“Revenge, huh?”
“Yeah, revenge. Leastwise, that’s what he says.”
“Revenge. Damn, I tell you the truth then. I don’t think I’d want to be one of the people he’s after then. When it is the law that’s after you, you can figure that most likely what will happen to you is you’ll get a trial and maybe go to jail. Even if you get hung, it’ll take a while for them to appeal and all that. But when someone is after revenge, then they don’t stop until they find you. And most likely when they find you, the only thing on their mind is killin’ you. If you ask me, Odom is makin’ a big mistake by runnin’.”
“What do you mean, he’s makin’ a big mistake? Didn’t you just say that the only thing a man out for revenge wants to do is kill you?”
“Yes, and the only way you are going to stop him is to kill him first.”
“Damn. Remind me never to piss someone off so much that he wants revenge.”
A few others laughed nervously.
“How does this fella—Cavanaugh is it? How does he know who he is lookin’ for?”
“Turns out he was on the train that was robbed and he saw the outlaws. Not only that, he even knows every one of them by name. According to him, Bates was one of the train robbers, Cletus Odom was another, along with a fella named Schuler. He also says there was a Mexican by the name of Paco.”
“Paco?” another said, and he laughed. “The fourth train robber was a Mexican by the name of Paco? Well, that should narrow it down to about a thousand Mexicans.”
The others laughed as well.
Paco remounted, then rode back out of town. He had planned to meet Odom and Bates here, but with Bates dead and Odom running, there was no reason for him to remain. Paco’s first thought was to just keep riding, but he stopped and thought about what the man back in town had said about revenge. They never give up until they find the ones they are looking for. And in this case, Cavanaugh knew them by name.
Paco had no choice. He had to kill Cavanaugh before Cavanaugh killed him. He dismounted, found a spot of shade, and waited for nightfall.
Matt had no idea what awakened him. It may have been a type of kinesthetic reflex born from years of living on the edge. He rolled off the bed just as a gun boomed in the doorway of his room. The bullet slammed into the headboard of the bed where, but a second earlier, Matt had been sleeping.
At the same time Matt rolled off the bed, he grabbed the pistol from under his pillow. Now the advantage was his. The man who had attempted to kill him was temporarily blinded by the muzzle flash of his own shot, and he could see nothing in the darkness of Matt’s room. That same muzzle flash, however, had illuminated the assailant for Matt, and he quickly aimed his pistol at the dark hulk in the doorway, closed his eyes against his own muzzle flash, and squeezed the trigger. The gun bucked in his hand as the roar filled the room. Matt heard a groaning sound, then the heavy thump of a falling body.
“What is it? What’s happening?” a voice called. All up and down the hallway of the hotel, doors opened as patrons, dressed in nightgowns and pajamas, peered out of their rooms in curiosity. Slipping on his trousers, but naked from the waist up, Matt stepped out into the hallway, then looked down at the the man he had just killed. The body was illuminated by the soft glow of a wall-mounted kerosene lantern. It was the same Mexican he had seen on the train during the robbery.
“You again?” someone said. “You’ve already killed one man in this town. How many are you plannin’ on killin’?”
Matt glared at the questioner, but he didn’t answer him.
“Who is this man?” another asked, pointing to the body on the floor. “He’s not a guest of the hotel, is he?”
“You think any Mexicans would stay here?”
“Has anyone ever seen him before?”
“His name is Paco,” Matt said.
“Why did you kill him?”
“Because he was trying to kill me,” Matt answered. “And that seemed like the practical thing to do.”
“Why was he trying to kill you?”
“Because he knew I was going to kill him, if I found him,” Matt said easily.
“Mister, that don’t make any sense a’tall.”
“It does to me.”
“What are you going to do about him now?” one of the others asked.
“Nothing,” Matt said. “I don’t need to do anything about him now. He’s dead.”
“Well, good Lord, man, you don’t plan to just leave him layin’ out here in the hall, do you?”
“If you want him out of here, take him out of here,” Matt said.
“The hell you say. I didn’t kill him.”
“He’s got a point there, mister,” one of the others said. “You killed him. The least you can do is get rid of him.”
“All right,” Matt said. Leaning down, he picked Paco up and threw his body over his shoulder.
“Now you are being sensible,” the complainer said.
Without another word, Matt walked to the rear end of the hall where he raised the window that opened out
