"Pretty good," Gunner said.
"Imagine if Waingrow had known who it was he was robbing. Would he have let you live? Would he have even taken the first shot? We'll never know. What we do know is that you've placed me in quite a dilemma. On the one hand, I should have you killed for the murder of Clyde and his boys. I often told Clyde he was my favorite nephew. It was a lie, but that's beside the point."
"And on the other?"
"On the other, I can't ignore the man that the stories claim you are. If they're even halfway true, I believe you're more valuable alive than dead. The balance in this Town is thin as a razor. A slight push and everything tilts one way or the other. I need an agent that can make sure things tilt in my direction. Someone the Baron doesn't know. Someone who will get things done."
"And you think that's me?"
The Judge's expression darkened, frown lines tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It had better be you. Because I don't take too kindly to my men being killed. You might be fast on the draw. You might be a survivor. Hell, you might even be the living legend they say you are. But you're still one man, Gunner. And while I've seen a hundred men shoot one man down, I've never seen one man shoot down a hundred. Simple mathematics. But we don't have to resort to more violence, do we? Not when there are other far more persuasive incentives."
Gunner responded with a tight smile. "I'd agree with that sentiment."
"I thought you would." The Judge picked up a small wooden case from beside him and placed it on the table, sliding it toward Gunner. "Fifty thousand in gold bulls to start. More to come if you produce results. I want to know what the Baron is planning, what she's doing when out of sight of the cameras. You'll want to get close to her. And I don't mean seduction because she won't be interested. You'll have to get creative."
"I'll think of something." Gunner slid the case inside his pocket, stood and adjusted his hat. "Figure I'd better get on out there and turn some stones over. Thanks for the meal."
"You're welcome." The Judge spoke in a lazy tone as if his words were of no consequence. "Let me make a quick introduction before you go. Bane, come on over here."
The hulking guardian lifted his head at the Judge's command, obediently trudging over. For a second, Gunner's breath caught in his throat as he imagined a skull-like face and flashing crimson eyes, a voice like gravel raked across concrete…
He blinked, and the instant passed. A ragged bandana covered Bane's face from his nose to his chest like a cloth beard. His eyes were barely visible under the hat, cold and blue, glowing like indicator lights. Every movement produced metallic grinding sounds, like gears in need of lubrication. He was taller than Gunner by about half a foot and built like a human tank.
"Bane here is my right-hand man," the Judge said. "Got himself burnt up real bad in an explosion some years ago. I dragged him out, got him to some labcoats in time for them to save him. What was left of him, anyway. Bane doesn't talk much, but he watches everything. He'll be keeping an eye on you too, Gunner. Thought I'd tell you in advance so we can avoid any potential misunderstandings."
"I get it. Guess I'll be on my way, then." He paused in mid-turn. "One last thing — what's gonna happen to Pablo?"
"So, you do care about the preacher. Here I thought you were using the situation to get an audience with me." A smile slid across his face. "I'm not going to kill him if that's what you're worried about. Didn't work out so well last time I tried. No, he'll stay where he's at. It will allow the people to see how foolish he is once his prophecies utterly fail. He claims God sent him here. Let God get him out."
Gunner nodded. "Fair enough."
"As for you, I have plenty of space here in the manor. Feel free to stay in one of the free rooms if you like."
"I figure that would make it hard to gain the Baron's trust. Better if I stay put where I'm at."
"I see your point. Very well, you can exit the same way you came in. My butler will see you out. I want to enjoy this a little while longer. It's so hard to find a moment of real peace. I'm sure you know what I mean." He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, listening to the playful laughter of the children.
"Yeah." Gunner turned and headed for the manor doors, where he paused and took a last look behind at the garden. It was like looking at a dream: green and beautiful, an oasis in the middle of the sand and rust of the surrounding Town.
But the mood was ruined when he saw Bane staring back at him like a baleful demon, electric eyes glimmering under the brim of his tattered hat.
Chapter 5: Wicked Schemes
He returned the way he came, pretending not to notice the blinking lights from numerous cameras installed in the corners of every room and hallway of the manor. The sound of voices outside gave him pause. He listened as Waingrow gave orders to his gang.
"This is gonna be the last haul of blood shards coming this direction for a while. Tomorrow morning they'll divert and cut through the Badlands like the others, but once we blow the track, they'll have to stop and send the bots out to repair it. That's when we move in. Use the EMP to take out the engine and any android security. Figure they'll have some red-blooded guards too, but they'll be too shook up to be much trouble. We take them out, unload the shards and head out to Devil's Gorge until things blow over. We got one chance at this. Screw up, and you might as well not bother coming back, 'cause the Judge ain't gonna be happy. Understand?"
Gunner waited for the chorus of acknowledgments before stepping out the manor doors. He was greeted by silence and suspicious stares from the gathered crew as he walked down the steps, placing a cheroot between his teeth and lighting it.
Waingrow dismissed his crew with a curt gesture, eyes locked on Gunner. "Y'all go on now. Be with you in a minute."
They rose from the table and streamed past, staring at Gunner with expressions that ranged from curious to enraged. He ignored them, casually leaning against the stair railing while looking at Waingrow.
Janey was the last to leave, lingering at the gate looking from Gunner to Waingrow. "Need me to stick around?"
He waved her away. "No. This won't take long."
He waited for her to leave before speaking. For a long moment, he stared at Gunner as if unsure he existed.
"Thought my gang took care of you."
Gunner exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Not well enough."
"I see that. Is it true, then? Your name's Gunner? The one from Texas everyone talks about?"
"What do you think?"
"Don't think a man like him would get caught in the open so easily. They say Gunner killed twenty-nine soldiers that came with two Rangers to charge him with murder. A fella like that — seems like me and mine wouldn't just be able to get the jump on him."
Gunner's fingers tapped the butt of his pistol. "Easy way to find out who we both really are. If you got the grit to throw down, that is."
"No need." Waingrow unbuckled the gun belt around his waist and tossed it to Gunner. "These belong to you."
Gunner glanced at the twin revolvers, feeling the familiar surge of excitement and revulsion he always experienced when he reunited with the weapons. "You're a smarter man than I took you for, Waingrow."
"Don't take much brains to figure out what those are. The inscriptions: Fuego and Azufre. Spanish for Fire and Sulfur. Those are Reaper handguns. Even checked the payload. Hellfire rounds. Only people that carry those are Clerics. Which means you were one. Or you killed one and stole his pieces. I really don't know which one scares me more."
"Guess it don't matter."
"Yeah. Guess not." Waingrow hesitated, clearing his throat. "Look…if you still hold a grudge and we gotta go at it, I guess that's what we'll do. But I had no idea who you were when we shook you down the other day. I hope you understand that."