“Beer,” he said to the bartender.
“Comin’ up.”
The man put a full mug in front of him, but Lancaster wasn’t paying attention. He had his head turned and was looking at the man at the table. Suddenly, as if he knew he was being watched, the man raised his head and their eyes met.
Lancaster felt the shock he’d been waiting for as he saw the man’s face.
Sixty
It all came back to him.
He remembered his horse being shot and then the three men were on him. Sweet was the most brutal. Kicking him repeatedly when he was down, kicking him that last time as one of the other men called Sweet by name.
“Sweet, don’t…”
Lancaster noticed another thing, too, as their eyes met.
There was no recognition in Sweet’s face at all. He stared at Lancaster for a moment; then he turned his eyes down again, staring into his drink.
The man had no idea who he was, and so he also had no idea what was about to happen.
Lancaster took one sip from his beer, then turned and walked over to Sweet’s table, carrying the beer in his left hand.
“Sweet.”
Sweet looked up as he heard his name. He stared at Lancaster, and even this close he didn’t show any trace of recognition.
“I know you?”
“You should.”
Sweet took a moment; then he said, “Well, I don’t, so get lost.”
“Afraid I can’t do that,” Lancaster said.
Sweet looked up at him again. “You lookin’ for trouble, friend?”
“Well, I wasn’t,” Lancaster said. “I was just minding my own business when you and your buddies jumped me in the desert and left me to die.”
“What the hell are you—wait a minute.” Sweet squinted. “Lancaster?”
“That’s right, Sweet,” Lancaster said. “Mind if I join you?”
He didn’t wait for a response. He pulled out the chair across from the man and sat down.
“How the hell—”
“Never thought you’d see me again, did you?”
“You should be dead,” Sweet said. “I shoulda killed you, but—”
“But you weren’t being paid to kill me, right?” Lancaster asked. “You were being paid to leave me afoot in the desert with no water and no gun.”
“You know that?”
“I remembered just enough to know that the three of you were being paid.”
“So there’s no hard feelin’s, right?” Sweet said. “It was just a job.”
“Oh no, I can’t agree with you there, Sweet,” Lancaster said. “I’ve got lots of hard feelings, for you and your partners. But see…they’re already dead, so that leaves you.”
“They’re dead?”
“Yes.”
Sweet licked his lips.
“B-but they couldn’t tell you who hired us,” he said. “Only I know that.”
“And you’re gonna tell me, right?”
“Well,” Sweet said, a crafty look coming into his eyes, “maybe we can make a deal.”
Sixty-one
“What kind of a deal?” Lancaster asked.
“I’ll tell you who hired me, and you let me go,” Sweet said. “Simple as that.”
“I’ve got a counteroffer.”
“What’s that?”
“You tell me who hired you,” Lancaster said, “and I’ll kill you quickly.”
Sweet rocked back in his chair. “That’s a joke, right?”
“No joke,” Lancaster said. “Make no mistake, Sweet. There’s no way you walk away from this alive. Not after what you did to me. But how you die, well, that’s up for discussion.”
“How about this?” Sweet asked. “Why don’t I just kill you right now?”
“Do it,” Lancaster said. “Go ahead. With your hands? Your gun? Or do you plan to kick me to death?”
Sweet stared at Lancaster.
“That’s what I thought,” Lancaster said. “You don’t have two more men to back your play this time.”
“Look, I told you already,” Sweet said. “It weren’t nothin’ personal. We was hired to do what we did.”
“And you’re gonna tell me by who and why.”
“Well,” Sweet said, “you got somebody mad at you, that’s for sure. Had somethin’ to do with somebody you killed.”
“So, what? Somebody’s wife? Somebody’s father? Brother?” Lancaster asked.
“I don’t know,” Sweet said. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t care. It was a lot of money.”
“And how specific was this person when they hired you?” Lancaster asked.
“Whataya mean?”
“Why the Mojave?”
“That’s what…they wanted,” Sweet said. “For us to strand you in the of the Mojave. They said take your horse, your gun, your water, and leave you.”
“And you didn’t ask why?”
Sweet shrugged. “Like I said, it was a lot of money.”
“But you didn’t leave me right in the middle of the desert,” Lancaster said. “If you had I might be dead now.”
“Well, I didn’t see any reason to wait,” Sweet said.
“You got impatient,” Lancaster said. “You hadn’t been paid yet, right?”
“Not all of it.”
“So after you left me you had to go and meet your employer to get paid. That means he or she was in Nevada, right?”
“So?”
“But do they live in Nevada?”
Sweet didn’t answer.
“Sweet,” Lancaster said, “the harder you make this on me, the harder it’s gonna be on you.”
“Naw,” Sweet said, “naw, you ain’t gonna kill me. Not while you don’t know who hired me.”
“And if you’re so bound and determined not to tell me,” Lancaster asked, “what’s the point of me keepin’ you alive?”
Sweet stared at Lancaster, then picked up his drink—whiskey, by the look of it—and swigged it.
“I ain’t just gonna lie down for you, Lancaster,” he said.
“I never thought you would,” Lancaster said. “But why cover for your employer? You’ll be dead and they’ll go on living.”
“And when they find out you’re still alive, they’ll hire somebody else,” Sweet said. “You’ll be lookin’ over your shoulder for the rest of your life. You don’t want me, Lancaster. You want who hired me.”
Lancaster gave that some thought. Sweet began to look hopeful. He didn’t think he had much chance going up against Lancaster in a fair gunfight. There had to be another way out. He looked at the batwing doors, hoping to
