Reaper's Fee Part 9

"You ain't heard?"

A large group of men marching down the street carrying shotguns caught Nick's eye. His hand dropped reflexively to the gun at his side, but he didn't clear leather.

As the men got closer, their gaze drifted toward Nick. A few of them shifted and the barrels of their shotguns wandered in his direction, but then they looked away. Without saying a word, they kept right on moving and then finally turned a corner.

"No need to get so fidgety," the old woman said. "They ain't after you."

"How do you know?"

She looked up at him as if Nick had just asked her how she knew where the ground was. "Because you ain't Chinese," she said.

"Hasn't anyone around here seen a Chinaman before?"

"They seen too many of 'em. That's the problem," she said, rocking back and forth in her chair. "The mining company decided to replace all the local boys with Chinese to keep their profits up. Them slope-eyed workers take less money and don't mind putting good men out of work."

"Doesn't sound like the Chinese had much of a choice in the matter."

The woman looked up at Nick as if she was about to spit on him. Then she shrugged and said, "Maybe not. Either way, it don't matter much anymore. Most of Chinatown's burnt down."

Looking over to the glow of flames in the distance, Nick muttered, "That'll learn 'em."

"That'll drive 'em the h.e.l.l out of town is what it'll do," she said angrily. "And it'll show the mining companies that we won't sit back and let good folks get run out of their jobs just so a few cents can be saved on hiring workers that don't belong around here no how."

"I heard shooting," Nick said. "My guess is that the mining companies are letting you know what they think about your little statement."

"Ain't my statement. I'm just sitting here watching how things turn out. The statement you're hearing would be Francis Hale's."

"Who's he?"

"Used to be the foreman of some organized miners or something like that. Now, he's the fellow that's putting up ten dollars of his own money for every dead Chinese that's brought to him."

"Jesus," Nick said.

The old woman shook her head and scratched her chin. "Jesus ain't anywhere near Rock Springs, mister. Not for right now, anyway."

Gritting his teeth, Nick asked, "What about the railroad tracks?"

"What about 'em?"

"They're being blocked. Why's that?"

She shrugged. "I just sit here and watch." The old woman laughed until she hacked a mess up in the back of her throat. After spitting onto the ground, she said again, "You want my opinion, you should'a stayed on that train. What the h.e.l.l would possess you to stay here?"

Before Nick could come up with an answer, the old woman stared down at his mangled hands and grinned. Nodding, she said, "Ah, I see you been through your share of h.e.l.l already. Once you been tossed into the fire, it ain't easy to live outside of it."

As much as Nick wanted to refute what she was saying, he simply couldn't. Her words struck like a set of fangs that sank into him and only drove in deeper the more he tried to be rid of them.

"You'll probably want to see Mister Hale," she said. "Most of the men who got the sand to keep walking these b.l.o.o.d.y streets want to see him. He's at the Central Mining Office, down the street. Just head that way and make a right. You can't miss it, seeing as how it's one of the only d.a.m.ned things on that street that ain't burned down yet."

Something within the old woman's scratchy voice struck him like a kick in the backside. It was the tone used by any mother or grandmother to shoo her little ones out of the kitchen, only this time it was being used to move someone toward a riot. Before Nick could take more than a few steps away, he stopped and turned back around to face her.

"Have there been others coming through here looking for this kind of work?" he asked.

"What kind? Mining or shooting Chinese?"

"The second one," Nick replied with a distasteful snarl.

"More'n I care to admit." When she spoke those last few words, the old woman showed the first traces of genuine sorrow. At that moment, the fire seemed to cast her face in a deeper glow and the twitches in the corners of her eyes were perfectly timed to the gunshots being fired in the distance.

Finding a stable for Kazys wasn't as difficult as Nick had expected. All he needed to do was head away from the noise and flames, find a spot that wasn't under attack and look for a livery with horses inside of it. As long as other folks had a vested interest in the place, Nick figured that was as safe as he was apt to get. Since the stable he'd found wasn't anywhere near Chinatown, Nick hoped it would be suitable for a just a little while.

Of course, he knew he could always keep the saddle on Kazys's back and put Rock Springs far behind him. In fact, that's exactly what nearly every piece of good sense in his head was screaming at him to do. Under other circ.u.mstances, he might have followed that advice to the letter. But Nick had already been shot at, chased down and nearly killed by the lunatics of Rock Springs. None of that sat too well with him and the notion of letting those a.s.sholes get away with what they were doing sat like a rock in the bottom of his gut.

As much as he would have liked to preach the loftier motives, Nick knew there was one thing in particular that kept him from leaving Rock Springs. That town had a major railroad line rolling right through it. Without that railroad line, it could be months before Nick found his way back home again. Riding back to California wasn't impossible, but it sure as h.e.l.l wouldn't be ideal, and it could very well be the last ride of Kazys's life.

