“There’s enough dynamite to kill us all,” Nick warned.
Kinman shrugged. “Then standing here or there won’t make much difference. Might as well do what he says so we don’t have to die in the name of some greedy Chinese.”
Hale smirked and slithered away from Nick until his back was against the edge of the driver’s seat. “That’s right. This town’s in the grip of a cleansing fire and it needs to burn until all the wickedness is purged. I only represent the good, honest workers of Rock Springs, who are trying to provide for their families.”
“Those Chinese have families, too,” Nick said.
“And they’ve got their jobs at these mines as well as at plenty of others. The line was crossed when they were set up to replace good Christian workers and put them out of their jobs.”
“Take it up with the mining companies.”
“Save your breath,” Kinman said before Hale could reply. “Let Hale do what he’s gonna do. Better that than have some more good workers suffer.”
“That’s absolutely right,” Hale said. He continued to look at Nick as the match in his hand burned down to his fingers. Flailing like a trout that had been dropped onto dry land, Hale squirmed over the back of the seat and landed on one of the crates of dynamite. His hands buried themselves into his pockets and then came out with another few matches.
Nick let out an aggravated breath, just managing to release the horse’s tracings as he climbed down from the wagon before Hale started another little fire.
“What about the money?” Kinman asked. “You put on your show and we’re the ones who’ll take the blame no matter what, so we might as well get our payment.”
Hale grunted as he righted himself with his back against the side of the wagon. “Quite right,” he wheezed. He reached into another pocket to take out a bundle of money. Tossing the cash at Kinman, Hale said, “Take it and go. When you read about the history we’ve made here today, you’ll thank me for letting you be a part of it.”
Nick was already on Kazys’s back and riding away from the wagon. As soon as he’d collected the money and stuffed it into his own pocket, Kinman followed suit.
“Mark my words!” Hale shouted as he made his way back to the driver’s seat. “This is a historical day!” Smiling victoriously and sitting like a king upon his throne, Hale snapped his reins. As soon as the leather cracked against its flank, the horse bolted and pulled free of the wagon.
“What the hell?” Hale grunted.
Nick drew his pistol and fired at the back of the wagon. His first bullet drilled through the wooden panel without a result. His next shots, combined with gunfire from Kinman, were more than enough to ignite the dynamite.
It seemed to spool out like a series of pictures that slowly passed in front of Nick’s eyes. First, he saw the flash of orange light from the back of the wagon. Next, he saw bits of wood fly out in every direction. Everything after that was a blur.
Nick’s ears were ringing so badly that he wasn’t exactly certain if he’d heard the explosion or not. Heat from the fire washed over him until he found himself wondering if he’d fired too soon and would perish in the flames right along with Hale. Despite all the heat, Nick swore he could feel the cold touch of the Reaper’s skeletal hand closing around the back of his neck. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt the grazing touch of those fingers, but Nick casually wondered if it would be his last.
And in a flash, those thoughts were forced out of Nick’s head as he was flung straight back into the world of the living.
The rest of the dynamite went up in a thunderous roar, but Nick and Kinman were riding away from it as quickly as their horses could take them. Nick didn’t recall snapping his reins, but he also didn’t recall covering enough ground to get where he was now.
Flames crackled and sputtered, but there wasn’t much of the wagon left to burn. Nick found himself on the other side of the railroad tracks, watching charred wooden hunks hit the ground. Kazys was panting like a dog that had been left out in the sun. The horse’s sides swelled like a set of bellows against Nick’s legs.
For a while, Nick could only hear his own heart beating. Then, the sounds of his own breathing rushed through his ears. After that, the rest of the world made itself known to him as shouts and clanging bells rippled through the air.
The fire brigade was coming. Nick could see a large wagon racing from town toward the explosion. Now that he’d collected most of his wits, Nick looked down to find the railroad tracks still crossing the ground in front of him. They were a bit cluttered, but otherwise fine.
All Nick could think about was the trainload of Federals still bound for Rock Springs. Despite the grit in his teeth, smoke in his eyes and ringing in his ears, Nick couldn’t help but smile. When he finally caught sight of Kinman riding up to him, Nick saw a similar grin on the man’s face.
“Crazy bastard got what was coming to him!” Kinman shouted so he could be heard above the ringing in his own ears. “Let’s get the hell out of here, before the rest of his men get here!”
Nick wished he could stay long enough to see the Federal troops blast apart any of Hale’s remaining gunmen. Then again, those gunmen could very well be just a bunch of angry locals who’d been pushed too far by their circumstances and whipped into a frenzy by a man who liked the taste of blood. That part struck a little too close to home for Nick’s tastes.
Pulling on Kazys’s reins, Nick pointed the horse eastward and touched his heels to the animal’s sides. Kazys was more than willing to get moving again and the smoking remains of the wagon were soon lost behind him.
On his way out of town, Nick spotted more than a few grateful Chinese faces looking out at him from darkened windows. He hoped the Federal train would arrive before the situation in Rock Springs could get any worse.
FIFTEEN
Nick’s mind wandered as he rode out of Rock Springs. Tearing out of a town with the grit of smoke in the back of his throat and the law possibly on his heels was nothing new to him. In fact, running away sometimes felt more natural than walking. He was ashamed to consider that it was more natural than any of the skills his father had taught him.
After taking a moment to get his bearings, Nick steered Kazys toward the northeast, making certain head away from Rock Springs. He couldn’t be precise, but that put the Dakotas more or less in front of him.
When he heard another horse coming in his direction, Nick reflexively reached for his gun. He stopped short of clearing leather as Kinman drew to a stop a good distance away from him.
“Keep riding that way and I’ll catch up to you,” Kinman shouted.
Nick waved him off and kept moving. “Don’t bother. I’ve got business to tend to.”
“Yeah,” Kinman grunted. “So do I.”
Rock Springs felt as noisy and crowded as a saloon, even at the late hour that Kinman returned to it. Folks walked the streets, talking hurriedly to each other or shouting out to familiar faces they passed along their way. Lawmen rode in pairs either dragging someone to jail or keeping their eyes out for another man to toss into a cell.
All Kinman had to do was keep his head down and his gun out of sight. He wasn’t too worried about being recognized, since the only men who’d been close enough to spot him before the wagon exploded were either dead or miles away.
Staying well away from the smoldering Chinatown district, Kinman rode to a small house behind a blacksmith’s shop. A quick glance into one of the windows made him fairly certain that the little house was still empty. He wasn’t too worried if the owners had stopped by, though. Kinman only hoped that none of them had needed to relieve themselves before heading out again.