Mario Micolucci - Damn Loot!

“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, the figure should correspond to about half of their portion of the stolen goods. If the guy they killed in Little Pit had some valuables with him, they’ve probably 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.