It was still raining the next evening when he entered the saloon. The man he'd been looking for was there, like he knew he'd be. Adam took off his hat, ran his hand through his hair, and put it back on again. Then he sat down beside Carl Reynolds.
Reynolds looked up from his drink and narrowed his eyes. "So the first of how many?"
"I don't count the men who are behind me, only the ones ahead of me." Adam answered. He motioned to the bartender, appearing relaxed, but every nerve was tense, waiting for Reynolds to make the first move.
"Well since you've been tailing me the longest, I guess the honor is yours." Reynolds lifted his glass in a toast to him, but Adam knew that a viper was waiting to strike behind his nonchalance. "How long was it?"
"Since Billings."
"Right, Billings. Nice little town."
"It was before you killed three people there." Adam said. He wondered how long Reynolds would draw the conversation out.
"So," Reynolds tipped his chair back so that the front two legs hovered in the air. "how do you want to do this?"
"Your poster says dead or alive. You pick."
Reynolds laughed. Quicker than sight, he reached for his gun, but Adam was faster. Reynolds's gun fell to the floor and he gripped his right shoulder in the wake of a gunshot.
"Not bad." he spat.
"No, not bad at all." Adam narrowed his eyes. Right handed holster, but he'd been holding his drink with his left hand. Something wasn't right.
Then he saw his left hand creeping toward the inside pocket of his vest. Instinct pulled the trigger before his mind could process anything, and Reynolds slumped forward as another gun clattered to the floor. Adam holstered his own gun.
"You shouldn't try a left-handed trick like that on me." he said to the dead body.
A left handed man with a right handed holster. A left hand reaching for a hidden gun. The scene replayed in his head as he sat in the saloon nursing his drink. As he watched it again, the hand transformed from the calloused hand of an outlaw to the tiny hand of a three year old taking his own. He clenched his fist, able to feel the soft skin gripping around his finger. Another left hand.
"Horsey." The little hand tugged on his finger like a bellboy ringing. Large hazel eyes topped with curly brown hair silently begged him, and Adam hoisted his little brother up onto his back and crawled on hands and knees on the floor.
Little Joe bounced on top of him, wanting him to go faster. Adam pretended to rear, catching his little brother just before he hit the floor and swinging him upside down. Little Joe screeched in delight.
"More!" he stamped when Adam put him down. Then the hand again – the left hand – tugging at his right one. The same hand that tugged at his that night. He hadn't known what was wrong, only that his older brothers were upset, and as Adam looked down into his trusting eyes, they filled with tears. He couldn't explain what had happened to him. Joe wouldn't understand. Just like he couldn't explain why he'd left.
"You're a hard man to track down." A familiar voice brought Adam out of his thoughts. The interruption was welcome, but the man who sat next to him was not.
"There's a reason for that." Adam slid his gun, which he'd automatically half drawn, back into the holster. He took one last swallow of his drink and stood up.
"Leaving so soon?" the man asked. "I was going to buy you a drink."
"I'll pass." Adam walked toward the door. The man stood and followed him. He was taller than Adam, with powerful hands that reminded him of a person from another life.
"I need you, Adam."
"Find someone else."
"There's no one else. Name your price."
Adam stopped and a low laugh came from his throat. It was one the man was familiar with – ironic and tinged with bitterness, no real mirth in it. He couldn't ever remember hearing Adam laugh wholeheartedly without that trace of poison.
"What could you possibly give me to convince me to work for you again?"
"How about a piece of land east of Lake Tahoe?" the man asked slyly.
Adam's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think I want that?" his words were of a deadly tone that warned the man to tread lightly.
"They've just hit a bonanza out there in the Comstock Lode. Miners are already moving out there to strike it rich, but I got there first and staked a claim on what used to be your ranch." He smiled tauntingly at Adam. "You shouldn't leave land unattended like that and expect it to stay the same. Especially when the government wants land in the Sierra Nevada settled so they can tax miners on the gold. You may not care what happens to your father's land while it sits there untouched, but what happens now? Miners are like gophers, Adam. They'll rip that land apart if I let them."
He knew it was true. He had left the Ponderosa unspoiled, like a bride left by her groom. He could see it in his mind's eyes despite his attempts to erase the memory: the tall trees like pillars stretching up to vaulted sky like the ceiling of a cathedral, the mountains framing the edges of the hills. And now it was threatened to be ravaged.
He could walk away. His entire life had gone up in flames; he might as well let the last reminder burn as well. He turned to leave.
"I'll give you until tomorrow night to think about it. I'm staying at the Hotel Americano, room thirty five."
"I won't change my mind, Bates." Adam said as he pushed through the swinging doors and stepped out into the twilight.
