Spader's grumbling drew Cain out of his musings. "I had jest been in here, braggin' on the job, the night afore we was to leave when that bastard MacQuade, he hit me. Broke my damn jaw."
Cain could understand MacQuade's temptation.
"And then what happened, Mr. Spader?"
"Next morning saw him ride out with that Irish lady. Now, let's see, when she hired me she said we was goin' to a place called... Crested Ridge... naw, Glory Ridge... or was it—Stormy Ridge. That was it! Yessiree!"
"And how long ago did MacQuade and this woman—what was her name?"
"Some foreign name—Ash-a-linn, Asheen, I dunno. Last name, though, I 'member right enough. O'Shea, it was. Yep. I'm certain sure of it."
The pompous idiot, Cain thought with a sneer. He'd be doing Spader a favor when he slit the babbling man's throat.
"How long ago did they leave town?"
"Three weeks now, maybe more. I was in a bad way after they left—doc kept me drunk most o' the time t' ease the pain. Medicinal purposes."
Cain chuckled. "You've been darned helpful, Mr. Spader. Darned helpful. If you'd come along with us, my brother and I'd like to settle our account with you."
Spader's lips pulled tight over his teeth as he shoved away from the bar, starting toward the swinging door. He pulled out the gun Cain had given him, finger looping around the trigger.
Cain glanced down at it, then back into the man's eyes.
"Like I told ye," Spader said, "my mama didn't raise up no fools."
"Can't blame a man for being cautious." Cain made his way out the door. "Might just save your life sometime, eh, Spader?"
He directed Spader toward the gap between two buildings.
The man chortled his agreement, but as his eyes met Cain's Spader's smile faded, his hand tightening convulsively on the pistol butt.
Cain's lips twisted into a sneer of raw pleasure and sadistic glee. He'd been able to elicit that reaction from people from the time he'd been nine years old. The year he'd first felt that staggering surge of power as he'd slashed his knife deep. Killed...
"I jest wanna... wanna get this over peaceable-like," Spader said, the slightest tremor in his voice letting Cain know that the man had suddenly become aware of the shadows pooling all around them, the unnatural quiet that had closed about them like a grave. "Jest wanna get what's comin't' me."
"You will, Spader. That you will."
In that instant Cain's knife flashed out, glinting blue in the meager light. Spader's eyes bulged as he squeezed the trigger and heard a sickeningly hollow click.
Cain laughed as his knife drove deep into Spader's belly, blood wetting Garvey's hand as he jerked the blade upward beneath the man's rib cage.
The repulsive gurgling sounds of death rose from the man's throat as he collapsed to the ground, eyes bulging, hands flailing.
Then he lay still.
Cain reached down, pulling out his blade, wiping the blood on Spader's filthy pants.
A smack on the shoulder jarred him, and he looked up into Eli's eager face. "Ye did tha' real good, Cain. Shkewered 'im like a pig. Mebbe now 'at ye got in a good killin', ye won't be so tetchy 'bout everythin'."
"This'll do me for the time bein'." Cain rummaged through Spader's pockets, taking not only the greenbacks exchanged in the saloon but the rest of the man's money as well. "But I'll not be satisfied until it's MacQuade's blood wettin' my knife. MacQuade's belly laid open t' the maggots.
"Time, Eli. Now it's only a matter o' time afore we have everything just like I promised you in that there prison. Only a matter o' time before you can roast Garret MacQuade over a damn firepit if you want to, for what you've suffered."
Eli rubbed his groin with one hand, licking his lips. "That'll be right fine, Cain. But—well, I been meanin't' ask ye... there's shomethin' elsh I'd like 'bout as much, I'm thinkin'."
"What, Eli? Ye know I always take care o' my brother."
"That woman Spader 'uz talkin' about. The one with the yaller hair. Ain't she the one 'at we saw outside that wheelwright's place in St. Joe?"
