SIXTEEN
After all that had happened in the short time he’d been in Rock Springs, Nick found it hard to believe just how quickly he’d passed through that town. Compared to all the commotion that was flooding through that place, the quiet of hiding out in the middle of nowhere was a welcome relief.
As much as Nick would have liked to find a spot that was just off the trail and big enough for a campsite, he wasn’t eager to be found by anyone following him. There was always the possibility of some lawman trying to catch up to him, thinking that Nick had meant to blow up those railroad tracks. What bothered him more than that was the possibility of crossing Kinman’s path.
Nick didn’t have to see the man shooting innocent Chinese to know that Kinman had put together a good- sized pile of bodies. Watching that wagon blow to pieces had been like Christmas morning for Kinman. The glee etched across Kinman’s face had been almost enough to turn Nick’s stomach. It was very similar to the grin worn by the man who’d mutilated Nick’s hands.
Nick led Kazys a little further off the trail as he did his best to focus on the ground directly in front of him instead of the ground he’d left behind.
Walking ahead of the horse, Nick kept his eyes trained upon the shadow-covered terrain. His fingers were clenched around Kazys’s reins and the horse followed him without question. Before too long, the crunch of their steps against the ground washed away the echoes floating through Nick’s mind in the same manner as a steady current washed the rocks from a riverbed.
Nick picked a spot to camp simply by running out of steam on a flat section of land. He wound up a good way from the trail and far enough away from Rock Springs to feel comfortable, so he tied Kazys off and took his bedroll from the saddle.
After he’d had some jerky and stretched out on his bedroll, Nick figured that all the trouble he’d gone through had been worth it just to get the hell off that train. Staying on would have only prolonged his misery just to gain a few more miles. Nick might not have been in Cheyenne, but he wasn’t far off from the Badlands. He figured it should be a few days’ ride at the most. He would be riding by himself, which made the extra time plenty worthwhile.
Nick strapped his holster over his belly, slid his hat so that it covered most of his face and lay back with his head propped up on his balled-up coat. Compared to the rest he’d tried to get with his head bouncing in that damn train, it was like floating on a cloud.
“I thought you said you’d know where to find him,” Lester said.
The sun’s rays were barely working their way across the sky, giving it the first orange hues of dawn. The air smelled fresh and there was a cool breeze blowing in from the west. Despite all of that pleasantness, Kinman still managed to flash a murderous glare at Lester.
Reflexively, Lester turned away.
“I do know where to find him,” Kinman muttered. “I just couldn’t exactly see every track in the dirt when it was dark.”
“Well, the sun’s up now. I just hope our friend Graves hasn’t gone too far.”
Kinman rode slowly with his eyes trained upon the ground. One hand was always resting upon the grip of his rifle, which lay across his lap. His other hand held the reins in a loose grip, allowing him to guide his horse as if by thought alone. “He can’t be far from here,” he said to himself as much as to Lester. “He either made camp last night or will make camp before too much longer. Either way, that’ll allow us to catch up.”
“We got to make camp, too, you know.” The confidence in Lester’s voice was no longer there when he added, “Don’t we?”
The look he got from Kinman didn’t inspire any confidence.
“We don’t make camp,” Kinman snarled, “until we find Graves.”
“But…the horses need rest.”
“We haven’t been working them that hard.”
Lester gnashed his teeth together and shifted uncomfortably. After weighing his options, he said, “Then I need rest! We haven’t gotten out of our saddles since we left that shooting gallery of a town.” Twisting around to get a look behind him, Lester let out a troubled moan. “We’re still not far enough away from there, if you ask me.”
“Nobody asked you.”
Since Kinman seemed more interested in the ground under his feet than the conversation at hand, Lester stood up in his stirrups and made a show of looking left and right. “I don’t see him or anyone else around here. Maybe you’re just trying to get me to agree to giving you most of the money we’re set to find.”
“You think so? Then maybe I should just shoot you and take you back into Rock Springs. I’ll bet they’d know where to go to turn your carcass in.” Surprisingly enough, there wasn’t a scowl on Kinman’s face when he turned around. “Don’t piss yourself just yet, Lester. I think I just found what I was after.”
“Really?”
Kinman drew his horse to a stop and climbed down from the saddle. Lester would have liked to climb down with him, but his feet were tied to his stirrups, which were also connected by another rope that crossed underneath the horse they’d stolen for him to ride. Leaning forward, Lester stared intently at where Kinman was going.
“You see Graves somewhere?” Lester asked. “I told you we shouldn’t have circled town so much when we left.”
Ignoring the other man’s ramblings, Kinman walked to a small patch of open ground that was just a little way from the trail. He reached a spot where the dirt had been smoothed out and ran the tips of his fingers along the earth. Kinman looked around slowly, taking in everything. When he spotted the deep set of horse’s tracks, he grinned and nodded.
“What’d you find?” Lester asked. “Where is he? I don’t see nobody.”
Standing up but not moving from his spot, Kinman turned and studied every inch of ground in the vicinity one more time. Only then did he allow himself to disturb another speck of dirt with his own boot. “He was here,” Kinman said as he walked back to where his horse was standing.
“How do you know it was him?”
Plenty of things rushed through Kinman’s head that would serve as good answers to that question. Things ranging from the freshness of the tracks to the direction they were headed would have been good enough. There were also things like instinct and a knowledge that he’d gained after spending years of hunting down his fellow man that would shed some light on the matter. With all those things in mind, Kinman simply looked over to Lester and grunted, “It don’t matter how I know. I just do.”
Lester’s instincts told him a few things as well. Namely, that it wasn’t a good idea to press the matter any further. “All right,” he said. “I was just askin’.”
Although the tone in his voice left no room for doubt, Kinman didn’t turn his back on the spot he’d found. He bent at the knees so he could run his hands into the upper layers of dirt. In a matter of seconds, his fingertips found a few scraps of food and the remnants of what had to have been a very small fire. Those things were enough to tell him that Nick had been trying to stay out of sight when he’d stopped there.
If he’d been waiting for Kinman to arrive, Graves wouldn’t have minded building a larger fire. In fact, he might have built a sizeable one to make certain he was spotted. There was always the argument that Graves wouldn’t have been anxious to be seen considering the circumstances in which they’d left Rock Springs, but any man should have known that the law in that town would have had their hands full with more important matters.
Kinman nodded to himself and straightened up. Graves had been there, all right. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. Now, the trick would be to catch up to him without drawing too much suspicion.
“Looks like he headed to the northeast,” Lester said. “I can see some horse tracks from here.”
Kinman looked in that direction. His eyes followed the tracks, which he’d spotted less than a second after he’d spotted the campsite itself. The imprints were fairly fresh, which meant they’d probably been put down when the sun wasn’t even high enough in the sky to chase away the shadows. They seemed to be evenly spaced, so the
