Grunting with the effort, he dragged Cates over to the wagon and tied him to the wheel. The rancher groaned once and Earl clubbed him in the mouth with the heavy pistol. Teeth and blood spilled onto the ground. The big rancher slumped. Earl had to use every ounce of his willpower not to raise the pistol a second time. He went over and made a small fire and put on some coffee.
After an hour or so, Cates came to. At first he looked confused, and then as he recognized Earl, his face darkened with anger. He strained against the ropes until he realized his efforts were useless. He smiled, showing ragged stumps where his teeth used to be. "Mister, I got over forty men riding for me. You're going to be one sorry son of a bitch if you don't cut me loose right now."
"Why did you skin the little girl?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"We're, going to talk a little bit, Cates, and then I'm going to kill you. Whether it's quick or slow pretty much depends on if you tell me the truth."
"You might as well go on ahead and kill me right now." Cates spat a mouthful of blood into Earl's face. "Cause I ain't talking to no goddamned killer."
"I spent half my life looking for you, Cates. So listen up, you're going to talk to me." Earl picked up the skinning knife, reached over, and calmly sliced off Cates' left ear. He tossed it onto the bound man's stomach. "Maybe you can hear me a little better now."
Cates looked with disbelief at his severed ear lying on his stomach. A big greasy tear slid down his cheek and landed on his stomach, mixing with the blood already there. "She turned me down," Cates said. "She was just a goddamned Indian squaw, who did she think she was, turning me down? I hit her but I didn't kill her."
"You're a liar." Earl sliced off Cates' remaining ear. "I caught up with the other renegade just outside Abilene last year. The last one besides you. We didn't get to talk all that much, on account of he shot himself. Trouble was, his aim hadn't improved any since the last time we met. He did live long enough to tell me you didn't have nothing to do with the squaw. He said you didn't much like women at all. At least not grown ones."
"He's a liar. It wasn't me."
"Here's what I think happened. Just nod your head if I get close to the truth."
Cates tried to pull away, thrashing against his bonds like a madman.
"You raped her, didn't you, Cates, even though she was just a little girl. Only you had to get around a problem first. She was an Indian and her skin was red and that made you sick to your stomach, but you found a way to handle that, didn't you?" Earl raised the heavy pistol and brought it down on Cates' leg. Bone splintered. "Her skin was the problem"—the pistol raised again, fell again—"so you skinned her."
Earl severed the ropes and Cates slumped to the ground. Somehow the big rancher had managed to hold on to consciousness as Earl righted the wagon and hitched up the mules. Cates watched while his roan was tied on behind the wagon. "You're not going to leave me here, are you?" he called out to the departing wagon. "It's three days' ride to the next town. I can't walk… my legs are broken. You promised you'd kill me quick if I told the truth."
Earl looked back once and saw that Cates was trying his best to keep up with the mules. But it was hard going for a man who had two broken legs, who had to crawl on his stomach across the sand.
After a while it came to Earl what Cates looked like.
He looked like a snake.
When Earl made camp three hours later, he fell into an exhausted sleep. His dreams were peaceful for the first time in more years than he could remember.
The dog's yelp woke him.
Earl rolled out of his blankets with a gun under his nose, and when he looked into the man's pale face, he was met with a smile. There wasn't much friendliness in it. "Cates wasn't lying," the stranger said. "He never touched the little girl. It was three army deserters that did the killing. One of them told me everything before I…." The smile widened just a bit.
"Who are you?" Earl asked.
The stranger's smile practically split his face. "Steven Adler, I'm your new partner." He moved closer.
"If Cates didn't kill the little girl, then why did he come after me tonight?" Earl tried to back away and found he couldn't.
"You hunted down and killed a lot of innocent men, Earl. They were Cates' friends. That's the reason he came after you. You've spent half your life looking for the men who killed that little girl. I admire your persistence and I like the way you use a knife." The young stranger was laughing now. "I can use a man like you, so I've decided we're going to be together for a long time. A long, long time," the stranger repeated, as though he had just said something funny.
