“Fine, fine,” Bertram said, raising his hands. “I’ll get him. Jesus Christ.”
After Bertram had been gone a few minutes, another man walked up to Dutch. He was lean and had the look of someone who’d been raised on the floor of a desert. His skin was tough and creased. His hair was dark brown and stringy. When he approached Dutch, he did so with a respectful nod and then waited for the other man to talk.
“What’s been going on here, Bill?” Dutch asked.
“Same bullshit you’d expect. Bertram shoots his mouth off day and night when he’s not fucking some whore he brought in from God knows where.”
“Is he getting his job done?”
“I suppose. All he needs to do is say ‘howdy’ to a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears gun hands who aren’t much better than he is, so there isn’t much of a way for him to mess up. At least they all kiss his feet on account of the women he brings in.”
Dutch laughed under his breath and nodded. “You seem bored, so I got a job for you to do.”
“As long as it involves me getting the fuck out of here, I’m plenty willing.”
“I don’t know if you heard, but I got a telegram from J. D.”
“J. D.’s alive?” Bill asked.
“Yeah, and he was in and out of jail. He was headed to meet up with us, but nobody’s heard from him since.”
“How long ago was that?”
“We got the telegram almost a week ago. Anyhow, he should have caught up with us a few days ago. I want you to backtrack and see if you can find J. D. He was taking the Silver Gorge trail, so take that all the way back to Ocean if you have to.”
Bill winced and commented, “That’s an awfully tall order, isn’t it? I mean, there’s a lot of ground to cover and plenty of spaces for one man to get lost. He could have just fallen off his horse and I’d never find him.”
“I know. We also haven’t heard from George. This was the last day for him to wait for any more men looking to sign on, and there’s been no word.”
“I know. Bertram didn’t seem too worried.”
“Bertram’s got shit for brains,” Dutch said. “That’s why I want you to ride through San Trista on your way out. Make that your first stop and send word to me at the normal spot. You know where I mean?”
Bill nodded.
“Don’t wait for a reply. Just head on across to the Silver Gorge and start looking for J. D. Got it?”
“You think something happened to George and J. D.?”
“I don’t know, and that’s the part that gets under my skin. You find out for me and do it quick. If something is going wrong, we need to know about it and take care of it before it gets out of hand.”
“What if the law’s the cause of these problems?”
“Then you kill any law dog that’s sticking his nose in our business. Things are going too good for that kind of bullshit to trip us up.”
Bill kept nodding, but had let his eyes wander away from Dutch.
“You got something else to say?” Dutch asked.
He started to shake his head, paused and reluctantly said, “There’s been talk about some of the men at that Van Meter place getting killed by some gravedigger from town. What if he’s the one that got to J. D.?”
Dutch’s eyes burned holes through Bill’s head. His jaw shifted back and forth, slowly grinding his teeth together. “Did you see this gravedigger?”
“Not up close. I was rounding up that rancher’s herd when the rest of you were shooting up the man that owned that spread. I heard the shots and tried to get there, but was too late to be of much help. Still, someone did shoot the hell out of the men that were going after one of that rancher’s kids.”
“And it wasn’t the rancher, himself?”
Bill shook his head.
“If you hear about someone that killed one of our men,” Dutch said, “gravedigger or not, I want him dead. Kill him in a way that’ll make anyone else think twice about stepping up to anyone who might even be a distant acquaintance of ours. Kill his family, too. There’s no reason that rancher should be the only one to get special treatment.
“Anything less and we look weak. Men in our line of work start looking weak and we might as well invite the law or other cocky little pricks to try their luck with us.”
“And what if someone off that ranch is still alive and trying to hunt us down?”
“Then make him wish he was killed right along with the rest of that family.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Four whistles cut through the air outside of the northernmost camp. The first two whistles were short, followed by one long and one more short. Hearing that combination, the camp’s lookout lowered his rifle and raised his hand in a slow wave. Before too long, he got another wave in return from one of the two riders who were approaching.
“Looks like our friend with the wet pants was good for his word,” Nick said as he waved toward the camp.
Joseph rode beside him and let out a short acknowledging grunt.
Both of the horses were breathing heavily and walking slowly after covering the ground between the camp and San Trista.
“Hold on a second,” Nick said cautiously.
Joseph looked along Nick’s line of sight and saw what had caught his attention. A single rider was thundering toward them, kicking up enough dust to make a black cloud in the early-evening shadows.
“Maybe we should have waited a bit longer before coming here,” Joseph said. “Looks like all of them aren’t settled in just yet.”
“Don’t get too riled up just yet. Let’s just wait and see what’s on his mind.” His voice was calm, but Nick still placed his hand upon the grip of his gun.
Joseph didn’t go near any of the guns he’d collected, but sat up tall in his saddle as if he could stare down whoever was approaching no matter how much distance was between them.
As the rider got closer, Nick raised his hand in a similar fashion as the wave he’d gotten from the camp. Racing by with his back hunched along his horse’s neck, the rider returned the wave and kept on riding north.
Nick shifted and watched until the only remaining trace of Bill’s horse was the echo of its steps. “All right, looks like we got someone looking out for us,” he said.
“How many men you think are in that camp?” Joseph asked grimly.
“I don’t know, which is why we’re not riding in there with guns blazing.”
Joseph snapped his head around to look at Nick. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, you may not care if you get killed, but I don’t particularly fancy the idea.”
They kept their horses walking toward the camp at an easy pace. Already, the other man who’d waved to them had turned and walked out of sight.
“When we get there, just follow my lead,” Nick said. “I’ll do the talking, and if you need to say something, make it short.”
“I should only speak when spoken to?” Joseph asked sarcastically.
“That’s exactly right. And don’t draw your gun unless I do it first. Do you understand me?”
“If things go bad, I’m not about to wait and—”
“If things go bad, taking one step out of line will only make them worse.”
Joseph let out a disgruntled breath and worked a kink out of his neck. “Are you going to tell me what you have in mind or should I just wait to be surprised while you talk to me like I’m a child?”
“So glad you asked,” Nick replied with a grin.
As Nick and Joseph rode into the camp, the smells of burned coffee and cigarette smoke hung in the air and drifted among the four tents that were set up in a circle around the fire. Five horses were tethered nearby, and three men sat on the ground with their legs stretched out and their backs against a log. One of them got up, dusted himself off and ambled over to Nick. “You fellas are damn lucky if you’re here about them jobs. You’re late, but we wound up staying here a bit longer. You can call me Bryce.”