As he followed Kinman around to the back of the store, Nick was reminded of something Barrett had once told him. His friend’s words drifted through his head like a phantom breeze, bringing a hint of a smile to his face.
“A man don’t get rich without taking a wrong turn now and then,” Barrett had said during one of the many wrong turns their old gang had taken. “He’s gotta follow his nose no matter where it leads.”
“Most folks know better than to live life like that,” Nick had said at the time.
Barrett had looked at him and nodded. “That’s why most folks are dirt poor, breaking their backs and cursing every minute they got to spend on this earth without the sand to do a damn thing about it.”
At the time, Nick had liked the sound of that.
Now, it struck him as true but not quite as amusing.
He knew there was something important brewing in Rock Springs the moment he’d spotted the flames. Getting off the train was a bonus, but Nick had to admit he would have preferred to be one of the other folks that Barrett had talked about. At least that way he would still be on his way to Cheyenne with only a few loud children and smelly old men to gripe about instead of carrying an armful of guns and a crate loaded with dynamite.
Those things were handed over by a trio of men with faces that were so dirty, they might never have been clean. Those stern faces were unwilling to meet Nick or Kinman’s eyes as they followed through on Hale’s commands. Hale, on the other hand, couldn’t have been happier.
“These are the only weapons we could get on such short notice,” Hale said. “But that shouldn’t be a concern to…men like yourselves.”
“Yeah.” Kinman grunted as he selected one of the shotguns from the pile and hefted it over his shoulder. “We got plenty of guns already. You need help with that crate?”
Nick got his fingers under the crate and lifted it. Since the crate was less than half the size of one of the coffins he’d built over the years, he managed to get the crate up onto his shoulder without much trouble.
“I got it,” Nick said.
Hale nodded enthusiastically and pulled a watch from his pocket. “Good, good. You’d better get moving, then.”
“Aren’t you coming along with us?” Nick asked.
Suddenly, Hale didn’t feel like smiling. “Why would I do that? You know what you need to do. Just do it. If I was going to do the job, I wouldn’t need to pay you men.”
“The locals are starting to walk about,” Nick said. “The fires are being put out and the law’s even coming around.”
When he saw Hale look in his direction, Kinman nodded. “He’s right. It’s not like we can walk down the street with a load like this and not expect to be noticed.”
“Jesus Christ,” Hale grumbled. “I might as well—”
“Might as well what?” Nick snapped. “Kill these folks your own self instead of piling up their bodies? Plant this dynamite yourself instead of sitting back and watching the explosions? Or maybe take some of the blame yourself rather than paying us to take it for you. Yeah. Maybe you should do it yourself.”
Hale obviously wasn’t pleased to hear what Nick had to say, but some of the indignant fire had left his eyes. In fact, Hale seemed to become downright uncomfortable the longer he stood there in front of the two men. Finally, he said, “I see what you mean. Fine, then. Let me get my wagon and I can take you to the tracks. I might even know a spot where you can take your time in planting that dynamite without being spotted.”
“See now?” Kinman said triumphantly. “Seems like ol’ Nick might know what he’s talking about after all.”
Hale ran across the street to a small lot where a few horses and wagons were kept. After getting a single horse tied to a small cart, Hale motioned for the others to meet him down the street. As soon as he drew to a stop in front of the Central Mining Office, Hale’s men loaded the wagon and Kinman climbed onto the seat beside him.
“Actually, I could just tell you where to go…” Hale started to say. Once he got a look at the glare Nick was shooting at him, he added, “You’re right. It would be quicker if I just took you there myself.”
“Bring the payment,” Nick said.
Hale froze with his mouth hanging open. After clearing his throat and trying to regain his composure in front of the rest of his men, he asked, “Why?”
“Because I don’t intend on staying here,” Nick replied. “You may fancy shitting on your own doorstep, but I’m moving on as soon as this job is over.”
“I need to bring you back to town anyway, so why don’t you just—”
“You don’t need to bring me anywhere.” Nick cut in. “I’m going to get my horse and then we’ll move along. I left him in a stable not far from here.”
Hale opened and closed his mouth a few times and even got out a few sputtering breaths without managing to form any words. Finally, he looked over at Kinman and said, “You vouched for this man?”
“Actually,” Kinman said, “I think he’s making a good point. If the Federals are on their way, they could arrive at any moment.”
“They won’t be here for a while yet!”
“Can you guarantee that?”
Kinman’s question hung in the air like the acrid smoke drifting in from Chinatown. Hale looked around at the few other men taking orders from him, but none of them had anything to offer.
Looking back at Nick, Hale had a coldness in his eyes. It wasn’t cold enough to make Nick turn away.
“Get the money, Cy,” Hale said. As one of his men ran off to follow through on the command, Hale said, “Get your horse, Nicolai.”
Nick straightened a bit and cocked his head to one side. The look he gave Hale was the same one he’d given countless other times in his youth. So far, no man had lived to see that look more than once.
“If you don’t mind,” Hale said to make quick amends. Although he tried to keep the same serious look in his eyes, he was unable to maintain the edge in his tone. “Since I’ll be carrying this much cash on me, I’d appreciate it if we stayed together until the job is done.”
Taking his sweet time before nodding slightly, Nick turned and walked to the stable where Kazys was waiting.
FOURTEEN
Nick and Kinman rode their own horses while Hale and two of his men rode in the small wagon. With the fires being put out slowly but surely, the night was reclaiming Rock Springs with its thick blanket of darkness. Even so, the smell of burnt gunpowder and spilled blood still hung heavily in the air.
Hale snapped his reins and got the wagon rolling ahead of Nick and Kinman. Just when he was about to mention how empty the streets were, he spotted someone standing at a window and tipped his hat to them. He kept quiet for the rest of the ride.
When Hale steered off the road and toward a cluster of trees, Nick thought the man’s hands had slipped from the reins. But rather than roll straight into the greenery, the horse nosed aside some branches to reveal a narrow trail that looked only slightly wider than a footpath. Nick made certain both the wagon and Kinman were ahead of him before he ventured into those trees.
The trail was mercifully short. Every step of the way, Nick got swatted in the face by low-hanging branches. Wooden barbs clawed at his arms and snagged at his sleeves when he tried to brush them out of the way. When he managed to wipe the dust and pollen from his eyes, Nick was looking at a wide stretch of land with a set of railroad tracks running straight down the middle of it. Hale was practically standing on top of the wagon as he snapped the reins to drive it to a spot beside the tracks. As soon as his brake was set, he jumped down from his seat.