Free Confessions of a Gunfighter by Tell Cotten

finally felt at ease with myself.
    But deep down I was wary of Ben Kinrich. He was the moodiest man I had ever met, and I learned real quick to leave him alone when he was in one of his darker frame of minds. 
    There was one other thing about Kinrich that I found to be a bit frightening.
    More nights than not, he would have the most awful nightmares you had ever heard. He would scream in anguish and holler out loud, and I would lay there and listen to him.
    I almost woke him up the first time I heard him. But then I remembered how he had reacted when I had asked about his scalp, so I decided against it.
    I had been with Kinrich a little over three months when I decided to have a look at that back trail. I figured I should be familiar with it in case I needed to leave real fast one of these days.
    I took my time and gave that trail a good going over, and I had to agree with Kinrich that it was a very rough trail. 
    As I was coming back, having just reached the backside of the pole corrals, I suddenly stopped short.
    There, at the main entrance, was a man sitting a-horseback. He was looking the valley over very carefully.    

Chapter twenty
     
     
    He was a salty looking character.
    I could just tell that he was up to no good. I also noticed that his right hand rested on the butt of his Henry repeating rifle.
    I hunkered behind the pole corrals. My eyes searched for Kinrich, but I didn’t see him.
    The man sat still on his horse for a long time, and I didn’t dare move.
    He finally seemed satisfied, and he made his way down into the valley and rode towards the shack. 
    Where is Kinrich ? I wondered.
    And then I saw him. He had his back to me, and there was no way I could get his attention without me being seen. 
    Kinrich was sitting in the shade beside the shack, cleaning his guns. That was bad, because that meant his guns were probably unloaded.
    The man on the horse saw Kinrich too, and he rode straight towards him.
    Kinrich was looking down at his guns and didn’t bother to look up.
    “Where have you been, Button?” Kinrich called out while he worked. “I was starting to wonder what had happened to you.”
    The stranger didn’t answer. Instead, he dismounted and faced up to him.
    “Cat got your tongue?” Kinrich called out again. “You sure are being quiet, Button.”
    The stranger’s voice was hard and calloused. 
    “I ain’t no ‘Button', Kinrich.”
    Kinrich looked up sharply, and the shock in his face was obvious.
    “Harris! What are you doing here? We ain’t supposed to meet up yet for another three weeks!”
    Harris smiled a mean, wicked smile. 
    “I know, Ben. But, only one of us is going to make it to that meeting.”
    “How do you figure?” Kinrich spoke calmly, and he stood and faced him.
    “I’m taking over things,” Harris declared boldly. 
    “Is that right?” Kinrich asked softly.
    “We’ve been playing it too safe under you, Kinrich,” Harris explained. “You always pass up on the simple and better paying jobs. Instead, you always go after them Yankees, and sometimes it’s not even worth the trouble.”  
    Kinrich didn’t like what he was hearing, and he frowned irritably. 
    “The South has had enough troubles for a while. I figure we’ve been settling a few scores,” Kinrich said.
    “We ain’t fighting a war no more, Kinrich,” Harris fired back. “There ain’t nothing noble or righteous in what we do. All we’re doing this for is for the money, ’cept for you, and that’s why I’m taking over. There’s real money out there to be had, and I aim to see that we get in on some of it.”
    “I ain’t never lost a man neither, Harris. That’s something to think about,” Kinrich said.
    “That’s ’cause you’re scared to take on the bigger jobs,” Harris snarled. “Well, I ain’t yellow… me being here proves that.”
    “How ’bout the rest of the boys; how do they feel ’bout it?” Kinrich wanted to know.
    “They ain’t said nothing, but I