“You so much as think about firing those smoke wagons again and I’ll drill a hole straight through your chest.”

  The angle may not have been exactly right to make good on that threat, but the redhead got the point well enough. He let out a measured breath, dropped his hands, and allowed the guns to slip out of them.

  By now, the man in the loft had recovered his balance and was frantically peering over the edge to find his target.

  “Too late, Mark,” the blond man said. “Might as well come down from there.”

  “You sure about that?” Mark asked.

  “Yeah. If this fella wished us any more harm, he would’a done it by now. After all,” he added with a pointed stare leveled squarely at Slocum, “he ain’t completely stupid.”

  “You got that right,” Slocum said. “That’s why I’m going to insist the rest of you men toss your weapons.”

  “How about we just leave so you can finish whatever business you got with Warren? That was an impressive display, but you sure as hell can’t keep it up.”

  Slocum maintained his cold gaze, even though he knew the blond man was right. He’d done well to get this far. Trying to push it further after the element of surprise had worn off and the rest of the men were getting their wits about them was just asking to be fitted for a pine box. “You tell me, Warren. Does our business interfere with this other matter?”

  When Warren answered, he was too flustered to lie with any degree of certainty. “No. They’re here for somethin’ else.”

  Slocum moved the Colt away from the redhead’s ribs and stepped back. Almost immediately, the shorter fellow wheeled around like an animal that had been cut loose from a trap.

  “Easy, Yancy!” the blond warned. “We did what we came to do. Might as well go before any more of this horse trader’s friends come along.”

  “I can take this one and any others that’d be stupid enough to pick the wrong side of a fight,” Yancy said.

  Showing the redhead a neutral expression, Slocum stood ready to defend himself without making a move. Yancy did his best to snarl at him, but the attempt didn’t even come close to having an impact. The redhead nodded and turned around triumphantly to save face with anyone who might be watching.

  “Don’t let this go to your head now,” the blond man said to Slocum. “Only reason you’re still breathin’ is because we didn’t want to prolong our visit today. And you,” he added while jabbing a finger at Warren. “Remember, you’ve got two days to deliver. If’n you’re not ready by then, the goddamn Union Army won’t be able to pull your fat from the fire.”

  The rider who’d been posted outside the barn hurried in. Wild eyes darted back and forth as all four of his partners headed for the door.

  “Nice try,” the blond man said while shoving Battered Hat through the door. “Little late, but nice.”

  4

  Slocum kept his Colt ready until the men were gone and he heard the horses gallop away. Keeping alert even as he replaced the spent rounds in his cylinder, he asked Warren, “So what the hell was that about?”

  The horse trader had to grab on to the partition to steady himself. “You don’t know who they are?”

  “If you make me guess . . .”

  “That fella with the light hair was Darrel Teach. Them other two were Yancy and Ackerman.” Pausing to watch Slocum carefully, Warren obviously didn’t get the reaction he’d been expecting so he added some emphasis to the next two names. “Carl Wolpatt was the man whose nose you busted and Mark Landry was up in the loft.”

  “All right. And?”

  “And? And they’re the Terrors of White Pine!”

  Slocum finished reloading and dropped the Colt into its holster. “I’ll bite. Who are the Terrors of White Pine?”

  “They are! That gang’s been running roughshod over this county for the better part of a year.” Still not seeing whatever he’d been hoping for on Slocum’s face, Warren added, “White Pine County.”

  “I put those two together,” Slocum snapped. “So what kind of business do you have with a gang? Did you hold back when trying to sell some stolen horses for them?”

  Under normal circumstances, the sight of Warren Staples trying to look distinguished would have been amusing. His lumpy body, messy hair, and sagging face just didn’t suit him when he straightened up and held on to his lapels while puffing out his chest. The fact that he was bruised, even more rumpled than usual after getting hauled over the partition, and sporting bits of straw in his hair made it even more of a stretch when he declared, “I’ll have you know I am not a thief, sir. I take my business seriously and would never partake in the sale of stolen property.”

  “So you and Darrel Teach were just swapping recipes, then?”

  “Not exactly. I came into some information and offered to sell it to him in exchange for certain favors.”

  “Ahh, now this is sounding more respectable by the moment,” Slocum chuckled.

  Grinding his teeth together, Warren looked away and moved his hands from where they could be seen to a place deep within his pockets. When a clump of hair fell to cover part of his face, he welcomed the chance to hide behind it. “I’m in the horse-trading business and the Terrors are horse thieves. Among other crimes, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “They stole a bunch of horses, tried to get me to sell them, and when I refused, they started stealing my stock. Worse than that, they made sure the previous owners heard that I’d been the one doing the stealing!”

  “Did you?” Slocum asked. Although he had an idea of how that would go over, he still wanted to see just how many buttons Warren would pop off his cheap suit. He wasn’t disappointed.

  “I most certainly did not! To think that a man of my standing could be accused of such a thing! Cutting a few corners in honoring a poker debt to a drunken gunman is one thing, but look around you,” he declared while holding his arms out to encompass the barn, the shoddy living quarters, and everything else within his benevolent sight. “I did not build my holdings up to this by being a common thief.”

