Death Rides Alone (16 page)

Luke kept an eye on Nolan Howard and the other scouts from the top of the knoll. He was glad to see that they didn't just gallop up recklessly and throw themselves into the battle. They were outnumbered, and they needed the element of surprise on their side.

Instead they stopped when they were still a quarter of a mile away and dismounted to approach on foot. The hired killers were concentrating on the quarry they thought they had trapped, and with all the shooting going on, they wouldn't have been able to hear the hoofbeats as Nolan and his companions rode toward them.

The guns were so loud it would have taken a buffalo stampede to get their attention.

The men on the other side of the knoll had the rocky prominence between them and the newcomers, so they had to be completely unaware that the balance of power in this fight had shifted.

The men to the south of the knoll were hidden behind rocks and in shallow gullies. The wagon train scouts split up and crept toward them, as stealthily as Indians. When they reached a certain point, Luke couldn't see them anymore. All he could do was wait to see what happened.

That didn't take long. A few moments later, he heard startled shouts from below, followed instantly by rapid bursts of gunfire.

“Come on!” he shouted to Tyler as he waved a gun for the young man to join him. They lunged out from behind the rocks and started bounding down the slope.

Luke saw Nolan and the other scouts trading shots with the hired guns. Several men were sprawled on the ground already, but the others were putting up a fierce fight. Luke stopped and triggered the Remingtons. Tyler did likewise with the Winchester. Their shots scythed into the men who had pursued them here.

From the corner of his eye, Luke caught a glimpse of motion and pivoted to his left to see that the men who had been around on the other side of the knoll had mounted and were charging around to this side in response to the increase in firing.

“This way!” he said to Tyler as he moved to cut off the reinforcements. Nolan and the others already had their hands full. It was up to Luke and Tyler to cover their flank from the higher ground.

Luke hammered shot after shot at the men on horseback as he slid and jumped down the slope. That didn't make for the most accurate shooting, but his efforts were rewarded by the sight of two men flinging their arms in the air and pitching from their saddles. A horse screamed and went down, throwing its rider over its head. Another man swayed violently to the side but managed to remain mounted. He turned his horse and raced away, hunched over in apparent pain.

The wounded man wasn't the only one fleeing. The other men who were still on horseback gave up the fight and pounded after him, throwing wild, futile shots over their shoulders. Luke lowered his revolvers as they rode out of range of his guns. Tyler sped them on their way with a few more rounds from the Winchester.

Then the two of them turned back to the battle between the wagon train scouts and the rest of the group of hired killers.

That conflict seemed to be over. The guns had fallen silent. Nolan Howard was climbing the slope toward Luke and Tyler while his companions checked the bodies of the men who'd been killed in the fight.

Nolan raised a hand in greeting and asked, “Are you fellas all right?” He didn't appear to be hurt.

“We're fine, thanks to you and your friends,” Luke said. “You pulled us out of a mighty bad spot.”

Nolan thumbed his hat back and smiled.

“Couldn't hardly believe my eyes when I saw it was you up there on that knob, Mr. Jensen,” he said. “We figured we'd seen the last of the two of you.” He looked at Tyler and added, “My sister wasn't very happy about that, either.”

Tyler said, “Well, I, uh, it wasn't really my idea—”

“I'm the one who insisted that we not rejoin the wagon train,” Luke said. “I knew that might bother some people, but it seemed like the best idea for you folks.” He nodded toward the dead men. “And now you can see the reason why.”

“You knew those fellas would be coming after you,” Nolan said. “You didn't want my pa and Deborah and all the others getting mixed up in your trouble.”

“That's exactly right.” Luke added, “I wouldn't have involved you in this battle today if we'd had any choice in the matter.”

“Hey, Nolan!” one of the scouts called with a note of alarm in his voice. “These men are wearing badges!”

Nolan's eyes widened. He looked around at Luke and Tyler with anger in his gaze.

“Badges?” he repeated. “We just killed a bunch of lawmen?”

“Well . . . in a manner of speaking. There's more to the story than that, though.”

“There had damned well better be,” Nolan said. “I'd hate to think that my friends and I just got crosswise with the law by rescuing a pair of owlhoots from a posse!”

Tyler said, “We can explain everything—”

“You'll have to.” Nolan put his hand on the butt of his gun. His attitude had changed completely in the blink of an eye, the friendliness vanishing and angry suspicion taking its place. “Back at the wagon train. You're coming with us.”

Luke wasn't sure the scouts could have stopped him if he wanted to take Tyler and ride away from here, but innocent men would be hurt if it came down to that.

Besides, it was possible he had made a mistake by avoiding the wagon train. At this point in the journey, with a horse that kept suffering from loose shoes, it might be better to go ahead and throw in with the Howards and the rest of the immigrants. They weren't that far from White Fork, after all.

