Man From Boot Hill (6 page)

When Joseph’s senses slowly leaked back into him, he could still smell burning wood. The scent of blood was still in his nose and his stomach was still knotted in the tight grip of panic and rage. Something touched his forehead and when he tried to bat it away, he felt practically every bone in his body cry for mercy.

“Take it easy,” a voice told him. “Lie back and try to—”

But Joseph would have none of it and desperately tried to silence whoever it was that had spoken to him.

“Nick! He’s awake! I need your help!”

The door to the little cabin swung open and heavy steps pounded against the floor. Soon another shape came into Joseph’s view, and it was enough to get him to stop struggling for a second.

Holding Joseph’s arms against the bed, Nick looked down at him and nodded. “He sure is coming around. Feels like he’s got some of his strength back, to boot.”

“Where am I?” Joseph snarled.

“You’re in my home and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to punch my wife.”

Joseph stopped struggling so he could take a better look around. His first glimpse told him he was in a cabin. As his vision cleared, he saw the woman looking over Nick’s shoulder. She was smiling warmly and had her thick black hair tied behind her head.

“Nicolai?” Joseph asked.

“I’m flattered you remember. You can call me Nick. This is my wife, Catherine.”

Looking back to the brunette, Joseph said, “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m just glad you missed.”

All Joseph could manage was a shaky grin, but that only lasted for a heartbeat. He tried to sit up, but couldn’t even get halfway before a flood of pain brought him down again. A gentle hand pressed down upon his chest to keep him from making another attempt.

“Not just yet,” Catherine said.

“How long have I been here?”

“The better part of a week.” Furrowing her brow, Catherine bit on her lower lip. “Actually it’s been just over a week. It sure does feel a lot longer than that since you were brought in here. I stitched you all up, and you didn’t wake up for more than a few minutes of it.”

Joseph slowly brushed his fingers along the most painful spots and reached up to touch his left tem
ple. The moment his fingertip grazed that part of his head, he thought his skull was going to crack open.

“Easy, there,” Catherine said. “That wound’s still a little tender.”

“I…don’t remember how this happened,” Joseph muttered.

“My guess is that was the shot that was supposed to put you down for good. Seems like you had an angel looking over your shoulder who had other plans.”

Gritting his teeth, Joseph lowered his hand said, “Feels like you did a good job on the stitches.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Nick brought me here?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“Because you were still alive and he wanted you to stay that way. He drove you here on the back of his wagon and we’ve been taking care of you ever since.”

“What about those sons of bitches that…” Joseph couldn’t even finish his question before the rage swelled up to fill the back of his throat.

“They’re gone,” Catherine said gently. Before she could say any more, the front door swung open again and Nick’s voice drifted through the cabin.

“Can you help him sit up?” Nick asked.

Grudgingly, Catherine slid an arm behind Joseph’s shoulders. “You’re going to have to help me
a bit,” she said. “I’m almost as tired as you right about now.”

Joseph let out a breath and strained to make her work a bit easier. Even after a pillow was slipped behind him, Joseph barely had enough willpower to open his eyes. “You should have left me where I was.”

“Don’t say that,” Nick told him. “At least, not until you see who I’ve got with me.”

Looking through the slits of his eyes, Joseph saw a small figure stepping around from behind Nick’s tall silhouette. That was all he needed to snap his eyes fully open and nearly get him jumping off the bed. “Sam? Is that you?”

The little boy rushed to his father and hugged him desperately. Despite the pain caused by those slender arms wrapped around him, Joseph was happier than he’d ever thought he could be. Just the smell of the eight-year-old’s hair was enough to make him let out a joyous sigh.

“I thought I wasn’t…I…I’m so glad to see you, son.”

“Me too, Daddy.”

With his son’s face pressed against him, Joseph looked across the room at Nick. Just as he was about to ask a question, he saw Nick shake his head and start to walk away. Joseph was more than glad to spend some time with Sam. It didn’t matter much what else had come before.

Nick stepped outside and shut the door behind
him. A few paces away, Catherine leaned against the narrow wagon that carried Nick’s tools when it wasn’t carrying one of the caskets or headstones he’d created. A hot breeze blew stray wisps of hair into her face and she brushed them back.

