Gunsmith #361 : The Letter of the Law (9781101553657) (12 page)

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Authors: J. R. Roberts

BOOK: Gunsmith #361 : The Letter of the Law (9781101553657)
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“Where do you think you're going?” the doc said, coming into the room.
“I've got to get out of here, Doc.”
“And do what? You think you're gonna be able to sit a horse without tearing those wounds open?”
“I figure I'll try.”
“You won't get a mile before you start to bleed to death.”
“I've got to give it a try.”
The doc stared at him, then said, “Okay, go ahead. Let me see if you can even make it to the door.”
Dixon glared at the doctor, then lowered his feet to the floor.
“I'll need my boots,” he said.
“If you can ride, you can put your own boots on,” the doc said.
“Where are they, damn it?”
“Under the table.”
Dixon looked and saw the boots under the examination table he'd been lying on.
“What the hell are they doin' there?” he demanded.
“Stop complaining. Just go and get them and put them on.”
Dixon stared at the doctor, then bent over to try and get his boots. He reached for the boots, but couldn't stretch that far, and couldn't get down low enough to get under the table without tearing his stitches.
“Ahhhhhh, shit,” he said, finally giving up.
“You want help getting back up onto the table?” the doc asked.
“Ain't you got a bed I can use instead?”
“I do,” Doc said. “I keep it for patients who are going to cooperate. Is that you?”
Dixon leaned on the table and caught his breath.
“Yeah, yeah, I'll cooperate.”
THIRTY-THREE
They circled around, figured to move in first from behind the house. Once they had their backs pressed against the back wall of the house, Clint risked a look inside the windows.
“Nobody, and nothing,” he told Kelly.
“Bunkhouse next,” Kelly said. “With me not here, somebody is for sure sleepin'.”
“Okay.”
They moved to the bunkhouse, pressed their backs to the wall. This time it was Kelly who peered in through the window.
“Looks like somebody was in one of the bunks,” he said, “but not now. We move to that end of the bunkhouse and look out, we should be able to see around the corral.”
Clint nodded.
Nobody was near the corral, in front or behind it.
“Damn it,” Kelly said. “If they're here and alive, they might be playing poker on a hay bale in the barn.”
“Let's hope they are.”
“They are, I'm gonna hand 'em their asses,” Kelly said. But Clint could tell he was worried about his friends.
They had a long way to go in the open between the bunkhouse and the barn.
“You go first,” Clint said, “I'll cover you.”
Kelly nodded. He broke from the cover of the bunkhouse and ran past the corral to the side of the barn. He waved at Clint to come ahead. When they were both alongside the barn, they tried looking between the boards.
“I don't see anything,” Clint said.
“Me neither.”
“Is there a back door?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, you take the back, I'll take the front.”
“I got the badge, Clint.”
“All right, then,” Clint said. “I got the back. I'll move in when you do.”
Kelly nodded, and they moved.
 
Clint got to the back door, cracked it, and waited. When he saw Kelly go in the front, he opened the door and stepped inside, gun held out in front of him.
“This is the sheriff,” Kelly yelled. “Anybody in here?”
No answer.
“Boys, it's Kelly.”
Still no answer.
They started looking in stalls.
“These two ain't our horses,” Kelly said. “And they been rode some.”
“So they did come here, and they got fresh mounts,”
Clint said. “The question is, what happened to your men?”
“I don't think I'm gonna like the answer.”
 
They found them behind a stack of hay bales. All four of them, dead.
“Damn!” Kelly said, falling down to one knee.
“Looks like they got one of them before they died,” Clint said.
Kelly angrily pulled the body of the bank robber away from the bodies of his three friends. Then he kicked it a few times.
“Goddamnit!”
Clint put his hand on Kelly's shoulder.
“I'm sorry about your friends.”
Kelly looked at Clint with rage in his face.
“We're gonna catch these bastards!”
“Yes, we are,” Clint said.
He knelt by the body of the dead bank robber, went through his pockets. His body had been stripped of anything that might identify it.
“He must have a saddle around here somewhere. Maybe some saddlebags.”
They searched, found the robber's saddle, but no saddlebags.
“His partners must have taken it with them.”
They walked outside. Clint studied the ground, walked a ways from the barn.
“Tracks clear up over here,” Clint said. He came back to Kelly. “Why didn't they take some of the mustangs? That'd be a good animal to have in this terrain.”
“Ain't been broke yet, none of 'em,” Kelly said.
“We better stock up on whatever supplies you have in the house,” Clint said. “Unless they thought of that, too.”
“We got some stores hidden away,” Kelly said. “In case of Indians, or Comancheros.”
“Okay, then.”
Kelly led the way.
THIRTY-FOUR
They decided not to take the time to bury the dead men. They'd do that on their way back, after they caught Garver and the other man. They covered them up as best they could and left them in the barn. They included the dead bank robber, so his body wouldn't attract any scavengers, who would then find the others.
“Look here,” Clint said as they were covering him up separate from the others.
“What?” Kelly asked.
“He's shot in the hip, and the back.”
“So?”
“So I'm wondering who shot him in the back.”
“You think Garver took the chance to kill his own man?”
Clint shrugged and said, “Why wouldn't he? Makes for a bigger split.”
“That'd be the way that kind of man thinks,” Kelly agreed.
They mounted up, each carrying some of the supplies they'd found. They took water, coffee, beef jerky, some canned fruit, pans, cups, and a coffeepot. Kelly figured they should use one of the other horses as a pack animal, but Clint disagreed.
“That'd slow us down,” he said. “I'm sure they're riding without a pack animal.”
“I'd say you're right,” Kelly said. “There's four of our animals missing, but if you look way out there, you'll see two of 'em, just standin'.”
The foreman had good eyes. There were two horses standing off in the distance.
“They're waitin' for us to leave so they can come back,” Kelly said.
“No point letting them stand out there, then,” Clint said. “Can they make do with the water in the trough and the hay in the barn?”
“ 'Til we get back, yeah,” Kelly said.
“Then we better start following these tracks.”
“Clint?”
“Yeah?”
“You know what you said about bringin' them back alive?”
“I remember.”
“I don't know as I can do that.”
“Can't say I blame you for that, Kelly.”
 
