THE THOUSAND DOLLAR HUNT: Colt Ryder is Back in Action! by J.T. Brannan Page A
Authors: J.T. Brannan
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Six
I woke late in the morning; kills were traditionally celebrated in the bar, and after getting back to the ranch at one o’clock, we’d continued drinking until four.
Badrock, knowing that we would be out again that night – and possibly for a lot longer – had told us to get some rest, duties for key security personnel not starting until midday.
Normally I enjoyed a drink or two – but the company at the in-house bar had been seriously below grade. The Vanguard men still held a major grudge – not only had I beaten up a few of their number, received the promise of a huge paycheck, and slept with the general’s beautiful daughter, but now I’d also gone and embarrassed them all in a shooting contest. It had only added insult to injury, and after a few drinks I could tell that the only reason they weren’t burying their beer glasses in my face was because doing so would upset their boss.
Ian Garner was also pretty unpleasant, a jumped-up little asshole who thought he was better than everyone else just because he had money. And now he’d bagged himself a lioness, he loved himself even more. If I’d heard the story once last night, I must have heard it a thousand times – and his skill, bravery and manliness only grew with every telling. It was enough to make me want to ram his ruddy little face through the bar’s panoramic window, if only so I wouldn’t have to listen to it again.
And Roman Badrock – the charismatic man who had so impressed me initially – was now an enemy, pure and simple. Anyone who did what he’d done to his own daughter didn’t deserve to be breathing the same oxygen as the rest of us; he was a waste of the planet’s resources.
But despite my disgust, appearances had to be maintained and so I remained in the bar for the celebrations with everyone else, knocking back the beers to make the whole thing seem more tolerable.
I was only on six when a pair of park employees wheeled in the dead animal’s head, severed from its majestic body and mounted on a rosewood shield. They didn’t waste any time around here, I’d give them that.
The whole room had erupted into terrific applause and cheers, and I could have sworn I saw a tear in Garner’s eye as he hugged Badrock. He’d then picked up the mounted head, gripped both sides of the backing plate, and waltzed around the room with it to the sounds of the Blue Danube. Everyone had fallen around laughing, but the disrespect being shown toward the dead animal had only served to enrage me further.
‘You don’t find this funny?’ Badrock had asked me, eyebrow raised.
‘I see you’re not laughing either,’ I’d replied.
‘Just because I’m taking his money doesn’t mean I approve of his behavior. But I’m a facilitator, not a moral judge.’
‘Me neither,’ I’d said, and that had been that – Badrock had sidled back over to his rich client, and I’d returned to drinking by myself in the corner.
‘Pretty sick sonofabitch, isn’t he?’ said a voice to my side, and I’d turned to see Hatfield sitting there watching Garner thoughtfully.
‘I won’t argue with that.’
‘Put him in a real battle, he’d shit his pants,’ Hatfield had opined.
‘Wouldn’t we all?’ I’d rejoined.
‘Hah! You got that right, my friend. We sure as hell would. But we’d still get the job done, right?’ He’d shaken his head at the waltzing Garner with his dead lion’s head partner. ‘Pathetic,’ he’d spat. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got no problem with people killing things, no problem at all. But that?’ He’d shaken his head again. ‘It’s not right. Not what men like us need to do. We understand . Right?’
‘Men like us?’
‘ Killers ,’ Hatfield had said. ‘When we kill, there’s no pleasure. It’s just business. If I ever saw one of my men dancing with a corpse on the battlefield, I’d put one right between his eyes and leave him there for the fucking crows.’
We’d continued to chat,
I woke late in the morning; kills were traditionally celebrated in the bar, and after getting back to the ranch at one o’clock, we’d continued drinking until four.
Badrock, knowing that we would be out again that night – and possibly for a lot longer – had told us to get some rest, duties for key security personnel not starting until midday.
Normally I enjoyed a drink or two – but the company at the in-house bar had been seriously below grade. The Vanguard men still held a major grudge – not only had I beaten up a few of their number, received the promise of a huge paycheck, and slept with the general’s beautiful daughter, but now I’d also gone and embarrassed them all in a shooting contest. It had only added insult to injury, and after a few drinks I could tell that the only reason they weren’t burying their beer glasses in my face was because doing so would upset their boss.
Ian Garner was also pretty unpleasant, a jumped-up little asshole who thought he was better than everyone else just because he had money. And now he’d bagged himself a lioness, he loved himself even more. If I’d heard the story once last night, I must have heard it a thousand times – and his skill, bravery and manliness only grew with every telling. It was enough to make me want to ram his ruddy little face through the bar’s panoramic window, if only so I wouldn’t have to listen to it again.
And Roman Badrock – the charismatic man who had so impressed me initially – was now an enemy, pure and simple. Anyone who did what he’d done to his own daughter didn’t deserve to be breathing the same oxygen as the rest of us; he was a waste of the planet’s resources.
But despite my disgust, appearances had to be maintained and so I remained in the bar for the celebrations with everyone else, knocking back the beers to make the whole thing seem more tolerable.
I was only on six when a pair of park employees wheeled in the dead animal’s head, severed from its majestic body and mounted on a rosewood shield. They didn’t waste any time around here, I’d give them that.
The whole room had erupted into terrific applause and cheers, and I could have sworn I saw a tear in Garner’s eye as he hugged Badrock. He’d then picked up the mounted head, gripped both sides of the backing plate, and waltzed around the room with it to the sounds of the Blue Danube. Everyone had fallen around laughing, but the disrespect being shown toward the dead animal had only served to enrage me further.
‘You don’t find this funny?’ Badrock had asked me, eyebrow raised.
‘I see you’re not laughing either,’ I’d replied.
‘Just because I’m taking his money doesn’t mean I approve of his behavior. But I’m a facilitator, not a moral judge.’
‘Me neither,’ I’d said, and that had been that – Badrock had sidled back over to his rich client, and I’d returned to drinking by myself in the corner.
‘Pretty sick sonofabitch, isn’t he?’ said a voice to my side, and I’d turned to see Hatfield sitting there watching Garner thoughtfully.
‘I won’t argue with that.’
‘Put him in a real battle, he’d shit his pants,’ Hatfield had opined.
‘Wouldn’t we all?’ I’d rejoined.
‘Hah! You got that right, my friend. We sure as hell would. But we’d still get the job done, right?’ He’d shaken his head at the waltzing Garner with his dead lion’s head partner. ‘Pathetic,’ he’d spat. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got no problem with people killing things, no problem at all. But that?’ He’d shaken his head again. ‘It’s not right. Not what men like us need to do. We understand . Right?’
‘Men like us?’
‘ Killers ,’ Hatfield had said. ‘When we kill, there’s no pleasure. It’s just business. If I ever saw one of my men dancing with a corpse on the battlefield, I’d put one right between his eyes and leave him there for the fucking crows.’
We’d continued to chat,
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