“You won't need that gun, Nolan,” Luke said. “We'll come with you, and when we get to the wagons, we'll tell you the whole story. I'd just as soon wait until then, though, so we'll only have to tell it once.”

Nolan frowned in thought for a second and then nodded.

“All right. Get your horses. But I'm coming with you. I don't want the two of you disappearing on us again.”

* * *

“You didn't say anything to Nolan about Miss Montgomery or Spence Douglas when you found the hunting party after riding off from the wagon train that other time?” Luke asked Tyler in a quiet voice as they were fetching their horses. Nolan stood a short distance away, watching them.

“Not a word about any of that,” Tyler said. “I just told him you and I were passing through the area and came on the wagon camp while it was under attack.” He shrugged. “That was true as far as it went.”

“Yes, it was.” Luke tightened the cinches on the gray, which he had loosened earlier. He took the horse's reins and led it back over to where Nolan waited. “You fellows didn't happen to see a couple of saddled but riderless horses out there in the basin, did you?”

Nolan shook his head and said, “Nope. Those are your spare mounts you're talking about?”

“That's right. We had to let them go when those killers started chasing us.”

“You mean those deputies.”

“You'll see what I mean,” Luke said.

Nolan just grunted as if he found that difficult to believe.

They joined the others, mounted up, and rode south. Behind them, buzzards had already begun to wheel in circles in the late afternoon sky.

He and Tyler certainly were littering this part of Wyoming with carcasses, Luke thought as he glanced back. Lucky for them there were plenty of winged and four-footed scavengers to clean up after them.

* * *

It was a short time after dark when the group of riders reached the spot beside the river where the wagon train had camped for the night. They had the two extra horses with them. The animals had trotted up while they were riding back to the wagons, seeking out the company of their fellows as horses were prone to do.

The men hadn't run into any more trouble along the way, but the atmosphere among the scouts was grim. They were all worried they would be branded murderers for killing lawmen.

Jonathan Howard had posted guards around the camp. They challenged Nolan and the others when they rode up out of the shadows. Nolan called to them, “It's just us . . . and we've brought a couple of visitors with us.”

Some of the sentries started to call out friendly greetings to Luke and Tyler, but the bleak, angry expressions on the faces of Nolan and the other scouts made them fall silent. Puzzled frowns creased the guards' foreheads as the newcomers rode past them.

Jonathan Howard stepped over a wagon tongue and out of the circle of wagons to come out and meet them. He had a rifle tucked under his arm.

He began, “Expected you back before now, son—” and then stopped short as he caught sight of Luke and Tyler. “Well, now! Where did you two come from? We figured you didn't like our company after all.” Howard looked back and forth between them and Nolan, and he frowned, too. “Say, what's going on here? Is there some sort of trouble?”

“Damn right there is,” Nolan said. “Or at least there may be. I can't seem to get a straight story out of these two, but they've promised to explain the whole thing.”

“What whole thing?”

“Earlier today we rescued them from a bunch of men who were trying to kill them.”

“That seems fair enough,” Howard said. “Mr. Jensen and Mr. Tyler may well have saved us from those Indians.”

“Yeah . . . but the men who were after them wore badges.”

Howard looked as shocked as Nolan had earlier. He even said the same thing, exclaiming, “Badges! They were lawmen?”

Luke said, “Deputies from White Fork.”

“That's where we're going.”

“I know.”

“I . . . I don't understand. Does this mean the two of you are outlaws?”

Instead of answering the question, Luke said, “You'd better call a meeting of your entire company, Mr. Howard. Judd and I will be glad to explain, but everyone should hear the story, since whatever happens next could affect all of them.”

“Yes . . . Yes, I suppose you're right—”

“Mr. Tyler! Mr. Jensen!”

The pleased exclamation made the men turn their heads toward the wagons. Deborah Howard had come out of the circle, and now she hurried toward them with a smile on her pretty face.

Nolan moved his horse so that he got between her and Luke and Tyler. She stopped short, clearly surprised by his action.

“Better go back to the wagons, Deborah,” he said.

“You don't want anything to do with these two.”

“What in the world? What's wrong with you, Nolan? Why wouldn't I want to say hello to Mr. Tyler and Mr. Jensen?”

“Because they're a couple of dirty outlaws!” Nolan said bitterly.

“What? No! I don't believe that!”

Jonathan Howard took hold of his daughter's arm and said, “Come on, Deborah. They want a meeting of the company, and that's what they're going to get. The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better!”

Nolan Howard hadn't asked for their guns, but Luke knew he and Tyler couldn't try anything, surrounded as they were.

Besides, they didn't want to cause any trouble for the immigrants. They
wanted
these people on their side.

