Gunsmith #361 : The Letter of the Law (9781101553657) (14 page)

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Authors: J. R. Roberts

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

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“It's about pure ego,” Clint said, “and, I think, pure evil.”

THIRTY-NINE

Wycliffe saw the Indians up ahead of him, and reined his horse in.

Damn it, he had come this way to avoid the Territories in the north for just this reason. He didn't want to deal with Indians.

Since his knowledge of them was very sparse, he had no idea that he was looking at a band of Quapaw, who alternated between the North Territories and Arkansas.

He wasn't sure what to do. They were just watching him, and not making any moves toward him. He could keep moving forward, hoping they would ignore him, or he could turn around and go back the way he came. If he did that, he'd have to deal with either Garver or a posseâor both.

He could also head north or south, but one took him in the wrong direction and the other might take him toward even more Indians.

In the end he decided to keep moving forward, keeping his hands away from his weapons.

Garver could tell Wycliffe had reined in his horse for a while. What he didn't know was why. There was nothing about the horse's tracks to indicate it had injured itself. Perhaps he had seen something ahead, but had finally decided to continue on anyway.

Garver continued on as well. He had almost decided to follow Wycliffe until he camped, and take him then. Maybe even while he was asleep. To get the drop on him that way, and take back the bank money, would humiliate him greatlyâand then he'd kill him. There'd be great satisfaction in thatâand great profit.

“What's wrong?” Kelly asked.

“I don't know,” Clint said. “They're stopping and going.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

“Are they together again?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“I don't know,” Clint said. “I guess it's all caused by the first man.”

“Maybe he saw something that caused him to stop.”

“Well, maybe we should keep going,” Clint said. “The sooner we catch up to them, the sooner we'll find out.”

A few miles later it was Clint who called a halt to their progress.

“What is it?”

“These tracks,” Clint said. “Unshod ponies.”

“Indians?”

“It would explain what the lead man saw that caused him to stop.”

“But he kept going,” Kelly said. “Would he do that if he saw Indians?”

“I guess that would depend on how many he saw,” Clint said, “and what tribe they were.”

“What tribe would be out here?”

“There are a few possibilities,” Clint said. “Osage, Quapaw . . . a few more.”

“Are they . . . dangerous?”

“Shouldn't be,” Clint said. “They're most likely reservation races, unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Unless they're renegades.”

Kelly looked around, as if he was suddenly worried that they were being watched.

“What if they're watching all of us?” he asked.

“Then maybe they're being entertained,” Clint said. “Garver is chasing his former partner, we're chasing Garver. We probably all look like foolish white men to them.”

“And do they kill foolish white men?” Kelly asked.

“I guess we'll have to find out.”

FORTY

This time Clint actually saw the Indiansâor at least, three of themâin the distance ahead.

Kelly saw them as well.

“How did they get there?” he asked. “Between us? Have they killed the other two?”

“Who knows?” Clint asked.

“Should we turn back?”

Clint looked at Kelly as they sat on their horses side by side.

“Would you be willing to assume that the Indians got your revenge for you and return to Adobe Walls?” Clint asked.

Without hesitation, Kelly shook his head.

“Okay, then.”

“What should we do?” Kelly asked. “How do we find out who they are? What they want?”

“That's pretty simple,” Clint replied. “We just ask them.”

Clint rode directly toward the three braves. They stood their ground and waited.

“What are they doin'?” Kelly asked.

“They're waiting,” Clint said. “They won't do a thing until we reach them.”

Kelly touched his rifle.

“Don't touch your gun,” Clint said. “Not unless I touch mine.”

“There's only three of them,” Kelly said. “We can take'em.”

“There's only three,” Clint said, “that we can see.”

When they got closer, Clint could see that they were young bucks, none of the three of them much over twenty. He didn't know if that would work for them, or against them.

“I'll do the talking,” Clint said.

“That suits me,” Kelly said.

“Oh yeah,” Clint said. “Put that badge in your pocket.”

“Why?”

“You don't want to tempt them with a target,” Clint asked, “do you?”

Kelly took off the badge and put it in his shirt pocket.

“Hello,” Clint said as they reached the three Indians. He thought he recognized their markings, but he asked, “Are you Quapaw?”

The middle brave nodded.

“We are pursuing two white men,” Clint said. “They are criminals. Have you seen them?”