Keeping those things in mind, Nick patted the horse's nose as he shut the gate on the stall Kazys was forced to share with another stallion. The Arabian in there with Kazys was a fine animal and wouldn't have been left there unless his owner had some confidence in the facility. He didn't seem to mind Kazys being in there with him, so that's where Nick left him.

Nick stuck his head outside to make certain n.o.body had seen him enter the stable, just in case there were some looters who weren't interested in Chinatown. As far as he could tell, the streets were empty.

Retracing his steps so he could follow the directions the old lady had given him, Nick moved from one street to another. He could feel the heat from the raging fires on his skin. The sound of the flames was a constant roar that reminded him of how the sea had sounded from within the battered hull of a ship. For the moment, the screams had faded away. The gunshots, however, erupted every so often like a pack of firecrackers that had been tossed into the street.

Nick's eyes narrowed to try and focus on some shapes that were moving within a darkened building across the street. Turning on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet, he crouched down and slapped his hand against the grip of his modified Schofield. As much as he tried to see more, all Nick could make out was a pair of figures crawling toward the front. Nick moved cautiously toward them.

"Don't kill us!" one of the men said. "Please. We will leave. Just don't shoot again."

"I never shot the first time," Nick said. "What happened to you?"

The man fought to move forward another few steps, reached out with one hand and then fell face-first onto the boardwalk just outside the door.

Nick could hear repressed sobbing coming from behind the unmoving figure. He stepped forward and only had to look at the face of the person lying on the ground to know there was nothing he could do to help him. He'd seen plenty of Chinamen in his day, but Nick Graves had seen even more dead men. The figure lying in the doorway was both.

Kneeling over the body, Nick looked further into the shadows and spotted the second figure huddled against a wall. "What happened?" Nick demanded. "Who did this?"

"You know who did it!" the woman shouted as she snapped her head forward just far enough for her to be seen. "You come here to take his body for money! Just take it and take me, too, if that's what you want."

Nick found himself backing away from the dead man.

"Take him!" she screamed.

Suddenly, from deeper within the building, there came the sound of wood cracking and splintering under what sounded like the blow of a large hammer. Heavy steps thudded through the room, causing the woman to sob and scramble on all fours away from the sound.

Stepping over the dead body, Nick found himself inside a modestly decorated home. There were a few pieces of furniture here and there, as well as a couple of exotic statues and small paintings. Nick recognized the style of the decorations as Chinese, but didn't know much more about them than that. He didn't have to know a thing about the Chinese woman cowering on the floor to know she was scared out of her mind.

Her mouth was moving but no words came out. Her eyes were clenched shut and she was curled up in a ball as if every single one of her muscles had seized up.

"There you are," said a man who walked into the room from somewhere in the back of the house. "I knew you wouldn't leave this place all by yourself."

The man who spoke had a face full of stubble and a thick, untrimmed mustache hanging down over his lip. His voice filled the room like swamp gas and was tainted by a thick Louisiana accent. "Who might you be?" he asked Nick.

"I'm new in town," Nick said.

"Heard the commotion, did ya?"

"Sure did. My train was stuck here and I needed to make sure it keeps moving along."

"Yours too?" he asked with a surprised look on his face. "My train got stopped not too long ago. Then again, with all that's been happening, it's kinda hard to say just how long I been here."

Nick had spotted the gun in the man's hand the moment the guy entered the room. Now all he wanted was to position himself between the gun and the Chinese woman before they were introduced to each other in a violent fashion.

"That one dead?" the man asked as he nodded toward the body lying half in and half out of the house.

"Yeah," Nick replied.

"Good." Without another word or even a shift in his expression, the man brought his arm up an inch or so and fired a shot into the Chinese woman's head. "You carry the heavier of the two and I'll split the reward with you."

Nick wanted nothing more than to draw his gun and put that killer down like the mad dog he was. He kept himself in check, though he was shocked at what he'd just seen. Although the other man's gun arm had been fast, what had caught Nick off guard even more was the complete lack of expression on the gunman's face. He killed that woman as if he was just stretching his arm, before Nick could do a d.a.m.n thing about it.

Unfortunately, it was too late to save either of the Chinese people lying on the floor. Their killer was obviously in on whatever insanity was going on in Rock Springs, which made Nick want to play along to see what more he could do than just take a shot at this one man.

The man nodded and grinned when he saw Nick stoop down to heft the Chinese man's body over his shoulder. "Don't worry about splitting the reward. There's plenty more of them Chinese runnin' about."

"I'd like to know who I'm splitting it with."

"Name's Alan Kinman. Pleased to meet ya."

TWELVE.

After taking a few odd turns and cutting through a couple of alleys, Nick found himself walking straight toward the Central Mining Company. Kinman led him there as if he'd been born and raised in Rock Springs. Whenever shooting sparked up along the way, Kinman didn't even flinch. As they got closer to the raging fires, he seemed to revel in the heat.

