The man with no name went back to the inn where he had rented lodgings. The hotel fire was under the control of the city’s fire fighters. He had made sure to empty out the building so no one was hurt. He had to get Stupid from his corral and look for the last two names on his list.
The Alvas had been killed by someone else, which made him no longer a concern.
The last two names in the city seemed to be using the same haunts day after day. If he grabbed both of them up tonight, he could leave the city and look for the next person on his wanted list further north.
He didn’t know if he would have to come back to Bern in the future, but it didn’t matter. His fugitives were bound to start moving once they learned he was on the trail. Then he would really start earning his pay.
He expected some of them would try to stop him from serving their cards, just like the ones he had already met. He felt ready to handle that.
The dead man paused at the corral. Stupid walked over. A blocky grin covered the horse’s face.
“We’re going to have to ride around for a bit,” said the dead man. “I only have two names left. I want to grab them tonight before they start thinking Bern isn’t safe for what they are doing.”
Stupid turned and went to the stable at one end of the corral. He waited patiently for the rider to either climb the fence, or go to the stable and break into the barn.
He couldn’t put his saddle on with his hooves.
The dead man climbed the fence and made his way through the horses being let to roam the enclosure. He walked over to the stable and patted Stupid’s shoulder. He looked around and found his gear hanging from a rack. He tacked the horse up in a few minutes.
“Let’s get you out of here so we can look for the last two,” said the man with no name. “Once we’ve done that, we can head up toward Lobster Bay and see what kind of menaces they need to have put down.”
Stupid neighed lightly. He was ready to run.
The dead man mounted. He directed his horse over the fence. They trotted away from the stable. If things went well, the horse would be returned to the corral, he would go back to his room, they would both leave town the next day.
He figured things wouldn’t go well. He had never been that lucky. More likely, he would be wounded, and burn his enemy’s place down just to make an excuse to leave.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
The dead man followed the card down through the city, heading for the north side. He held the card of the man he was chasing in one hand as he rode. He ignored the cloud of smoke from the hotel as he rode. The city had it under control, and he didn’t have any way of stopping fires yet.
He rode down into a residential street not far from where he had confronted the Sharriff. He could see light poles for the trains in the distance. A blue stripe sparked to life as he rode down the street.
He dismounted and examined the houses on the block. He found the one with the proper street address on it. It was a bright color, but he couldn’t tell what it was in the dark. His target lived in that house.
“Stay here while I knock on the door,” said the dead man.
Stupid nodded his head. He found a patch of grass he could crop while waiting.
The man with no name walked up to the door of the house and knocked. He noted a small light on over the main floor of the place. It went out as lights came on in the windows next to the door.
“Yes,” said a young lady peeking around the edge of her cracked door.
“Ezra King?,” asked the dead man. The card didn’t react to the woman. That told him that she wasn’t the one he wanted.
“I think you have the wrong house,” said the woman. She started to close the door.
The dead man pushed on the door, knocking her out of the way. He stepped inside. He held the card up. The stripe was wider when he pointed it up at the ceiling.
“What’s above us?,” he asked.
“The attic,” said the woman. “There’s nothing up there but some of the things I didn’t feel like unpacking when I moved in.”
“All right,” said the dead man. “I want you to go outside for a moment. I have to figure out what is going on.”
“Why should I do that?,” asked the woman. She pulled her robe around her.
“You see this card?,” he asked. He held up the black card with the blue stripe burning the air.
“Yes,” said the woman. “So what?”
“It tells me that the man I am looking for is somewhere in this house,” said the dead man. “Unless he jumps out a window from up there, he is bottled and has to wait until I figure out where he is.”
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“There is a hatch in the bedroom closet,” said the woman. She pointed to the back of the house.
The dead man heard something shifting overhead. The target had two choices. He could wait by the hatch and try to take his pursuer when he tried to get up into the attic, or he could try to leave the attic by some unknown means.
Leaving seemed doubtful.
The manhunter pulled one of his pistols as he walked to the bedroom. He listened but he couldn’t hear anything. The person in the attic had froze in place to wait for him to decide what to do.
He should have run. Staying was a big risk that gained nothing.
The dead man pointed the pistol at the hatch. He tried to decide where an ambusher would wait for him to climb up so his head could be bashed in. He decided that it didn’t matter. He just had to make it hard for the guy to come after him.
The dead man fired into the ceiling around the hatch. He was rewarded by cries of pain and part of the closet ceiling falling down. He stepped back to give himself a clear view so the next shots would do more than wound.
A man fell down out of the opening. Wood stuck out of his legs. He hit the floor and moaned in pain.
“Who’s this?,” asked the lady. “I don’t know him.”
“He’s been living in your attic,” said the dead man. “Now, he’s not.”
He touched the wounded man with the warrant card. Blue light erupted from the floor. It dragged the unwelcome houseguest down into the floor as it vanished.
