd had when he'd looked at this country for the first time. The tight confines of the pa.s.senger car and the constant motion of everything around him were all too similar to the cramped quarters of the leaky ship that had deposited Nick and his father at Boston Harbor.

As a child, Nick and his parents had taken a boat from the country where he'd been born. So much had happened since then and so much had changed that those days seemed more like a story that someone had once told to him than a memory.

To Nick's childish eyes, the ship had seemed as big as a town even though he was forced to spend most of his time in a s.p.a.ce as big as a box. It was stuffed to bursting with so many bodies that the stench of them still lingered in the back of his nose. Most of those bodies had been alive, but that changed once a sickness swept through the pa.s.sengers stuffed below the decks. To this day, Nick didn't know if those pa.s.sengers were supposed to be on that boat or if they'd been allowed to board thanks to a corrupt captain who'd taken their money and given them rotten rations in return.

In the end, none of that truly mattered. The pa.s.sengers had gotten sicker as the boat drew closer to the Boston sh.o.r.e. By the time it b.u.mped against Nick's new homeland, the vessel was lighter thanks to the dozens of bodies that had been dumped overboard.

One of those bodies had belonged to Nick's mother. After that, he'd told his father that he never wanted to see an ocean again. Although they'd had their differences over the years, the old man had kept his word and took Nick to grow up in the middle of the New World.

Nick sifted through his memories and tried not to think about the long train ride that was still ahead of him. His mood improved a bit, however, once he discovered the dining car while stretching his legs. When meals weren't being served, some of the tables were occupied by men who'd set up card games or women who wanted to get away from the occasionally rowdy general population of pa.s.sengers.

Nick found a slightly more comfortable chair against a window that allowed him to watch the land roll past him in a blur of greens and browns. It was a softer time of day when the sun bathed the terrain in a red glow to make the window seem more like a painting. The easy smile on Nick's face lasted right up until he opened the window and caught a hot cinder in his eye. Shutting the window angrily, Nick swore he could hear someone laughing at him from one of the other tables.

Taking a moment to figure his distance to the Badlands, Nick toyed with the idea of stopping the train by any means necessary, taking Kazys from the livery car, and riding the rest of the way. The estimate Nick arrived at wasn't to his liking. The train ride would be long enough. If he rode to the Dakotas the more familiar way, he might as well let any number of grave robbers take their shot at Barrett's inheritance.

Nick got up from his chair and walked to the back of the car. The cool wind he felt when stepping between cars only reminded him of being in the saddle when Kazys had built up a full head of steam. When he found the sleeper car, he looked for a conductor.

"How much for a bed?" Nick asked.

The conductor was a happy fellow who walked the row of every car as if he was touring his own Promised Land. "Let me check to see if there are any left," he said. After flipping through a few pages on his small pad of paper, he tapped it with his finger and chirped, "We've got one open. It'sa"

"I'll take it," Nick cut in as the conductor was trying to figure out which door to point to.

Nick didn't care how much he would have to pay for the compartment. When he heard the price, he handed some money over to the conductor and dragged himself through the narrow doorway.

The compartment wasn't much more than a closet with a view. There was a cot hanging from a wall, a window and a stool. Nick sat down on the cot, pulled the shade over the window and then closed his eyes. He drifted off to sleep eventually, but didn't get any better of a rest than when he'd dozed off while sitting on one of the benches with the rest of the pa.s.sengers.

Whatever he'd paid for the room, Nick vowed he wouldn't pay it again.

Hours dragged into days.

Towns came and went.

The sun made its rounds in the sky.

There were plenty of stops and starts along the way. After a while, Nick stopped keeping track of them, since doing so only reminded him of how much longer he had to be cooped up in that d.a.m.n crate on wheels. Just because he wasn't paying complete attention, however, didn't mean that he hadn't grown to learn the subtle sounds and feel of the train itself.

When it rattled and squealed this time, Nick knew something was wrong.

He was sitting on the bench that seemed to give him the fewest splinters, his head leaning against the window. As the train shook and the wheels screeched, Nick rubbed his eyes and forced himself to focus upon the window. Unlike the other times when he'd felt the train slow, there wasn't a station or even a platform in sight.

Cautiously opening the window, Nick looked outside. Since he didn't have any point of reference, it would have been just as helpful to guess where he was on the map by the position of the clouds in the sky.

