He saw Jacob first. The lean gunman rode in the lead. He was smiling, and the men trailing behind him were as well. There were five of them: the Swede, Jacob, and three others Cord did not know. Dunlap, unsurprisingly, was not among them. The greasy man had a knack for avoiding danger.
“Easy work,” one of them said.
“Smart work,” Jacob answered. “Not so easy.”
A small table made of two hewn planks lay out in front of the tents. Jacob climbed off his horse in front of it, taking a canvas bag from his saddlebags and dumping it on the planks with the sound of ringing coins.
“Let’s split it up quick,” one of the new men said. “I’ve got a date with Sadie tonight.”
“You and half the camp,” another man said, and the others laughed.
Each man lined up along the table. Jacob tore open the sack and began sorting the coins out into neat piles.
Cord noticed the Swede’s and Jacob’s piles each grew considerably faster than the others, but no one seemed to resent it. The take had been good. There had to be at least two thousand dollars in those piles. Split five ways, it was a good showing.
Finally, Cord stood from behind the boxes. No one noticed him, not at first, not until he laid the scattergun out across the tallest box with a heavy bang.
Like a striking rattler, Jacob spun around, hand stopping on the butt of his gun when he saw those black double barrels pointed in his direction.
“I wouldn’t,” Cord said, and grinned. “John?”
“I’ve got the Swede covered,” John said. “And anyone else who plays a hand.”
“Bannen,” Jacob said. He straightened, trying to appear relaxed, but Cord could see the telltale tightness around his eyes. The man was frightened. Jacob licked his lips and said, “Come back to join us?”
“Not exactly. I decided two gangs like ours couldn’t keep working the same place.”
Jacob grinned. “So you’re leaving, then. Might as well. Half your men are ready to join up with us. You can see the results.” He waved a hand at the table.
Cord’s eyes never left his, though. He knew Jacob was itching to draw that pistol; he was trying everything he could to distract Cord and make a break for it.
“You others might want to move away,” Cord said. “Slowly, though. My friend John has a quick trigger.”
The other men shifted to either side, away from Jacob and out of the line of fire.
“Now Cord, this isn’t very sporting of you. I thought you were a good man with a gun. Faster than me, your friends always said. I’d sure like to see that. I surely would.”
Cord smiled again. “I know I’m faster than you. I’ve seen you shoot. But we’ll have to see about that some other time.”
“Some other time?” Jacob said with a confused look. “You’re letting me go?”
Cord squeezed one trigger, and a gout of flame leaped from the barrel. At a range of twenty feet, Jacob took the blast in the stomach. He flew backward, crashing into the table and throwing piles of coins spinning in all directions.
The Swede started to move forward, and John emptied a barrel into his side, knocking him sideways. The big man staggered; blood drenched his right side and he swayed for a moment, then seemed to steady. He reached for his pistol.
Cord gave him the second barrel.
The three unknown men looked at Cord, unsure of what to expect, but knowing John had only one unspent barrel in his gun. Enough to ruin one man’s day, but not all three of them. Cord set his scattergun, now empty, atop the crates. For a long time, he looked the men over, one at a time. They seemed steady. They had to be uncertain, but none of them gave ground. He could use men like this.
“As it happens,” Cord started, “I am in need of men myself. I’ve got a big job coming up, and I could use the extra firepower.”
“Jacob said you couldn’t find—” the man in a dirty green shirt began. Another man struck him in the stomach with an elbow that sent him to the ground.
“What my friend meant to say is, what kind of job?” He was the tallest of the three, bald, with thick hair showing at the neck of a faded red shirt. Cord immediately pegged him as the smartest of them.
Cord smiled. “One that could make us all quite rich.”
“Quite rich. That’s the kind of talk we like,” the tall man said. “I’m Jimmy and these two are Jess and Marks.” He glanced down at the spilled coins. “Boss, what should we do now? With all this, I mean?”
“You earned it, didn’t you? I suppose you should split it out.”
They looked at Cord expectantly. Then Dale said, “Would you be taking a cut of this?”
“I didn’t earn it,” Cord said. “Besides, with the job I have planned, I won’t need it.”
The man in the green shirt had recovered enough that he and the other fellow hooted and began scooping up coins. Dale, evidently their leader, didn’t bother to look at them. He asked Cord a question instead.
“When do we start?”
Chapter 27
Onionville had changed a great deal since the last time Jim visited. Houses and other buildings shouldered tight against each other like so many stacks of cut firewood. So many that Jim didn’t think a square inch of open ground remained.
“I can’t believe it’s changed so much,” Jim said. The day was young, the sun weak as it hid behind a veil of high clouds. “There must be a thousand people living here now.”
“It was over two thousand at census last month,” Ellen answered. “Sam Waters stood for mayor.”
“Sam for mayor?” Jim said and considered. “He’d make a good one.”