“He was up there?,” said the woman. “How long?”
“I don’t know,” said the dead man. “You might want to call a Guard and have them search up there in case he had a friend we don’t know anything about.”
“I can’t believe this,” said the woman. “I just moved in here.”
“Go ahead and get the Guard,” said the dead man. “I’ll wait for you to come back.”
“What did you do?,” asked the lady. “What was that card?”
“I had a paper to serve on him so he could meet some people,” said the dead man. “I’m sure they are giving him a quiet talking, and an escort around when he needs one.”
“I’ll get a Guard,” said the woman. “I can’t believe this.”
“There’s no rush now that he’s gone,” said the dead man. “The chances of two of them being in your attic is small.”
“I doubt that,” said the lady.
“I will go up and look for you,” said the dead man. He looked around. He found a rope for the hatch. He pulled it. A small ladder fell down to the floor of the closet. He winced at that.
He set it and climbed up to the hole in her ceiling. He looked at the expanse in front of him. He didn’t see anything moving. He boosted himself up the rest of the way and walked on a floor set on the beams holding the ceiling in place for the downstairs.
“It’s all clear,” said the dead man. He found a lamp and turned the switch on it to let the light pour into the room. “It looks like he was living up here.”
“He was living in my attic?,” asked the lady from below.
“I am going to say yes,” said the dead man. He turned to inspect the whole room with the light from the lamp. “It looks like he had his own place up here.”
“Are you serious?,” asked the lady.
“Deathly serious,” said the dead man. He retreated to the hole in the attic floor. He climbed down slowly. “It looks like he has been living up there for a while.”
“What do I do about this?,” asked the lady. She held her face with her hands.
“The space is clear now,” said the dead man. He walked toward the front door. “You can just clean out any personal things you find up there that isn’t yours and ignore that you had an uninvited guest for however long he was up there, or you can call the Guard and tell them that I flushed the man out and dealt with him.”
“What happens after that?,” she asked.
“I have no idea,” said the dead man. “I have some other unfinished business to take care of, and then I am leaving the city. They won’t know I was even here until you say something about it.”
“I think I am going to not say anything about this,” said the lady. “I’m scared now, but I can lock up now that the house just has me in it.”
“Here’s some coppers for the ceiling so you can have someone come in and fix it,” said the dead man. He handed over a gold piece instead. “Have a good night.”
He pulled himself into Stupid’s saddle. He turned and pulled the last card he needed to hand over as the horse trotted away.
He was glad to deal with the man in the attic. How long would the man had just hidden up there watching the lady before he tried to do something. It was better for everyone if he was stuck explaining what he was doing instead of doing it.
There was also the question of other women he had watched and then did something to when the watching wasn’t enough. He didn’t make the wanted list for keeping his hands to himself.
That thought erased any misgivings about how he had handled things.
He was collecting scalps. The people he was collecting scalps from had their own collections on their belts.
And human monsters should be dealt with the same as the inhuman ones.
“Let’s see if we can serve this last warrant tonight,” said the dead man. “That will make the city a little safer before we leave.”
Stupid nodded his head. He was made for traveling, and moving on to other places would be just as good as wandering the city.
The dead man checked the last card and directed the horse back toward the center of the city. He could see the burned out hotel in the distance, but a closer building was what he wanted.
He had enjoyed the easier servings that had carried him, but looking at the block of a building in front of him, he thought that his luck was coming to an end.
“Wait here,” he said. He dismounted and patted the horse on the neck. He frowned at the block in front of him.
How was he going to get his target out where they could talk? He doubted knocking on the front door would produce the desired results.
He decided that knocking on the front door was the only option unless he wanted to see if his pistols could shoot through the stone walls he faced.
He definitely didn’t see any way to get to the roof to look for a door up there. And the space looked too wide to try to jump from another building.
He walked up to the door. He checked it, but only saw a slot that looked like a
weakness. He felt the door. It seemed as solid as the walls.
He could shoot through that slot and hoped he got lucky. He didn’t see anything good coming from that.
He needed to get inside to make sure. If he couldn’t do that, he would have to come back with something heavier to get the job done.
That was something he could do if he had to. There was no point traveling on if he left an easy job behind him.
He tried the door handle before he knocked on it. It was locked to keep ruffians like him out.
He banged the butt of his pistol against the door. He waited. If they heard him, they would open the slot to see who he was. If they didn’t, he would have to try his luck.
He glanced up at the slot opening.
“What do you want?,” asked the eyes looking at him.
“Railing Rennings,” said the dead man. “I have paper for him.”
“Get out of here before I kill you,” said the eyes.
The dead man shot him in the face with a flick of his wrist. The cover of the slot was out the way so he could hear the crackling of a small fire on the other side of the door.
“I should have waited for him to open the door,” the dead man told himself in
chagrin.