already divvied up the loot. So, you can’t tell me they have nothing. Oh! Also tell him that if he doesn’t agree to my offer, that I’ve got plenty of munitions that will agree for him.” That rogue was not just slick, he had an eagle eye. Hugg had lurked almost a thousand yards from the camp. It was an impressive distance. Although several rifles exceeded that range, few were accurate enough and there were even fewer marksmen capable of such precision. Since his Jacob Hawken was three sheets to the wind, he might as well be out of range.
“Three... three thousand dollars?” Not even the most simple-minded wretch would have considered such an inconceivable figure.
"You tell him exactly what I told you. Three thousand dollars to turn a blind eye. Well, three thousand dollars, plus you as a bonus. I don't think my fool companions are going to make it, but I have to protect myself from any unforeseen circumstances. So, I still need to report to command, turn in this paper, and take you to the infirmary. Now, kid, if you let slip any of this and I’ll not only kill you, but I’ll go to Little Pit and take out your whole family if they’re still standing. It won’t be hard to find them. I know your sister’s name. Emily, right? Think about it - who will they believe anyway? Some little rat-faced spawn of a reject of society, or an upright man of the law?”
"No, no, sir, I won't tell anyone! But actually, I'd like to go back to my town.” He and his father had far more important business to attend to and it wouldn’t be good for them to be seen in the company of a Ranger.
"Look, it’s essential to me that I take you to the El Paso infirmary as soon as possible. Then you can make yourself scarce. In fact, if you disappear, as far as I'm concerned, it's even better." He shoved him roughly in Hugg’s direction and barked, “Move! The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can get back to your hokum.”
The best way to profit is from a privileged position in the middle of the crowd. He had heard this saying from old Kent, the so-called bandit extraordinaire. Maybe he had been, but if he met his fate lying face down in Little Pit dust, extraordinaire he was not. At any rate, the motto fit perfectly with the revelation that Finn had just had: being on the side of the law required one to take possession of dirty money from time to time, but at the same time it allowed you to keep some of it. Operating with due caution, of course. Better than staying in that dung heap of a town waiting for some fool to show up with a pittance in his pocket. Blondie, keeping his eyes wide open and closing them only when the moment seemed fit, was about earn himself three thousand bucks and who knows how many other times he had already done it.
On the right side of the law was the best place to do the dirtiest work. He thought that this could probably be something he could get used to. There is something to be said for a young person who cultivates healthy intentions for the future.
At the moment, however, the task at hand was much more pertinent. He had reached his father and had to convince him to relinquish the sum that the crooked Ranger wanted, without getting his face smashed in more than it already had been.
"Paw, that guy there has eagle eyes. He saw you and he got suspicious!” Better to blame him for what was about to go down.
Years of work as a trapper led the man to instinctively seek the shelter of the rock with greater detail. Then he regained his composure and grabbed Finn by the collar. “Blazes sake! The hell is he suspicious of, exactly?” Finn flinched at the finger in his face.
"He thought you were one of those outlaws they are after and brought me here to set a trap."
"So why didn't he tell his companions?"
“That’s my point, Paw. It’s that he seems to want to keep it from them, ‘cause he wants something in exchange for his silence.” Weasel’s voice was progressively waning and the last words came out as a barely audible whisper.
“Hahaha!”
Hugg let out a hearty laugh. “Let him go warn them! What do I care."
"Yes, but he’s a pretty perceptive guy and if you let him go, he’ll start to suspect something. Then there’s one more thing. I don’t think that for a smart guy like you it will be a problem, but he said that in the case you turn him down, he won’t think twice about sparring with you. Of course, we only have pistols. He not only has those, but also has a brand new Sharps rifle. You know, Paw, they say that it has a good range and that it reloads in a flash. But you’re the best and you can take him out, even if you have to circle him from a distance on horseback. Right?” He pretended to cling to him, as though he was seeking his father’s protection.
A drop of sweat trickled down the man's forehead. "Sure, I can take him out with my eyes closed. Only thing is, if I end up just woundin’ him he’d go runnin’ off to his pals, then we’d have a pack of Rangers on our heels. Maybe we’re better off givin’ him what he wants. What’s his demand?”
This was the hardest part. Finn held up three fingers.
“Son of a crow! He wants a whole three hundred bucks just to turn a blind eye?”
“No, Paw... He doesn’t want three hundred...”
“Oh! Aight then what’re we standin’ here for? Here, take the thirty dollars the chump wants and that’ll be the end of it.”
“No, he wants three thousand...”
This was it. He was going to get another pummeling. Weasel was going to find himself on the ground again spitting out blood and dirt.
“Fucking pigs! They gorge themselves on our taxes, and rather than helping the honest citizens, they go rogue and want three grand to turn a blind eye!" Finn wasn’t sure his father ever paid a penny’s worth of tax. Even “honest citizens” was a laugh. However, he preferred not to point out those details because he had grown a liking to keeping his hide intact.
Hugg breathed in large quantities of air in a vain attempt to stifle his anger, when he finally blurted out, "I break my back to get this loot, then that horse’s ass shows up and wants three thousand, I say three thousand bucks! Well we’ll just see about that when I make him eat dirt. Who does he think he is? I’m just gonna have to get back to that hollow so I can get my pistol. This toy gun ain’t gonna get us nowhere. "
He gathered himself and pulled out his pistol. As he leaned out from his hiding spot, a bullet whizzed inches from his ear. After the near miss, the adversary could simply adjust his shot and hit him. Hugg immediately turned back around to crouch behind the rock.
"Consarn it! This stupid backloadin’ pistol piece a dung can’t hold a candle to my Jagg! If only I still had it...” He seemed more shaken up by the affront to his convictions than by risking his hide by a frog’s hair. He huffed and started digging through his pockets, cursing under his breath.
“Finn! Finn, stop rollin’ round in the dust like a cat in heat and get over here!” Despite his loss of equilibrium from the combination of the beating and getting up too quickly, he obeyed, but only to avoid an “encouragement kick” on top of everything else.
"Here. Take this. Should be worth about three thousand bucks. And you better hope he didn’t realize I don’t have a gun. If he did, he’s gonna want it all and will try to take us out to get it. He’ll have to pry it out of my cold dead hands!” His lump of a father shared nothing. Ever. But for some reason when things got hairy, his father had no problem sharing the burden. Always. “Come on, We gotta cut stick now!" He added.
“Err, Paw... There’s one more thing.”
Badfinger
