The trail wound along northward. At several points, the mountains pressed in tight against the trail, squeezing it against the river. Most often, river and mountain broke apart, with only silent trees lining the trail on either side. Puffy white clouds passed over the sun’s face, traveling east. Fair-weather clouds, Jim’s mother would have called them. Good for a minute of shade and little else. His father would stare, then curse them for their miserly nature.
“All these clouds and not one drop of rain,” he would say with a shake of his fist.
Pat Robeson and his men were watching the mine and the womenfolk. From the hills of Kentucky, Robeson knew well the nature of what Jim faced. Blood feuds were common there, and he offered Jim a bit of parting advice.
“When you get your chance, hit with everything you have,” Robeson said. “And if you get him down, finish him for sure. I’ve seen men supposed dead come back to finish what they started.”
Cord Bannen won’t be coming back. Not from where I send him.
Jim saw the man beneath the trees as a shadow where one shouldn’t have been. He reined the Appaloosa in and waited. For several minutes, the waiting man only watched, and Jim took a long pull from his canteen. The day was brutally hot; for all their shade, the trees blocked any respite the wind might offer.
Finally, Jim called out to the shadowy figure. “Come out or I’m riding on,” he said. “You might have all day, but I don’t.”
The man started forward then.
“That isn’t how it’s supposed to work,” he said. He was a short man, thick around the middle, with a faded blue shirt and a battered gray hat.
“And just how is this supposed to work?” Jim said.
“You’re going to ride on. Keep riding and I’ll report to the boss that you passed by. Someone else will let you know what to do. I’m only here to make sure you’re alone.”
“Don’t I look alone?” Jim asked.
“Looks might be deceiving.” The man flashed a set of crooked teeth.
Jim draped his reins over the pommel and gave the outlaw a smile of his own. “You know, westerners are mighty protective of their women. And not just their women, but any woman in general.”
“So? I ain’t bothered no woman.”
“True,” Jim said. “But just imagine, if they’d hang a man who molested a woman, what would they do to a man who stole two children out of their home?” Jim let the silence stretch. “I reckon they’d hang a man awful quick for something like that. Maybe use one of these very trees.”
“They’d have to catch me first,” the man said. “I got a fast horse and a nose for trouble. First sign of it, I’d light out awful quick.”
“And what’s your nose for trouble smelling now?” Jim said. His voice and eyes were suddenly steel-hard.
The man swallowed and backed his horse a bit. His hand dropped near the butt of his pistol.
Before the man could do anything else, Jim’s pistol appeared in his fist. The outlaw’s hands shot up.
“Now look here—” the man started.
“No, you look here,” Jim answered. He raised the pistol to eye level, sighting in on the man’s forehead while walking the Appaloosa forward. “I’ll tell you how this is going to go.”
“Bannen will kill those youngsters,” the outlaw said. “If I don’t come back, he’ll do it for sure.”
“I don’t think he will. I think he wants what’s in these boxes, and I think he values it a lot more than your mangy life.” Only a few feet separated them now, and Jim knew the barrel of his pistol had to be looking mighty big and mighty black. “Besides, all I have to do is tell Bannen you tried to rob me and take the money all for yourself. He doesn’t strike me as a trusting man. He’d believe it.”
“He—he wouldn’t,” the outlaw stammered.
“He would. Might be he expects it. Might be he sent you out here to die. Fewer hands to split what’s in those,” Jim said. “But don’t worry. Not about me, anyway. I’m not going to kill you. I need you to deliver a message for me.”
“A message?” The outlaw’s voice shook a little. Evidently, he’d turned it over in his mind and he thought Jim might have the right of it. Maybe Bannen really had sent him out here to die.
“Tell him I’ll meet him in a day’s time north of Bidwell’s. There’s an abandoned ranch there. The old Watson place.”
“No, that isn’t how—”
“How this is supposed to work.” Jim grinned. “I don’t give a damn how Bannen thinks this is supposed to work. I’m the one holding the gold. I’ve danced to his tune and now he can dance to mine.” Jim lowered the gun but kept it aimed at the outlaw’s stomach. “You remember what I said?”
The outlaw licked his lips. “A day’s time. North of the Bar. The Watkins place.”
“The Watson place.” Jim frowned. “Look, if you can’t remember, I’ll find someone else. But if I have to find someone else…” He raised the gun again.
“Watson place. I’ll remember,” the frightened man said. “What if he don’t know the place?”
“Well then, he can ask someone. I’m sure you’ve got men who’ll know.” Jim paused, then said, “Now, you’d best be riding. One day isn’t much time and unless he’s nearby, Bannen will have to ride hard to reach it. One thing before you go, though.”
The outlaw squinted at him.
“Reach down slow and shuck that pistol and rifle. Just drop them on the ground. Wouldn’t want you to get any ideas on taking a shot at me.”
“I’ll kill you before this is over,” the outlaw said after he’d dropped his guns.
“Not if I kill you first,” Jim waggled his gun. “Now get.”
The outlaw turned his horse and started off. Jim watched him go.
“Better hurry,” Jim said after him. “Bannen will skin you for sure if you don’t get him word fast enough.”