“What happens to them now?” she asked.

Nick glanced over his shoulder at the cabin as if he could see right through it. It wasn’t as big as some of the houses in town, but it was home and he’d put it together with his own hands. When he turned back around, he saw Catherine and the wagon outlined against the wide stretch of hills.

He shrugged and walked over to her. Placing his hands on her hips, he said, “I don’t really know. To be honest, I was expecting to bury him.”

“Is that why you tried to keep the boy from his bedside?”

“I guess.”

“And here I thought you had some grand design in mind when you dragged him here. You seemed so certain that we didn’t bring a doctor. Was that just so I could practice my sewing skills?”

“Between the two of us, we’ve got more than enough experience with dressing up bullet wounds. Besides, you did a fine job.”

Catherine’s smile lasted for all of two seconds. After that, she fixed him with a glare that was almost enough to back Nick off completely. “That man in there almost died. Could you have that on your conscience?”

“I’ve got a lot worse.”

“What about the law? Shouldn’t they know Mister Van Meter is here?”

“They knew about the men riding to his ranch,” Nick snarled as he pulled himself away from her and braced both arms against the side of the wagon. “And what did they do about it? Not a goddamn thing!”

Catherine scowled and then glared toward the cabin.

Continuing in a lower voice, Nick said, “Those riders came here knowing full well what they were going to do. Those smug bastards took their sweet time in taking that place apart, which might mean they’ve got some of those lawmen in their pocket.

“I went to see Sheriff Stilson after the fire. He told me most of the ranch hands were at The Wheelbarrow that night. They’re the ones who told him that everything was fine and that they didn’t see anyone riding out to Mister Van Meter’s. Even if that does rule out him being crooked, it just means he’s either stupid or gullible. Either way, Stilson’s as useless as tits on a bull.”

“He’s been asking for you, you know.”

“Who has?”

“Stilson,” Catherine replied. “He asked me about you yesterday and then again today.”

“What’s he want?”

“I don’t know, Nick. Now that you’ve cooled off a bit, you can go see for yourself what he wants. After all we’ve been through, we don’t need any trouble with the law. You’ve been working so hard
lately, I hardly even get a chance to see you.”

Hearing the genuine concern in Catherine’s voice cut right down to the center of Nick’s soul. When he looked into her face and found her smiling hopefully at him, he wrapped an arm around her and drew her in close. After giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, he nestled his face in her hair and kept it there.

“You don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to,” he said. “You might even be better off somewhere else.”

“So you keep telling me. But I just don’t listen. Does that make me stupid or gullible?”

Nick laughed and held onto her even tighter. “It makes you the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Then don’t be so quick to invite me to leave.”

“After what happened to Van Meter, I’ve been thinking…” Nick sucked in a breath. “Maybe I should make an honest woman out of you.”

“Too late for that,” she scoffed.

“I’m serious. We got married so quickly that it hardly seemed to happen. We should have a bigger ceremony. Maybe even throw a party.”

“You’ve had your chance, Nicolai Graves. Besides, I may not be ready to go through all that fuss just so we can come back to the same home and live the same way we have been living.” Placing her hand against his cheek, she added, “Our life is just fine. Don’t think for one moment that I
consider it to be otherwise. I would like to wear our rings, though.”

“I know,” Nick said as he winced to himself. “It’s just that I’m barely able to draw any attention to myself anymore. The sort of men that have come after me would start looking for you the minute they spotted that ring on my finger. I just can’t bear the thought of that happening.”

“I’d risk it.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “And now that that’s settled, how about getting back to my first question? What are we going to do with Mister Van Meter and that sweet little boy of his?”

“The night of that fire might have been the worst of it, but it wasn’t the end. Those killers are moving along to their next job as we speak. Believe that.”

“How do you know for certain?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve had some experience in these matters,” Nick said.

“I haven’t forgotten. Whatever you did in the past, you weren’t half as bad as those men who killed Joseph’s family.”

Nick’s face may have been pointed in Catherine’s direction, but he wasn’t seeing her anymore. His eyes took on a faraway look as his ears filled with the gunshots and screams from his memories. “We were killers,” he said softly. “One’s just as bad as another.”

