Boldly Chapter One

 Chapter One

Just This Once

    "McCulloch! Well, well, well. Imagine running into you, way out here." Unbidden, the man pulled out a chair, twisting it backwards, then straddling it while crossing his arms over the top. The young man already sitting at the corner table in the little tavern glanced up, his blue eyes flickering with recognition, then hardening into anger.

    "What d'ya want, Slade?"

    "Easy now, McCulloch. No reason t' be short-tempered." The older man laughed softly, rubbing a bony hand across his gray handlebar mustache. "We've always been good friends now, haven't we?"

    "I told ya, Slade, I don't want no part of it anymore."

    Slade shrugged his lanky shoulders with a gesture of lazy carelessness. That last incident had been a close one… but he knew how to handle Jason McCulloch. The boy was still young and prone to foolishness, wasn't he? Only twenty-two. That was still young enough to be impressionable. And Slade needed him bad. A man of such talent was not to be come by easily. He wasn't going to let him slip through his fingers so easily.

    "Hey there, bartender!" Slade called easily over his shoulder. "Two glasses of hard whiskey. Make it fast!"

    The bartender didn't need to be told to move fast. He recognized immediately the lanky figure of Will Slade. Slade was a well-known and dreaded man in those parts… the powerful leader of an outlaw band. Quick on the draw and not hesitant to destroy anyone who stood in his way. The bartender, a small, nervous man, had noticed immediately the loaded six-shooters in Slade's gun belt. There were twelve perfectly good reasons to drop what he was doing and hurry to the corner table with the whiskey.

    "There ya are, McCulloch," Slade set one of the mugs before his unwilling companion. "Let's have a drink to the old times, eh?"

    Jason McCulloch pushed the whiskey away, glaring at the man before him.

    "I don't drink, Slade. You know that."

    "Heh. Ya always were a little fiddle-headed when it came to that."

    "Means I kept my head when the rest o' ya lost yours."

    "Maybe so. Maybe so." Undaunted by the thought of losing his head, Slade lifted the mug to his lips and downed the indigestible liquid in a few gulps. Wiping his mouth across his none-too-clean sleeve, he set down the mug with a look of contentment and reached for the one that Jason had left untouched.

    "Well?" Jason demanded, one hand moving slowly toward the gun he wore in his own belt. "Out with it, Slade. Ya have a reason for talkin' to me… other than reminiscin' about old times."

    "Wal, now, since ya mention it," Slade set down his second empty mug. "There is somethin' I could use yer help with. Now, don't say no… not until ya hear the offer I have t' make you."

    Slade noticed the muscles in the tanned jaw clench angrily and the blue eyes narrow but Jason said not a word. That was good. Slade felt prepared to continue.

    "Now thet they've finally finished thet transcon… transcon… whatever they call it railroad, the boys an' I have worked out a new job. A good one too." Slade lowered his voice and leaned closer. "Some purty rich passengers ride on them fool trains. An' between th' Mississippi an' San Francisco, there ain't much t' pertect them. It really ain't difficult t' stop a train an'… wal… you get the idea."

    "I know what ye're meanin', Slade," Jason answered slowly. "An' I've already told you. I don't want no part of it."

    "You've got yerself a nice little spread now, I hear," Slade changed his tone, relaxing his tense look. "A purty ranch… runnin' some cattle on it. But ya can't pay it off now, can you?" This last phrase was spoken bluntly.

    "I plan t' come by that honestly."

    "Sure, sure." Slade waved a hand airily. "But it's purty hard to work off a debt… when ye're in the slammer."

    Jason flinched visibly and Slade grinned beneath the wide mustache. He knew he had struck the right chord at last.

    "Ya remember that little incident last fall, now, don't ya? None o' that blame could be pinned on me… ya wouldn't dare. You were too involved. The money's gone… and Carter is dead. I covered it up fer ya… this once. But iffen ya refuse to help me…" the sentence was left unfinished and the threat hovered in the air. Slade leaned back, watching gleefully as the full meaning of his words sunk into his protégé's mind.

    "Ye're th' best rider I've ever seen, now. Ya could be of a lot o' use to me an' the boys. And ye're the fastest on the draw. Talents like thet sure come in handy. What d'ya say, McCulloch? Is it a deal?

    Jason raised his head slowly. The blue eyes flashed fierce hatred. Armed as he was with all the evidence he would ever need to destroy the young man, Slade quavered under the steady gaze of those blue eyes. But Jason dropped his eyes again.

    "Just this once, Slade. Never again."

    "Fair enough." Slade grinned widely.