Earl felt a sharp sting on his neck and for an instant he thought the old diamondback had gotten loose and had bitten him. He knew he was a dead man because he hadn't milked that snake in three days, but it wasn't the snake that had bitten him. It was the blond stranger.
The last thing Earl Jacobs saw before he began his new life were the teeth covered with red, the teeth that were too long and caught the moonlight.
He wished many times since that night that the snake had bitten him instead.
Reaching for his boot, Earl pulled out his knife. The light reflected off the blade and caught him in the eyes. They filled with sadness.
"Jesus Christ," Steven said, looking at Earl in disgust. He took the knife from Earl's shaky hand and prepared to cut Leon Wilson's throat. "You're not supposed to get sentimental over your dinner."
"I'm not getting sentimental," Earl answered. "It's just that Leon Wilson is a good man and I like him, okay? You're not going to kill him. We have a deal, remember." Earl stepped in front of Steven. "No more killing unless we absolutely have to.''
Steven put the knife to Leon's throat.
"You do him and I'm walking," Earl said calmly.
"You're forgetting who's the boss here, aren't you?"
"No, I ain't forgetting, but you kill him and I'm taking a walk in the daylight."
"You're bluffing."
"Try me. This ain't much of a life, no way."
Steven relented, pulled the knife back. "No reason to kill him. I scared him enough to get what I came for. That fake hand in the jar made him spill his guts."
"Yeah, it worked real good. He almost spilled mine, too."
"Sorry. He was quick for a big guy." Steven straightened Earl's jacket, slapped him on the shoulder. He smiled at Earl, searching the older man's eyes. "You're not going to take a walk on me, are you?"
"Not unless you break our deal."
"All right, we'll drag him over to the steps, and when he wakes up in the morning, he'll think he fell. But right now, hurry up and get yourself a little taste. We've got to shag our asses over to Crowder Flats."
The knife went to work.
Chapter 6
J
ohn Warrick eased the phone back onto its cradle and lay back on his bed. Louise's words wouldn't quite sink in. An under aged male prostitute in Vegas, stabbed and left to die, all his blood found spattered on a wall. What kind of man could do something like that?
Why?
Kicks?
The cue stick lying on a chair across the room caught his gaze. The red feathered serpent curled around the handle seemed angry and peered at him with baleful eyes.
Accusing him.
The stick belonged to whoever had killed Joey Estevez. The boy had been killed for fun. And for something else. His blood?
John didn't want to think about that. He looked away from the chair, his eyes straying to the ceiling, but that was no good either. The afternoon sun was spilling through the window and it had given the water stains a reddish tint.
That room in Vegas had been covered in blood.
The walls were closing in on him again and his head began to throb. What the hell was he going to do? John didn't know the killer's name; he barely even knew what the guy looked like.
Okay, say he went to cops and accused the guy. It was his word against the stranger's. John knew his word didn't carry any weight, not since he'd pulled that job in Tucson. He'd been a kid at the time, but cops had long memories. Suppose they asked him a few pointed questions about how come he knew so much about the murder.
What would he say that he knew the guy did it because he, John Warrick, was some kind of half-assed psychic? That he had just happened to pick up some weird vibrations from a stolen pool cue? If the cops didn't stick him in a padded room, they might arrest him for the kid's death.
John was in over his head and he knew he was in over his head. It was time to pack it in.
But the memory of the dead kid wouldn't turn loose. He had to do something.
Maybe Leon could shed some light on who those guys from the pool hail were. John fished a doughnut out of the crushed bag while he dialed the phone.
Marvin, the assistant manager answered. "Leon's," he said in his high, hoarse voice. The sound of clicking balls came through in the background.
"Hey Marvin, this is John Warrick."
"John, damn, everybody was wondering where you went. I got a message from Leon for you. He says you are one crazy son of a bitch stealing from those guys last night. He says he's gonna kick you right in your bony white ass the next time he lays eyes on you."
"I guess he's really pissed."
"You got that right." Marvin's voice dropped a notch. "I was in the back. Did Leon really introduce those guys to old Stumpy?"
"You mean the sawed-off? Yes, he did."
"They say he cocked both hammers." Marvin sounded almost wistful.
