It was night by the time Lauters made it out to Jacko Gantz' encampment. He saw much the same things Longtree had-the wagon, the traps and pelts, the rifles, the army tent. There was a smell of coffee and roasted meat in the air. Lauters tethered his horse to the wagon and went to the fire.
"Anyone about?" he called out.
He closed his eyes and winced. Talking above a whisper made him wince. Longtree had put the boot in on him but good. He was sore everywhere. His nose was bandaged. It had been broken and Doc Perry had to twist it back into shape. Lauters had never known such pain. Once, he'd tracked a Cheyenne horse thief up into the Tobacco Root Mountains and had gotten a bullet in his belly out of the deal. He'd had to dig the bullet out with his knife and even that hadn't been quite so painful.
Goddamn Longtree.
Goddamn half-breed sonofabitch.
"Who're you?" a voice called from the darkness.
Lauters didn't turn. "Lauters. Sheriff of Wolf Creek."
"What the hell do you want? I ain't done nothing."
"I know. I just wanna talk a spell with you. That's all."
Gantz sat across from him at the fire. He was a big, bearded man with dark eyes. "There was another lawman here," Gantz spat.
"Longtree?"
Gantz nodded.
"Well, he ain't the law around here-I am. Don't you pay no mind to what that breed says, Gantz."
Gantz smiled. "You know my name?"
"Word travels fast. I heard Longtree talking to my deputy about you."
Gantz spat a stream of tobacco juice into the fire. It sizzled. "Yeah, well, I was just minding my own business, Sheriff. That bastard hit me with his gun for no good reason."
"I don't doubt it a bit. What's the story between you two?"
Gantz, sensing he had an ally here, told the sheriff in detail. His version was a bit different than the one Lauters had heard Longtree tell. "He's a sadistic bastard, Sheriff. I wasn't exactly a law abiding citizen…but he didn't have to shoot me."
Lauters touched his nose. "I know what he's like, just like I know he hides behind that badge and the U.S. Government."
"He do that to you, Sheriff?"
Lauters nodded. "He did."
Gantz' eyes narrowed. "He's a rough one, that Longtree. How well I know that. He's fast with an iron and faster with his fists. He was a scout for the army, you know that?"
Lauters shook his head.
"Pretty good one from what I hear. Not surprising with that Crow blood in him. I heard tell he was a fighter out in San Fran before turning bounty hunter and lawman."
Lauters didn't doubt this. There were few men he couldn't lick, but Longtree fought like a possessed man. "A professional, eh?"
"Yep. Back in the early sixties. They called him Kid Crow out there. He barefisted with some of the best, made a roll of cash I heard. Went ten rounds with Jimmy Elliot, I'm told. Got his plow cleaned pretty good, but he held up."
Lauters took this all in. "He's trouble, Gantz. We gotta get rid of him."
"A federal marshal?"
"Don't matter," Lauters explained. "Like I said, I'm the law around here. If a man was to say, shoot him in the back, there'd be no questions asked. And there might be some money to be had for the man who did it."
"Keep talking, Sheriff, you interest me…"