  “Sounds to me like the Terrors of White Pine aren’t exactly common.”

  “No,” Warren said as his arms dropped down again. “They’re not.”

  Slocum let the drunken gunman comment slide, since he did earn that title during his time in Carson City. “So what do they want from you?”

  Warren walked along the partition until he got to a gate that acted as the door to his private chambers. Once it was open, he waved for Slocum to follow him and ambled over to his desk. “One of my best customers works for a courier service that specializes in fast and secure deliveries. Lots of former lawmen and bounty hunters mostly. They tear across the country faster than the postal service and can fight off a pack of Indians if they have to. They ain’t cheap, but they do good work. Lots of big businesses use them as a way to make deals and conduct their affairs without mucking about with letters, telegrams, and such.”

  “Pony Express with teeth.”

  “Yes. I suppose so. Anyway, they’re always in need of good horses and I’ve always got good horses for those in need.” Judging by the way he said that, Warren may very well have rehearsed it in a mirror beforehand. “Somehow Darrel got wind of a delivery coming through that he wanted and connected one of those companies to me. He tried to get me to hand over the couriers directly, but it just doesn’t work that way. All I do is supply horses for a good fee. Sometimes I make sure a rider has a place to sleep or something to eat if he’s coming through this way.”

  “Cut to the important part,” Slocum grunted. “I’m losing interest.”

  “I tried to talk sense into him. He wouldn’t listen, so him and his boys started raising hell and tacking my name to it. The only way it would stop was if I cooperated.”

  “So you agreed and decided you’d try to think of a way out later on?”

  Warren blinked, sputtered for a second, and then reluctantly nodded. “I guess you could put it that way.”

  “What were they here for?”

  “The courier they’re after should be coming through sometime this week. I’m either supposed to point Darrel and his boys in the right direction or keep the courier occupied so they can take what they need from him. If I may ask, why the sudden interest in my affairs?”

  “Your affairs are my affairs,” Slocum explained. “Especially when you’re involved with men like these. After all, I can’t collect a debt from a dead man.”

  That set in Warren’s belly almost as well as a cold rock. Nervously fidgeting with his clothes, he eased himself down onto a stool and ran his stubby fingers through the mess of hair spilling over his face. “Yeah. About that debt.”

  His comment had been meant to rattle the horse trader, but now Slocum was the one feeling that effect. He stomped toward the desk and had to physically turn Warren around in order to get a look at him. “What about that debt?”

  “The money I was waiting for is . . . well . . . it’s gone.”

  “I don’t give a shit who came by to threaten to kill you. I’m not about to let this slide just because you’re stupid enough to try and cheat too many of the wrong men.”

  “I didn’t cheat!” Warren said quickly. “I don’t cheat in card games. I didn’t engage in any sort of dishonesty where Darrel or any of those other matters are concerned. I may have tried to slip something by you with that old horse, but that’s not cheating.”

  “I don’t give a damn what you call it.”

  “Fair enough. My point is that I’m going to have to pay whatever I get in the next few days to Darrel and his gang. They’re here and they’ll be watching my every move. As soon as this courier comes along, I’ll be lucky if I’m able to get him out of Reno alive. Keeping the payment I’m to receive just isn’t an option. It’ll be the only thing keeping me alive.”

  Lowering his voice to a surly growl, Slocum said, “That’s only if I don’t kill you myself.”

  “Yes,” Warren gulped. “That’s right. Of course, there may be a solution to both of our problems.”

  “I don’t have a problem. You’re the one with the problems. All I need to do is wait around for you to get my money.”

  “And that’s just not going to happen anymore.” Before Slocum could wring his neck, Warren added, “But there is a way for me to get out from under Darrel’s boot, clear my name with my best customers, and for you to earn enough cash to cover my debt plus a little extra.”

  “How much extra?”

  Sensing that he had Slocum on the hook, Warren said, “Could be double what I owe you. Maybe even triple.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Leaning forward so he was now on the edge of his seat, Warren propped his elbows on his knees and stroked his beard. “Darrel and those men in his gang have made quite a name for themselves. Have you spent much time in White Pine County?”

  “No.”

  “That’s why you haven’t heard of them. Just ask anyone from around here. They’ll tell you about bank robberies, killings, all sorts of bad business connected to those five men.”

  Slocum pulled up a chair that was covered by an old blanket and sat down. “Right. Fine. Get on with it.”

  “There’s already a price on their heads.”

  “I’m no bounty hunter.”

  “But,” Warren added while holding his hand out, “that reward is chicken feed compared to what my influential customers would pay to keep their couriers safe. If I could send word along with one of those couriers that I knew the source of my customers’ troubles, it wouldn’t be long before I got word right back with how grateful they’d be if I took care of those troubles for them.”

  “And they wouldn’t get suspicious about something like that?”

  “They’ve already come to me asking why the Terrors of White Pine dropped my name at a few robberies. They believed me when I told them it was a scam, but that won’t last forever. Even if they do believe me, it won’t stop them from moving on to another supply of horses and such if working with me becomes too difficult.”

