The Charlotte Series: Book 3: The Pretender's Gold

SECTION XIII-KINGSDOWN 32

Chapter 32

A campfire somewhere in New Mexico

Rock shrugged his shoulders and tucked his chin into his collar and shivered visibly. Their fire was small and offered little in the way of warmth.

"Boss?"

"Yeah, Rock." Mick grunted without moving from the place he was stretched out by the meager fire.

"You think of a new plan yet?" Rock rubbed his hands together briskly and glanced over where Mick lay with his hat still over his face.

"Don't worry about it Rock. Have I ever let you down before?"

"No Boss." Rock answered then stammered. "Yes boss. I mean-"

"Good night Rock. I'm going to sleep now. Wake me up when it's my watch."

"Sure Boss."

---

Mickey wandered around the edge of the camp. He kept moving, as it was the coldest part of the night.

"Well, Mick," he said to himself as his eyes continued to scan the horizon, "You need to find a bigger mark. These small cons are great for a quick buck but you've been running long enough. If Flynn was still after you, you'd be dead by now."

A coyote howled-or maybe it was a wolf. Mick stopped and listened as he continued to look around. Finally, he shrugged and continued walking. He hadn't gone ten feet when he froze and dropped to the ground listening. Voices echoed quietly. They were too soft to distinguish words, but obviously he and Rock had neighbors.

Crawling forward he stopped every ten feet or so and listened. Soon the voices became clear. He stayed still, listening for several minutes. Despite the cold crisp night air, sweat suddenly beaded his brow. By the time he backed clear and scrambled to his feet, sweat soaked his shirt.

"Wake up Rock!" he shook the snoring form and turned to kick sand over their small fire

"Rock, wake up! We gotta get the hell outta here!"

"What's the matter boss?"

"Quiet!" Mick's eyes darted toward the horizon. "I don't think they can hear us, but just the same...if it's that bunch we've been hearing about since Texas..."

"Who they?" Rock moved to gather his things. "Indians?"

"Rustlers." Mick snapped, "They get wind of us and we're dead for sure. There were four of them that I could hear. Maybe more."

"What are they doing out here boss? Nothing near here but that ranch some ways back. The one I took the supplies from. But it looked deserted, or least why's-"

"Rock, will you-" Mick stopped and frowned as Rock fell quiet and began packing up their pitiful camp.

"We'll hide at that ranch." Mickey announced as he tied down his bedroll.

"I can show you the way, but don't you want I should follow-"

"No! Get me to that ranch. Pronto!"

---

"Hello the house" Mick called as they rode through the yard.

"Don't worry Rock." He rode forward when no one answered their greeting. "It looks deserted, because it is deserted. Take care of the horses while I see about getting us in."

Rock nodded.

Mick was already up the few steps and onto the long front porch when Rock turned the horses toward the barn.