Free Showdown With Fear by Stephen Wade

workin’ there... and that wasn’t gonna be no life for me, tunnelling down in the guts of the earth, no sir...I was gonna be somebody, right Filippo?’
    ‘’Sright... you are a big hombre now, si amigo .’ Barero swayed about.
    ‘Think you’ve had enough, Filippo,’ John said firmly. Even when tipsy, Barero knew that you didn’t argue. But Stobart was looking for trouble.
    ‘See, what about you, McVie? You know, you’re a quiet man. I allus said to my boys, when we meet John McVie you won’t see no boss in him.... but deep down he’s one mean feller. How come you got where ya are, John?’ He offered the bottle to John as he spoke, but it was refused.
    Sammy cut in. ‘We came here to do business...and maybe start a team... but we was kinda hoping you was a professional, Stobart.’
    Stobart’s expression changed. It was as if a shadow went over the sun. He wiped his lips, put the bottle down and looked ready to dish out some pain.
    ‘Professional? You questionin’ my ability or somethin’ kid? Why, if you was a full-grown man, I’d ask you to step outside and demonstrate that fine hardware you got stuck in your belt... if your diapers ain’t round your ankles.’ He grinned, and Sammy was going to reach for his gun, but found John’s hand covering the holster.
    ‘Now, I reckon we should recall that this is just drinking to the new partnership, right boys?’ John said. But under his breath he whispered to his brother, ‘there’ll be a time for that.’
    Bottles were raised and Barero, loud as usual, called for success for the new outfit.
    ‘To the Rattler’s Nest Gang!’
    ‘Looks like we bin christened, McVie... drink up.’ Stobart staggered a few steps and poured some drink into John’s coffee-cup. The majority of splashed on the ground.
    Most of the men were stretched out now, sleepy. Stobart and Barero were singing and seemed like old friends, warm and brotherly in their drunken state. Someone picked up a guitar, and soon there were Mexican ballads being performed by some of Stobart’s men, who were mostly Mexicans on the run who had taken cover with him and enjoyed their share in his plunder. John McVie had a feeling that ‘King’ Stobart would lose his kingdom as soon as the money dried up.
    John and Sammy could talk a little now, with the strumming of the guitar and the three singers cancelling out any more needling conversation with Stobart. The wind was dying down now, and it was darkening outside. They had been undercover for hours.
    ‘John... this man’s a loser. The Mexis won’t stay with him... nor anybody, I guess.’
    ‘Nope... this has been tedious I’d say... and for all we know, Mullen could have turned up by now. Stobart has a man on him, but... well, there’s no sense to be had out of him now, he’s too far gone.’
    ‘John, you really gonna tell him where the Nest is?’
    ‘No Sammy... truth is, I just want his help in making sure Mullen and any friends he has left are six feet under by tomorrow, okay? The we split. We can leave Grip up there. We three head across the border and do some more dealing. Stobart’s gonna empty the cavern tomorrow. We’ll bring it down to him in bits.’
    ‘You think he’ll wait and watch? He’ll see where the Nest is.’
    ‘No, cos he’ll be occupied chasing my partners over the other side there, see? I got me a dozen men rough-riding around, and I’m gonna tell Stobart they want to meet him. He can’t resist picking up more men. Wants to take on his old enemy on the border, Captain Seedy’
    ‘Who’s he?’
    ‘A nick-name for a marauder on the Mexican border. Just a robber, but Stobart wants him dead and gone. The man tends to get in the way. I know that Stobart wants all this stuff - and more men- to go and git the rebel. He’s ex-Mex army. Deserters rush to him every day.’
    It was a while after this, when the singing had stopped and most men were asleep, that one of Stobart’s men rushed in with a cry of