Death of a Bad Man Read online

  As all three horses found their stride, their riders kept firing behind them. Even amid the gunshots, Sol could hear the other men laughing and shouting to one another before disappearing around a bend.

  ‘‘Matt?’’ Sol shouted.

  ‘‘He’s here.’’

  Sol looked around, but couldn’t see hide nor hair of Matt or the person who’d just spoken those words. After taking a moment to calm himself, Sol hunkered down to get another look under the wagon. Sure enough, there was someone else under there besides the young woman.

  ‘‘That you, Matt?’’ Sol asked.

  Although Matt was breathing loudly, he was staring up at the bottom of the wagon as if he were gazing into the heavens.

  The young woman was the one to answer Sol’s question. ‘‘He’s been shot,’’ she told him.

  Dropping to his hands and knees, Sol tried to crawl under the wagon to get a look at Matt. He was stopped when the top of his head smacked loudly against the wagon’s lower edge. When he reflexively reached up to rub his head, Sol nearly cracked his own forehead with the pistol he’d forgotten he was holding. Sol stopped what he was doing before he truly hurt himself and took a measured breath.

  Just then, the sound of weak laughter drifted up from the shadows beneath the wagon.

  Still rubbing the sore spot on his head, Sol holstered his gun and squinted into the shadows. ‘‘You think that’s funny?’’

  Matt was lying on his side and wincing with every chuckle. Even though he grimaced in pain, he still managed to nod. ‘‘I sure do.’’

  ‘‘Then why don’t you come on out from under there and say that to my face?’’

  ‘‘Because I’ve been shot, Sol.’’

  Those words brought everything back into sharp focus. Sol stood up and took a few steps in the direction the gunmen had gone, but could only see the dust cloud the horses had left behind. Confident the storm had passed, Sol went back to the wagon. ‘‘Can he come out from there?’’ he asked the young woman who had remained within arm’s reach of Matt the entire time.

  ‘‘With your help, maybe,’’ she said.

  Looking at the wagon, Sol asked, ‘‘Can this be pulled forward a bit?’’

  ‘‘Just give me a hand, Sol,’’ Matt groaned. ‘‘No need for all this fuss. I wasn’t killed.’’

  ‘‘Yeah, but you were shot.’’

  ‘‘It’s not that bad. Just help me.’’

  Although he would have been much more comfortable with the idea of moving the wagon, it seemed as if Matt was about to start crawling on his own at any second. Sol took hold of the hand Matt extended and asked, ‘‘You ready?’’

  ‘‘Come on and do it,’’ Matt snapped.

  Sol dug his heels into the dirt and leaned back. The moment he felt Matt budge, Sol also heard his friend let out a groan that might have come from a wounded animal. Sol immediately eased up and leaned forward again.

  ‘‘Damn, that hurts!’’ Matt said through clenched teeth.

  The young woman scampered out from under the wagon so quickly that she gave Sol a start. She was a pretty little thing who was small enough to get to her feet almost as soon as she was clear of the wagon. Her dark blue dress was as dirty as someone would expect considering the circumstances and her long braid had several stray strands of light brown hair flying free from the rest. Even so, she managed to look prettier than most of the girls in the camp.

  ‘‘He was shot in his side,’’ she explained. ‘‘I think dragging him like that will only tear the wound open further.’’

  ‘‘Oh God,’’ Matt groaned in a voice that had taken a distinctly queasy tone.

  Lowering his voice to a whisper, Sol asked the young woman, ‘‘How deep is the wound?’’

  She shrugged and furrowed her brow as if she’d suddenly found herself in water that was several feet over her head.

  ‘‘Is it more of a scratch or a hole?’’ Sol asked.

  ‘‘A scratch,’’ the young woman said gravely. ‘‘A big one.’’

  Sol let out a breath and nodded. ‘‘That’s a good thing.’’ Squatting down to get another look beneath the wagon, Sol asked, ‘‘How high up is that wound, Matt?’’

  After a bit of a pause, Matt replied, ‘‘Under my arm. Maybe down a little ways.’’

  ‘‘Can you stretch your legs out?’’

  ‘‘I guess.’’

