him to tell me everything he knew. I think it was the smell that convinced him. Did you ever smell feet roasting in a fire? It's an unpleasant aroma and there's no use trying to deny it. And when the skin starts to char and blister and burst…! Oh, my! But there's something about that smell that makes a man eager to tell you everything he knows. It turns out the poor fella didn't have any more dust stashed away after all, so he died for nothing. Just goes to show, doesn't it? Now, then!' He raised one finger, his eyes glittering. 'The question is this: Why am I telling you all this? Why am I opening my heart to you? You're an educated man, Mr. Stone. Suppose you tell me why.'
B. J. unclenched his jaw to speak. 'Because you want me to know what lengths you'll go to if you're crossed.'
Lieder turned to Bobby-My-Boy and Tiny, his eyes wide with admiration. 'Did you hear that? Mr. Stone here has penetrated my devious intent to the very core! There's the advantage of dealing with educated people. ' He turned back to B. J. 'Well, I hate to lose the pleasure of your refined conversation, but I want to look around town a little. Get to know my neighbors. Maybe have a bite to eat. Just generally relax and pleasure ourselves after our many travails.'
Although both frightened and repulsed, Matthew couldn't take his eyes away from the man's face: the sharp nose, the feverish pale gray eyes, the network of fine lines that worked and wove in response to his rapid shifts of mood and intent. Suddenly Matthew realized that Lieder was looking directly into his eyes, a penetrating stare that seemed to scour his soul. Matthew returned the gaze, unable to unlock eyes. Then Lieder smiled and winked, as though all this were some kind of joke, and only the two of them were in on it. 'I guess I better take this old Henry along with me, don't you think, boy? It is evil to leave temptation in the hands of the young. ' He turned to B. J. 'And the cowardly.' With a little flip of his forefinger along the brim of his hat, he turned and walked diagonally across the yard toward the street, followed by his men.
B. J. Stone and Matthew looked after them in silence.
'Wha…' Matthew had to clear his throat. 'What are we going to do?'
His eyes still on the departing men, B. J. shook his head slightly and spoke in a lipless whisper. 'I don't know.'
'I'll bet he made up all that about the prospector just to scare us. I mean, half the time he seemed to be sort of joshing.'
B. J. was still shaking his head. 'No, he wasn't joshing. He did exactly what he said he did.'
'You think he's really that mean?'
'He's worse than mean. He's insane.' He watched the three men stop in the middle of the street and look up and down, before walking past the Traveller's Welcome, down toward Kane's Mercantile. 'They're looking for guns and ammunition. They probably intend to collect all the guns in town.'
'So… what should we do?' Matthew asked.
B. J. drew a long breath and pressed his fingertips into his eye sockets. 'Wait for Coots to come back. He'll know what to do. You and I have to get rid of these mules. We don't have time to bury them. We'll take them across and push them into the ravine. Fetch the barrow.'
'Yes, sir, but then what are we going to do?'
'Just fetch the barrow, boy! I need time to think.'
While Matthew was pulling the barrow out of the shed, B. J. sat on the bench beside the wall and tried to clear his mind so he could work out some plan of action. His eyes fell on the two-month-old copy of the Nebraska Plainsman. Just a few minutes ago, he had been pondering what-if anything — he should say to Matthew about the killing of that man and his wife in Bushnell, Nebraska, and about the mysterious disappearance of their son… possibly kidnapped, the reporter had suggested.
But there were more-immediate problems and dangers.
ABOUT AN HOUR LATER, Matthew eased open the back door of the Mercantile and tiptoed into the storeroom, where he paused to listen for voices.
Silence.
He called in a strained whisper. 'Ruth Lillian?' Then: 'Mr. Kane?'
No answer.
His pulse throbbed in his ears as he tiptoed toward the door to the shop and pushed it open slowly. 'Mr. Kane?'
The old man gasped and pressed his hand against his chest. 'What's the matter with you, boy! Sneaking up on a man when he's working!' Actually, his nib had long ago stopped scratching in the account book he had opened automatically, seeking to calm himself by returning to numbing routine after his encounter with the three strangers. But he had been staring through the columns of numbers, so totally absorbed in worry that he hadn't heard Matthew's soft calls.
'Sorry if I gave you a start, sir. Where's Ruth Lillian?'
'Up taking a nap. She's got a sore throat. Wore herself out, minding the store over the weekend.'
'I saw those men head down this way. What did they want?'
'They asked-'
'They didn't see Ruth Lillian, I hope!'
'No. She was up in her bedroom.'
'That was lucky.'
Mr. Kane nodded vaguely, as though stunned. 'Yes… lucky. They asked if I had guns for sale. I told them no, I didn't keep guns in stock, but I could order anything they wanted from Destiny. But the boss, the one with the strange eyes, he said he didn't plan to be in town long enough, but thanks all the same. And he smiled at me. That smile of his was…' He shook his head.
'They're real nasty men, Mr. Kane. B. J. Stone thinks they're lunatics, maybe broke out of prison.'
'Yes.' Mr. Kane agreed in a gray note. 'Yes, that's possible. There was cruelty in his eyes. And… amusement.'
'What did he say when you told him you didn't sell guns?'
'He asked if I kept a gun for my own protection. I told him no, I hated guns. All I had was a few boxes of ammunition I stock for the miners. Then he said something strange.'
'What was that?'
'He asked what kind of accent I had. I made some joke about the Lower East Side. But he didn't laugh. He looked at me with those pale eyes and started talking about immigrant hordes descending on the United States to batten on our riches. I'm afraid we're in for trouble, Matthew.'
'Yes, sir, that's for sure. That boss told B. J. and me about an awful-I mean really awful thing he did to a prospector. They're killers, Mr. Kane. I think Ruth Lillian better stay out of sight until they're gone.'
'Yes. Yes, of course.'
'B. J. and me talked things over, and he said we should get together and decide how to protect ourselves.'
'The whole town?'
'No, just him and you… and me, I guess. He doesn't trust the others. He told me to keep an eye on those strangers. Then I'm supposed to come here after dark and meet with you and him.'
'Yes, yes. I'm…' Mr. Kane's attention seemed to drift away. Then he blinked and said, 'Yes, I'm sure that's a good idea.'
'Do you know where they went from here?'
'One of them kept saying he was hungry. The boss asked if they could get something to eat at the hotel, and I told him no, they'd have to go to the boardinghouse across the street. And that's where they went.'
'Are they still there?'
'No. They left and went up to the Traveller's Welcome. One of them was carrying two rifles and a couple of pistols. The Bjorkvists' guns, I assume.'
'And they took Coots's rifle away from us. Looks like B. J. was right. They're rounding up all the guns in town.'
Mr. Kane nodded thoughtfully. 'Which puts us at their mercy. ' He closed his eyes and pressed his hand against his chest, where strangely pleasant ripples had been fluttering ever since his tense encounter with the three men. '… At their mercy,' he repeated. 'And how much mercy do you think those men have, Matthew?'
Matthew raked his lower lip with his teeth and looked through the store window up the street toward the
