Storm clouds gathered high above the narrow canyon and slowly obliterated the stars which had cast just enough light for the six horsemen to guide their mounts by. Yet the riders ignored everything except the man ahead of them. Snake Adams continued to lead his five remaining followers through the strangely silent canyon.
There was an eagerness about the outlaw leader since he had managed to get his hands on the brown envelope. None of his gang had ever seen him so excited before. They could not understand the planning that had gone into the previous few months. To them it had been nothing more than following the orders of their notorious leader. The truth was far more complicated. Snake Adams had learned about the very important visitors who had arrived in Waco within minutes of them stepping off the train. For he had spies in many places. Spies who allowed him to be always one step ahead of the law. To learn things which were secret. So it had been with the Easterners from Washington DC.
Adams had known of their trip to Waco long before they had started out on their fateful journey. He also knew why they were headed for Waco. For even powerful people can get greedy. They can also break the law if the potential profits are great enough and the temptation far too mouth-watering to dismiss. Adams had known what they were planning, and how to take advantage of it.
There was just one piece of the complicated puzzle to put into place now and that piece was in Rio Concho. That was where he would reap the rewards of his misbegotten deeds.
Snake Adams had not allowed any of his gang to rest since they had set out from the train-car which they had left totally wrecked. There was an urgency about the man who continued to spur and whip his faithful mount far beyond its endurance.
Adams had something next to his merciless black heart which was driving him ever onward. He knew that the contents of the brown envelope was worth more than either he or his gang could imagine.
He could actually taste the fortune he knew would soon be his.
Lightning flashed all around the walls of the canyon, but the outlaw leader seemed possessed by demons. He continued to force his lathered-up mount along the sandy canyon and was deaf to the complaints of those eating his dust.
Then unexpectedly Adams reined in his mount. He stood in his stirrups and looked out into the darkness.
The other riders gathered to both sides of the silent outlaw. Ferdy Mayne almost fell from his saddle as he relaxed for the first time in hours.
‘Ya trying to kill us or the horses, Snake?’ Mayne gasped as he hung on the neck of his steaming horse.
‘Or both!’ Brewster chipped in.
Adams dismounted and snapped his fingers.
‘Water the horses, Kyle,’ he ordered.
‘But we ain’t got much water left, Snake,’ Parker said.
‘Water ’em!’ Adams raised his voice.
A terrified Kyle Parker slid from his sweat-soaked saddle and started to gather their canteens together.
Adams removed his hat and tossed it at the outlaw.
‘Give Kyle ya hats, boys. He’s gonna water the nags.’
Ben Lynch carefully lowered his aching frame to the ground and moved towards Adams.
‘We gonna waste all our water on the horses, Snake? Me and the boys are damn thirsty too.’
Adams nodded.
‘The horses need it more than we do.’
‘Who says?’ Brewster asked angrily.
‘Hush up, One Ear!’ Adams ordered. ‘We need the horses watered so they can take us down there.’
The five outlaws looked to where Adams was pointing with his outstretched arm. The golden lights of Rio Concho were like fireflies away in the distance.
‘Is that the place we’re headed for, Snake?’ Lynch asked.
Adams turned to face his men. Even in the faint starlight they could see the grin on his face.
‘Yep. That’s the place. That, my friends, is Rio Concho.’
‘How come we’re going there?’ Parker asked as he filled each of the upturned hats with water for their mounts.
Adams patted his chest again.
‘’Cause that’s where we turn this document into hard cash. Lots of hard cash.’
‘What is that piece of paper anyways, Snake?’ Brewster asked. ‘Ya keeps tellin’ us it’s worth a hunk of money but it’s just a piece of paper. That don’t make no sense at all.’
‘I’ll bet ya it’s one of them banker’s drafts I’ve heard tell about, boys,’ Mayne said. ‘Am I right, Snake?’
Snake Adams pulled a cigar from his pocket and bit off its tip. He lit it with a match struck on his thumbnail and inhaled the smoke.
‘Keep guessin’, boys. Keep guessin’,’ he taunted.