  ‘‘Then do it.’’ By the time he’d walked around to the back of the wagon, Sol saw the tip of one of Matt’s toes sticking out from the shadows. Sol hunkered down again, grabbed hold of Matt’s boots around the ankles and pulled.

  Matt let out a few grunts and groans, but didn’t holler too badly. After a few more pulls, Sol was able to get Matt most of the way out from under the wagon. ‘‘How you doing?’’ Sol asked.

  ‘‘Much better if I wasn’t shot,’’ Matt replied.

  One more pull was all it took to get Matt out from under the wagon. It had seemed like an ordeal, but the process was over before more than a few locals had gathered around the wagon. Several of them whispered to one another before some of the braver souls approached Sol.

  ‘‘Is he dead?’’ one of the locals asked.

  Now that Matt was more or less in the open, Sol could see the other man’s wound. Matt’s shirt was ripped to show a bloody gash a couple of inches beneath his right arm. Matt held that arm curled up and clutched to his side as high up as he could manage. A pained grimace seemed to have been permanently stitched onto his face.

  ‘‘Now that you’re done torturing me, how about you get a doctor?’’ Matt asked.

  ‘‘Torture?’’ Sol chuckled. ‘‘This doesn’t even look as bad as when you twisted your ankle. Remember that? I thought your foot had spun around all the way.’’

  ‘‘Yeah, but that happened after I slipped on some loose gravel. This was brought about by a bullet.’’

  Sol reached down to pull aside the ripped flap of Matt’s shirt. The skin was shredded along the edges of the wound, but the blood had already slowed to seep into the material rather than pour out of him. ‘‘It doesn’t look so bad.’’

  ‘‘Are you a doctor?’’

  ‘‘No,’’ came a scratchy reply. ‘‘But I am.’’

  Both Sol and Matt looked over to find a short old man carrying a large black satchel toward the wagon. The old man’s head was pointy as a shovel and had just as much hair.

  ‘‘Doc Connor!’’ Matt said with relief. ‘‘Great to see you! If it was up to Sol, I might be dead already.’’

  ‘‘Not from that wound,’’ Doc Connor barked after taking a quick look. ‘‘That’s nothing more than a scratch.’’

  ‘‘See?’’ Sol asked smugly. ‘‘I told you so.’’

  Matt shook his head and rolled his eyes. His expression brightened when he saw the pretty young woman who’d been under the wagon with him reach out to take his hand. ‘‘Are you taking him to your house, Doctor?’’ she asked. ‘‘Because I’ll come along with you and help any way I can.’’

  Looking at Sol, Doc Connor said, ‘‘Help me get him to his feet.’’

  Matt’s eyes widened and he sputtered as Sol and the doctor each took one of his arms and started to lift him to a sitting position. ‘‘Ain’t this gonna hurt?’’

  ‘‘Yeah,’’ Dr. Connor said as he looped Matt’s arm over his shoulders and straightened up. ‘‘It probably will.’’

  Not being one to argue with a doctor, Sol followed the older man’s lead and hefted Matt to his feet. Judging by the expression on Matt’s face, the doctor truly knew what he was talking about.

  Matt groaned and complained all the way to the doctor’s house, but all three of them made it without much trouble. Like most of the camp, the house was actually more of a tent built around a wooden frame. Even so, it was one of the cleaner tents. Once Matt was lowered onto a cot, the doctor rolled up his sleeves and started rummaging around for the instruments he was going to need. Already, Sol felt as if he’d been lon
g forgotten. ‘‘You need me to stay?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘Nope,’’ the doctor replied. ‘‘I can handle stitches on my own.’’

  ‘‘Stitches?’’ Matt asked.

  Before Sol could give voice to one of the smart-mouth comments that came to mind regarding Matt’s whining, he saw the young woman rush past him to sit at Matt’s side. She took his hand in hers and patted it as she spoke in a quick, yet soothing tone.

  ‘‘I’ll stay right here,’’ she said. ‘‘You want some water?’’

  Sol grinned at the way Matt tried to make up for the fact that he’d groused like a spoiled child all the way from the wagon to this cot. In fact, the wounded man went so far as to put on a brave face and casually mention the fact that he’d been shot while chasing those killers out of town.

