Bullet for a Bad Man

Hell Bound

‘‘I wanted you to know it was me who killed you.’’

Even as Vance Radler boasted of what he was about to do, Boone Scott dived. The Winchester went off, but Boone did not feel the jolt of impact. He hit on his wounded shoulder and pain spiked through him, pain he ignored as he rolled up into a crouch and his hand lived up to the nickname the rustlers knew him by. Lightning, they called him, and lightning he was. His short-barreled, nickel-plated, ivory-handled reaper thundered, and Vance Radler, impaled, staggered back, a look of astonishment crawling over his face.

Radler swore and tried to work the Winchester’s lever, but his movements were sluggish and disjointed.

Boone had not gone for the head or the heart, for a reason. Now he gave voice to it. ‘‘Is Sassy all right?’’

Vance Radler still stood, confusion replacing his disbelief. ‘‘What?’’ he said.

‘‘Sassy. Has she been harmed?’’

‘‘She was fine when I left them at your house.’’ Vance swayed, and groaned. A red ribbon seeped from a corner of his mouth and trickled down over his chin. He let go of the Winchester and pressed a hand to his chest. ‘‘What have you done to me?’’

‘‘What you were about to do to me.’’ Boone slowly unfurled. He kept his Colt level.

‘‘I . . . I . . .’’ Vance stammered. ‘‘I didn’t know what I was doing. It was the idea of all that money.’’

‘‘The bounty my brother put on me.’’

‘‘You know about that?’’ Vance coughed and the red ribbon grew wider. He took a shuffling step toward the fire and abruptly pitched to his knees. ‘‘Oh God. I think you have killed me.’’

Boone kept the Colt trained on him.

‘‘I don’t want to die.’’

‘‘Most folks don’t.’’

Vance sank back and braced himself with his hands. He looked down at a spreading scarlet stain on his shirt. Mewing like a kitten, he trembled. ‘‘No, no, no, no, no, no. Please no.’’

‘‘Is there anything you would like me to tell Drub when I see him?’’ Boone asked.

‘‘Drub?’’

‘‘Your brother. The one you treat like dirt. The one you always poke fun at. The one who is a better man than you ever were. He will show up at the Circle V eventually.’’

‘‘What do I care about that moron? He has no more brains than a tree stump. I was embarrassed to be his kin.’’

‘‘I will say you wanted me to tell him that you loved him.’’

‘‘You go to hell.’’

Boone gestured at his chest. ‘‘You first.’’

Vance coughed and more blood appeared. He swiped a sleeve across his mouth, then gaped in horror at the sleeve. ‘‘Not like this. I don’t want it to be like this.’’

‘‘We do not always get to choose.’’

Vance’s eyes narrowed. ‘‘At least I die knowing you will die soon too. Your brother is ready for you. He has Blin Hanks and a lot of killers surrounding the house. When you show, you are as good as dead.’’

‘‘I am dead when I stop breathing. Not before.’’

Vance sagged but thrust himself up again. ‘‘I feel so damn weak.’’ He gazed at the sprawled forms ringing the fire. ‘‘You got all of them? Galeno and Wagner and all the rest?’’

‘‘Every last mother’s son.’’

More coughing delayed Vance’s response. ‘‘I didn’t like you that day we met you at Porter’s and I like you less now. We should have killed you that day. If I had it to do over again, I would.’’

‘‘You would try.’’

‘‘You cocky bastard. But you will get yours. And I will be waiting in hell to laugh in your face.’’

‘‘We can drink a cup of brimstone to old times.’’

Vance mewed and sank onto his back. His fingers clenched and unclenched. His face twitched. ‘‘I have no strength at all. But there isn’t much pain. Isn’t that strange?’’

‘‘I hear it happens.’’

‘‘Why am I talking to you? You killed me.’’

‘‘There is no one else.’’

‘‘God help me,’’ Vance said, and then added, ‘‘If there even is one.’’

‘‘You will find out for sure soon enough. Write me and let me know.’’