  Now Slocum eased to the edge of his seat and clasped his hands. “Time to be straight with me. You’re supplying more than just horses at a good price to these customers.”

  “I may also offer some more specialized services. I know folks throughout this whole state. A state, I may remind you, that’s rich in mineral deposits as well as those who seek to liberate them from God’s green earth.”

  Slocum nodded and leaned back. It never failed that the more someone was trying to cover with their words, the fancier those words became.

  “I’ve provided horses,” Warren continued, “along with a way to move information and certain documents secretly under the very noses of anyone who might be looking for such things.”

  “You’re talking about the law?”

  “Tax collectors, actually. These men are involved in large land deals and even larger mineral claims. The more business they can keep off their books, the less of a percentage they have to fork over to the government. Then there’s simple bits of information they want to keep away from competitors. It’s all fairly complicated.”

  Slocum let out a sigh. The matter wasn’t what he would call complicated. Boring, definitely. Tedious, without a doubt. It was the sort of thing he could comprehend, but simply didn’t want to. More than anything, all that talk of underhanded business deals served as a perfect reminder of why he tried to make his life simple by keeping a good horse beneath him and the wind blowing across his face.

  Warren was still going on about his complicated business matters when Slocum cut in. “You want me to bring down these Terrors so you can look good for a bunch of tenderfeet in expensive suits?”

  “Well, yes. There’s to be a good amount of money posted for the downfall of this gang no matter how it comes about.”

  “Dead or alive, huh?”

  “You got it.”

  “Sounds a lot like a bounty to me,” Slocum groused.

  “Money’s money, isn’t it?”

  Hoisting himself up from his seat, Slocum hooked his thumbs over his gun belt and looked down at the horse trader. “Maybe to you, but I’d rather win my money in a card game. And since I’ve already done that, I think I’d prefer to hang you by your heels and shake you over a bunch of hungry wolves to collect whatever falls out of your pockets.”

  When Slocum approached him, Warren shot up from his chair as if he was truly afraid of being dangled above a pack of wild dogs. “I appreciate what you’re saying, but keep in mind these are some rich men I’m talking about. You don’t want the bounty for the gang? That’s fine. You’ve got your standards. That’s very admirable! The job gets done, there’ll still be a private reward, and we can divvy it up. You get the lion’s share, leaving a small commission for me. Think of this as me letting you in on a job that can benefit us both.”

  “Ain’t that just so generous of you?” Slocum growled.

  “Generosity has nothing to do with it. It’d be a way of me paying you what I owe.”

  Slocum paused for a second, raising an eyebrow as a more contented look drifted onto his face. “Or I can take the collateral and be done with it.”

  “You can’t take the collateral!” Warren snapped. “That horse is one of the ones I set aside for the customer I was telling you about. Taking that away will ruin everything. You may not believe this, but my business isn’t on solid ground right now. I’m hanging by a thread!”

  “Is that so?” Slocum chuckled. “You’re living in a barn, being harassed by outlaws, begging for help to repay gambling debts, and you expect me to believe you’re hanging by a thread?”

  Judging by the confused look on Warren’s face, he was too flustered to fully appreciate Slocum’s sarcasm. “Uhhhh . . . yes?”

  Every sensible bone in Slocum’s body told him to take the collateral, sell what he could for as much as he could get, and leave Warren to think about the mistakes he’d made. It would be a way to teach the horse trader a lesson and for Slocum to put this mess behind him. Then again, those same sensible bones had told him to hang on to two pair instead of drawing to a flush. When the flush hit, he’d turned a losing streak into a winner, won himself a horse from Warren, and paid for one hell of a night in Carson City with the cash he’d raked in from the other men at that table. Now, those winnings could very well lead to something even bigger.

  Picking up on Slocum’s indecision, Warren said, “At least take some time to think about it.”

  “I was gonna play some cards tonight anyway. I’ll let you know what I decide tomorrow.” As Slocum walked away, he paused and added, “If you try to force my hand, you’ll find that gang ain’t the only terror in this county.”

  “Understood.”

  Slocum left the barn, wondering if he’d gone soft or simply didn’t have as much common sense as he’d always thought.

  5

  Things always seemed better after a shave. When he left Warren’s barn, Slocum stepped into the barbershop he’d passed along the way and sat back to let the skinny Greek man clean him up. After he’d been clipped and had his face scraped by the barber’s steady hand, Slocum was talked into the extra charge for a splash of something fancy to top it off. The stuff was just scented water, but it did leave him feeling more refreshed than when he’d come in.

  Reno’s streets were more pleasant after that. The walk was more tolerable and the sun felt more comforting than hot as it shone down on him. If all of that was attributed to the splash of lilac water or whatever the hell that stuff was, it was the best few cents Slocum had ever spent. His mood improved even further when he followed the barber’s advice and went to the restaurant across the street for a steak. The English woman who ran it was offering apple pie for dessert. The apples were either very old or from preserves, but she topped it off by melting cheddar cheese on his slice. Strangely enough, the flavors complemented each other nicely and Slocum was whistling a happy tune as he made his way back to the Jackrabbit.