Garver and Wycliffe had ridden away from the ranch at a good pace.
“There'll be some kind of posse by now,” Garver told Wycliffe. “Maybe even have the Gunsmith in it.”
“When they reach that ranch and find those men, they'll really be after us,” Wycliffe said. “Maybe we should split up.”
“Now why would you suggest that?” Garver asked.
“Well,” Wycliffe said, “maybe it's because I don't want a bullet in the back like Stanford got.”
Garver looked over at Wycliffe.
“He was gonna die anyway,” he said. “I saved him some pain.”
“He was shot in the hip.”
“Crippled, then,” Garver said. “He would've slowed us down.”
“Split the money and split up,” Wycliffe said. “That's what I'm thinkin'.”
“Let's get someplace safe,” Garver said, “and then we can talk about it.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Clint tracked Garver and the second man, hoping they wouldn't split up, but expecting them to.
Eclipse traveled easily beneath Clint, but he had suggested to Kelly that he get himself a fresh mount.
Kelly patted his horse's neck and said, “This is the best animal on the ranch. Besides, I'd have to break one of those mustangs, and it would just take too long. Unless you wanna break one?”
“Not me,” Clint said. “I've never been a bronc buster.”
“I'm not much of one either,” Kelly said sadly. “That's what the other boys were for.”
Now, as they followed the trail, Kelly said, “Can't we go any faster?”
“I'm a better tracker than I am a bronc buster, Kelly,” Clint said, “but not by a lot. No, I can't go any faster.”
“Well, they're headed east, right? Can't we just ride east?”
“The trail may change,” Clint said. “They could change direction, or split up, and if we missed it, we'd lose them.”
Kelly understood. He was still impatient, but he understood.
 
Half a day and thirty miles later Clint said, “There,” and pointed to the ground.
“What?”
“They just changed direction,” Clint said. “They're headed north.”
“Indian Territory? Why would they go there?”
“Maybe they think nobody would be stupid enough to follow them?”
“Well . . . we are,” Kelly said.
“Yeah, Kelly,” Clint agreed, “we are. Maybe they'll switch and go west again, into Arkansas. We'll have to wait and see.”
Kelly touched the badge on his chest.
“This tin won't be good in either place, will it?” he said.
“I wouldn't say no good,” Clint said. “It still gives you some status. It gives us a legitimate reason to keep chasing them, no matter where they go.”
“And that's what we're gonna do,” Kelly said. “Wherever they go.”
 
Clint had to force Kelly to stop for the night, to rest not only themselves, but their horses as well. They built a fire and Clint put on a pot of coffee and broke out the beef jerky and canned fruit.
“Take a deep breath,” Clint said.
Kelly looked across the fire at him.
“What?”
“You haven't taken a breath since we left the ranch,” Clint said.
“I can't breathe,” the foreman said. “Not 'til we catch those bastards.”
“If you don't breathe,” Clint said, “you won't make it.”
“If those were your friends, would you be breathin' easy?” Kelly asked.
“Not easy,” Clint said, “but I'd be breathing, because that's what it's going to take. Have you ever tracked a man before?”
“No.”
“Believe me,” Clint said, “staying as tight as you are right now is not going to help us.”
“Yeah, okay,” Kelly said, “I get it. I understand what you're saying. I'll try.”
“Let's take a watch each,” Clint said, “just in case. You turn in first.”
“I ain't tired.”
“Trust me,” Clint said. “By the time you put your head down, you'll be asleep.”
As Kelly wrapped himself in his blanket and settled down, Clint put on another pot of coffee. By the time he was able to pour himself a cup, he could tell by the man's even breathing that Kelly was asleep.
He broke out another chunk of beef jerky and stared at the stars. He didn't expect there was any danger of anyone coming up on them, unless Garver and his partner turned around. There wasn't much chance of that. Not after they'd killed all those men at the ranch.
Clint knew how Kelly felt, but the man had to take it easy or he was going to explode. He didn't want to have to go up against two killers with a man he couldn't rely on. Not like in the saloon, with Little Jim. Kelly had frozen.
He couldn't have that happen again.
THIRTY-SIX
“I'm thinkin' Arkansas,” Wycliffe said.
“Why?” Garver asked.
“Because I don't wanna go into Indian Territory.”

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