Blade wasn’t so sure about it, but he wasn’t evil enough to simply kill them when they had no intention of actually harming him or Dakota.
“All right,” he agreed. “You two take your friend and leave, but if you try anything, I will shoot, and I won’t miss.”
“Thank you,” the same Indian who had spoken earlier said. “We’ll go.”
Blade took a few steps back, allowing them space to pick up the injured man. He didn’t trust them, but he was giving them a chance. He kept his Colt pointed at them just in case. Luckily, they weren’t small men and managed to lift their friend without too much effort.
“Go on,” Blade instructed. “Get out of here.”
The Indians hurried off, going as fast as they could while carrying another man. When they vanished into the shadows of the night, Blade turned to Dakota. “We can’t stay here now; we’ll have to go.”
Dakota nodded. “I figured as much. You want to keep watch while I pack up our things?”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
Dakota rushed off, and Blade quickly untied the horses and led them closer. They were calm again, used to shotsbeing fired in close proximity to them. It didn’t take Dakota long to pack up their things and load them onto the horses. Blade helped while keeping an eye out for any movement. He had dealt with Indians before. They didn’t care much for the law or for white men.
Soon enough, they were back on the road again, leaving the campsite behind.
If the Indians came back, they wouldn’t be there. They would be tired the next day, but that wasn’t anything new. They would find a safe place to set up camp early, have a warm meal, and then get the sleep they needed to carry on.
Chapter 25
It took a while, but they finally reached Reno. It was a long stretch, and with winter starting, it was cold, especially at night. They were making good progress, though, and had managed to cross seven names off the list. They were more than halfway, and that gave Blade the strength he needed to keep going.
They had dressed in clean clothes, just like they always did before entering a new town, and were slowly making their way down the main road. The town was quieter than Blade had expected, but overall, it was just like any other town. People were going about their daily business. Some didn’t even notice Blade and Dakota, while others gave them curious glances.
“So what does Arthur look like?” Dakota asked, keeping pace with him.
“Last time I saw him, he had graying hair and a long beard that was stained yellow. He always smelled like cigars.”
Dakota’s eyes grew wide, and she playfully slapped Blade’s shoulder. “I think I remember him. He smelled horrible and was so dirty. Whenever I saw him, I would get the creeps.”
“That’s the one.” Blade chuckled. “Now let’s see if we can find him.”
They couldn’t. They searched the entire town, traveling up and down roads and going into every store. The man was nowhere to be found, and with the way he looked and smelled, he wouldn’t have been easy to miss.
“I guess we’re asking the barkeeper at the saloon,” Dakota stated.
“I’ll be quick,” Blade assured her.
Dakota nodded. “If you have to buy something, get something better than whiskey.”
Blade laughed at that, remembering their night at the inn. It was one of the strangest nights of his life, but it was also one of his fondest memories. They had talked and laughed for hours and then passed out together on the bed. Nothing romantic happened, but that was okay. The next day wasn’t so much fun, though. Even though he hadn’t drunk a lot, his head had pounded, and he struggled to keep his food down. Dakota hadn’t fared any better.
Inside the saloon, the air was thick with smoke and spilled liquor. A few locals were scattered around the establishment, nursing drinks. They all looked up when he entered. Blade ignored them and approached the bar. Behind it stood a scrawny man with yellowing teeth.
“What are you having?” the man asked, pulling a chipped glass closer.
Blade didn’t feel like making up any elaborate stories, but he couldn’t exactly tell the truth.
“Nothing today,” he replied. “I’m actually looking for somebody. Name’s Arthur Hill.”
The barkeeper’s eyes squinted as he puckered his lips. It looked like his brain was going to explode from having to recall who the name belonged to.
Eventually, his face relaxed. “I recall him,” he said. “But he’s been dead for years already.”
“Are you sure? Big man, long yellow beard. Smelled like cigars.”