Tyler looked nervous, but as Jonathan Howard gathered the entire group in the center of the big circle, he said quietly to Luke, “Do you think they'll believe me?”

“There's only one way to find out,” Luke said. “I believe you, and that ought to carry some weight.”

“Yeah.” Tyler managed to smile. “You being a mercenary bounty hunter and all. No finer, more upstanding citizen than that, is there?”

Luke wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused. He settled for a chuckle and a shake of his head.

Some of the men built up the main campfire until its garish light filled the circle of wagons. Then Howard motioned for Luke and Tyler to come forward and face the group of slightly more than a hundred men, women, and children. Nolan and Deborah stood with their father.

Howard said, “I'm sure all of you remember Luke Jensen and Judd Tyler and all the help they gave us when we were being attacked by those Indians. More than likely, the news of what happened earlier today has gotten around the camp already, but if there are any of you who haven't heard, my son Nolan and the rest of our scouts saved Mr. Jensen and Mr. Tyler from a group of men who were trying to kill them.” Howard paused, then added in an ominous tone, “Unfortunately, those men were deputies from White Fork.”

Mutters of surprise came from some of the immigrants. Whether they had heard the rumors or not, having their leader put the situation so bluntly into words carried a disturbing impact.

A man asked, “Are you sure they were really lawmen, Jonathan?”

Nolan answered the question, saying, “They were wearing badges. And Jensen and Tyler haven't denied it.”

“That's because it's the truth,” Luke said, causing more murmurs. “Those men who tried their best to kill Judd and myself were indeed deputies working for Sheriff Gus Axtell of White Fork. But that doesn't mean the errand they were on was a lawful one!”

Nolan glared at him and said, “What are you talking about?”

Luke reached to his pocket and said, “Bear with me here. This is going to make things look even worse, but it's important if you're going to know and understand the whole story.”

“Luke, what are you—” Tyler began. He stopped short and caught his breath as Luke took a folded piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to Jonathan Howard.

“This is a wanted poster!” Howard said after scanning what was printed on the paper. “It says . . . it says Judd Tyler is wanted for murder!”

“I knew it!” Nolan said. “Nothing but a dirty outlaw!”

Deborah shook her head and said, “I don't believe it. Mr. Tyler . . . Judd . . . it's not true, is it?”

Tyler looked uncomfortable and didn't answer, so Luke stepped up and said, “It's true that Judd was charged with the crime, but that doesn't mean he's guilty of it.”

Jonathan Howard frowned and said to Tyler, “You claim you didn't kill this young woman, this . . . Rachel Montgomery?”

“I sure didn't, Mr. Howard,” Tyler said, and his voice rang with sincerity. “Rachel was my friend. I never would have hurt her. I'd have died myself before I'd ever do that.”

Howard thrust the wanted poster toward him and demanded, “Then why were you charged with her murder?”

“Because I know who the real killer is, and his pa—who's the richest and most powerful man around White Fork—doesn't want me to have a chance to tell anybody about it. But I will. I'll tell all of
you
, if you'll let me.”

“You mean you'll spin some pack of lies—” Nolan began. His father held up a hand to stop him.

“We'll listen to you,” Jonathan Howard said. He looked at Luke. “But first I'd like to know what part you play in all of this, Mr. Jensen.”

“That's simple enough,” Luke said. “I'm a bounty hunter. All I wanted was to collect the thousand dollars' reward on this young fellow's head. That was before I heard his story and decided I believed it.”

Howard shook his head and said, “I don't understand. If you believe he didn't kill that girl, why are you taking him to White Fork?”

“So he can stand trial and get up in front of a judge and everybody else to tell the truth about what happened to Rachel Montgomery. That's the only way the real story will ever get out . . . and the only way Judd can clear his name and not have to live the rest of his life as a fugitive.”

It was quiet in the camp as Luke stopped talking. The immigrants stood watching and listening intently. The crackling of the fire was the loudest sound in the night.

Then Jonathan Howard nodded and said, “All right, Mr. Tyler. Tell us your story. And if you want us to believe you, I'd advise you to start at the beginning.”

* * *

That was what Tyler did for the next quarter-hour, telling the tale as he had told it to Luke so many days earlier. Nolan Howard folded his arms and glared while Tyler was talking and made a few skeptical noises along the way.

His sister Deborah, on the other hand, listened raptly, her eyes growing wide and shining with tears when Tyler described how he had found Rachel Montgomery's body.

The next time Nolan let out a disbelieving “Huh!” Deborah turned and swatted him on the arm.

“Stop that,” she told her brother. “Can't you see how much the tragedy affected poor Mr. Tyler?”

“You're just stuck on him because you think he's good-looking,” Nolan said.