Blinking, Nick snapped himself back to the present. He walked around to the back of the wagon and ran his hands along its gritty floor. “We were a gang just like those killers at the Van Meter place.”

“You’re not like those men, Nick,” Catherine said vehemently. “Not anymore.”

“Maybe you don’t want to think about me that way. Actually, I’d be grateful if you didn’t. Still, I could tell what they were doing, Catherine, just like it was something my gang might have done back when I was a dumb-shit kid. They were there to leave their mark. It’s not the first time anyone’s done such a thing.”

When she heard those words, Catherine rubbed his back as if she’d gotten a real good idea of what particular ghosts were haunting Nick at the moment. The muscles under his skin grew taut. “You weren’t the only gang out there, you know. Not every death from those times falls on your shoulders.”

He nodded but didn’t look at her.

“They found what they were after and left,” Catherine said. “They almost killed him with that shot to his head, so there’s no reason for them to come back.”

“You’re right. Joseph and his boy are both damn lucky to have survived that night. After that, they should be able to pull through just about anything.”

“So would you mind if I brought the doctor over here tomorrow?”

“Give it a few more days,” Nick replied. “Something tells me we should wait until we know those men are long gone. I’ll feel much better once I go and have a word with the sheriff. After that, I should be able to figure out if he knew about what was headed for that ranch.”

“Why would Sheriff Stilson be in on a thing like that?”

Nick laughed under his breath. “You’d be surprised. I don’t know how, but things could get worse if we’re not careful.”

“You’re worrying so much,” Catherine whispered into his ear. “I haven’t even seen you for more than an hour or two at a stretch since you brought those two back here. Little Sammy even missed you.”

That brought a grin to Nick’s face. “You should have seen how he latched onto me when I found him. I thought he might tear my leg off.” His grin quickly faded as his eyes narrowed into fiery slits. “I should have stopped this before that boy lost his mother and sister. Before Joseph lost his daughter and wife.”

Catherine glared at him with an intensity in her eyes that brought Nick back from the dark place he was headed. “You did the best you could, Nick. You risked your life to save those two. What happened wasn’t your fault, so stop griping about it. In fact, you did more than anyone else around here.”

“I only hope it was enough.”

Nick rode into town the next day earlier than usual. The sky was still dark, but it was so close to dawn that he could feel it in the air. After arriving at his shop, he unhitched Kazys and filled the horse’s trough. From there, it was a series of little tasks that were so engrained in him that he barely even had to think to do them. That was a good thing, because there were plenty of other matters to occupy his mind.

First and foremost, he struggled with the notion of opening his parlor while wearing a gun under his long black jacket. The holster was as weathered as his own skin and moved like a part of his body with every step. And even though he’d worn that gun for the last several years, he felt its weight now more than ever.

Oddly enough, Catherine hadn’t been the one to get him to stop wearing the gun during business hours. After everything they’d been through together, she took comfort from knowing he wasn’t at anyone’s mercy just on account of pleasing a few
customers. Nick saw the move to California as a fresh start in more ways than one. Earnestly plying his trade instead of hiding behind it was just the beginning.

Nick pulled open the curtains of his front window, straightened his display and took a vase from its small stand. He placed fresh flowers in it as usual and put it back in its normal spot behind the samples of his carving and masonry work. At that moment, having the gun at his side seemed almost ridiculous.

Nick looked around the small parlor and made sure it was ready to open. There wasn’t a service planned, so the chairs in the largest of the rooms were not set up and the large rectangular table at the back of the room was empty, apart from a clean white cloth.

A smaller room filled with glass-topped counters was close to the front entranceway. Nick went in there to dust off the counters and take a quick count of the merchandise inside them. Beneath the glass was a wide variety of wares ranging from picture frames and samples of invitations to small Bibles, each roughly the size of a cigarette case. Nick walked behind a counter, opened it up and removed one of them. He tucked it into an inner pocket and headed for the front door.

Nick stepped out of the parlor and locked the door behind him. A few locals were walking along the street, and one of them nodded in Nick’s direction. Nick returned the gesture, while making sure
his jacket didn’t open far enough to reveal the holster strapped around his waist. Taking his time to soak in the morning air, he rounded the corner and kept walking until he arrived at Sheriff Stilson’s office.

