“Every businessman lies,” Weeks said without so much as a tremble showing in his smile. “It’s part of the game. Just like every gambler cheats. The only trick is to keep from getting caught and believe me, we won’t get caught.”
“But I know what I done,” Orville replied. This time, he took hold of Weeks’s hand and pressed the folded money straight into it. “My nephews can do what they want, but I’m out. That’s all there is to it.”
Weeks closed his fist around the money and looked over his shoulder to where Jim and Kyle were watching. Jim’s arm was held straight by a wooden splint and wrapped up in tight bandages.
“You know this Caleb Wayfinder is a dangerous man,” Weeks said as he looked back to Orville.
The miner nodded.
“He killed Mike Abel, and he might just kill you for the threats you already made.”
“I been fine over the past month or so. If he wants to find me now, then that’s the way it’ll be.”
“He’s been asking about you,” Weeks pressed. “If you’re off my payroll, I won’t have much reason to put myself on the line to protect you.”
Orville’s brow furrowed as he studied the other man’s face. He hadn’t heard one instance of Caleb Wayfinder asking about him. He’d even seen the owner of the Busted Flush and gotten nothing more than a tip of the hat for his troubles. But the menace in Weeks’s voice was more than enough to make Orville concerned.
“I’m out,” the miner said with resolve. “That’s all there is to it.” With that, he turned his back on Weeks, the money, and his nephews so he could head for the front doors. Orville reached out for them, wincing at the thought of a bullet drilling a hole through his back.
That bullet came after a pop of noise and the slap of lead against flesh. Orville felt a jolt of pain followed by the kick of the round which sent him face-first to the ground. Before he hit, Orville’s vision was fading. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t even feel his chin slam against the wooden slats.
“Jesus Christ,” someone at one of the card tables shouted.
But Weeks was already stepping forward wearing a surprised look on his face. “That old man just tried to kill me!” he said for the benefit of everyone looking on.
Although plenty of the others were surprised enough to buy Weeks’s act, Kyle and Jim knew better. Before they could do anything about what they’d just witnessed, strong arms wrapped around them and dragged them out of sight. Both cousins kicked and struggled but were unable to get free in the short amount of time it took for them to be hauled away.
Weeks strutted into the back room behind the men carrying the two cousins as the commotion in the main room grew louder and louder. Neither Kyle nor Jim could get a look at the men holding them, but that didn’t much matter. Their eyes were searching for Weeks.
“What the hell was that?” Kyle grunted as the door to the back room slammed shut and Weeks stepped into view. “You just killed Uncle Orville!”
“He wanted out of our arrangement,” Weeks said simply. “Now he’s out. Tell you the truth, he wasn’t working out too well.”
Jim squirmed and kicked with such force that the bigger man holding onto him was forced to tighten his grip and lift Jim off the floor. Even as the other man’s arms cinched in around his splinted arm, Jim kept right on struggling. “You didn’t have to do that! Orville wouldn’t hurt nobody!”
With a flicking wave of two fingers, Weeks signaled to the men holding onto Jim and Kyle. At that signal, the grip around both men shifted so a beefy hand could clamp down over both of their mouths.
“I believe things happen for a reason,” Weeks stated. “Your uncle pulling this shit forced me to move away from a plan that was going nowhere and force me to put my second alternative into motion. It also allows me to see if you two are truly with me or against me.”
Kyle tried to talk but found his words muffled by the hand over his mouth. After a nod from Weeks, that hand moved away, and Kyle was allowed to speak. “We’re with you. We just didn’t think that our uncle would have to die.”
“That was his doing.”
“Yeah,” Kyle grunted. “I know.”
After studying Kyle for a few moments, Weeks looked over the fat man’s shoulder and nodded. He did the same to the man holding the humpback, and both cousins were let go. Weeks stood just in front of the door that separated the small supply room from the rest of the gambling hall. “All right,” he said. “I want you to go out there and back up what I said about your uncle trying to kill me. After that, we can discuss where to go now that he’s dead.”
The cousins glanced at each other for half a second before they came to a silent agreement.
“Fuck you, bastard,” Jim said as his hand flashed for the gun at his side.
Weeks flipped open his jacket and snatched the pistol from his fashionably tooled holster in the blink of an eye. Bringing the gun up just high enough to clear leather, his other hand crossed over to drop the hammer upon the round beneath it. The room filled with the thunder of that first shot, but Weeks wasn’t done yet. His hand was already fanning the hammer back a second time. Smoke and fire spewed from the gun barrel again so quickly that it sounded more like a single, stuttering blast rather than two separate ones.
The first round caught Jim dead center and passed through to gouge the man behind him. The second bullet punched a hole through Jim’s heart and knocked him against the wall as his eyes glazed over.
Kyle went for his gun as well but didn’t even get his finger on the trigger before feeling an arm wrap around his neck from behind. Once more, he was lifted up as a sudden pain lanced through his stomach. That pain was soon followed by the flow of something warm over his belly and down his crotch.
Kyle was already growing weak. It was hard to take a breath, and his vision was blurred by the time he was able to make out the shape of a fist pressed against his stomach. That fist lifted slightly to reveal a bit of the blade that had been stuck into his gut. Slowly, the man behind Kyle dragged the knife across to widen the gash in Kyle’s stomach.
In a quick motion, the blade was pulled free, and the man behind Kyle stepped aside to let the fat man drop. Kyle’s back hit the floor, forcing more blood out of his wound. The gun dropped from Kyle’s hand since he was now more interested in getting a look at the ugly face that was staring down at him.
Taking the blue bandanna from around his neck, the man used it to wipe off the bloody blade of his knife. When he smiled, it made the deep creases in his face twist into something that looked more like a vat of putty being stirred by an invisible finger. In places, the flesh seemed to hang loosely off of his skull while it stuck to other spots without moving.
Seeing that both cousins were down, Weeks spun the pistol around his finger as he dropped it back into its holster. “You all right?”
The man who’d been holding onto the humpback quickly examined his wound and started to nod. “Nothin’ but a scratch.”
“Go out and say that one of these two took a shot at you as they tried to head out the back,” Weeks ordered. “Go on, while that blood’s nice and fresh.”
The other man did as he was told, marching past Weeks to pull open the door and stagger through it.
Weeks made sure to stay behind the door so he could ease it shut with the back of his boot. “What about you, Grissom?” he asked the man with the knife.
Grissom let out a breath and sheathed his knife. Turning reflexively to face Weeks with a side of his face that was less scarred than the rest, he said, “Oh, I’m just fine. This tub of shit didn’t even get a gun in his hand.”
It was hard for Weeks to take his eyes off of Grissom’s face, even though he’d seen it plenty of times. So many layers of scar tissue were piled onto his neck and cheek that Grissom’s flesh appeared to be flowing right off of his bones. “Yeah,” Weeks said. “Well, I thank you for stepping in.”