"Hey," Nick said to the conductor who hurried down the aisle. "What's happening?"

"Just making a stop," the conductor replied.

"Where are we?"

"Wyoming."

"Where in Wyoming?" Nick growled.

For the first time since the train had left California, the conductor actually reacted to the gruff tone in Nick's voice. "Sir, you'll just have to stay here and be patient. I'm going to find out right now." With that, the conductor moved along to push his way past the rest of the anxious pa.s.sengers.

Nick let out an aggravated sigh, but he couldn't blame the conductor for being terse. Even though he was sure someone in uniform would make some sort of announcement before too long, Nick wasn't very good at waiting. He also wasn't inclined to trust men in uniforms.

Nick's first impulse was to sit back down and try to think of something else while things were straightened out. That kept him appeased for all of three seconds before he was once more shifting and aching to get up.

He couldn't quite figure out what was bothering him until he took another long, deep breath.

Smoke.

He smelled smoke.

He hadn't been completely certain at first, but now that he'd pulled in enough of it for the taste to collect at the back of his throat, he would have staked his life on it. Nick went to the window again and looked outside. All he could see was the Wyoming landscape, and that didn't give him anything to go on. When he opened the window and stuck his head outside to get a look further up the tracks, the first things he saw were the backs of the heads of all the other people who were doing the same thing.

Even so, all Nick had to do was crane his neck to look upward in order to see the trail of black smoke snaking into the sky.

"G.o.d d.a.m.n," Nick muttered as he tried to pull his head back into the train without losing an ear.

As he got up from his seat, Nick had to shove his way through a small crowd as more and more pa.s.sengers struggled to get to a spot where they could get a better view of whatever was holding them up. Nick lost more patience with each step he took. Most of those other pa.s.sengers seemed to be more concerned with finding another way to trip him up rather than the scent of smoke growing thicker in the air.

By the time he made it to the door leading out of the car, Nick practically exploded through it. Rather than step into the next car, he stepped to the edge of the iron grate separating him from a drop off the train. Nick held onto the grate and leaned out until he was well beyond the row of curious heads poking out from various windows. What he saw was almost enough to make him lose his grip on the rusted iron bar.

There was a fairly good-sized town in the distance, which was swarming with activity. People ran to and fro. Horses bolted in every direction and the sounds of screaming voices could occasionally be heard. All of that sunk into Nick's senses while his eyes soaked up the sight of the flames that engulfed an entire section of town.

"Good G.o.d," Nick whispered.

Now that he was outside, the smoke in the air was almost thick enough to choke on. He wondered just how long those flames had been burning. Nick wanted to ask someone what was going on. Part of him even considered hopping off the train while it was stopped so he could go find out.

The longer he watched those flames, the harder it was for him to look away.

They formed a constantly moving shape that leaped up and then dropped back down again. The air around the fire wavered as heat billowed out like an extension of the black plumes of smoke. The roar of the flames rubbed against Nick's ears, mingling with the high pitch of panicked screams.

The door to the next car came open and the conductor stepped through in such a hurry that he didn't even notice Nick was standing there.

"What's going on here?" Nick asked.

Jumping at the sound of Nick's voice, the conductor replied, "Town's on fire," and started pulling open the door to the car Nick had just left.

"I can see that. Did we stop to lend a hand?"

The conductor chuckled and leaned over the side to get another look for himself. "Doesn't look like there's much we can do about it. We stopped because the tracks are blocked. I didn't see exactly what's blocking us, but I hear it's quite a mess." He reached out once more for the door's handle, paused and looked at Nick again. "I'd like to avoid frightening the pa.s.sengers any more than necessary. I'd appreciate it if you didn'tauhafan the flames, so to speak."

Recognizing an opportunity when he heard one, Nick asked, "How much longer are we going to be stuck on this train?"

"To be honest, I couldn't say. I got word that the town's station isn't allowing anyone to leave the trains."

"What?"

"There's some sort of riot going on." Squinting at Nick, the conductor added, "Couldn't you hear the gunshots? I thought that's why you were out here."

Ever since the train had first gotten up to full speed, Nick hadn't been able to hear much of anything else besides the roar of the engine, the grinding of the wheels and the screaming of the kids in the pa.s.senger cars. For the sake of this conversation, however, he nodded and said, "Of course I heard them. I'd like to have a look for myself instead of sitting out here and waiting for the bullets to start breaking windows."

