Shotgun by Courtney Joyner Page B

probably a toss-up.”
    Lem looked at Howard and said, “We’re going to see Beaudine.”
    â€œWhy tell me? I don’t got to do nothing with that crazy son of a bitch. Ever.”
    â€œHoward, Chester Pardee got himself killed.”
    â€œThat’s no surprise. Good riddance.”
    â€œBy John Bishop.”
    The chisel hit the floor, and Howard knelt to pick it up. Lem was right beside him. “Bishop survived, and he tracked Pardee down and shot him.”
    Chaney said, “He ain’t lying.”
    Howard crossed himself, then pulled a crooked, square-head nail from the side of the coffin crate, tearing through the wood planking like it was paper. He spit.
    Chaney said, “I was with Pardee, read Beaudine’s letter.”
    â€œThat letter meant squat then, and means double-squat now.”
    Chaney said, “It might mean a hell of a lot of money, if it’s true.”
    Howard looked up from the coffin, leveling on Chaney. “But it ain’t. You don’t know shit about this, mister.”
    Lem said, “Don’t get riled. He’s riding in with me.”
    â€œI don’t like guys who flap their gums. You two do what you want, I got men to bury.”
    â€œWho’s gonna bury you?”
    â€œI ain’t too worried.”
    â€œAbout dying?”
    Howard said, “We make our choices in this life, and I’m at peace with whatever happens. I brought it on myself.”
    Lem smiled, “That’s straight from the prison preacher.”
    â€œGo to hell.”
    Chaney said, “I’d rather die rich than poor. But you’ve got guts to face what Bishop’s carrying—a double-barreled shotgun, like it’s growing right out of him. If I’ve ever seen the Angel of Death, it’s him.”
    Howard said, “Then you ain’t seen shit,” before bringing the hammer down on the square head, missing, and pounding into the coffin’s side, splitting the green pine in half. He hollered from his guts, grabbed two pieces of the crate and hurled them across the room with amazing force. The wood broke apart, crashing into the pile of corpses and tearing open their burlap shrouds.
    Chaney took a step back, and Lem reached up to put hands on Howard’s huge shoulders. “This is the time to think, right? Hear me, Howard? Calm down and listen to what we’re sayin’. We need you. If John Bishop’s coming, let’s take care of it together, and not have him pick us off when we’re not looking. Doesn’t that make sense?”
    Howard looked to Lem. “You scared, Deadeye?”
    Lem said, “No, but I hate unfinished business. Beaudine got us into this.”
    Howard nodded. “Uh-huh. The Raiders. Just a gang of thieves.”
    â€œYeah, shitty ones. Thieves and fools.”
    Chaney said, “Maybe Beaudine was right about all that gold.”
    Howard moved on Chaney. “You keep talkin’ like an expert ’cause you read a letter? I was there when it was written so don’t tell me shit! If Bishop’s alive, then he’s coming for us for what we done. And we deserve it.”
    Lem got Howard to sit down before Chaney said, “Or maybe he’s out to protect what’s his. You boys could have been right all along.”
    Howard barked, “There’s no gold, no payroll, no cash.”
    Lem said, “Either way, we’ve got to finish this. You want to stay here, building coffins, waiting for death to come through that door? Or ride to Cheyenne, maybe cut it off? If nothing else, you really wouldn’t like a chance to drop Beaudine?”
    Howard said, “I’m trying to keep peace in my heart, and you’re tempting me.”
    â€œMaybe you could finally break the Major in half with your bare hands? You’d like that, Howard, I know you would.”
    Howard spit again, kicked away the remains of the box, moving to the pile of bodies. He