Damn Loot!. Mario Micolucci

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      "Come on! You’re gonna abandon us as soon as we get a chance to catch those bandits?"

      "As soon as we get a chance to get shot by those bandits, more like."

      "Gregory’s right, now is not the time to dawdle." The new voice which chimed in was one of authority.

      “Yes, Captain! But since we’re not altogether certain how this bust is gonna go down, shouldn’t one of us first report to the nearest command? As a precautionary measure, I mean. Maybe while I’m at it, I can take this poor boy to the El Paso infirmary. Is it, or is it not, our duty to ensure the safety of the people?” said the blond.

      "You don't have to tell me the process, and it damn sure ain’t up to you to decide who’s going to report to command. Your laziness borders on desertion. Anyway, if you care so much, by all means, coffee boiler, do as you like. Just bear in mind that this skulduggery is gonna cost you three weeks of salary, not counting the annulment of your rights to the bounty for those criminals.” The captain scribbled two lines on a piece of paper, crumpled it, and threw it at the man on the ground. "Deputy Richard Keen, hereby enclosed are your sanctions."

      "Don’t you think you’re blowing this out of proportion, James? Three weeks! All right, you've convinced me. I’ll get up and come with you.” He sat up.

      “That’s Captain Bluemann to you! Sorry, but it’s too late to change your mind. That was an order, not a suggestion. You will report back and so help me, if you don’t hand over those sanctions, I’ll write up a report that sends you straight to the gallows! I've had enough of you, good for nothing!” The man was purple.

      “You commanders sure don’t hesitate, do you? Scribble down two lines on a piece of paper and a poor Ranger loses several tens of dollars in salary. All this, after days of hard work!” Rick complained.

      “Quit your bellyaching and remember what I said! Men, rattle your hocks and get going! The law calls!” The captain mounted his horse, spurred him on and ventured off into the desert followed by the others.

      "Scalawags!" The blond man spat, passing a hand over his face. He got up very slowly, despite having a strong physique. He yawned, had a good stretch, and with a sudden leap, was on top of Weasel.

      "So brat, spit it out!" He threatened, grabbing him by his unruly hair as though he were yanking a yucca plant out of the squalid earth.

      "But Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about!" Finn made his voice tremble.

      "Look here, little shit! You can pull the wool over the eyes of that windbag James or that nitwit Greg, but not me. First off, there’s no way you could’ve made it this far. Second, there ain’t a chance in hell those outlaws would’ve missed a little whelp like you right under their noses. Finally, I know how Lane Sadlaan works. He’s refined, a perfectionist. I would almost say he’s a master of pain. His victims are not simply beaten, but meticulously mutilated,” he said, his tone held a note of esteem.

      "Didn’t you hear the officer?" contested Finn. The guy was not the sluggard he appeared to be. In terms of hostility, he was shaping up to be quite the adversary. If he wanted to win him over, he had to keep quiet and listen as much as possible in order to discern his intentions and act accordingly. He stayed silent a few moments.

      “Snake got your tongue, huh? Looks like I nailed it! Alright then, I’ll help you out a little. Let’s see how much my theory proves true. You’re probably spooked, and I have a hunch as to why. I’ve come pretty close to the collecting the beans that you never would have dared to spill because you’re aiming to be a man of your word!” He was smart, but he was underestimating him. As such, he was making the mistake of talking too much. When playing poker, one must take care that the opponent does not see their hand. This the man knew very well, but what he did not realize was that his most worthy opponent was the brat which he currently had by the hair. In the land of jackals, an emaciated appearance and timid demeanor would have been taken for shortcomings, but the boy had learned to use them to his advantage in order to appear harmless.

      “Let's begin. Lane and his men showed up at your town and lit it on fire. This I don’t doubt. Now, what’s not clear to me is the motivation behind it. Can’t you throw me a little bone? You do something to piss him off?”

      At this point he had to conjure a half-truth, otherwise he would start to be suspicious.

      “Before they got there, someone else showed up. He had a nice hat and nice boots. Also, as soon as he got to the watering hole, he pulled out what looked like a gold pocket watch and checked the time. Studd thought he could have other valuables with him, so he shot him to get his stuff. They did end up finding some valuables on him, which caused a whole heap of people to rush in and grab for ‘em. Not long after, the man’s cronies arrived. There were nine of ‘em and they did everything I told you before."

      “Lookie there, now the story is starting to make some sense! They feared they had the law on their trail in Little Pit, so they sent one of them to check; perhaps the least known face. Evidently, the guy didn't know that it’s never a good idea to show a pack of hungry dogs a nice, juicy steak. Well, since you’ve started to cooperate, I’ll help you out a little. In my opinion, you were sent here by Sadlann's band. They forced you to put on this little show to set a trap, and to make sure you don’t do anything funny, they’re holding your family hostage. Am I right?” It was clear that Blondie had been able to draw the most plausible conclusion from the clues at his disposal. A battered boy was the perfect bait. Ironically enough, his father had also thought the same thing. Fortunately, there was no evidence that would lead the man to conclude that one of the criminals had escaped by pocketing all the loot. Plus, the truth was even more arbitrary and beyond believing than anyone could invent.

      Finn's silence was taken as a hesitating affirmation. If the answer was no, he would have responded immediately. He wanted to give the impression of wanting to talk, but being scared to do so. It was working.

      "Here, see... I said it. You didn't spill anything.“ His grip on his hair was matting it. "So let's keep playing this little game. If you are here, it means that someone told them where we were. Did you see any hostages?"

      Silence was the best way to make him keep exposing his cards and it was exactly what Weasel kept doing.

      "Mighty fine!" Although the cop hadn’t received an answer, it was clear that he had been convinced that they had captured Cardigan and made him talk. "Now listen up, boy. I could still make it to my troop, warn them and stop the ambush."

      "No! I’m begging you, if something goes wrong they would kill Paw, Maw and Emily!” That was the icing on the cake.

      The officer continued, "Or... I could leave my colleagues to their inauspicious fate, outnumbered and caught off-guard. I don’t think they would come back in one piece.” Blondie had sardonically placed his bets in favor of the outlaws. Reality, however, was quite different than what he was envisioning. They were not outnumbered, since the bandits had suffered the loss of two other men in addition to the one Blondie also was aware of. Then there was the fact that there was no trap at all, and the outlaws would be the ones caught off-guard by the Rangers.

      "I'll do anything, but I don't want my family to die! We are nothing but poor peasants.” Finn screwed up his face into a pleading look.

      “Fine. Then go and tell that big man down there that the rock he’s hiding behind is too small for him. Then tell him I know everything but I’m willing to take a step back and not interfere. In exchange, I want three thousand dollars or equivalent. According to my estimates, СКАЧАТЬ