Devils Unto Dust(34)

“I think so,” I say, filling my voice with confidence I don’t feel. “At least for a few days. I’ve never known him to go any farther.”

Micah frowns at me, but Sam claps him on the shoulder. “See? We’ll find him, nothing to worry about. Willie always knows what to do.”

His words pain me, but I force a smile. “’Course I do.” I sit back down and pick up my fork before realizing that for once I’m actually full. There’s even food left on my plate, a rare luxury.

Benjamin takes out a pack of cards with frayed edges, and starts to shuffle for a game of faro. I watch for a bit, not in the mood to play. I’m not a fan of card games, even if the boys aren’t betting real money; it’s just a way to pass the time. Curtis calls banker and deals, then burns off the first card. He’s placing the banker’s card when a loud horselaugh catches my attention from across the room. My eyes find Dollarhide immediately; his back is to me but there’s no mistaking that dingy hair.

“What the hell is he doing here?” I ask, my fists tightening on instinct.

The Garretts crane their heads around to see who I’m glaring at.

“He who?” Micah nudges me, not following my gaze.

“Dollarhide,” Ben answers for me. “I thought that was his horse.”

“How in blazes did Dollarhide get a horse?” Micah asks.

“Stole one, I reckon,” Curtis says. “You stay away from him, all of you.”

“I intend to,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

“Why?” Sam asks. “I mean, I know he’s a bad sort and all, but lots of hunters are. Again, no offense.”

“He’s in deep to the Judge,” Curtis says. “Gambling debts up to his eyes, and he’s getting desperate.”

“He was making noise a while back about Delgado fleecing him out of a job. Wouldn’t shut up till some fellers made him. That was before he came after you.” Ben nods at me.

“What?” Micah’s eyes widen. “You didn’t tell me that, Will. When? What happened?”

“Nothing,” I tell him. “Dollarhide thought Pa gave me some of the money and tried to take it off me.”

“Of course,” Micah says, his lip curling up. “Leave it to Pa to pile on more troubles.”

“That ain’t fair,” I tell him, but my heart isn’t in it. I gave up on Pa a long time ago.

“It won’t be long afore he follows your pa’s example,” Curtis interrupts, putting an end to our squabble. “The Judge ain’t a patient man, and I hear Dollarhide owes two months in tithes.”

“What tithes?” Sam asks. “I thought hunters didn’t have to pay dues.”

“No, but ten percent of everything we make goes to the Judge. Some goes to keep the patrols busy and these stations stocked, and the rest goes in his pockets.”

Micah gives a low whistle, and I scowl. How much money does one man need? The rest of us barely scrape by, and the Judge still has his hand out.

“Is that why y’all are so affordable?” I ask.

Curtis shrugs. “Well, that and we’re still green. But I don’t like giving that man any more than I have to.”

I nod in agreement, and glance at Dollarhide. Maybe he feels my eyes on him, because he looks right at me. I duck my head down, staring at my half-full plate. When I risk another look, he’s making his way out of the mess hall.

“If he’s smart, he’ll get out of Glory,” Ben says, watching Dollarhide leave. “Somewhere the Judge can’t send hunters to collect.”

“If he were smart, he wouldn’t owe in the first place. Judge has long arms,” Curtis says. “There’s not many places he can’t reach. His boys are everywhere from Savage to Rath City, and those boys are loyal. I know McAllister’s after your pa, but I’d rather have a posse on my tail than owe one red cent to the Judge. All right, make your bets.”

The boys use colored rocks instead of chips. A few fellows wander over to watch the game, introducing themselves as hunters from Plainview. They seem plenty nice, and one of them gives me a sidelong glance, but Ben and Curtis aren’t enough to change my opinion of hunters entirely.

I watch the boys play without paying attention, my full belly making me sleepy and warm. Micah looks happy, laughing at Curtis’s jokes and talking easily with Sam. At home he’s so withdrawn, always sealing himself away. Is it my fault he’s like that? Or maybe Micah feels it, too, the heaviness that lives in our house, the air thick with regret.

Breaking glass and shouts erupt from the corner, and I leap to my feet a second after the Garretts, pushing Micah behind me. Everyone is drawing guns but I can’t see what’s happening.

“Get back,” someone yells. “Get away from him.”

A space clears as everyone backs away from a man lying on his side on the floor. At first I think he’s been shot, but then I see him moving, convulsing in rapid and jerky spasms. His body contorts and as he rolls onto his back I see his face, twitching and distorted with pain.

“Oh no,” Micah says softly, his eyes wide.

Sam takes a hesitant step forward, but Curtis puts a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“There’s nothing you can do for him, Doc,” he says. “Best not get too close.”