Again, the young brave nodded. The other two simply stared at them.

Then the center brave spoke.

“They do not travel together,” he said. “They did not show us any respect, as you have. They did not speak to us.”

“Have you killed them?” Kelly asked.

Clint gave him a sharp look.

“Why would we kill them?” the brave asked, looking confused.

“Never mind,” Clint said. “Which way have they gone?”

“They go east,” the brave said, pointing. “Why do they not travel together?”

“We believe one of them is hunting the other,” Clint said.

“Why?”

“Because they are not honorable men,” Clint answered. “They would kill each other for money.”

“For money?” the brave asked. “Not for horses, or skins?”

“No,” Clint said. “For money.”

The brave honestly did not understand such actions. Or rather, such reasoning.

“What is your name?” Clint asked.

“I am Red Joe.”

“Red Joe?” Kelly asked. “What kind of name is that?”

“Reservation name.”

“It's a good name,” Clint said.

“What is your name?” Red Joe asked.

“This is Kelly,” Clint said. “I am Clint.”

“Clint?”

“That's right.”

“Kelly?” Red Joe said. “What kind of name is that?”

“Irish,” Kelly said.

“Why do you seek these men?”

“I told you, they are criminals,” Clint said. “They have also killed our friends.”

“You seek revenge?” the brave asked.

“We seek justice,” Clint said.

The braves turned to each other and conversed in their own language for a few minutes. Then the middle brave turned back to them.

“The men you seek are ahead of you,” he said.

“We know,” Clint said. “We are tracking them.”

“We can take you.”

“We can track them,” Kelly said.

“We can take you short way.”

“A shortcut?” Clint said.

“Yes,” the brave said, “that is it. A shortcut.”

“Why would you do that for us?” Kelly asked.

“Not do for Kelly,” Red Joe said. “Do for Clint.”

“Is that a fact?” Kelly asked.

“Never mind,” Clint said. “I don't care who you're doing it for or why. “Thank you.”

“This way,” Red Joe said.

“What are their names?” Kelly asked, indicating the other braves.

“Not matter,” Red Joe said.

“Why not?” Kelly asked.

“Not speak English,” Red Joe said. “You not understand them, they not understand you. Not matter their names.”

Kelly looked at Clint.

“Looks like you made a new friend.”

The three braves started to ride off.

“We better follow them,” Clint said. “While they're still in a good mood.”

FORTY-ONE

Garver watched as Wycliffe made camp for the night. He had found a place where he could hide himself and look down at his former partner's camp. After dark he'd move in and get the rest of his money.

Wycliffe could feel the eyes on him, but didn't know if it was the Indians, or Garver. He put on a pot of coffee and made himself some beans.

And waited.

“It's dark out here,” Kelly said.

“They know their way around,” Clint said.

“Our horses could end up with broken legs.”

“Not if we step where they step,” Clint said.

Suddenly, the three braves stopped. Red Joe turned to look at them.

“You smell?” he asked.

Kelly sniffed the air.

“I don't smell nothin'.”

But Clint did.

“Beans.”

Red Joe nodded, then pointed.

“Over that hill.”

“One of the men is over that hill?” Kelly asked.

Red Joe nodded.

“Which one?”

“The one that is not on the hill.”

“So one man is over the hill making beans, and the other man is on the hill, watching him?” Clint asked.

“Yes.”

“Then we're here.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“You want we stay?” Red Joe asked.

“No,” Clint said. “That's okay. We'll take it from here.”

Red Joe nodded. He spoke to the other two braves. They actually smiled and waved, and then the three Quapaw rode off into the dark.

“What now?” Kelly asked.

“What do you want?” Clint asked. “The beans, or the hill?”

FORTY-TWO

They left their horses behind. Clint walked up the back of the hill. They didn't know where Garver was, top or bottom, but Clint assumed that Garver would not want to share the bank money with anyone. He figured Garver would be at the top of the hill.

He told Kelly, “You take the beans.”

“I love beans,” Kelly said.

“Better put your badge back on for this,” Clint advised.

Kelly felt the weight of his badge as he advanced on the campfire on foot. He didn't know who he would find there, but he told himself he was ready.

Wycliffe heard someone coming toward his camp in the dark. He put his plate of beans down and removed his gun from his holster. He held it ready.