He’d made a promise. Etcetera, etcetera.
Ryan picked up the gun Stanley had dropped and carried it to where the tall boy, Ethan, was quaking on the floor next to the bleeding corpse that had once been the Hunter of Huntsville. Ryan almost couldn’t believe it himself. In the years they’d been cellmates, Hunter had always seemed more like a force of nature than a mereman, a compact mass of muscle and violence fueled by some private black fire. It didn’t seem possible that he could ever die.
But dead he was, face down on the hardwood floor. A great crimson circle was spreading from his corpse. Ryan touched the boy Ethan on the shoulder. “You might want to move, kid. You’re going to get blood all over those jeans.”
Ethan didn’t answer him. Didn’t give any indication he’d heard.
Ryan sighed. In the weak firelight, he saw a familiar shape poking from the hem of Hunter’s shirt. Reaching carefully over the pool of blood, Ryan found a Colt Python tucked in the waistband of Hunter’s pants. “Here,” he said to Ethan, prodding the boy with the butt of the gun. “Hold on to this.”
Still Ethan didn’t move. Ryan left him there for a moment. He placed both guns on the office’s desk, tugged loose the empty leather holster around Stanley’s waist, and strapped it onto himself. The belt was built for much wider hips than Ryan’s, but he was able to get it snug enough to stow Stanley’s heavy magnum.
He carried the Python back to Ethan, crouched at the boy’s side. Together, they looked at Hunter’s corpse. A log popped in the fire.
“He cared for you,” Ryan said to Ethan. “He told me so himself.”
Finally, Ethan turned to look at Ryan. “When?”
“We smoked a cigarette together, earlier this evening.”
“You knew him?”
“Like, before tonight? No,” Ryan lied. He didn’t hesitate. This was another promise he’d made, the second of his life. “I never met him before tonight. He noticed me checking in this evening, saw me light up a smoke. He said he had a headache. He hoped the nicotine would help.”
“When… when was this?”
Ryan told the truth. “Maybe a quarter after six. Not long after I got here. Your man seemed like a decent guy. You’re all he talked about. He spoke highly of you.”
Ethan didn’t respond.
“He said you were the best thing that ever happened to him,” Ryan said.
Ethan started to shake again. Ryan patted his shoulder: firm, but kind.
“I’m sorry, kid. Really. I’ll leave you alone for the rest of theevening, but I need you to do something for me, just for a few minutes. Do you think that’s possible?”
Ethan didn’t speak, but at least he looked Ryan in the eye.
“I need you to keep tabs on our friend Stanley here in case he wakes up,” Ryan said. “Don’t shoot him. Just make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. I have some questions I need to ask him.”
Ryan offered the Python again. Ethan stared at it. “How do you know I won’t just kill him?”
“Because you’re not that kind of guy. Hunter said you’re the best man he’d ever met.” This, again, was the truth.
Ethan’s eyes clouded. “I’m not a good person. Hunter and I held up a diner before we got here. I watched him shove a man’s hand in oil. I… I enjoyed it.”
“Did the other guy have it coming?”
“I guess.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, kid, but I have a feeling you’ve been pushed around a lot in your life. It’s normal to want a little payback.” Even as he spoke, Ryan felt the pain in his nose where Stanley had crushed it yesterday in Mexico City. He’d been smelling his own broken cartilage for the better part of two days.
Blood for blood. It’s the law of the desert.
“I’m not a good person,” Ethan said again. “A good person would have stopped Hunter from hurting anyone. Even if the other guy was shit.”
“This is a tough part of Texas. You can’t always make the right call. Doesn’t mean you’re evil.” Ryan shrugged. “I don’t trust a man who hasn’t had to face how ugly he can be. So it sounds like I can trust you.”
“I don’t follow.”
