Ace's Wild. Sarah McCarty

grabbed the bucket from the floor, threw the last of the water in his face. “Sober up. We need to talk.”

      Brian dragged his hands down his face, recognition dawning in his eyes. “I don’t have a goddamn thing to talk about with you.”

      “You owe me money.”

      “I’ll get it.”

      Ace made a point of looking around as Winter sat back down on the bed and grabbed the dirty sheets and rubbed them across his face. It didn’t help. The two day’s growth of beard on his face caught the rough fabric leaving threads attached. Christ, he was a mess. How did the man sink this low?

      “I told you I’d get you the money.”

      “Uh-huh.” Ace took a seat at his table. The chair rocked under his weight. He caught himself before he could tip over.

      “Leg’s loose,” Brian said.

      “So I see.” He nodded at Brian. “If you don’t stop reaching under that mattress for that shotgun, I’m going to put a bullet in your shoulder.”

      Brian froze, his eyes going to the gun still in Ace’s holster. “I heard you were fast.”

      “And I heard you were stupid. You keep reaching for that gun and we’ll both know no one was lying.”

      “You got no right to be in my home.”

      “Nope. I don’t, but I’m here anyway.”

      A cunning expression crossed his face. “You must want something.”

      “I told you, we need to talk.”

      Brian got up. The stench and sight of him made Ace’s stomach heave. Luke was right. They weren’t leaving the boy here.

      Brian picked up the battered metal coffeepot by the well-tended fire. Terrance’s work, no doubt. He shook the empty pot. “Where the hell is that lazy boy with the water for my coffee? Terrance!” he hollered.

      “Terrance isn’t coming.” It felt good saying that.

      Brian turned. The sweat stains on his faded red long johns stood out even in the dim light. “What the hell do you mean he’s not coming?”

      “He’s helping Luke.”

      “With what?”

      “Doesn’t matter.” Ace shoved the adjacent chair over with his foot. It caught on the uneven floor and fell over. “Sit your ass down.”

      Brian picked up the chair, still staring at the door. “I want my coffee.”

      “What you want is whiskey. You’re not getting either until we’re done, so the faster you sit, the faster you can get on with your life.”

      “What the hell do you want? Spit it out.”

      “Terrance.”

      The truth lay between them.

      Without batting an eyelid, Brian asked, “For what?”

      “It’s none of your business.”

      “So that’s how it is.” Again that cunning expression slid over his face. “The boy will cost you.”

      With a push of his foot, Ace tipped the other man’s chair over backward. When the swearing stopped he said, “You make another insinuation like that and I’ll gut you. You hear me?”

      Brian got up. Ace grazed the butt of his revolver with his fingertips.

      “I hear you.” Brian grunted, righting the chair. “Still going to cost you, though.”

      Ace wanted to drive his crooked teeth down his throat. “I figured.”

      “What’s the boy worth to you?” Winter asked as he sat down again.

      Ace just wanted this over with. “I’ll cancel your gambling debt from last night.”

      A shrewd look entered Brian’s eyes. “That’s not enough.”

      You won’t hurt my pa? Fuck, it never paid to be the good guy.

      “What debts do you owe around town?”

      Brian named a number that made Ace blink. Fortunately, most of those debts were to him or people who owed him, so it wasn’t going to take much out of pocket to even Brian’s score.

      “How about I settle all your debts? Including the ones to me and in turn I take the boy?”

      “All of them?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Well, that will be a help but a man needs a stake to start over, and a man needs help to run a place like this.”

      Greedy bastard. “Plus two hundred.”

      Brian’s eyes widened. “You got the money?”

      “You’ll get it.”

      “You’re not getting the boy until I get the money.”

      Oh, that wasn’t going to play. “I’m taking the boy when I leave here.”

      “I’m just supposed to go on your word?”

      “Either you take my word, or I take your life.”

      Brian blinked. Ace waited for his booze-soaked mind to absorb that.

      “Make up your mind. I don’t have much time.”

      “You in a hurry for something?”

      “I’m always in a hurry for something.” He just never knew what it was that he was searching for, but he always had that nagging feeling that it was coming. That something good his mom had always promised him was waiting just around the next corner, the something good that always turned into something bad. “Do we have a deal?”

      He didn’t particularly care whether Brian agreed or not. When he left here Terrance was going with him, but it would be cleaner if the ties were severed.

      Brian held out his hand. “It’s a deal.”

      It’d be a cold day in hell before Ace shook the hand of a man who’d sell his son. Especially for the reasons Winter implied. Just thinking about how easily he’d done it pissed Ace off. Until on a “What the hell” Ace punched Winter in the face, knocking him over backward. The man went down hard. When he didn’t get up, Ace prodded his still form with his boot. He didn’t move. Winter was out cold. Leaving him lying on the floor, Ace stood and strolled out of the hovel masking his anger and disgust. Worthless bastard. Not worth one bit of the concern in Terrance’s expression.

      With a slight nod of his head, he answered the question in Luke’s eyes. With Terrance he was a bit more vocal. “Your pa and I had a talk.”

      Terrance nodded. His fists clenched.

      “He’s not feeling good right now.”

      “He isn’t?” It was a credit to the optimism children held that the boy thought his father must be sick. “He needs his water for his coffee. He doesn’t feel good until he has that.”

      “I’m going to go to town and get Doc.”

      “I’ll stay with him.”

      Ace caught his arm. When the boy looked up, Ace bit back the harsh truth that nothing was going to help the man. He was so steeped in his greed and his booze that his morals were all off.

      “You’re going to come with me.”

      “Where to?”

      “Miss Wayfield’s.”

      “The schoolmarm?” He looked horrified.

      Ace couldn’t blame him. He couldn’t think of a much worse fate for an eight-year-old boy than to be stuck with a schoolteacher. But then again, he couldn’t think of a much