The Kid looked at him. “We tote our own skillets when we’re not stealin’ cayuses for you. That’s always been how it was. Unless you aim to change things.”
“No, not at all.” Brock was under no delusions. The Kid and the others permitted him to lead them because it was in their best interests. But they wouldn’t hesitate to strike off on their own if he ever presumed to step over the invisible line he had no right to cross.
“Then why the hound-dog face?”
Brock sat on another barrel. “Those soldier boys were bad enough. We don’t need to make it worse.”
“Some pills can’t be swallowed. It’s not as if I’m on the peck. If ever a man had cause, it’s me.”
“How many, then?”
The Kid twirled the Colt and gave it a final wipe. “Every mother’s son. And then I’m burnin’ the place down.”
“Some might say that’s a little extreme.” Brock was choosing his words with care.
“Killin’ Abby was extreme. That gal never hurt a soul in her life. Sure, it was that loco cripple who set the tumbleweed rollin’. But the rest of those no-accounts are as guilty as he is. Remember what the barkeep said to the crip? ‘We told you not to do this.’ His exact words. Those people knew, Brock. They should have warned us he was lookin’ for trouble.”
“It could push the bounty on us up to ten thousand. Maybe higher.”
Kid Falon grinned. “That’s as much as they’re of ferin’ for Jesse James. Why, we’d be plumb famous.”
“The James boys have every manhunter and Pinkerton in the country after them,” Brock noted. “I don’t know about you, but I’d get a crick in my neck from lookin’ over my shoulder all the time.”
“I dare a damned Pinkerton or any other gunny to try and buck me out in gore,” the Kid blustered. “My lead-chuckers will put sawdust in their beards soon enough.”
Brock could see there was no reasoning with him, but he tried once more anyway. “One of my conditions for lettin’ you join was that you try to avoid makin’ wolf meat of white men.”
“You can’t blame those soldiers on me. I was sittin’ there behavin’ myself until they accused Noonan of dealin’ from the bottom of the deck and took to callin’ us names. They jerked their hardware first. We jerked our final.”
“I was there, if you’ll recollect.” Brock had to admit the troopers had asked for trouble. Too much bug juice and poor poker skills had planted many a gent on boot hill. “All I’m askin’ is that you think it over.”
The Kid didn’t reply, and that was where it stood until they arrived, over a week and a half later, at the Bar K, located in southeast Colorado Territory. Will Seever was all too happy to take the horses off their hands and invited them to stay overnight in his bunkhouse.
Brock Alvord thanked him but declined. Kid Falon and Noonan were about as fond of punchers as Curly was of dogs, and it wouldn’t do to put temptation in front of them. He touched his hat brim and rode off.
A mile from the ranch, Brock reined up and swung his mount to face the rest. “All of you know what the Kid has in mind. Anyone who wants to ride with him can. But you should know I’m dead set against it. Whoever wants can go with me to Denver. We’ll meet up there at Darnell’s saloon in a month.”
The others glanced at one another.
“Well?” Brock prompted and looked at Big Ben Brody. “Let’s hear it. Are you goin’ with the Kid or me?”
Big Ben shifted in his saddle. “There isn’t an hombre I admire more than you, boss. You know that. But what those folks did was just plain wrong. I’m with the Kid on this. Sorry.”
“Noonan?” Brock said.
“A man should always stick by his pards. If the Kid is dead set on a killin’ spree, I say roll the dice and let ’em fall.”
“Curly?” Brock had a sinking sensation deep in his gut.
Curly grinned. “Last time we were there, I saw three or four dogs waltzin’ around as healthy as you please. We can’t have that, can we?”
So there it was. Brock Alvord hid his disappointment. “All right. If that’s how you want it, count me in.”
The Kid leaned on his saddle horn. “You’re throwin’ in with us after all the jabberin’ you did about how we should get shed of the idea?”
“We’ve ridden together this long,” Brock said and shrugged.
“All right, then.” The Kid’s smile was downright vicious. “The good people of Painted Rock better start countin’ the days. Their time on this earth is over.”
Chapter Fifteen
Northeast Colorado Territory
Charley Pickett was so happy to be spending so much time with Melissa Patterson that weeks went by before he realized they were wandering back and forth across the prairie without accomplishing anything. That evening around the campfire, he brought it up.
“Why are you lookin’ at me, pup?” Enos Howard demanded and upended a bottle. After a few swallows, he said, “I can’t pull sign out of thin air. Until we strike their trail, all we can do is twiddle our thumbs.”
“But that’s like looking for a sewing needle in a haystack,” Melissa mentioned. “It could take forever. At this rate, our supplies will run out long before we find it.”
Tony was roasting the rabbit they were having for supper. Melissa had shot it with her rifle from fifty yards off when Enos couldn’t be bothered to try. “How will we know it even is their trail? It could be anyone’s.”
“There are five of them,” Enos said. “Any more, any less, it’s not the Hoodoos.”
“It could be five cowboys for all we know,” Tony said.
“Maybe we should pay Fort Sedgewick a visit,” Charley suggested before they could argue. “The army might have a clue to their whereabouts.”
“I’ll take you there, but I won’t go into the fort,” Enos said. “I know a couple of the scouts assigned there. They’ll laugh me to scorn if they see me with greeners like you.”
“Or is it you don’t want them to see you drunk?” Tony rotated the trimmed branch they were using for a spit.
Enos lowered the bottle in midswallow. “Watch that mouth of yours, kid. You’re startin’ to get me riled.”
“I am not a ‘kid,’ signor. I am a grown man, and you will treat me with the respect a grown man deserves.”
“You’re a peckerwood, is what you are,” Enos retorted. “All you’ve done this whole hunt is grouse about how we’re in over our heads.”
“We are,” Tony said. “And if your brain was not soaked in whiskey, you would realize it.”
Enos started to rise, but Charley sprang between them. “Enough! Enos, you don’t have to go into the fort with us if you don’t want to. Tony, quit insultin’ him all the time. I thought by now the two of you would get along better.”
“He brings it on himself.” Tony straightened. “I have never met a man more arrogante. It is a wonder no one has buried him long before now.”
Charley felt sure Howard would take offense, but the buffalo hunter was gazing to the northeast. “Did you hear somethin’?”
“I had an inspiration.” Enos chuckled. “Why in blue blazes didn’t I think of this sooner? If anyone can help us, he’d be the coon.”
Melissa asked, “Who are you talking about?”
“Eli Brandenberg. He has a soddy a couple of days’ ride from here. Sells drinks and dry goods and ammunition. Buffalo runners stop there all the time. So do a lot of folks usin’ the main trail. They gab up a storm. If anyone has heard what part of the country the Hoodoos are in, it would be Eli.”
“Rumors are not very dependable,” Tony remarked.
“It’s better than having nothin’ to go on at all,” Charley said. “We’ll head for Brandenberg’s at first light.” Although he would just as soon spend the rest of his life wandering the prairie with Melissa.