“I don’t care if his name is General Grant. Bribe him. Drive Bentley out of the territory, and bring me his sister, and I’ll give you… three hundred dollars!”
“Five hundred,” Sully’s father said.
“Five hundred?” Pew squawked. “That’s ridiculous.”
Sully’s father spread his hands. “You, of all people, sir, should know the cost of doing business. This new captain isn’t as agreeable as Forsythe was. My nephew recently got into trouble. Sully paid Captain Culp a good sum of money. The man left us alone, but he still hung my nephew.”
Pew glanced in Sully’s direction.
Sully nodded solemnly, thinking how angry his father would be if he knew how things had really worked out behind closed doors. Sully had kept the money and garnished grudging favor from Culp by turning Carter in… a much better arrangement.
“What is the world coming to?” Pew complained, eyes blazing with indignation. “Fine. Get rid of Bentley and bring me his sister, and I’ll pay you five hundred dollars.”
Sully’s father rose from his seat.
Sully did the same.
“I’ll consider your request, Mr. Pew,” Sully’s father said. “But I can provide no guarantees at this time. Where is Bentley staying?”
“Rickert doesn’t know,” Pew snarled.
“He’s a pig farmer, right?” Sully’s father asked. “Did Rickert check his farm?”
“A carpetbagger bought the farm, sir,” Sully said. He was surprised that his father hadn’t known that. There had been a time when Alistair Weatherspoon had known everything that went on in this county, no matter how trivial. When Sully was just a boy, his father had explained that information was the path to power.
But he hadn’t known about the Bentley farm selling. Interesting. Perhaps Mr. Pew wasn’t the only one growing soft.
“I don’t care if he’s a pig farmer or a ballerina,” Pew snapped. “I want him out of here.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Pew,” Sully’s father said. “But again, no guarantees. If we don’t even know where Bentley is, how could we even dispatch Union soldiers?”
“Well, do whatever you have to do,” Pew said. “I’m certainly paying you enough to do it.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Pew,” Sully said.
The old man glared at him. “What is it?”
“Well, sir, it’s just that I know Will Bentley. He’s a violent man. What if he resists?”
“Not my problem. I want him gone.”
“Yes, sir. But what I mean to say, sir, is what if he resists, and he ends up getting killed?”
“All the better. A mad dog like that should be killed. He twisted my ear!”
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that, sir,” Sully said, and it was all he could do to keep from laughing.
But he did, indeed, rein in his laughter, and soon after, Mr. Pew said his curt goodbyes and left.
“That,” Sully’s father said, “is a man consumed by hate. Learn from him, son. The utter foolishness, offering five hundred dollars for the removal of a pig farmer and the possession of a pig farmer’s sister. Madness.”
Sully nodded. “Madness from which we stand to benefit, sir.”
His father shook his head. “I’m not so certain. Bentley could be anywhere.”
“We know his general vicinity. He ran off Rickert, didn’t he? I could talk to the sheriff and find out where Bentley was.”
Sully’s father sat down again and tented his fingers before his mouth. “Perhaps. Five hundred dollars is a lot of money. But this Culp…”
