Lone Star 05 (25 page)

He reined around and signaled to his men to start back. As Cynthia went to join them, she flashed a grateful glance at Ki, remembering his words to her the night before:
You must work it out for yourself.
Ki remembered too, and nodded in understanding and encouragement.

Before the Mormons led Mueller away, Jessie spurred forward and pulled up beside the broken Prussian. “A memento, Mueller,” she said, removing a lace handkerchief from her vest pocket.

Mueller looked down his nose at it, noticing that the Circle Star brand had been embroidered in one corner of the expensive cloth. Jessie stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket, saying, “From the Starbucks to you. Wear it in good health.”

Mueller snarled and turned away as one of the Mormons jerked the reins of his horse.

 

Their first stop in Provo was the Starbuck Metals & Mining Company office. As she had expected, Jessie learned that George Elkin was gone. Barbara, his secretary, said that the director had disappeared just yesterday—with the contents of the safe—leaving behind a wastecan of ashes from incriminating documents he had burned in the night.

Exhausted and angered, Jessie looked to Ki and Thad. They too had been through hell, and to ask them to ride after Elkin was more than she could expect.

Thad read her thoughts. “We've got no time to waste, Jessie. We can hire fresh horses.”

“You're not going anywhere, Thad,” she said. “You'll be no use to anyone if you bleed to death.”

“The hell you say. I rode this far.” But the blood was drained from his face and there was a dullness in his eyes. He'd collapse within a mile; he needed to be put to bed and treated by a doctor. “Maybe we should eat first, though,” he gamely conceded.

“I'm going to put you to bed,” said Jessie.

Thad held his injured body to its full height, his arm hanging in the rude sling. “I can't let you go after him alone.”

Jessie nodded toward Ki, who stood by silently, knowing his duty, already planning a means of pursuit. With skill born of training and long practice, he attempted to wash away all feelings of exhaustion; one more battle remained to be fought, and he aimed to win it. Jessie was depending on him.

“Thad, Ki and I will go,” she stated simply. “As soon as we take Thomas's body to the morgue and get a doctor for you.”

Later, with the kid disposed of and Thad attended to, Jessie and Ki went to the livery and chose two fresh mounts. They saddled up in the gathering dusk and, based on the information Barbara had given them, rode northward toward Salt Lake City, where Elkin had headed. The treacherous director had a full day's lead on his pursuers and could put it to good use if he got to the largest city in the territory; he could lose himself there, change his identity, and depart for points unknown, never to be seen again. Thus, if they were to have a chance at all, they would have to catch up with him before he got to the capital.

“Ki,” Jessie said, “you suspected Elkin all along, didn't you?”

“Yes, Jessie.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“I knew you would discover it for yourself. It was only a matter of time.”

They rode all night, and Jessie could not even remember a time when she hadn't been in the saddle. For minutes at a time she dropped her head in sleep, to be jolted awake again when her horse lunged over a streambed or climbed up a rocky rise. But by the time the sun began its ascent and dawn washed the sky, she had regained the edge of alertness that she would need to succeed.

Ki watched the trail for sign of Elkin. He saw that a lone man on horseback had preceded them; the horse appeared to be heavily laden, which could mean Elkin carried a large amount of gold as well as currency. If so, the director wouldn't be making very good time. Perhaps he had expected to get a better jump on Jessie; perhaps he had expected Mueller to see that she never made it back to Provo. That would be another advantage for the pursuers. Still, they must ride like hell to overtake him before Salt Lake City.

Ki insisted that they stop for an hour for tea and to rest their horses. Jessie complied, grateful to be out of the saddle for even a short time.

“Jessie, I can ride on ahead. You must rest,” he said as he quickly built a small smokeless fire.

“Not until we deal with Elkin.” She unholstered her revolver and checked its action and loaded it. “I'll be all right until then.”

