“You’re gonna have to tolerate me a bit longer,” Bertram said. “I’m the most experienced man you got.”
“Keep that fucking tone in your voice and the next thing you’ll experience is the grave.”
The smile on Bertram’s face didn’t fade, but it did lose a good amount of its cockiness. It was a subtle change, which made a world of difference.
When he saw that shift in Bertram’s manner, Dutch loosened his grip and finally opened his fingers wide enough for the other man to slip free. “Maybe I should stay to oversee these new men,” he said.
“My boys are doing fine,” replied Bertram.
“Your boys are like you. They think with their dicks at the wrong times and it may have already gotten some of them killed.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You heard from those men who stayed behind at San Trista?” Dutch asked.
“No, but it hasn’t been that long.”
Dutch shrugged. “They should have been back today and they’re not. They’re probably rolling around with some of those whores you found. Either that, or they’re wasting time shepherding them whores back and forth between here and town instead of doing what they get paid to do. Or there could have been some trouble,” Dutch added. “Trouble like whatever J. D. ran into.”
“They’re a day late,” Bertram reiterated. “I wasn’t even starting to worry about them. Besides, if there’s trouble, they can handle themselves.”
Dutch stared silently into the distance, his face resembling a portrait. While other men were known for how they collected their scars in various fights, Dutch was known for being in twice the number of fights without getting scarred once. His eyes were cold and calculating; they gazed off a little too long before blinking.
“Any word from J. D.?” Dutch asked.
“Not since we heard he was out of jail. Most of us didn’t even know he was in jail.”
“So where is he now?”
“I couldn’t tell ya. Probably trying to catch up to the rest of us.”
Judging by Dutch’s expression, he didn’t care for that explanation one bit. His annoyance only grew when he saw Bertram shifting from one boot to another without a care in the world. “Where’s Bill?”
“What do you need him for? All he ever does is herd cattle.”
Dutch answered that with a burning gaze that shoved Bertram a few steps back.
“Fine, fine,” Bertram said, raising his hands. “I’ll get him. Jesus Christ.”
After Bertram had been gone a few minutes, another man walked up to Dutch. He was lean and had the look of someone who’d been raised on the floor of a desert. His skin was tough and creased. His hair was dark brown and stringy. When he approached Dutch, he did so with a respectful nod and then waited for the other man to talk.
“What’s been going on here, Bill?” Dutch asked.
“Same bullshit you’d expect. Bertram shoots his mouth off day and night when he’s not fucking some whore he brought in from God knows where.”
“Is he getting his job done?”
“I suppose. All he needs to do is say ‘howdy’ to a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears gun hands who aren’t much better than he is, so there isn’t much of a way for him to mess up. At least they all kiss his feet on account of the women he brings in.”
Dutch laughed under his breath and nodded. “You seem bored, so I got a job for you to do.”
“As long as it involves me getting the fuck out of here, I’m plenty willing.”
“I don’t know if you heard, but I got a telegram from J. D.”
“J. D.’s alive?” Bill asked.
“Yeah, and he was in and out of jail. He was headed to meet up with us, but nobody’s heard from him since.”
“How long ago was that?”
“We got the telegram almost a week ago. Anyhow, he should have caught up with us a few days ago. I want you to backtrack and see if you can find J. D. He was taking the Silver Gorge trail, so take that all the way back to Ocean if you have to.”
Bill winced and commented, “That’s an awfully tall order, isn’t it? I mean, there’s a lot of ground to cover and plenty of spaces for one man to get lost. He could have just fallen off his horse and I’d never find him.”
“I know. We also haven’t heard from George. This was the last day for him to wait for any more men looking to sign on, and there’s been no word.”
“I know. Bertram didn’t seem too worried.”
“Bertram’s got shit for brains,” Dutch said. “That’s why I want you to ride through San Trista on your way out. Make that your first stop and send word to me at the normal spot. You know where I mean?”
Bill nodded.
“Don’t wait for a reply. Just head on across to the Silver Gorge and start looking for J. D. Got it?”
“You think something happened to George and J. D.?”
“I don’t know, and that’s the part that gets under my skin. You find out for me and do it quick. If something is going wrong, we need to know about it and take care of it before it gets out of hand.”
“What if the law’s the cause of these problems?”
“Then you kill any law dog that’s sticking his nose in our business. Things are going too good for that kind of bullshit to trip us up.”
Bill kept nodding, but had let his eyes wander away from Dutch.
“You got something else to say?” Dutch asked.
He started to shake his head, paused and reluctantly said, “There’s been talk about some of the men at that Van Meter place getting killed by some gravedigger from town. What if he’s the one that got to J. D.?”
Dutch’s eyes burned holes through Bill’s head. His jaw shifted back and forth, slowly grinding his teeth together. “Did you see this gravedigger?”
“Not up close. I was rounding up that rancher’s herd when the rest of you were shooting up the man that owned that spread. I heard the shots and tried to get there, but was too late to be of much help. Still, someone did shoot the hell out of the men that were going after one of that rancher’s kids.”
“And it wasn’t the rancher, himself?”
Bill shook his head.
“If you hear about someone that killed one of our men,” Dutch said, “gravedigger or not, I want him dead. Kill him in a way that’ll make anyone else think twice about stepping up to anyone who might even be a distant acquaintance of ours. Kill his family, too. There’s no reason that rancher should be the only one to get special treatment.
“Anything less and we look weak. Men in our line of work start looking weak and we might as well invite the law or other cocky little pricks to try their luck with us.”
“And what if someone off that ranch is still alive and trying to hunt us down?”
“Then make him wish he was killed right along with the rest of that family.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Four whistles cut through the air outside of the northernmost camp. The first two whistles were short, followed by one long and one more short. Hearing that combination, the camp’s lookout lowered his rifle and raised his hand in a slow wave. Before too long, he got another wave in return from one of the two riders who were approaching.
“Looks like our friend with the wet pants was good for his word,” Nick said as he waved toward the camp.
Joseph rode beside him and let out a short acknowledging grunt.
Both of the horses were breathing heavily and walking slowly after covering the ground between the camp and San Trista.