Nick followed Kinman's lead right up to the mining office's front stoop. Once there, Kinman dropped the Chinese woman's body onto the boards as if he was delivering a sack of grain. Although Nick wanted to follow suit, he couldn't force himself to be so disrespectful. He was quick about it, but he set the man down gently and shut his eyelids.

"We got two more for ya," Kinman shouted into the office.

In response to that announcement, a tall man with dark bushy hair walked outside. His face was decorated with a slender mustache and a sprout of whiskers just beneath the middle of his bottom lip. He smiled as if his teeth were a bit too big for his jaw and nodded approvingly when he saw the fresh kills piled upon his porch. "You sure as h.e.l.l do, Alan. I'm starting to think you're trying to wring me of every dollar I got."

"You don't wanna pay, you'd better let me know right now, because I intend on heading right back out after this."

The man stuck a few fingers into the pocket of an expensive pearl gray vest and dug out a wad of bills. "I got you covered for a while longer," he said as he peeled twenty dollars off of the wad. "Who's your friend?"

"Don't know," Kinman said. "I didn't ask."

"I'm Nicolai," Nick said in a clipped tone, hoping they didn't pry any further.

They didn't.

"Francis Hale," the man in the nice suit said. "I'm the founder of this feast. I take it you're new to town?"

"Just arrived."

"Not by train, I know that for d.a.m.n sure," Francis said smugly.

"I'm pa.s.sing through on my way to Cheyenne," Nick said. "I won't be staying long."

"Just collecting on some easy money, eh? Well, just know that you're lending a hand to a h.e.l.l of a good cause. The folks who think they can slap some d.a.m.n Chinese devils into a spot that used to be filled by an honest Christian will remember what's been happening here in Rock Springs. Once the Federals try to get here with the next shipment of them c.h.i.n.k b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, they'll be begging for the way things used to be."

Nick glanced over to his right, where Kinman was standing. The rough-looking man rubbed a hand over the harsh stubble on top of his head. Dirt was smeared upon his scalp and face, but wasn't thick enough to mask the annoyed expression that showed up as he rolled his eyes.

"He can make all the faces he wants," Francis said, pointing at Kinman. "He don't live here. He don't know how many good men gave all their good years to work in these mines, only to have their livelihoods stripped away on account of some slant-eyes who'll do it cheaper."

"You really think the Federals will listen to this?" Nick asked. Although he'd been expecting to catch some h.e.l.l for the question, Nick wanted to see how Francis would deliver his answer.

Surprisingly enough, Francis grinned and said, "They will when they try to ship in their troops and replacement workers on a stretch of blown-up track. And they sure as h.e.l.l will take notice when the only Chinese that're left in this town are the dead ones piled up behind this very building."

"If you're done with your speech," Kinman said, "then we've got some more bodies to collect."

Francis nodded and held onto the edges of his vest like a politician posing for the camera. "I won't stand in your way. Just be careful, because Sheriff Young is out with the rest of the f.u.c.king Chinese sympathizers to make our job harder."

Turning his back to the mining office and leading Nick into the street, Kinman looked over and grumbled under his breath, "Them sympathizers he's talking about would be the Fire Brigade and they're mainly out to douse the flames that the a.s.sholes on Hale's payroll got started."

"What about the rest of what he was saying?" Nick asked.

Kinman led him down the street a way before glancing over at Nick. "You'll have to refresh my memory. Hale talks an awful lot and if he ain't talking about money, I ain't listening."

"I wouldn't let him hear you say that," Nick told him. "He seems like the sort to get upset when he hears his men bad-mouthing him that way."

After letting out a quick grunt of a laugh, Kinman said, "I've only been in town for less than a day and I sure as h.e.l.l ain't one of his men. I was on an eastbound train just like you that got stopped. Only reason I got off is because Hale was shouting that there was money to be made."

"That's a h.e.l.l of a lot better than the reception I got," Nick told him. "All I heard was gunshots. How'd you get your train moving again?"

"I didn't. Hale stopped us and fed everyone his line about the mining companies and the Chinese. There was one fella who meant to come here, so he got off. I figured I was close enough to my destination that I could ride my horse the rest of the way if it meant earning some money while I was here. After that, Hale gave the word and his boys cleared the track." Kinman lowered his voice a bit as he asked, "That ain't how it happened for you?"

Nick shook his head. "The tracks are blocked off and guarded by armed men. I had to fight through those a.s.sholes just so the train could pa.s.s."

"And you didn't ride along with it?"

"Nah," Nick replied with a forced smirk. "I always did have a weakness for fireworks."

"You want my opinion, I'd say you made a h.e.l.l of a good choice. There's some real money to be made here."

"Ten dollars a head for killing Chinamen? I can think of a lot easier ways to make a lot more money."

"What about a thousand dollars for blowing those Federals to h.e.l.l?"