and a young man driving a wagon pulled back on his reins before his horses pulled him any closer to the spot where the shots had been fired.
Nick met every one of the eyes that were watching him. Some were frightened. Some were surprised. Some were just confused. All of them were waiting for an explanation. Most folks who saw such a thing just wanted to know what the other man had done or who he was.
Rather than take time to explain himself, Nick walked away.
There wasn’t enough time for explanations.
EIGHT
“Someone’s going to dig up a dead body?” Catherine gasped. “Are you sure about this?”
Nick was in their bedroom, stuffing clothes into a saddlebag and nodding his head. “Pretty damn sure.”
“Someone’s going to dig up Barrett?”
“Yes and for the tenth time, yes.”
Catherine stood in the doorway with her arms folded. She blinked and then rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Sorry, but I just can’t believe someone would do that.”
“I can.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Nick said, “I’m the one who buried those jewels in the casket along with him.”
Frozen right down to the expression on her face, Catherine had to wait until she was forced to draw a breath before she could speak. “Why on earth would you do that?” she asked. “It’s not like Barrett needs the money.”
“Barrett lived to pull off those jobs of his and he wound up dying for it,” Nick explained. “The least I could do was let him have the money since I was the one to put an end to his career.” Pausing to close his eyes for a moment, he added, “Since I was the one to put an end to him.”
“You told me about what happened between you and him,” Catherine said. “Barrett didn’t give you a choice. You had to shoot him. That was years ago, Nick. Don’t let what happened ruin you any more than it already has.”
“They’re calling it the Reaper’s Fee,” Nick said as if he hadn’t even heard what Catherine was saying. “They gave it a nice little nickname and talked it up in all the saloons. I don’t know who found out about the money or who spread this shit around, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a bunch of ignorant, money-hungry shit heads dig up my friend.”
“It doesn’t matter if they do.” Seeing that her words had no impact, Catherine walked over to step directly in front of Nick. “Did you hear me? I said it doesn’t matter if they do dig him up. They’re the ones who’ll have that on their souls. Not you.”
“Do you honestly believe that there’s a God in the clouds somewhere who keeps track of these things so we don’t have to?”
Catherine looked back at him and nodded solemnly. “Yes. I do.”
Just then, Nick felt like a heel for asking that question as if it was a joke. Although Catherine made plenty of exceptions in order to live as his wife, she’d always kept her religion wrapped up securely inside of her. It wasn’t ever forced down Nick’s throat, but it was still there all the same.
“Sorry,” Nick said. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Yes you did, but that’s all right. I want you to tell me why you want to follow up on this so badly.”
Nick stopped what he was doing and took a moment to compose his thoughts. At first, he figured he would just give her the short version, which would be more than he would give to anyone else. Then Nick remembered that Catherine wasn’t just anyone else. The biggest difference between her and the rest of humanity was that she would actually listen to what he had to say.
“I’ve never had many friends,” Nick said, “but Barrett was one of them. I may have had to be the one to send him off, but I sure as hell won’t let someone disgrace him by digging him up and stealing what I gave to him.”
“But those jewels…they’re stolen. Aren’t they?” Catherine asked.
“Whether they’re stolen or if they belonged to his granddaddy doesn’t matter. Whether he was a thief or a preacher doesn’t matter. Whether he spent his last days shoveling dirt or trying to kill me doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he was my friend and now he’s dead. I’ve been earning my living as a mourner all these years, sending folks off to meet their Maker and carving their headstones. The least I can do is mourn my friend and see that he rests in peace.”
Catherine didn’t say anything for a while. She reached out to rub his arm as he was talking and kept her hand on him when he was through. Now, she gave his hand a squeeze and said, “I understand.”
Nick blinked and waited for another shoe to drop. When it was clear there was nothing else coming, he asked, “You do?”
She nodded. “I may not agree, but I understand. If you’ve got to leave, then…” Catherine kept herself from finishing what she’d been saying when she heard a horse ride up to the front of the house and come to a stop.
Even before the horse had settled down, its rider slid from the saddle and landed loudly enough for the impact of his boots to be heard inside the house. “Nick? You in there?” a familiar voice called out.
Voicing the same words that were going through Nick’s head, Catherine whispered, “It’s Sheriff Stilson.”
Nick felt the old impulse to bolt, which was exactly what he would have done in his younger days when a lawman came knocking at his door. Old habits were hard to break, but Nick choked down the reflex and let out a strained breath. “Whatever I say, you just keep quiet,” he cautioned Catherine.
Catherine’s face had been neutral before, but she now looked more worried with each second that passed. “What’s the matter, Nick?”
“Stilson isn’t here for a social call.”
“Why? What happened?”
“You remember Switchback Gill?” Nick asked.
“Yes.”
“He backed me into a corner and I had to kill him.”
Catherine’s eyes closed for a second before she started to nod. “If you need to leave, you’d better do it now.”
At first, Nick was surprised. Then, he smiled and rubbed Catherine’s shoulders. “That’s awfully nice of you, but I’m going to face Stilson and tell him what happened.”
“Why not just tell him that Gil was a threat? Plenty of folks from the Tin Pan will back you up.”
As Catherine waited for an answer, Stilson knocked on the door.
“Stilson’s a good man,” Nick said quickly. “He’s helped me plenty, but…”
“Never mind,” Catherine said quickly. “You do what you need to do and get going. Just promise me you’ll come home.”
“Of course I promise.”
With that, Nick took Catherine in his arms and kissed her as if he hadn’t seen her for a year. Their mouths parted for a moment so their eyes could take in the sight of each other, and then Nick kissed her as if he wasn’t going to see her for another year. Stilson knocked again, so Nick cut himself short and forced himself to go to the door. When he opened it, he must have still been a little flushed in the face.
“Oh,” Stilson said. “Did I interrupt anything?”
“No, Sheriff.”
“I guess you know why I’m here.”
“It’s either about the Jeffrey boys breaking those windows,” Nick replied, “or that man I shot across from Don’s gun shop.”
Chuckling despite his best attempts not to, Stilson nodded and took his hat off so he could run his hand over his balding head. “It’d be the second one. I’d like to know why I heard about it from Don before hearing about it from you.”
