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“You said something about a can of peaches?” Ponci asked as he finished the water.

“Yes,” Suzie said. Finding the can of peaches, she opened it, then handed it and a spoon to him.

“I don’t need this,” Ponci said, handing the spoon back to her. He turned the can up to his lips, drank the juice, then poured the peaches into his mouth directly from the can, gobbling them down ravenously.

“How long has it been since you ate?” Suzie asked.

“I had me some grasshoppers this mornin’,” Ponci answered as he finished the last of the peaches.

“Grasshoppers?” Suzie shivered. “I can’t imagine eating grasshoppers.”

“You’ll eat ’em if you’re hungry enough,” Ponci said.

“What happened to your leg?”

“I cut it off,” Ponci replied, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his dirty shirt. “Can you believe that shit? I cut off my own leg.”

“My God! Why would you do that?”

“Because I had the gangrene,” Ponci said. “And it was either cut off my leg or die.” He giggled. “And since I’m rich, I wasn’t particularly ready to die yet.”

“What do you mean you’re rich?”

“I’m rich, Suzie. I got more money than me or you has ever seen. After I lay up here for a few days, me’n you are going to leave this town. Maybe go back to St. Louis, or New Orleans, or even out to San Francisco. We’ll go first-class by train, and when we get there, we’ll live like a king and queen. What do you think of that?”

“Is this the same money that Fargo was talking about?”

The smile left Ponci’s face, to be replaced by a quick flash of fear.

“Fargo? Is Fargo in town?”

“No,” Suzie said. “He was here, lookin’ for you. But he’s not here now.”

“You sure he’s not here?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Ponci gave a sigh of relief. “That’s good,” he said. “But you say he was here, looking for me?”

“Fargo come here lookin’ for you, all right. He wants to kill you.”

Unexpectedly, Ponci laughed. “Yeah, I reckon he does.”

“What is all this about, Ponci? Where did all this money come from that you and Fargo are talking about? And how is it that you wound up with it?”

“We robbed us a stagecoach,” Ponci said. “And we stole fifteen thousand dollars. Then I got hurt in the leg and caught me a case of the gangrene. Fargo wanted to leave me, without givin’ me my share. So, I let on as I was in much worse shape than I was; then when Fargo and the others wasn’t expectin’ it, I stole all the money and lit out.”

“What do you mean you was lettin’ on like you wasn’t hurt all that bad? It must’ve been pretty bad,” Suzie said. “I mean, it had to be bad for you to cut off your own leg like you done.”

“Yeah,” Ponci said. “Well, it was bad, and over the next couple of days after I stole the money and started runnin’, it started in gettin’ a lot worse. Pretty soon, I know’d that if I didn’t do somethin’ soon, I was goin’ to die. So, I didn’t have me no choice but to cut off my leg, so, that’s just what I done. I hacked her off, clean as a whistle.”

Suzie shivered. “How in the world could you do such a thing?”

“It wasn’t all that hard,” Ponci said. “If you remember, before I took up to runnin’ with your brother, I used to be a butcher. I was a good one too. I’ve carved up pork and beef lots of times, and I’ve cut a lot of legs off’n hogs ’n steers. And to tell you the truth, Suzie, cuttin’ off a human leg was lots easier.”

“But this ain’t just any human leg you’re talking about. That was your own leg you cut off! Didn’t it hurt?”

“You’re damn right it hurt. But hell, it was already hurtin’. And I had me some laudanum, so that helped. After that, I just waited till I healed up some, and here I am.”

“So, where’s the money now? Do you have it with you?”

Ponci shook his head. “No, I don’t have it with me. I got it hid. I figured, if Fargo and the others happened to catch up with me, that might be ’bout the only thing that would keep ’em from killin’ me soon as they seen me.”

“Yeah,” Suzie said, hiding her own disappointment that he didn’t have the money with him. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”

“Listen, Suzie, I’m goin’ to need to stay here for a few days till I get stronger. Don’t be bringin’ no business in until then.”

“You can’t ask me to do that, Ponci. I’ve got to make a livin’,” she said.

Ponci reached down into his pocket and pulled out one hundred dollars.

“No, you don’t,” he said. “This’ll take care of you for the next few days. And once I’m on my feet again and we are out of here, there’s lots more where that came from.”

“What’ll I tell my customers?”

“Tell ’em you’re takin’ care of a sick aunt, tell ’em anything. Just don’t bring nobody here.”

“All right.”

Ponci lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.

“Don’t wake me till breakfast time,” he said.

CHAPTER 17

Two days later, Gibson, Carter, and Wilson found themselves on the west side of the Quigotoa Range, a good eighty miles from the post. The horses were now hobbled, while the men were poking around in one of the many washes that came down from the side of the mountain.

“They say these washes are the best place to look,” Gibson said as he picked through the rocks. “The gold is flushed down after a rain, and collects in the washes.”

“You lied to me, Gibson,” Wilson said.

“How’d I lie to you?”

“You told me if I’d let you and Carter out, you’d take me to your money. You didn’t tell me we’d have to look for gold to find it.”

“Well, hell, boy, gold is money, ain’t it?” Gibson replied.

“Are you sure there is gold out here?” Wilson asked.

“Hell, yes, there is gold,” Gibson said. “Or, if not gold, there’s silver. Why do you think the government is keeping the U.S. Army out here? It’s to keep the Indians off the backs of the prospectors while they look for gold.”

“That’s the truth of it, Wilson,” Carter added. “We’re here to make it safe for the prospectors and the miners.”

“And I’ll be damned if I’m going to risk my neck for someone else to get rich,” Gibson said. “If I’m going to risk my neck, I’m going to risk it for me.”

“Damn right,” Carter said.

“I don’t think I would’a let you two out of jail if I’d’a know’d you was just talkin’ about maybe findin’ some gold or silver.”

“It’s more’n just maybe. It’s out here for real,” Gibson insisted.

“So, what do you think, Corporal, do you have any idea where to look?” Wilson asked.

“You don’t have to call me Corporal anymore,” said Gibson. “We ain’t in the Army right now.”

“Yeah, well, far as the Army is concerned, we are still in the Army,” Carter said. “I mean, it ain’t like they give us papers cuttin’ us loose or anything.” Carter was the smallest of the three, with red, blotchy skin and a nose that was too big for his face.

“I sort of wish we was still in the Army,” Wilson said. Wilson was tall and gangly, and by many years the youngest of the three. “One thing we did while we was in the Army was we got to eat. Which we ain’t been doin’ that much of since we deserted.”

“We didn’t desert,” Gibson said. “We are absent without leave. There’s a difference.”

“What’s the difference?” Wilson asked.

“Well, for one thing, deserters can be shot or hung,” Gibson said. “But if we are just absent without leave, the most they can do is send us to Ft. Leavenworth for a couple of years.”

“Yeah, but how do we convince the Army we are just absent without leave and not deserters?” Wilson asked.

“’Cause we are still carryin’ a Army-issue pistol, that’s why,” Gibson said. “And as long as we got any part of the Army still with us, well, we ain’t exactly deserted.”