"We might be stuck until they clear the track, but that shouldn't take too long. At least we have sleeper compartments."

"You let me and my horse out here and I'd sure appreciate it."

The conductor blinked once and then said, "I just told you that we're not letting anyone disembark."

"Then maybe I should consider it my civic duty to let folks know exactly what's going on. If they ask my opinion, perhaps I should tell them whatever I may have gathered from talking to you. I'm sure they'd love to get the real story."

"You do that and I can have you detained," the conductor said sternly.

Nick dug into his pocket and pulled out a few dollars. Tucking them into the conductor's pocket, he said, "Then how about you do a favor for someone in a real hurry?"

"Fine," the conductor snapped. "If you're some sort of G.o.dd.a.m.n looter, you'll be shot on sight anyhow. Head to the livery car and I'll let you out."

Nick smiled for the first time since he'd been cooped up in that train. "That was easier than I expected."

"I've got more than enough to do without worrying about some lunatic who wants to make things worse," the conductor replied as the good humor drifted back into his voice. "You already paid for your ticket, so you can get off whenever you like. Try to keep quiet about this, though."

"You worried about catching h.e.l.l from the engineer?" Nick asked.

"No. I'm worried that you might start a rush of more folks wanting to get off this train."

"Even with the shots and the fire?"

Rolling his eyes and nodding, the conductor said, "You'd be amazed at how stupid folks get when they get scared."

That drew Nick's eyes back toward the chaos happening in the town. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"If you don't make it back before we get moving again, you're on your own. I can give you a slip so you can catch the next train and that can carry you the rest of the way into Cheyenne. That is where you were headed, right?"

"That's right."

"You sure about this, mister? Things look awfully rough out there."

"I wouldn't have them any other way."

TEN.

The town's name was Rock Springs. Nick read it on a sign that was still in pristine condition not too far ahead of the train. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw the side of the livery car was already shut tight. There were still plenty of folks sticking their heads out the windows and Nick could only imagine the questions they were throwing at that poor conductor who'd given the okay for Nick to leave.

Kazys must have hated the train ride as much as Nick, because the horse had bounded from the car without even noticing that the ramp hadn't been lowered. Only the shots, the screams and the roaring fire ahead brought the horse to a stop. Nick tugged on the reins to settle Kazys down a bit, and made a bit more progress by rubbing the horse's ear.

"It's all right, boy," Nick said. "I ain't out of my mind. When you see this much h.e.l.l in front of you, it's always better to be on the move instead of cooped up in a G.o.dd.a.m.n box."

Kazys let out a gruff breath and shook his head.

"Or, maybe I am a little out of my head," Nick added. "Either way, at least we're off that train."

When he closed his eyes, Nick actually felt his nerves settle. The sounds drifting from Rock Springs weren't exactly comforting, but they beat the h.e.l.l out of rattling around with the rest of the pa.s.sengers like a bunch of moths knocking against the inside of a crate.

When he opened his eyes, Nick focused on bits and pieces of the chaotic picture in front of him. In the old days, Nick hadn't been too interested in fires that he hadn't started. After spending some time living in a town rather than robbing it, Nick knew that every spare hand could be put to good use in a situation like this. Considering the shots that he heard crackling through the air, Nick figured he could be of some use in other aspects as well.

Just as he was about to snap his reins, Nick heard a shot come from somewhere a h.e.l.l of a lot closer than the town. In fact, the sound of the shot was accompanied by the whistle of a bullet whipping past his head. Nick reflexively hunkered down and snapped Kazys's reins to get the horse moving.

"That's right!" someone shouted from not too far away. "You better keep runnin,' you c.h.i.n.k b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

Another shot was fired at Nick's back as he touched his heels to Kazys's sides and rode back toward the tracks. Now that he was moving along the tracks, Nick got a much better view of what had brought the locomotive to a stop. A wrecked wagon with only two wheels lay piled upon the tracks. The front end of that wagon was wedged into the ground and there were several other piles of broken planks and lumber around the wreck.

Nick's attention was quickly diverted to the men who were circling the wreck. A few of those men were on foot and running back to the train. Another three were on horseback and they seemed to be defending the obstruction. Every one of those riders held guns and one of them had taken a shot at Nick.