Vance swore. ‘‘You are worse than my brother and that takes some doing.’’

‘‘Drub has one thing you never did.’’

‘‘And what would that be?’’

‘‘A heart.’’

Vance snorted and scarlet drops sprayed from his nose. ‘‘That is a hell of a thing to say about a man. Even a man as worthless as my stupid excuse for a brother.’’

‘‘A man without a heart is no man at all. Look at my brother. He murdered my ma and my pa and God knows how many others.’’

‘‘He is a ruthless son of a bitch, but I respect him. Which is more than I can say about you.’’ Vance gasped. ‘‘It is taking longer than I thought it would. Maybe I won’t die after all. Maybe I will lie here a spell and my strength will come back and I will get up and bandage myself and in a couple of weeks I will be good as new. And then I will come after you and do it right.’’

Boone stood over him. ‘‘That is not going to happen.’’

Vance grinned. ‘‘You never know.’’

‘‘Yes, I do,’’ Boone said, and shot him twice more. He reloaded, slid the Colt into his holster and walked back to the fire. Hunkering, he refilled the tin cup and drank as if trying to wash a bitter taste down his throat.

The drum of hooves snapped Boone out of his crouch. He cast the cup down, drew his Colt and retreated out of the firelight so he would not be an easy target. The hooves came closer. Out of the night materialized a plodding sorrel and a hulking rider. The sorrel was close to collapse. The rider brought it close to the fire and stared down at the ring of bodies.

‘‘Can any of you tell me where I am? I am lost and in a hurry.’’

Boone stepped into the firelight. ‘‘Drub?’’

The hulking figure squealed in delight and ponderously dismounted. ‘‘Lightning! I have done it! I found you!’’ In a rush he flung both huge arms around Boone and lifted him off his feet. ‘‘I am so happy I could dance!’’

‘‘Don’t,’’ Boone said. ‘‘Put me down.’’ But he smiled with genuine delight. ‘‘We were just talking about you.’’

‘‘Who was?’’

Boone nodded at Vance. ‘‘Your brother and me.’’

‘‘What is the matter with him? Why is he just lying there?’’

‘‘Don’t you see the holes in his head?’’

Drub bent down. ‘‘Oh. Now I do. Why, he is dead. The rest too. What happened, pard? Were they mean to you?’’

‘‘First things first.’’ Boone put his left hand on Drub’s arm. ‘‘I am plumb amazed to see you so soon. I figured it would take you a month of Sundays.’’

‘‘I am proud of myself, pard. I remembered you saying your ranch was north, so after I got me a horse I headed north as fast as I could. That horse died and I had to get another. Then it died and I had to get a third.’’

‘‘Where did you get all these horses?’’

‘‘One I bought from some folks with a wagon train and the sorrel here I took out of a corral.’’

‘‘That is stealing, Drub. You could be hung for that.’’

‘‘I don’t care. I was worried sick about you and Sassy and I wasn’t letting anything stop me.’’

‘‘You came quick,’’ Boone marveled.

‘‘I know where north is. I know where south and east and west are too. It is the one thing I have learned that I have never forgot. My pa taught me when I was little so I could always find my way back to him.’’ Drub stopped and looked across the benighted basin. ‘‘But I didn’t know how far I had to come. Or that I was this close. Then I heard shots. And I figured where there were shots, there were people, and I could ask them how to find the Circle V.’’ His gaze shifted to the crumpled forms. ‘‘Thank goodness you were still here. They wouldn’t have been able to tell me.’’

‘‘Would you like some coffee?’’

‘‘Gosh, would I! I have not had a bite to eat or anything to drink since you left me.’’

‘‘That was days ago.’’

‘‘No wonder my belly won’t stop growling. Sometimes when it growls it tickles my belly button.’’

‘‘I have missed you, pard.’’

Drub swelled with happiness. ‘‘And I have missed you. And Sassy. Where is she anyhow?’’

‘‘My brother has her. At first light I am going to pay him a visit and get her back.’’