When their tea was prepared, Ki drank his, recalling the time on their way to Skyler when they drank tea and Jessie tried to read the leaves in the bottom of her cup. Ki wished he could find the future in those leaves, but knew he could not. Only by acting with the ebb and flow of history might a man finally know the future, his future; and by that time the present ceased to be. Peace and warfare were like that. Now, in a moment of peace, Ki could only think of the impending battle with Elkin. And when that time came, he would be consumed with a desire for peace and the cessation of strife.
What a queer thing life is,
he thought as he tossed the dregs to the ground.

“Let's go, Ki,” Jessie said.

And they rode on through the morning, covering a blur of distance over a winding trail. The sun warmed them and made them sweat. Their horses, too, became overheated and had to be rested again before nightfall. Then, in the darkness, they set out again, two silent riders fighting off the twin demons of sleep and defeat. Soon the chill of night stung their faces and kept them awake.

Unexpectedly, as a veil of clouds fell over the moon, they saw it up ahead—a campfire. It was a good half-mile away. Would Elkin be so stupid? Or would he think he was safe from pursuit? Whatever his reason for building a fire, Jessie and Ki knew they had to be careful in approaching it.

They dismounted and muzzled their horses' mouths and padded their hooves, taking the remaining distance on foot, leading the animals. The fire burned lower as they got closer. Then they could make out the form of a man huddled near the flames. Jessie and Ki loosely hobbled their horses and keeping a distance of ten yards between them, stole toward the camp. Ki held his bow at the ready with an arrow in place, and Jessie carried her Colt revolver.

The silhouetted figure did not move. A wet stick cracked loudly in the fire. Then, in an explosion of swift movement, the man flung aside the dark coat he was wearing and lifted a long-barreled shotgun to his shoulder. He fired two quick shots, the detonations rending the air like a cannon. Ki fell to the grass as the hot charges rocketed over him. The man by the fire then dropped that shotgun and lifted another. This time he swung his aim in Jessie's direction. But she found cover behind a conelike rock by the time he fired again, and the two shots slammed harmlessly into the rock.

She ventured a glance and saw Elkin pick up both guns and slip out of the circle of firelight and into the surrounding darkness.

“No use, Elkin!” she called out. But she heard a horse whicker in protest before it galloped off. She turned to Ki, who had already started back for their horses.

When the animals were untied, their hooves uncovered, Jessie and Ki mounted and set off. As tired as the animals were, they sensed that they were moving after the kill and did not slacken. Ahead of them the pursuers could hear Elkin's horse. That animal too would be worn out and weakened. Jessie and Ki kneed their mounts into action.

The moon slipped out from behind the clouds, illuminating the twisting trail. They gained steadily on Elkin, catching glimpses of him riding desperately ahead. He was quickly losing ground, and knew it.

They were closing in fast when Jessie shouted, “Give up, Elkin!” She wanted to give the man one more chance—though she knew the ultimate outcome of his folly. Suffused with exhaustion and a strange, simmering sort of anger, she kept her gaze focused on the man she intended to stop.

Elkin rode hard, zigzagging through jutting rock formations, but he continued to lose ground. Finally he jettisoned the heavy, money-laden saddlebags. Jessie's horse leapt over the discarded bags and galloped on. She heard Ki, close by, circling around the rocks to keep the fleeing man between them. At least one of them would get a shot at him.

Elkin's mount strained to stay out of range. Jessie fired a shot over the thief's head. The single shot had no effect; Elkin spurred his horse on. Suddenly he cut to his left and she lost sight of him. Replacing her revolver, she heard the clatter of hooves as his horse drove into a narrow cleft between two tall rocks. Halting her mount, she listened as the sound echoed in the darkness.

“Ki!” she called. Her companion reappeared at her side in an instant. “He's gone into the rocks,” she explained.

Ki listened, his sharp ears picking up the sound as Elkin slipped deeper into the unyielding shelter of the hard rock walls. Gauging the distance, he nocked an arrow to his bowstring. With a swift, graceful lift of the bow he loosed the arrow in a high arc.

Nothing happened. The clatter of Elkin's horse grew dimmer.

“We'll have to go in there after him,” Jessie said.

