Cheyenne Saturday - Empty-Grave Extended Edition Read Online Free Page A

help.” 
    “I know you didn't ask me,” the Texan said mildly.
    “And it don't change anything between us,” Kelly insisted.
    “Not a thing,” the Texan said agreeably. He dropped his saddle into the dust and began unbuckling his belt. “Now be all right?” 
    “No, I got work to do.” Kelly said regretfully.
    “All right, I'll be around somewhere, I reckon.” The Texan picked up his saddle and began to walk off.
    “Wait a minute!” Kelly called as he hurried to the man's side. “You told me you was working for Watson. How come you lit in against him?” 
    “I didn't say no such thing.” The Texan said.
    “You asked me how to get to Watson's.” 
    “That's what I asked you.” 
    “God damn it, man!” Kelly roared. “I ain't going to stand here and quibble with you—”
    “Then don't.” 
    “If you didn't come here to work for Watson, and you didn't come here to work on the railroad, what in hell did you come here for?” 
    “I don’t figure that’s any of your business, Irishman,” the Texan said politely but firmly. “But it won't hurt none to tell you. You might know the man I'm after.”
    “Oh, are you lookin' for somebody who works in this camp?”
    “That's right.”
    “Who?”
    “He calls himself Lefty Hayes.”
    “Lefty Hayes!” Kelly said. “He works for Watson. He's Watson's right-hand man.”
    “That's what they told me down in Independence and in Omaha,” the Texan said levelly.
    “Whatcha want with him?”
    “Goin' to kill him.”
    Kelly shook his head sadly. “Son,” he said, “you're a big, strapping lad, and you've shown yourself to be fair-minded and capable with your fists, but Lefty Hayes is faster than a rattlesnake with that gun of his'n.”
    “I heard.”
    “Are you fast?”
    “I ain't dead yet.”
    “No, you ain't, lad, but you might be if you try to kill Lefty Hayes.”
    “Well, one way or the other, I'm gonna try.”
    “I can't stand here talkin' to you. I've got work to do. You got anyplace special to go while you're waitin' for Lefty?”
    “Nope.”
    “Walk with me over to the doctorin' tent while I see how my scout is farin'.”
    “All right,” the Texan said.
    “I could sure use a man like you.” Kelly eyed the Texan. “It's a great thing, lad, to be part of buildin' a railroad—not just any railroad, but one that will build a strong country.”
    “Seein' as how I just spent nearly five years doin' everything I could to tear that country apart; I don't guess I got much interest.” They moved through the tents.
    “You wore the gray, eh, lad?” Kelly's voice was gentle. “I can't say that I blame you for feelin' bitter. It was a hard-fought war.” 
    “I don't feel bitter,” the Texan said simply. “I just ain't a railroad man.” 
    “We have a lot of Confederate lads workin' side by side with their former Union foes.” 
    “The war's over for me,” the Texan said shortly. “Except for one little piece of unfinished business.” 
    “Lefty?” 
    “That's right.” 
    “I reckon we oughtta introduce ourselves, lad,” Kelly said. “I'm Liam Kelly, bucko in charge.” 
    “How do, Mr. Kelly. I'm Nathan Ellis.” 
    The men shook hands. “Texas, eh?” Kelly said, indicating the boots and the hat.
    “Texas,” Ellis said.
    Kelly scratched at his chin. “You wouldn't be one of those lads who sneaked supplies into the Confederacy under the noses of the Yankees, would you?” 
    Ellis grinned. “We did manage to get a few wagonsful of stuff to the boys.” 
    Kelly grunted. Texas had sided with the South in the conflict, but had not been as actively engaged in actual fighting as the others, its role being principally the supply of men and material, much of it brought overland from the Pacific coast. It took hard, tough men to cart guns and ammunition nearly two thousand miles across the southern deserts, fighting Indians and raiders every step of the way. His estimation of Nathan Ellis rose another notch.
    “I'll be