‘‘I’ll go with you.’’

Boone opened his mouth, then closed it again. ‘‘How about that coffee?’’ He filled a cup and gave it to Drub, who gulped it down.

‘‘That was good. Can I have more?’’

‘‘Help yourself.’’ Boone squatted with his forearms across his knees. ‘‘We will rest until daybreak.’’

‘‘You are the best pard anyone ever had.’’ Drub poured and drank and poured some more. ‘‘You didn’t say what Vance did that you had to put those holes in him.’’

‘‘He tried to kill me.’’

‘‘Vance never did have much manners.’’ Drub tilted the tin cup. ‘‘I have not been this thirsty since that time Pa took me across a desert. I was so hot I thought I would melt.’’

‘‘We need to talk, pard.’’

‘‘Go right ahead. I am so glad to see you, you can talk my ears right off my head and I won’t mind.’’ Drub put down the cup and picked up the pot. ‘‘Say, there is food in this. Can I have some?’’

‘‘Finish it.’’

‘‘For real?’’ Drug laughed and scooped some out with his hand. He slurped and chewed noisily. ‘‘This is the best stew I ever ate. Did you make it?’’

‘‘I don’t know who did.’’

‘‘What do you want to talk about?’’ Drub asked while dipping his big hand in the pot. ‘‘If it is that horse I stole, I am sorry.’’

‘‘It is about tomorrow. I am going to the ranch house alone.’’

Drub’s head jerked up. ‘‘You don’t want me to come? But we’re pards, aren’t we?’’

‘‘That we are.’’

‘‘Then I go with you. A pard always sticks by his pard, no matter what. That is the other thing I learned good.’’ Drub scooped out more stew, but stopped. ‘‘How come you don’t want me to go? Is it you don’t like me anymore?’’

‘‘There will be shooting, Drub. A lot of shooting and a lot of killing.’’

‘‘I know how to shoot. Remember those Mexicans? I point my gun and I thumb back the hammer and I squeeze the trigger. I never hit much but the shooting is easy.’’

‘‘Drub, these will not be vaqueros or rustlers. My brother has likely hired men who are as good with guns as they are at blotting brands.’’

‘‘So? If they try to hurt you, I will hurt them.’’

‘‘I don’t want you hurt, Drub.’’

Drub cocked his head. ‘‘That is why you don’t want me to go? You are afraid I will be shot?’’

‘‘That is why.’’

‘‘Why, that is the nicest thing anyone ever said to me.’’ Drub grinned a huge grin. ‘‘You are a good pard.’’

‘‘Thank you.’’

‘‘And I want to be a good pard too. It is why I killed those two horses getting here. It is why I am going with you in the morning.’’

‘‘Damn it, Drub.’’

‘‘Be mad if you want, but the only way to stop me is to shoot me and you would never do that.’’ Drub slurped and licked his fingers. ‘‘I never ate stew with my fingers before. It’s a lot more fun than with a spoon.’’ He gave the pot a playful shake, then pursed his lips. ‘‘Why have you stopped talking? Are you mad at me? That is what Pa does when he gets mad. He stops talkling.’’

‘‘I am not happy with you, no.’’

‘‘Because I want to go so much?’’

‘‘Do you care for your pa, Drub?’’

‘‘What kind of question is that? He is my pa. I reckon I care for him more than I do anybody.’’

‘‘He might try to kill me tomorrow, Drub. He might try to shoot me like Vance did and I will have to shoot him.’’

‘‘Oh.’’

‘‘I would spare you that, pard. No man should have a part in the killing of his own pa. It would make you no better than my brother. You don’t want that, do you?’’

‘‘I guess not.’’

‘‘Do not take it personal. I am doing this for your own good. You will thank me when this is over.’’

‘‘If you say so.’’

‘‘Give me your word. Promise me here and now that you will wait here for Sassy and me.’’

‘‘All right. If it is what you want.’’ Drub smiled his boyish smile. ‘‘You can count on me.’’