The bit of queasiness in Nick’s belly was a reflex that had been developed in his youth and nurtured during his years of raising hell. To this day, he still felt it when he got too close to that many lawmen gathered in one place. Doing his best to look the part he was playing, Nick eased the sheriff’s door open and poked his head inside.

“Ah, there you are, Mister Graves,” Stilson said from inside the office. “Come on in.”

Stilson was standing at a large cabinet nailed to the wall behind his desk. Several rifles and a few shotguns could be seen inside the cabinet before Stilson closed it up and locked it with a small key. Motioning to a chair in front of his desk, Stilson said, “Have a seat.”

Nick removed his hat and held it in front of him to conceal his gun until he was properly situated on the chair. Just to be safe, Nick kept his hat on his lap even after he’d crossed his legs and draped his jacket over the modified Schofield.

“Graves,” Stilson muttered. “That’s an awfully fortuitous name for an undertaker, ain’t it?”

Nick shrugged.

“Is that your proper family name?”

Once he saw that the sheriff was going to wait until he had a response, Nick sighed and told him,
“My father brought me to this country when I was a child and he couldn’t speak much English. He’s in my same line of work and was trying to get a job the moment we got off the boat. Someone heard him mention graves, so it was marked as our name.”

“That’s a nice story. So, what’s your real family name?”

“My wife told me you wanted talk to me,” Nick said. “I do have a business to run, so I’d appreciate it if we could get this done as quickly as possible.”

Sheriff Stilson nodded and drummed his fingers on top of his desk. “That was a hell of a thing that happened at the Van Meter ranch,” he finally said.

“Yeah. I believe my wife tried to get you over there before it was too late.”

“She did come over to tell us something about some men you saw at the graveyard.”

“And what did you do about it?” Nick asked.

“I did my job.” This time, it was the sheriff who found himself looking at an unyielding face that would not be satisfied by the short answer. “I found a bunch of men who work at Van Meter’s place at the Wheelbarrow and had a word with them. Not one of them knew something like this was going to happen.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’d stake my badge on it.”

“Maybe you should do just that,” Nick muttered under his breath.

Stilson slapped both hands against the edge of his desk and leaned forward as if he meant to bite Nick’s head clean off his shoulders. “Excuse me? Could you repeat that a little louder?”

Looking at Stilson’s face, Nick was quickly reminded of why he’d never gotten along well with most lawmen. “I was just wondering why you happened to end your investigation at a saloon while a man was getting shot to pieces and his family was being killed in front of him.”

Stilson’s face remained impassive for a moment before he shifted his eyes away. Leaning back into his chair, the lawman rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand before shifting his hat a bit further back upon his head. “Actually, that brings me to the reason why I asked to have a word with you.”

“I’m here,” Nick said. “Say your piece.”

“My deputy and I didn’t while the night away at that saloon. In fact, we spent a good portion of time following up on what your…wife told us.”

The snide tone in the sheriff’s voice was hard to miss. Nick also picked up on how Stilson’s eyes flicked down to the empty spot on Nick’s left ring finger. He didn’t care for the lawman’s judgmental tone, but it wasn’t uncommon from those who didn’t know any better.

“Do you have something to say about my wife?” Nick asked.

And, just like that, the subject was closed.

“I’d rather talk about what we found when we went to that graveyard,” Stilson said.

Nick blinked in surprise and paused to make sure he couldn’t have heard something else. “Did you say you went to the graveyard?”

Stilson nodded.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because,” the sheriff said, “that’s where you supposedly saw these riders.”

“They were headed to the Van Meter place. Catherine must have told you.”

“And we had reliable witnesses say they didn’t see anyone anywhere near that ranch that didn’t belong there. Your wife was the one who told us you’d spotted some of those gunmen riding through the graveyard, so my deputy and I went there to see if they’d come back. You want to know what we found?”

Nick rubbed his eyes, but that didn’t do a bit of good against the ache that had settled in behind them. “Why don’t you tell me, so I can get on with my work?”

“I found a man that had damn near bled out in the trees.”

