“Makes sense. He’s got a lot to run from.”
Kinman climbed back into his saddle and snapped the reins. His horse was accustomed to the speed that suited Kinman’s tracking. Kinman himself rode slouched and hanging a bit to one side. Even though he looked as if he might be drunk or wounded, the bounty hunter was merely putting his eyes as close to the ground as possible. When he pulled himself upright again, he winced and pressed a hand to his side.
“How’s the wound?” Nick asked.
“Stings like a bastard, but I can keep riding. I’ll need to stop later on to tend to it.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Lester’s gonna need to stop before we do.”
“Yeah, but he won’t,” Kinman said. “I know that for a fact. He’s a little fucking weasel who’s been running for a good, long time. No matter how good I track him, he’ll beat us to his cousin’s place.”
“We’ll just have to take our chances.”
Once Lester rode clear of the Badlands, he felt as if he’d been shot from a cannon. Suddenly, there weren’t dozens of obstacles threatening to trip his horse or send it skidding down into a ravine. The land flattened out a bit and the ground was covered with less gravel and more packed dirt. Those things were mighty fine sights for Lester’s weary eyes and he couldn’t hold back a smile once he felt the wind flowing past his face as his horse picked up speed.
Lester didn’t know if the other two had killed each other or if they were hot on his heels. Assuming the latter, he kept his horse racing down the narrow trail, which cut straight through Sioux territory.
Every now and then, Lester caught sight of an Indian rider or a few figures perched upon higher ground. Making sure to steer away from them, he got away without an arrow lodged in his back. After riding for a while longer, he guessed that he couldn’t have been too far from the Nebraska border. He pulled back on his reins so he could take a moment to breathe and get his bearings.
As the sound of beating hooves faded from his ears, Lester filled his lungs and spat out some of the dirt that had collected in his mouth. Thinking back to how he’d gotten away from Nick, Lester cursed himself for not being able to get his hands on a gun or a knife during the struggle. As he thought about it some more, Lester was amazed that he’d managed to get away from the grave without being buried in it.
Craning his neck as he turned around in his saddle, Lester was shocked to find the jagged, multicolored landscape of the Badlands far behind him. The sun was lower in the sky than he’d originally thought, and the darkness was almost complete. Lester had only stopped for a minute, and he already wanted to climb down from his saddle and stretch his legs properly.
In fact, if he was climbing down anyway, he thought he might even find a spot where he could rest his eyes.
If he was resting his eyes, he might as well—”
Suddenly, Lester shook his head and slapped himself in the face. He hadn’t allowed himself to leave the saddle just yet and he knew if he did, he’d give in to the rest of his weary thoughts as well. Wesley’s place wasn’t far from the Badlands. Maybe a day’s ride, but Lester couldn’t rest until he got there.
Feeling a dry pinch in his throat, Lester realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a drink of water. He checked his saddlebags for a canteen, and then realized he didn’t have any saddlebags.
Lester snapped the reins and got moving again. He only hoped the old horse he was riding was up for a hell of a long run.
The sun crawled back into the sky sometime later. He’d ridden through the entire day and most of the night without stopping for any longer than his horse needed to stay alive. He’d found a stream along the way, but had only sucked down a few mouthfuls of dirty water before saddling up and moving on.
Lester could feel the other two closing in on him. Sometimes, he swore he saw Kinman charging toward him with that devil’s smile that was always plastered on his face. Other times, Lester nearly jumped out of his skin when he thought he’d seen Nick Graves lurking in some shadow like the ghoulish gravedigger he was.
All of those things nipped at the back of Lester’s mind just as surely as the two men were nipping at his heels. Lester didn’t allow himself to look away from the trail long enough to take a breath. He didn’t look away long enough to try and guess the time of day. He barely allowed himself to think of anything apart from where he was headed and who was after him.
When he spotted the town, Lester didn’t allow himself to feel relieved. Thanks to the pounding he’d taken from riding so hard for so long, he couldn’t feel much of anything. He rode up to the first saloon he could find and climbed down from his saddle. His legs were so tired that they were barely able to carry him through the door.
The saloon was just over half full. A few of the customers turned to look at Lester, but turned right back around again when they didn’t recognize his face. Lester headed for the bar and used both hands to prop himself up against it.
“Looks like you’ve already had your fill, mister,” the barkeep said. “Did Bob already kick you outta his place?”
“Been riding a long time, is all,” Lester rasped. Having remained silent since the last time he’d talked to Nick, Lester didn’t realize how scratchy his voice would be. Those last few words felt as bad as they sounded and scraped against his throat like nails. After clearing his throat, Lester asked, “Can I have some water?”
“Beer’s the closest we’ve got.”
“You can’t find any water?”
The barkeep let out a beleaguered sigh and told him, “I’ll charge you for beer.”
Before he agreed, Lester patted his pockets to confirm what he already knew. “I don’t have any money.”
“Then you won’t be drinking.” Taking a moment to look at the wretched sight in front of him, the barkeep leaned forward and said, “I can give you a loan, but you’ll have to pay the interest or work it off here. That’s the best I can do.”
“I…won’t be here long enough.”
“Then stop taking up the space at my goddamn bar.”
Lester turned and left the saloon. On his way out, he heard a few jokes being made at his expense but was too tired to care much about that. In fact, he didn’t even care what folks thought when he walked over to the same trough his horse was using and stuck his head into the warm water. It tasted bitter and more than a little salty, but it was still water and it went down just fine. When he pulled his head back up again, Lester smacked his lips as some of the grit in his throat was replaced by other, somewhat less scratchy, grit.
Walking over to his horse, Lester reached up to his saddle horn but didn’t have the strength to pull himself up. Instead, he let out a breath and rested his head for a moment upon the battered leather. That’s when he heard the saloon door swing open and someone step outside.
“Hey,” the man who’d walked out of the saloon said. “What are you doing here?”
Lester savored the few moments of rest without removing his forehead from the saddle. “I’m leaving right now,” he groaned. “Just give me a minute.”
“Is that you, Lester?”
Lester’s eyes snapped open, but he still kept his head in place. He thought of who would know his name and the first two possibilities made his stomach clench. Then he remembered where he was and where he was headed. He also realized that the voice didn’t sound like either Nick or Kinman.
Slowly turning his head, Lester saw a young man with a thick head of dark blond hair staring back at him. His face was clean shaven, exposing its familiar curves. “Pat?” Lester croaked.