"These guys were kind of scary," John said.
"Shit, man, I always miss all the excitement."
"You'd better be glad you missed it." John kept his voice casual. "I need to talk to Leon. Has he been in today?"
"No, he ain't. He better be getting his big butt in here real soon. I got some business to take care of over at Lisa's house." His voice lowered again. "I think I might get my balls racked tonight, if you get my drift."
Somebody laughed in the background. "Rack these balls," a loud voice called out.
"Rack your own damn balls," Marvin yelled back. "Can't you see I'm on the phone?"
"Marvin, either one of those guys Leon kicked out last night been in?"
"No way. Leon said they ain't ever coming in here again." Someone at the pool hall said something and Marvin faded out, then came back on. "Hey look, John, I got to be going. You want I should have Leon give you a ring?"
"Yeah, he knows where I'm staying. See you 'round, Marvin." John felt the vise that held his head tighten another notch. This had started out as a simple theft and now he was involved with murder. Everything was moving way too fast. He was alone and the night was on its way again. Already shadows where beginning to creep out from the corners of the room. A day had passed and he still couldn't decide what to do about this mess.
A siren sounded in the distance, a plaintive cry that rose and then died away, leaving him more alone than ever.
He dialed Leon's house. On the fifth ring he got Leon's answering machine and the gravelly voice came on the line. "If this is the jerkweed who's been calling me about aluminum siding, I'm gonna find you and you're gonna need a can opener to take a shit." A slight pause. "Leave your message at the beep… and have a nice day."
A slight smile creased John's face and the desire to leave a message was strong, but he fought against it and hung up without saying a word. Leon's bluster didn't scare him any. He couldn't really say why he did it.
Where was Leon? The big man only went to two places. The grocery or the liquor store.
"He's fine," John said to himself, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling something had happened to his old friend.
The man who owned the cue stick was a stone-cold killer, and if he thought Leon had anything to do with its theft.
John struggled into his jacket, knowing he was going to Leon's house even though it was a very dangerous and stupid thing to do. He tucked the stick under his arm and closed the door behind himself. Before he cleared the lobby, Tommy, the rotund night clerk, called out to him. "John, hold up a sec. I didn't get a chance to tell you, there was two guys here last night looking for you."
"One of them young?" John asked. The taste of fear brushed the inside of his mouth, drying it instantly.
"Yeah, the other guy was older. Had on a jacket that looked like he slept in it."
"They say what they want?"
"No. They said they was friends of yours. Said they'd come back tonight to see you. The young guy said you had something for him."
John felt sweat prickle on his forehead. "Thanks, Tommy." He stuck a ten in the chubby hand. "They come back, tell them I checked out this morning. You don't know me. Okay?"
''You got it."
"I mean it, Tommy. Don't mess with these bastards."
Tommy tucked the ten in his shirt pocket, behind a Snickers that already resided there. "These two gentlemen wouldn't be in the collection business, would they?"
"You know how it is, Tommy. I got a little behind," John lied with what he hoped was an embarrassed grin. He spread his hands helplessly. "I ran into a little streak of bad luck last week. I just need these guys off my back until a few things come through." John figured it was easier to let Tommy believe what he wanted. And safer too.
The lie seemed to satisfy Tommy, who waddled back behind the counter and fished out the half-melted Snickers. He took a big bite, smearing chocolate all over his chin. In the fluorescent light it looked like blood.
The bright sunshine hurt John's eyes after being in the motel, but he didn't mind a bit. He hated the dark, always had. Growing up, he had slept with a night-light on until he was damn near twelve. A quick glance at his watch told him the sun would be setting in about two hours. The drive to Leon's house would take about half of that. Plenty of time before dark.
But then he hadn't counted on the flat tire.
J
ohn parked a couple of blocks away from Leon's small ranch-style house and walked. The area was lower middle class, sliding downhill fast, but still a few years away from bad. Kids rode by him on their bikes in the gathering darkness. Four high-schoolers were shooting hoops in a driveway, yelling, laughing. The smoky odor of grilling pork chops filled the autumn air.