Dancing with the Devil

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"I got me one! I got me one!" The crazy bastard's voice filled the air and Ance heard his boot steps coming his way. "Damn, I got me a big one!" Old Man Thompson cackled. "Wonder who it could be." 

"You better let me down from here, you one-eyed son of a bitch," Ance growled. 

"Ance?!" Old Man Thompson snickered. He entered Ance's line of vision as he crouched down just out of reach of Ance's outstretched arm. Old Man Thompson flashed a nearly toothless grin on his face as his green eye sparkled. "What brings you out this way, Ance?" 

"Killing you if you don't get me down." 

"I might leave you up there!" Old Man Thompson smacked his thigh. "You make a mighty fine lawn decoration, heehee!" 

Ance growled just before pulling his gun and aiming it at the crazy man's deeply wrinkled face. "Let me down." 

Old Man Thompson laughed, stood straight and began to dance around him. "Can you hit an upside down moving target?" 

Ance was tempted to give it a try but knew he couldn't kill the man. He needed his help to keep Audrey and Penelope safe. Instead, Ance holstered his gun, pulled his knife and swung himself upward. With one clean slice, Ance cut through the rope, prepared himself for pain and crashed to the ground. 

As Ance gingerly got himself to his feet, swiping dirt off his backside in the process, he suddenly found himself staring down the barrel of Old Man Thompson's rifle. 

"You got some nerve coming around here, Ance. You know I don't like nobody bein' around my place." Old Man's Thompson's earlier good humor and eccentricity seemed to have vanished, reminding Ance of just how unpredictable the man could be. 

"I'm cashing in that favor you owe me," Ance replied, holstering his knife and crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

Old Man Thompson's green eye widened as his brow rose. "Favor?" His gaze shifted as he lowered his gun. "I don't remember owing any favors." 

Ance reached forward and gripped the old man by the shoulder. "Sure you do," he insisted. "That favor I did you is the only goddamn reason you're living in this nice little cabin in the Indian territory instead of six feet under the ground becoming worm shit." 

"Worm's gotta eat," Old Man Thompson stated with a nervous chuckle. "I'm afraid my memory ain't what it used to be. It's a hazard of old age, don't you know." 

Ance nodded as he turned away for a moment. Letting out a slow breath, Ance turned back to Old Man Thompson and, faster than the man could react, Ance snatched away his rifle and stuck the barrel in Old Man Thompson's grizzled face. "Is it coming back to you yet?" Ance growled. 

Old Man Thompson laughed nervously and nodded as he scratched at his dirty gray hair. "It might be flooding back to me just a little." 

Ance's finger tightened on the trigger and Old Man Thompson threw up his hands and nodded heartily. "Oh yes! That favor! Of course I remember. You're always welcome here, Ance. What can I do for you?" 

"That's more like it," Ance said as he placed the butt of the rifle upon the ground and leaned against the barrel, taking pressure off the ankle he'd twisted in Old Man Thompson's trap. 

"I see you haven't gotten any friendlier since I saw you last," the old man grumbled. 

Ance snorted. "That's rich coming from the man who caught me in a trap and held me at gunpoint all within five minutes of me showing up." 

"No offense, Ance," the one eyed man grinned sheepishly. "I can't be too careful anymore. All kinds of uncivilized folks are running around the territory these days." 

Ance's thick brow quirked up. "Uncivilized? As opposed to what? You aren't calling yourself civilized now are you?" 

With a cackle, Old Man Thompson snatched back his rifle and cradled it in his arms. "Of course I am," he insisted. "As civilized as dog shit, I am." 

Ance thought about asking what the hell that was supposed to mean but then decided he didn't care quite enough to have that particular discussion. "I need you to do something for me, Old Man." 

"What would that be, Ance? Far as I remember you aren't the type to ask for favors." 

Ance nodded. "Normally I wouldn't be but circumstances have changed a bit. I have to go take care of some things and I need you to keep an eye on some other things for me." 

Old Man Thompson rubbed at his whiskered chin. "By things you mean people?" 

"You aren't near as dumb as you look," Ance conceded. 

Old Man Thompson cackled and slapped his leg. "So you want to go kill some folks and you want me to, what? Help you out? I ain't strapped on a gun belt in quite some time, Ansel." 

Ance shook his head. "What damn good would you be in a gunfight?" he chuckled. "Hell you can only see what's to the right of you and even that eye's beginning to fail you." 

"Can't argue with cold hard facts," Old Man Thompson grinned. "So what do you need?" 

"Barnaby Wallace kidnapped a girl with the help of another man. I saved the girl and then her mama found us and, well, she's in a bit of trouble herself. I need to go take care of Barnaby before he finally sends a man good enough to get the killing done that Barnaby has in mind but I need a safe place for the girl and her mama to stay...." 

"No, no, no, no, no...." Old Man Thompson shook his head forcefully, turned and began to walk away. 

Ance had anticipated such a reaction and he reached in his pocket and pulled out the money pouch full of coins. He gave it a shake and the old man stopped in his tracks. "I'll pay you, you one-eyed jackass. This pouch has gold coins in it." 

"Gold coins?" Old Man Thompson turned quickly and his smile stretched from ear to ear. "Where did you get gold coins?" 

"I relieved a wealthy banker of his heavy load as he was relocating supplies. His horse was damn thankful for the assistance." 

"And the banker?" 

Ance grinned. "Mad as hell." He shook the pouch again. "So, will you help me?" 

"Pay me now." 

"No," Ance snatched the sack away when Old Man Thompson reached for it and the older man grumbled under his breath. "You'll get your money when I get back and those ladies are safe and sound--and they better be in the same shape I drop them off in too. No testing out traps or elixirs on them, you understand?" 

"Dammit, Ance, I haven't made any elixirs in a while. I gave that up after I killed my last goat." 

Ance rolled his eyes. Old Man Thompson had spent a good deal of time, (and quite a bit of money on poor unsuspecting critters), trying to create the perfect sleeping potion to poison the waterhole near his cabin with when those he considered uncivilized passed through. 

"So do we have a deal?" Ance questioned. 

"Let me see the gold." 

"No. You're gonna have to trust me. This sack doesn't open until I come back and see the ladies safe and sound." 

Old Man Thompson scratched at his hair and gummed at his bottom lip as his gaze flitted from the sack to Ance's face and back again. "Fine." he finally muttered. "Fine, they can stay here but you best pay up when you return, Ance." 

"I'm a man of my word," Ance assured him. "I'll be back in a moment with the ladies... oh and it would be in your best interest not to point your gun at them. The older one swings a pretty good pistol."