“Yeah, that’s that,” Conn agreed.
McKay circled back around and reported that everything was empty. There were no more Blake brothers. They’d wiped them out.
“Shame,” McKay said. “This is a nice little place. Neat and tidy. These boys put a lot of work into it.”
Sheffield spat on the ground beside the dead man. “Then squandered everything by fighting alongside their worthless brother.”
“Yeah,” Conn said, and left it at that.
He wondered about the last Blake brother’s dying words, what he’d said about brothers and it not mattering whether they were good or bad.
He reckoned maybe that was true. Whatever the case, it had been true here, and it had cost the lives of two innocent men.
This wasn’t going to be easy. And he wasn’t gonna get out of this clean.
He had hoped to ride down his brother’s killers and wipe them out, one by one, simple as counting to eleven.
That’s not how it had worked out, though. Things had gotten messy. He’d killed men who hadn’t ridden with Toole, and now, he understood he might have to kill a bunch of other people to root out Cole’s killers.
The road ahead was murky, but at least now he knew where it led.
Poncha Springs and the Sierra Perdida mine.
Meanwhile, that was five down. Six to go.
“Guess we’d better ride back to town and tell Marshal Andrews what happened,” McKay said.
“Prudent,” Sheffield said. “Besides, we gotta take Ben Blake back there.”
“What for?” Conn said. “He can’t stand trial now.”
“I told that boarding house woman she’d see him strapped to a horse, and by God, she’s gonna see it,” Sheffield said.
22
Sheffield took care of the Blake brothers’ animals while Conn and McKay dug two shallow graves in a patch of soft ground near the house.
Soft or not, digging’s digging, and by the time they finished, they were working by lantern light. Night had fallen, hard and dark and cold, over the land.
Conn was worn to a nub. He hadn’t slept for a long time. Neither had Sheffield. Probably McKay hadn’t slept much, either.
They planted Ben Blake’s brothers with no to-do, then covered them back up, a ghastly affair by lamplight.
“Those graves are shallow,” Conn said. “Feel like I should cover them with rocks, but I’m worn out.”
Sheffield spat. “I ain’t lugging one rock for their graves. We didn’t ride in here meaning these boys no harm. They brought it on themselves. All three of them tried to kill you.”
Conn chuckled. His eyes burned from fatigue. “You’re right. But I will mark their graves, though.”
He went into the barn and found a couple of boards and etched letters into each with his knife. One board read,Blake Brother, Older. The other read,Blake Brother, Younger.
He placed these on the appropriate graves and figured that was good enough. He didn’t bother making crosses, because these men hadn’t exactly met him with Christian charity.
“What’s the next move?” McKay said.
“I figure we should eat and sleep,” Conn said.
“That works,” Sheffield said.
