Suddenly, the ice in Kinman’s eyes began to melt. “You just might be onto something there.”
Lester was curled up with his knees against his chest and his arms crossed in front of him. His face was twisted into a frightened wince as if he’d already been shot. Slowly, his muscles relaxed and he blinked uneasily. “Yeah? I mean…yeah!”
“You can lend a hand in setting up Graves after we find that cash buried out in the Badlands. You do that and you might even be in for a cut of the reward. That would be a nice little nest egg waiting for you once you get out of jail.”
“Or you could keep all the reward and just let me go,” Lester squeaked.
Kinman’s eyes narrowed again.
“You can even keep a bigger cut of whatever we find buried with Cobb,” Lester offered. “If I pull my weight, you can let me go with just enough money to get me across the border and you can ride off with that treasure and whatever money you get from Graves.”
For the next several seconds, Kinman stood rooted to his spot. His face became an unreadable mask that seemed to collect more and more shadows around its edges. The gun in his hand didn’t waver. From the way he held it, it could be holstered just as quickly as it could be used to blow Lester’s head off his shoulders.
Finally, Kinman nodded and said, “I’ve got something in mind for you.”
Lester wanted to ask what it was, but couldn’t muster up enough breath to push the question out. The sounds drifting in from the rest of the town weren’t as loud as they had been before, but there were still enough shouts and gunshots to make Lester wince at every last one of them.
“You play your cards right,” Kinman snarled, “and you could live a comfortable life once you cross whichever border you have your eyes on. Cross me, and I’ll see to it that you pray for a bullet in your head.”
Nodding as if he meant to shake his head free of his neck, Lester said, “Sure! That sounds like a great deal.”
But Kinman didn’t move. “I know you’re plannin’ on how to escape or how to stab me in the back, but get that shit out of your head right now. Unless you think you can kill me, just go along with our plan and I’ll cut you free. Even if you do manage to get away from me, I’ll make it my life’s work to track you down and gut you slow enough for you to feel every second of it.”
“Wh…what’s the plan?”
“There’ll be time to discuss that on the ride outta here.”
“Is there another train coming?” Lester asked.
“Yeah, but we won’t want any part of it. There’s plenty of horses around here for us to choose from. This place has got bigger things to worry about than a couple stolen animals. All I need to know is whether or not I can count on you to do the smart thing.”
The enthusiasm had faded from Lester’s face and was replaced by a frightened, almost sickened expression. After a bit of consideration, he nodded. “All right. Count me in.”
Kinman holstered his gun and reached around to take out the blade sheathed at the small of his back. With one quick swipe, he cut the rope that had tied Lester to the outhouse. “Let’s get outta here before this town tears itself apart.”
Even though Lester could straighten up and move his arms, he didn’t follow Kinman.
After taking a few steps away from the outhouse, Kinman looked over his shoulder and asked, “Ain’t you coming?”
“Actually,” Lester replied sheepishly. “I could use a few more minutes in here. Uh…alone.”
Kinman grinned and kicked the door shut as he walked away so Lester could let his fear and nervousness work themselves out of his system.
SIXTEEN
After all that had happened in the short time he’d been in Rock Springs, Nick found it hard to believe just how quickly he’d passed through that town. Compared to all the commotion that was flooding through that place, the quiet of hiding out in the middle of nowhere was a welcome relief.
As much as Nick would have liked to find a spot that was just off the trail and big enough for a campsite, he wasn’t eager to be found by anyone following him. There was always the possibility of some lawman trying to catch up to him, thinking that Nick had meant to blow up those railroad tracks. What bothered him more than that was the possibility of crossing Kinman’s path.
Nick didn’t have to see the man shooting innocent Chinese to know that Kinman had put together a good-sized pile of bodies. Watching that wagon blow to pieces had been like Christmas morning for Kinman. The glee etched across Kinman’s face had been almost enough to turn Nick’s stomach. It was very similar to the grin worn by the man who’d mutilated Nick’s hands.
Nick led Kazys a little further off the trail as he did his best to focus on the ground directly in front of him instead of the ground he’d left behind.
Walking ahead of the horse, Nick kept his eyes trained upon the shadow-covered terrain. His fingers were clenched around Kazys’s reins and the horse followed him without question. Before too long, the crunch of their steps against the ground washed away the echoes floating through Nick’s mind in the same manner as a steady current washed the rocks from a riverbed.
Nick picked a spot to camp simply by running out of steam on a flat section of land. He wound up a good way from the trail and far enough away from Rock Springs to feel comfortable, so he tied Kazys off and took his bedroll from the saddle.
After he’d had some jerky and stretched out on his bedroll, Nick figured that all the trouble he’d gone through had been worth it just to get the hell off that train. Staying on would have only prolonged his misery just to gain a few more miles. Nick might not have been in Cheyenne, but he wasn’t far off from the Badlands. He figured it should be a few days’ ride at the most. He would be riding by himself, which made the extra time plenty worthwhile.
Nick strapped his holster over his belly, slid his hat so that it covered most of his face and lay back with his head propped up on his balled-up coat. Compared to the rest he’d tried to get with his head bouncing in that damn train, it was like floating on a cloud.
“I thought you said you’d know where to find him,” Lester said.
The sun’s rays were barely working their way across the sky, giving it the first orange hues of dawn. The air smelled fresh and there was a cool breeze blowing in from the west. Despite all of that pleasantness, Kinman still managed to flash a murderous glare at Lester.
Reflexively, Lester turned away.
“I do know where to find him,” Kinman muttered. “I just couldn’t exactly see every track in the dirt when it was dark.”
“Well, the sun’s up now. I just hope our friend Graves hasn’t gone too far.”
Kinman rode slowly with his eyes trained upon the ground. One hand was always resting upon the grip of his rifle, which lay across his lap. His other hand held the reins in a loose grip, allowing him to guide his horse as if by thought alone. “He can’t be far from here,” he said to himself as much as to Lester. “He either made camp last night or will make camp before too much longer. Either way, that’ll allow us to catch up.”
“We got to make camp, too, you know.” The confidence in Lester’s voice was no longer there when he added, “Don’t we?”
The look he got from Kinman didn’t inspire any confidence.
“We don’t make camp,” Kinman snarled, “until we find Graves.”
“But…the horses need rest.”
“We haven’t been working them that hard.”
Lester gnashed his teeth together and shifted uncomfortably. After weighing his options, he said, “Then I need rest! We haven’t gotten out of our saddles since we left that shooting gallery of a town.” Twisting around to get a look behind him, Lester let out a troubled moan. “We’re still not far enough away from there, if you ask me.”