Hard Luck Money by J.A. Johnstone

have me doing?” The Kid asked.
    “New men work the laundry. That’s where they can do the least damage if they decide to act up. Once you’ve shown you’re not going to make any trouble, maybe you can move on to something else.”
    The Kid nodded. He didn’t really care what task he was assigned. Hughes had told him it was all right for him to act surly and not eager to cooperate, but to not cause any real trouble. That might delay the gang making their move.
    “Who’s my cellmate?”
    Lawrence smiled. “I’ll let the two of you introduce yourselves when he gets back.”
    The Kid had a feeling the guard’s comment might not bode well. If he didn’t get along with his cellmate, the time he spent in there would get even more challenging.
    He sat down on the bare mattress. There was nothing else to do.
    Lawrence slammed the cell door. The crash of metal against metal had a terrible finality to it, and for a second The Kid was tempted to call the whole thing off. Then he steeled his resolve. He had agreed to help, and he wanted to keep his word.
    But if the gang he was after was going to strike again, with him as the target, he hoped they didn’t take too long to get around to it.
     
     
    The same ferret-like trusty showed up a while later with The Kid’s extra uniform and blanket.
    As he handed the items through the small opening in the cell door designed for such things, he introduced himself. “I’m Ike Calvert, Keene. You need anything around here, you let me know. If I can’t put my hands on it, chances are I’ll know somebody who can.”
    “It’s like that, is it?” The Kid said.
    Calvert snickered. “Well, yeah. Within reason, I mean. Don’t go askin’ me for no Gatlin’ gun or anything like that!” He laughed again.
    The Kid smiled. “All right, no Gatling gun.” He asked the expected question, the one convicts always asked of each other. “What are you in for, Calvert?”
    The trusty’s grin disappeared. He looked down at the floor and shuffled his feet uneasily. “I don’t like to talk about that. I done some bad things, really bad things. Just as soon forget about ’em.”
    Calvert looked relatively harmless, but The Kid knew how looks could be deceptive, especially in a place such as this. “That’s fine with me.”
    “I know why you’re here, though.” Calvert glanced up again. “I heard you robbed trains all the way from one end of Texas to the other!”
    The Kid shrugged. It was possible Calvert had some connection to the gang, but even if he didn’t, The Kid wanted to play up the reputation the Rangers had manufactured for him.
    One way to do that was to not boast about it. Patently false modesty would reinforce the image he wanted to create. “I held up a few trains in my time, yeah.”
    “More than a few, I heard. And you blowed up more than one express car, too.”
    “Well, you have to get the door off the safe somehow, don’t you?” The Kid asked with a grin.
    Calvert snickered again. “You’re gonna do just fine in here, Keene. Better keep your eyes open, though. Not everybody in here is like me. Some of ’em you can’t trust.”
    “I’ll remember that.” The Kid tossed the extra clothes and the blanket on the bunk. “Thanks for bringing those things.”
    “Just doin’ my job.” Calvert lifted a hand in farewell and scuttled away, reminding The Kid more of a rat than a ferret.
    The Kid returned to the bunk to sit and wait some more. He thought about the likelihood Calvert was working with the gang on the outside and had to admit it was possible. Even if Calvert had no connection with the outlaws, he struck The Kid as the sort who would gossip and help spread the word about the notorious new convict, Waco Keene. The more of that that went on, the better.
    Time dragged by, but eventually the afternoon waned and the guards began bringing the prisoners back in from their day’s labors. The Kid stayed where he was on the bunk when a guard paused outside the