Chapter 26
“Think you’ll find me talkin’ cheap?” Kane asked.
He watched the three of Wilder’s hired guns step out of the deeper dark of the alley. They were riders with faces like coins, hard and quick to flash a smile when there was profit to be had.
The lamp over the tavern guttered, throwing a thin pool of light that made the dust look like smoke. Kane kept his hand curled around the stem of his cigar and let them come to him.
“You always talk a big game,” Caleb said.
“You always listen too easy,” Kane answered. He tilted his chin to the street behind him, toward the church roofline that caught a pale slice of moonlight. “Listen close then. I got somethin’ you boys might want.”
“You better not be wasting our time,” Mangrove said. He spat on the ground. “Wilder pays for results, not rumors.”
“Results are what I sell,” Kane said. He exhaled, the smoke drifting up and away like a small betrayal. “But it ain’t Wilder I’m talkin’ to tonight.”
“Then who?” Caleb asked, stepping nearer so his boots scuffed the grit. “If it ain’t Wilder, it ain’t worth much.”
“You wrong,” Kane said. “It’s worth enough that you might like to trade some of your risk for a cut.”
“You talking cash?” Mangrove said. “We got mouths to feed.”
“Cash’s part of it,” Kane said. “But I got somethin’ Wilder wants more than coin.”
“Gold?” Caleb grinned, and the sound was ugly. “You smell iron in your teeth?”
Kane let the grin come slowly. “More like I smell leverage. A girl.”
“A girl?” Mangrove echoed, and for a second the alley swallowed the sound.
“Not just any girl,” Kane said. “Rachel Buckeye.”
Caleb’s hand tightened on his shotgun strap. “The Buckeye brat? Blaze’s sister?”
“That same one,” Kane said. He kept his voice smooth. “You boys know Blaze is chasin’ Wilder. You boys know Wilder don’t like bein’ chased. You boys know Wilder pays attention when you deliver what he wants.”
“Why come to us?” Caleb asked. “We ride for Wilder.”
“Because Wilder don’t come here,” Kane said. He looked up toward the church window again and let the edge in his words cut. “But I do. I’ve kept my ear in this town longer than most. I can find what Wilder can’t be bothered to look for himself.”
Jake, who had been quiet since stepping out of the shadows, made a low sound at the back of his throat.
“You sure she’s here?” Mangrove asked. “Could be she ran to town, could be she ran farther.”
Kane let out a small, confident laugh. “She didn’t get far,” he said. “Think on it. A girl with nowhere to go. She’s not hopin’ for the desert. She’s hopin’ for shelter and for someone who says they’ll look out for her. That someone’s me in this town. Folks know me. Folks know I keep a ledger.”
Caleb nodded slowly. “So, you’re sayin’ she’s in Red Rock? In the folds?”
“I’m sayin’ I can find her,” Kane said. “I can get her to Wilder, quiet as a prayer . . . or I can keep her and sell you the information later.”
“You askin’ a lot,” Mangrove said. “Delivering a person ain’t the same as takin’ a horse.”
“You pay a price,” Kane said. “You get a price.”
He reached into his coat and let a small leather pouch glint in the lamplight before tucking it back.
“Gold’s been movin’ since Wilder found somethin’ out there,” Kane said. “I want a piece of whatever he’s callin’ treasure. I bring him somethin’ he wants and he’s liable to hand over money. I want my share.”
Caleb spat on the cobbles. “You sure Wilder will pay for a girl? He’s got men who ain’t squeamish.”
“He pays for leverage,” Kane said. “For toys that remind him he’s in charge. A Buckeye means somethin’ to him. You give him Rachel, you give him Blaze’s tether.”
“You think Wilder’s that sentimental?” Mangrove asked.
Kane shrugged. “Not sentimental. Strategic. He’s a man who likes his accounts to balance. He dug somethin’ up and he don’t intend to let the world cheapen it. Bring him the thing he wants, and he’ll be grateful enough to hand over coin . . . Maybe more.”
Caleb laughed softly. “So you play the middleman.”
“I play to win,” Kane stated.
“Why you?” Jake spoke up for the first time. “Why not one of us bring the girl to Wilder directly and keep her ransom for ourselves?”
“Because you don’t know where she sleeps,” Kane said, letting the words hang. “And because the last man who tried to muscle me out of town is missing a jaw.”
Mangrove and Caleb exchanged a glance as if they were remembering. Kane had a way of letting small rumors do the heavy lifting. He’d earned the town’s thanks and grudging fear the way other men earned names on ledgers—with a mixture of favors, blackmail, and the occasional cruel kindness.
“You want us to tell Wilder you can find her?” Caleb asked finally.
“I want you to tell him I have a way to get her to him,” Kane said. “And I want you to promise that when you bring me the money, you’ll let me collect my cut before anyone gets bloodier than necessary.”
Mangrove spat again. “And if Wilder thinks you’re playin’ him?”
“Then I die,” Kane said plainly. “An acceptable end if it buys a start.”
“That’s brave talk,” Caleb replied.
“Brave’s cheap,” Kane said. “Cunning’s where the coin’s at.”
They stood a long moment in that thin light as the alley breathed around them. From within the saloon came a muffled tune and the clink of glass. Somewhere a dog started and stopped barking.
“You sure you want to get involved with Wilder?” Caleb asked at last.
“Tell him I’ve got a lead,” Kane replied. “Tell him I’ll bring Rachel to him for the right price. Tell him I want half up front as proof I’m not a liar.”
Mangrove barked a short laugh. “Half? You want half before you give the girl over?”
“I want half, so I don’t walk into his jaws blind,” Kane said. “I want baggage to cover my debts. I want to be able to leave this town if it goes wrong.”
Caleb ran a finger along his lip. “Risky.”
“Everything good is,” Kane said. “And look . . . I ain’t nobility. I ain’t built like Wilder. I can’t go pryin’ open tombs. But I can trade on the tastes of men. I can whisper things into ears. I can make sure the right rumor reaches the right ears. I can be useful.”
“You sure you’re not just useful to yourself?” Mangrove said.
Kane lifted his chin, proud as a man with a ledger and a secret.
“Isn’t that the point of livin’?” he asked.
Caleb spat again. “We tell Wilder. If he bites, we see what you ask for.”
“And if he don’t?” Mangrove asked.
“Then I do what I always do,” Kane said. “I survive. I find another door.”
Caleb pushed off from the wall.
“Tomorrow night, same place,” he said. “If you show nothin’, we burn your ledger and sell your horse.”
Kane laughed. It was a small, sharp sound that lacked the warmth he once used to charm tradesmen.
“Then I’ll bring more than talk, boys,” he replied. “I’ll bring her.”
They melted into the black like shadows with too many knives. Kane watched their backs until the darkness swallowed them and then took one slow breath. He slid his hands into his pockets, feeling the reassuring weight of the brass buttons on his coat.
He felt the tug of the ledger in the larder of his mind: debts, favors owed, the names he had written down, and the way men listened when their own names appeared on his page.
“Pretty little world,” he said to the empty air, then smiled thinly. “You can be bought if you know where to press.”
He moved back toward the saloon door, each step measured. His footsteps echoed off the closed shutters.
A stray cat darted from a barrel, and Kane paused, watching it go. The night around the church window flickered with candlelight. It was one small diamond of stillness in a town that had grown wary.