When he heard that, Nick felt as if he’d been jabbed in the gut. He looked up slowly to find the sheriff staring back at him expectantly. Without giving the sheriff anything in the form of a reaction, Nick asked, “Who was this man?”

“You know damn well who he was, Graves. Or, you at least know how he was wounded. Ain’t that so?” Leaning forward, Stilson asked, “You want to say hello?”

“Is that why you asked me to come over here?”

“Don’t you want to see him? He’s right over there,” the sheriff said while pointing toward the back of the office.

“Was he armed?”

“Yes.”

“So, you went looking for a gunman around that graveyard. You found one. Now, you think I had something to do with it? Who do you think told my wife to come get you in the first place?”

“I doubt she would have wanted me anywhere near this fella if she knew what kinds of things he had to say.”

“It’s too early in the morning for word games,” Nick said.

“All right, then. I’ll just cut right down to it. When I found that man, he was hanging on by a thread. Someone had cut him up pretty badly. He says it was the gravedigger and the last time I checked, you were the only gravedigger who works in this town.”

“Didn’t my wife tell you that I was attacked?”

“Yes and you seem to be making a good recovery. For your information, that’s also why he’s resting up in a jail cell as opposed to a bed in much more comfortable surroundings. The reason I asked you down here was so you could take a look at him and see if he’s one of the men you saw before.”

Nick could tell there was more to it than that. He could feel the sheriff’s eyes studying him and,
so far, Nick figured he’d done fairly well under the lawman’s scrutiny.

“And what if he is?” Nick asked.

“Let’s just cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Getting up, Nick was careful to keep his jacket closed and his hat in front of him to make certain his gun remained out of sight. “Should I go back there and have a look?”

Gesturing toward the back of the office with a sweeping gesture, Stilson said, “Be my guest. Try not to get too close to the bars. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

Nick walked to the small room at the back of the sheriff’s office where rows of bars sectioned off four small cages separated by a wide but short aisle. The only occupied cell was in the right corner. Sitting there with his back to the wall was the man who’d been on the receiving end of Nick’s knife not too long ago. Judging by the frightened look in his wide eyes, the prisoner had no trouble recognizing Nick.

“You stay the hell away from me,” J. D. said.

Lowering his voice to a quick whisper, Nick hissed, “I could finish the job I started real quickly, so just pretend like you never saw me and I’ll be on my way.”

Seeing the disbelief in J. D.’s eyes, Nick opened his jacket just enough for J. D. to get a look at the gun at his side. The prisoner’s jaw dropped and he pulled in a breath. Before he could say anything, Nick cut him off.

“We both play dumb and we’ll both walk out of here without any charges against us. Sound good?”

“I’m not sure if…”

“Everything all right over there?” Stilson asked from his desk in the other room.

“Don’t answer him,” Nick snarled. “Answer me and be quick about it.”

“You won’t keep your end up,” J. D. said defiantly. “If I’m gonna rot in here, then so are you, asshole.”

Heavy steps thumped from the next room and drew closer to the cells. Nick lowered his hand to his gun and stoked the fire in his glare when he said, “If I wanted this done, you would have been dead then, just like you could be dead right now. Believe that.”

Just then, the sheriff stepped into the doorway and looked between the two men. “What’d you say, Graves?”

“I said I believe that I’ve seen what I needed to see.”

“Is he the man who attacked you?”

Nick sighed and furrowed his brow. “I can’t really say for certain. There were so many men coming through there. All I know is that I took a shot at the one who took a shot at me. I can’t really say this is him.”

“What about you?” Stilson asked J. D. “Is this the fellow who knifed you?”

J. D. looked back and forth between Nick and the sheriff as if he didn’t know what the hell to say.
Eventually, he caught the scent of freedom and took the olive branch that Nick had offered. “I…can’t really say for certain.”

“Honestly, Sheriff,” Nick said as he wiped his brow in a way to be certain the lawman could see his mangled hand and missing fingers, “it’s been a while since I’ve been any good with a knife.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. You mean to tell me all this bullshit was for nothing?” As the sheriff looked at the two men for his answer, all he got was a few reluctant shrugs. “Get the hell out of my sight,” Stilson growled as he pulled a ring of keys from his belt. “Both of you!”