“All right, then. I’ll check over here and you go that way.”
J. D. climbed down from his saddle so he could take a closer look at the wagon that had been left behind. The first thing he saw was the fresh droppings in the spot where the horse had stood in its hitch. He then squatted down and took a look at the ground near the wagon. A couple seconds later, he straightened up and drew his pistol.
“Did you see him?” J. D. asked.
“Nah. Looks like he skinned out of here.”
“No he didn’t.”
“Huh?”
“That’s what he wanted us to think,” J. D. said, “but that’s not what happened.”
“How do you know?”
“There’s a set of tracks next to the horse’s that were put down by a pair of boots.”
“So he led him a ways,” Alan grunted as he got his own horse moving in the direction of Ocean. “Then he mounted up and rode into town. You’re wasting time.”
J. D. pointed to a narrow strip of dirt leading to the main trail. “The boot prints stop here, but the horse’s go on.”
“Proves my point.”
Leaving his own horse behind, J. D. walked slowly around the graveyard. “Those horse tracks didn’t get any deeper after the boots left. That means there wasn’t any weight added.”
“Now that it’s getting dark, he’ll be harder to find.”
“Nobody got on that horse’s back, you fucking idiot,” J. D. hissed. “Now shut your mouth and help me find this gravedigger. He’s still around here somewhere.”
Whether it was due to the tone of J. D.’s voice or the sense he was talking, Alan finally did as he was told and climbed down from his saddle. He was at least right about one thing: It was getting dark awfully fast now that the sun had melted down to a warm glow in the distance.
Signaling for Alan to circle around the graveyard to the left, J. D. measured his steps carefully and circled around to the right. Since there wasn’t any place for a grown man to hide among the tombstones, both of them focused their attention on the trees. When they met up at the back of the graveyard, Alan waited for his next set of orders.
“He’s got to be in those trees,” J. D. said.
“Either that, or he ran into town.”
“If he did that, he would’ve already been picked off. He’s probably just hiding or running for that river we crossed on our way in here.”
“You think he knows we mean to kill him?”
Raising his gun and crouching like an animal getting ready to strike, J. D. aimed at one of the misty shadows in the dank spaces between two of the bigger trees. “He does now.”
Alan’s eyes snapped in that direction and he reflexively tightened his grip on his gun. The tall figure in the nearby shadows had been there before, but hadn’t moved enough to distinguish it from the other looming shapes. Now, J. D. knew that the man had been silently watching him from that spot the entire time.
“You the gravedigger?” Alan asked.
Nick stepped forward.
“Hold it,” J. D. snapped. “What’s that you’re carrying?”
Nick kept his arms out to the sides. “You mean my pack?”
“Toss it.”
“It’s just my tools.”
“I said toss it.”
Nick let the bundle fall to his feet. “I don’t even know you men,” he said. “Why go through so much trouble to find me?”
“Never you mind,” J. D. said as he sighted along the barrel of his gun. “Just kick that over toward my partner. Alan, open up that pack and see what’s inside.”
Nick pushed the bundle along the ground toward Alan.
J. D. watched every move Nick made. He also watched the older man’s face to see if he could find any hint of weakness or fear. He found neither. Normally, folks didn’t have the strength to keep their eyes fixed upon him for more than a few seconds. This gravedigger, however, showed no sign of looking away.
While rummaging through Nick’s things, Alan shook his head. “All I see is tools. Hold up. I just found something else.”
“What is it?” J. D. asked.
Alan answered that question by removing a battered pistol from within the bundle. The gun sat awkwardly in his hand, causing Alan to look it over with increasing disgust. The barrel was nearly as twisted as some of the roots under his feet and the trigger mechanism looked brittle enough to snap under the slightest bit of pressure.
“Well?” J. D. demanded.
“It’s a gun,” Alan replied. “Or at least, it used to be. Damn thing looks like it came from the bottom of a junk pile.”
“Get rid of it.”
Alan happily pitched the weapon into some bushes without another thought. Since he was busy digging through the rest of Nick’s pack, he didn’t notice the subtle, angry twitch in Nick’s eye as he tried to mark where his gun had landed.
“Ain’t nothing more here,” Alan finally said. “Apart from digging tools and such.”
“Good.”
“If you’re gonna shoot,” Nick said, “then why not tell me what you’re after?”
By now, J. D. had taken aim at Nick’s chest. “Wrong place at the wrong time, mister. That’s all there is to it.”
Nick chuckled under his breath. “Story of my life.” With that, he lifted his right leg and reached down for a slender knife that was stashed in his boot. In one, smooth motion, he drew the knife and threw it directly at the gunman.
J. D. was unprepared to feel the blade drive into the meat of his gun arm as he pulled his trigger.
Nick was already moving. The hot lead from J. D.’s wild shot whipped past him and only managed to snag a piece of his jacket along the way. His sights were already set upon Alan and he charged forward to press the momentary advantage he’d created.
Watching the turn of events with wide eyes, Alan raised his gun and fired off three quick shots that made plenty of noise without drawing any blood. Then, all Alan could do was watch Nick rush toward him like a crazed bull.
Lowering his shoulder at the last moment, Nick slammed into Alan’s chest. Alan landed with a wheezing thump and both his arms splayed out to his sides. As much as Nick wanted to grab the gun from Alan’s hand, Alan held onto it with every bit of strength he could dredge up. In his youth, Nick wouldn’t have had any trouble with the task. Now, he was at a distinct disadvantage.
Through sheer survival instinct, Alan managed to pull his arm free from Nick’s mangled fingers and roll out from under him. As he scrambled along the ground, Alan could barely decide where he wanted to go. Just as he got himself situated, he felt a powerful impact on the back of his head and the dim light of dusk turned to black.
While struggling to get his own feet beneath him, Nick balled up his fist and delivered a second punch to the base of Alan’s skull. That punch landed in the same spot as the first and knocked Alan’s forehead once more against the ground. Alan wasn’t completely unconscious, so he managed to protect his gun by pulling that arm beneath the rest of him before curling into a defensive ball.
Nick turned around just in time to see J. D. sitting up and reaching for the knife stuck in his arm. When he spotted Nick, J. D. gritted his teeth and switched the pistol into his other hand so he could squeeze off another shot.
Pushing aside the pain in his aching muscles as well as his last vestige of common sense, Nick dug his feet into the ground and ran straight at J. D. He reached out with his right hand and just managed to slap away the other man’s gun a split-second before it spat out a plume of smoke and sparks.