Deborah's face turned a bright red. She said, “That's not true.” She looked at Tyler and added, “You just go right ahead, Mr. Tyler. I'm sorry we interrupted.”

When Tyler was finished with his story, Jonathan Howard turned to Luke and asked, “Do you believe all this, Mr. Jensen, even though you hoped to collect the bounty for Mr. Tyler's capture?”

“I do,” Luke said. “I was just as skeptical as any of you at first. Even you, Nolan. I don't know how many outlaws and killers over the years have told me they're innocent. I can't count that high. But Tyler's got some things to back up his story.”

“Like what?” Nolan asked.

“Like the fact we both heard two of Sheriff Axtell's deputies admit the sheriff ordered them to find us and kill us. That doesn't sound like what an honest peace officer would do if he wanted a prisoner brought in for trial. The man who tried to kill Judd at Pettifer's place never said anything to us, but he didn't act like a normal deputy would, either. He hid in the darkness and tried to ambush Judd, but he missed and killed an innocent woman instead.”

One of the women in the group said with a dour look of disapproval on her face, “I thought you said she was a harlot.”

Jonathan Howard waved her down and said, “That's not really important right now, Martha.” He turned back to Luke and Tyler. “What you're saying makes sense, Mr. Jensen, but you don't have anything to back it up except your word. None of us heard what those deputies said.”

“That's right,” Nolan said. “The only thing we've got to go by is what we saw today. Sure, those men had you outnumbered, and it looked like they wanted to kill you, true enough, but wouldn't they have acted the same way if they were a posse of honest deputies trying to round up some wanted fugitives?”

“
I'm
not wanted,” Luke pointed out.

“You weren't . . . until you started trying to help a man who's on the run from the law. Doesn't that make you guilty of a crime, too?”

Nolan had a point there, Luke supposed. In the eyes of the law, he
was
guilty. The mitigating circumstance of Tyler's innocence wouldn't come into play unless it was proven in court that he hadn't killed Rachel Montgomery.

So Luke had a lot riding on this, too. Unless Tyler's name was cleared, his wouldn't be, either, and he could easily find himself with murder charges hanging over his own head because of the deputies he'd killed.

It was a mess, plain and simple.

Luke didn't answer Nolan's accusation directly. Instead, he said in a clear, powerful tone, “There's one way to settle all of this, and that's for Judd Tyler to stand trial in White Fork and prove his innocence. That's what we've been after all along. So take us there, and you'll see for yourselves that we've been telling the truth.”

Jonathan Howard said, “You mean take you there and turn you over to this Sheriff Axtell?”

“You do that and you'll never see us alive again,” Tyler said with a gloomy shake of his head. “We'll be shot trying to escape before Axtell even gets us locked up good. That's what he'll claim, anyway.”

“I have a plan,” Luke said, “but it involves reaching Judge Clarence Keller and letting him know what's going on.”

Howard rubbed his chin and said, “I've corresponded with Judge Keller about the range that's been opened up for homesteading. It's hard to tell from letters, but he struck me as an honest, upstanding man.”

“He is,” Tyler said. “He'll do everything he can to conduct a fair trial . . . if he gets a chance to.”

Nolan Howard still wore a dubious frown on his face, but he didn't seem quite as hostile as he had been a few minutes earlier. He said, “Are the two of you willing to turn your guns over to us until we get to White Fork?”

Tyler looked like he was going to argue about that, but Luke held up a hand to forestall his protest.

“I don't like being disarmed,” Luke said. “But maybe it'll show you how much I believe in Judd's story if we agree to that suggestion.” He put his hands on the Remingtons but didn't pull them from their holsters. “I want your word, though, that if there's any sort of trouble, you'll give us our guns so we can defend ourselves.”

Nolan started to shake his head, but his father said, “I'll give you my word on that, Mr. Jensen.”

“Very well.” Luke drew the revolvers, turned them around with a deft flip of his wrists, and offered the ivory-handled butts to Howard. “We're literally putting our lives in your hands, Mr. Howard.”

“Well, I don't know about turning over this Winchester—” Tyler began.

“It's
my
Winchester,” Luke said. “Give it to Nolan.”

With obvious reluctance, Tyler held out the rifle so Nolan Howard could take it.

Jonathan Howard said, “How many more days will it take us to reach White Fork?”

“Two, maybe three,” Luke told him.

“Do you think we'll run into any more of this Sheriff Axtell's deputies along the way?”

“It's possible.” Luke shrugged. “If we do, Judd and I will lie low and stay out of sight. Maybe they won't insist on searching the wagons.”

“And if they do?”

“Then you'll probably have a chance to see for yourself that they're nothing but a pack of cold-blooded killers,” Luke said.