  Waving once to Matt, Sol left the small house so the doctor could do whatever needed to be done. Even after he was making his way to the street, Sol could hear Matt talking up his end of the fight to the wide-eyed girl who’d dragged him to safety. Judging by the smirk on her face, she wasn’t buying the entire story Matt was feeding her, but she let him tell it all the same.

  Now that Matt had been delivered to the proper spot and the gunmen were no longer firing their shots, the town seemed more like its normal self. In fact, the place seemed a bit too normal for Sol’s liking. There wasn’t anything else to see, so the locals had all gotten back to their own affairs whether that involved working in one of the businesses or filling their gullets with liquor. Glancing at the men and women who wandered up and down the misaligned streets, Sol couldn’t help but wonder what it would take to hold their interest for more than a few seconds.

  Rather than try to figure out what made those folks tick, Sol walked to Charlie’s house. Charlie stood in front of his place with his thumbs hooked around the black suspenders that were buttoned into the waistband of his pants. When he saw Sol coming, Charlie began to stalk toward him as if he meant to pounce the moment he was close enough to do so. Even from where he was standing, Sol could see the front door had been kicked in and even more of the windows had been broken.

  ‘‘What happened here?’’ Sol asked.

  ‘‘You want to know what happened?’’ Charlie snapped. ‘‘All three of them bust into my home, waving their guns around and screaming like a bunch of wild men. They told me to hand over my money. I told ’em to get stuffed and they started shooting. One of ’em jammed his gun in my face and said I was dead if I didn’t change my mind. Since they would’ve gotten to the money after a bit more searching anyway, I told ’em where to look.’’

  ‘‘Then they left?’’ Sol asked.

  ‘‘Yeah. They got mad as hell and started shooting even more. After that,’’ Charlie sighed, ‘‘you know the rest. If you want to hear more stories, go ask someone else. Did you at least get a look at which way they took off to?’’

  Sol pointed toward the last direction he’d seen the three gunmen ride. ‘‘That way,’’ he replied. ‘‘How much money did they get?’’

  ‘‘All of it,’’ Charlie grunted. ‘‘They got damn near all of it.’’

  ‘‘You mean the payroll?’’

  Charlie nodded. ‘‘Yeah. That, as well as a good portion of some funds that were necessary to keep this operation up and running.’’ Although he’d cast his eyes downward, Charlie glimpsed up quickly to watch Sol’s face as he added, ‘‘They even got the money I was gonna use to pay out my bonuses. Sorry about that, Sol. I know that percentage was important to you.’’

  ‘‘It was all important, sir.’’

  ‘‘Yeah,’’ Charlie grunted. ‘‘I suppose it was. Not that it matters anyhow. It’s all gone and there ain’t none of it that’s coming back.’’

  ‘‘Not on its own,’’ Sol pointed out. ‘‘But it might come back if it had a little help.’’

  Blinking furiously, Charlie stared into Sol’s eyes. It was all Sol could do to keep his chin up and his eyes focused upon Charlie. Sol’s next words came out of him like a flock of doves exploding from a magician’s hat. They came from nowhere and were impossible to catch once they’d been set free.

  ‘‘I can bring it back for you,’’ Sol said.

  ‘‘What?’’ Charlie asked as he continued to blink and twist his head like a dog that had been subjected to a bad opera. ‘‘You want to fetch my money and bring it back?’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir.’’

  ‘‘But you’re just a miner. If I needed something dug or sifted, I’d let you know. Otherwise, just head home and thank your lucky stars you didn’t get killed.’’

  As Charlie started to turn his back on him, Sol stood up straight and spoke to his boss in a confident tone. It may have been the longest that Sol had locked eyes with Charlie since he’d first been hired on to work the silver mine.

  ‘‘I can find them, sir,’’ Sol said.

  Charlie looked as if he was about to dismiss that statement without another thought, but couldn’t take his eyes from the other man’s steely glare. ‘‘You can, huh?’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir. I know this area pretty well and there’s not a lot of places for them to hide. It’s also not too hard to track them, but I’d have to get started before the wind’s had enough time to clear everything away.’’

  Lifting his face into one of the passing breezes, Charlie narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. ‘‘You were out here shooting back at those robbers, weren’t you?’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir.’’

  ‘‘Did you hit any of ’em?’’

