CHAPTER 10

The road up the mountain took a bend, and as soon as he was around it Billy Connery suddenly veered his horse into the woods and down into a ravine. He followed it a hundred yards, then dismounted and tethered the horse to some brush. Here it was well out of sight from the road. He gave it oats from the feed bag he’d brought from the livery, then cut a straight path toward the road, not the angled path by which he’d reached this point.

He lay in the brush by the roadside and waited. He was there hardly a minute before the approach of two horsemen confirmed the suspicion that had developed about a mile out of town.

This was the pair he’d seen in the gun shop. He shook his head as he watched them pass. He should have never flashed that roll of money so carelessly.

They rode within fifteen feet of where Connery hid, one of them urging the other to hurry because he feared their prey was moving faster than they were.

Ride on, scoundrels, Connery thought. You’re chasing phantoms now.

They went on and he debated what to do. They probably would figure out before long that he had evaded them and might turn around. So he didn’t want to get back on the road and take the chance of meeting them on the return.

Nothing to do but stay out of sight and wait it out, then. That could mean he’d not make Culvertown tonight.

Well, there could be worse fates. Such as being robbed at gunpoint.

He went back to his horse and removed its saddle. He rubbed the horse down as best he could and fed it some more.

Too bad he didn’t have a bedroll. He’d not anticipated needing one unless his search for Kenton took him into the mountains beyond Culvertown. In that case he’d planned to buy what he needed in Culvertown.

He’d spent other nights in harder situations. He’d make do, if it came to it.

Maybe he’d get lucky and his followers would come back sooner rather than later and he could ride on and maybe make Culvertown before nightfall.

Connery returned to his hiding place beside the road to keep a hopeful watch.

He dozed off, though he didn’t realize it until sound on the road made him wake up. He looked around, then ducked low as he realized that his followers had indeed given up and reversed course.

Connery kept quiet and grinned. Once they were past, he could saddle up again and head on into Culvertown. He’d get there in the middle of the night, but what the devil? At the worst he’d sleep in a barn loft or woodshed, better than the open woods without a bedroll.

The two riders were moving slowly and drinking.

“Too damn bad he give us the slip,” one said.

“Hell, yeah. I never seen such a roll of bills. I can’t figure how the hell he got away from us.”

“Heard us following, betcha. Heard your damn mouth blabbing on. I told you to be quieter.”

“Hell, you was making more noise than me. Hey, why you stopping?”

“Gotta wet.”

One of the pair slid out of the saddle and headed straight for the woods, only a few yards from where Connery hid. Connery held still as he listened to liquid splattering the ground. Thank heaven the man wasn’t any closer than he was.

There was a loud thump out on the road. The other man had fallen out of his saddle.

The first one headed back out to the road, staggering badly. Connery realized just how drunk this pair was.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” the staggering man said.

The other was trying to pick himself up and not doing a good job of it.

“I’m drunk, Wayne. I fell off my horse.”

“Ha! You never could hold your whiskey, Hamp. Get up off that ground.”

Hamp tried hard but wound up on his rump again.

“Hell, Wayne, I can’t go no farther. We got bedrolls. Let’s just lay ’em out and sleep it off here. We’ll ride back down in the morning.”

Connery winced. If they camped where they were, he was stuck where he was.… He dared not move for fear of making noise.

“Come on, Hamp. Get back on your horse. You can make it.”

That’s right, Hamp, Connery thought. You can make it.

“I can’t. I can’t. Let’s stay here and go in come morning.”

The debate continued briefly, and in the end Hamp won out. Connery shook his head sadly. An entire night hiding in the brush mere yards away from a couple of drunken thieves! The prospect was miserable.

Maybe they’d pass out and he could sneak off to his horse.

But they didn’t pass out. They built a fire right in the midst of the road and sat drinking and talking, their voices growing more slurred. Billy wondered how much they could drink before finally succumbing. Their capacity seemed boundless.

Their conversation was about women, past crimes, and ambitions for future ones that would make them wealthy men. Connery had his doubts about that. These were losers, probably destined to die young and broke and still dreaming of that big crime.

He wished they were dreaming somewhere else tonight.

“Take a look there,” Hamp said, pointing in Connery’s general direction and giving him a scare. But he realized quickly that Hamp was not pointing at him but somewhere beyond him. “You can see the light of Jack Livingston’s place from here.”

“Nah. That ain’t Livingston’s place. It’s too far away. Besides, I hear the place is empty. Livingston died last year.”

“He ain’t dead. I’ve talked to three men who seen him in Culvertown not three months ago. And six months back, he come into town and walked into a saloon and bought three rounds for everybody in the place. Told them to drink up hearty. Then two of them followed him back toward his mansion and dang if he didn’t shoot at them. He’s loco as can be, Jack Livingston is.”

“Loco, maybe, but rich, too. They say that place has gold hid all through it.”

“Just a story. Jack Livingston used to be rich, but he ain’t no more.”

“Who told you that?”

“Bunch of folks. He made a big strike here at Culvertown and got rich as Beelzebub and married himself off to a woman who had to have herself a fancy big mansion. So he built her one, and filled it all full of tunnels and passages and such.”

“That’s just another wild tale.”

“Hell, no, it ain’t.… I’ve talked to folks who say they’ve seen ’em. His wife liked book stories with big old houses and secret tunnels and such, and so he built her house that way. Then she up and dies on him, and he goes loco and lives up there alone. Except sometimes he goes off here and there and gambles. So he loses most his money, but every now and then wins him a big hand and gets a lot of it back. That’s when he shows up in Culvertown, buying drinks and all.”

“I don’t believe none of that.”

“Well, I’m just telling what I hear.”

“Tell you what: if there is money or gold hid up in that mansion, I’d sure like to put my hands on it.”

“Amen. That would be a place worth robbing. But you’ll not catch me trying it.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you know? Everyone who’s tried to rob Jack Livingston ain’t come back from the effort.”

“Just more stories, that’s all.”

“The hell! You go into the Livingston mansion, you don’t come out again.”

They talked longer, dreaming out loud about the wealth they would someday steal. They drank, too, growing drunker and drunker, until finally they did slide into unconsciousness.

By then Billy Connery was asleep as well. He did not waken until the next morning. He awakened abruptly, though, startled into awareness by something … but he couldn’t quite remember what it was. Popping sounds. That’s what it had been. Like pinewood snapping in a fireplace, but louder. Gunshots? Faraway ones, maybe. The pair on the road were gone, their fire nearly cold. He was glad to see the last of them.

He got up, rubbing the back of his stiff neck, and headed off to where his horse awaited.