  Sol thought for a moment before shrugging. ‘‘Maybe, but it’s hard to say. I got a good feel for how they work, though.’’

  ‘‘Yeah?’’ Charlie grunted. ‘‘What’s that supposed to mean?’’

  ‘‘They’re cowards because they had to rush in on one man all at once. They’re stupid because they made so much noise in doing it. And, since I’m standing here without a scratch and my friend only needs a few stitches, they’re not very good with those guns they like to wave around so much.’’

  ‘‘And what would you do if you did catch up to them?’’

  ‘‘Take your money back,’’ Sol replied.

  ‘‘Why concern yourself over something like that?’’

  ‘‘Because some of that’s my money too.’’

  Although Charlie had been scowling at first, his expression slowly shifted to one of curious disbelief. Now his thick lips curled to reveal an incomplete set of crooked, slightly brown teeth. ‘‘I suppose you’re right about that. If you can get my money back for me, I’ll make sure you’ll get what’s coming to you.’’

  ‘‘Plus a bonus.’’

  ‘‘Bonus?’’

  Sol nodded. ‘‘Isn’t that fair? I mean, I would be putting myself at risk when I could just sit back and have another couple of drinks at the Railway.’’

  ‘‘The law works for free,’’ Charlie pointed out.

  ‘‘Sure, when the law works at all. You and I both know it could be a day or two before the sheriff even hears about this. Even if he hears about it tomorrow, it’ll be another day or two before he gets out here. It could take longer depending on what town he’s in or where else he may be riding. After that, how long do you think it’ll take for him to raise a posse?’’

  Charlie patted the air and nodded. ‘‘All right, all right, you made your point. How much of a bonus are you talking about?’’

  Impressed that the negotiations had gotten this far, Sol did some quick figuring in his head. ‘‘How about a hundred dollars?’’ he offered once he thought he’d come up with a fairly good idea of how much Charlie could have lost.

  ‘‘Fine,’’ Charlie replied as he quickly stuck out his hand. ‘‘It’s a deal.’’

  Apparently, Sol had guessed a bit on the low side where Charlie’s losses were concerned. Even so, Sol grasped Charlie’s hand and shook it.

  Rather than release his grip, Charlie tightened it and pulled Sol close enough to impose his onion-tainted
breath upon him. ‘‘You’re a good worker, so I hope you don’t get yerself killed. But, good worker or not, you should know that I know exactly how much money was taken from me. I know it right down to the penny.’’

  ‘‘I thought you would, sir,’’ Sol replied.

  ‘‘And if there’s one cent of it missing, I’ll take it out of yer hide.’’

  Sol nodded, doing his level best to keep his gaze steady and his grip strong.

  ‘‘Just to prove that you do find ’em,’’ Charlie continued, ‘‘you’d better bring me the gun of the man who messed up my face. It was a real fancy number with pearl handles and all.’’

  Although it was difficult to pick out which part of the many scars, bumps, wrinkles or cuts Charlie was referring to, Sol guessed the freshest of those eyesores was the gash on Charlie’s lip.

  ‘‘I’ll see what I can do,’’ Sol told him.

  Nodding, Charlie let go of Sol’s hand as if he’d been tricked into sticking his fingers into a freshly gutted fish. ‘‘I’ll need my money and proof that you got them robbers if you’re to get your bonus. If you take too long, the deal’s off.‘

  Chapter 4

  Sol was in such a hurry to get back to the doctor’s tent that he nearly smacked his head against the wooden post holding the front flap open. When he got inside, Sol smiled widely when he found Matt sitting on the edge of a chair. The young woman who’d hidden with him under her wagon was wringing out a cloth over a basin of water.

  ‘‘What’s got you so cheery?’’ Matt asked. His shirt was gone, but his torso was mostly covered by the layers of bandages that wrapped around his rib cage.

  ‘‘Just glad to see you’re still alive and kicking,’’ Sol replied. ‘‘How’s the wound?’’

  ‘‘Don’t come in here talking like that.’’ The young woman shuddered. ‘‘He needs peace and quiet.’’

  Matt smiled up at her and said, ‘‘Mind if I have a word with my friend here, sweet thing?’’

  She grinned and averted her eyes. ‘‘All right, but don’t try to get up. Remember what the doctor said.’’