“This man Elkin is a dangerous one. He'll turn and wait for you. I'll go first.”

“No, he's mine, Ki. I want to talk to him if I can. I want to take him alive.”

“There is little chance of that,” said Ki.

There was truth in her companion's words, she knew, but she held out the hope that the man would value his life enough not to try something stupid.

She guided her horse into the craggy, narrow valley of rock. Beneath its sheer walls only a narrow band of the night sky was visible above. Without direct moonlight the snaking trail was invisible; she'd have to trust to her animal's sure sense of footing—and keep an ear cocked for Elkin. Ki followed, a fresh arrow held to his bow.

Several hundred yards later, after a tortuous progress, Jessie heard—straight ahead—the lever action of a rifle as Elkin chambered a cartridge. She dove to the ground, scraping her right leg against a sharp edge. Wanting to cry out in pain, she called back to Ki instead, “Down, Ki!”

As the words escaped her lips, the rocky arroyo thundered. She saw a blue-orange flash of flame, less than forty feet away, and heard the bullet whip overhead as she pressed herself against the wall. Luckily, Ki was safe, having reacted quickly to her order. He crawled toward her.

Elkin fired again, gouging a splinter of rock from the wall near Jessie's face. The horses were gone in a split second, trumpeting their fear. At least they would be safe, Jessie realized. Unholstering her converted Colt .38, she edged forward, keeping as flat as she could against the rock face. She felt Ki's presence directly behind her. Not wanting to give away her position, she held her fire, inching forward.

After a minute of silence, Elkin sent two quick shots at their original location. He hadn't seen or heard them move.

Aiming by the muzzle flash, Ki let fly with an arrow. A short distance away it struck its target with a
thwack!
Elkin howled in pain, triggering a stray shot into the air.

Jessie jumped up, revolver at the ready, and stalked closer. Ki unsheathed his
ho-tachi
knife and sided her as they approached Elkin's lair. They heard the man's quick breathing, then the clatter of his rifle falling from his hands. In one motion they were atop the mining director, Jessie's .38 aimed at his face.

Ki bent over the man and discovered his arrow lodged deeply into his right breast. He uncorked the small canteen he carried on his belt and splashed some water in Elkin's face. Spluttering, Elkin opened his eyes.

“Are you going to kill me?” he asked, his voice trembling.

Jessie said, “Not until you tell me why you did it. You betrayed me, Elkin. You stole from me, you nearly got me killed. You're to blame for Marshal Scott's death—you as much as Mueller.”

The wounded man looked at Ki, standing over him with the small, keen-edged knife in his hand. “I just wanted out—to start up a business for myself. I thought you—wouldn't miss the money. You have so much—you‘re—”

“That's no excuse,” said Jessie. “My God, man, listen to yourself.”

Elkin was fading as blood seeped into his lungs. He struggled to speak. “Every man has—the right—to do better. All I wanted—a new start.”

“Tell me, how did you know Mueller?” she asked.

“He—came to the office—months ago—set it up—told me I‘d—I'd be rich.” An awful gurgling sound came from deep within Elkin's throat. His last word rode a river of blood out of this mouth. “Rich ...”

 

 

The next evening Thad brought a bottle of Tennessee whiskey to Jessie's room. She had just finished a hot bath and wore only a silk robe as she invited him to sit on her bed. “Where'd you get that?” she asked.

“From my very own saddlebag. One bottle managed to make it through the wars.”

As they drank, Thad smoked contentedly, relaxing with her for the first time in what seemed like a long, long time. She sat upright against a clean pillow, her fine reddish-gold hair falling to her shoulders, the loose front of her robe provocatively revealing the soft swell of her chest.

“So where do you go from here, Thad?”

He regarded her carefully, his eyes lingering on her finely chiseled face, her sculpted body. Even now, after knowing her intimately for some days, a lump formed in his throat as he realized how beautiful she was—and how strong. He shrugged in mock innocence. “Golly, ma‘am, a feller hasn't had time to think more than a few minutes ahead, what with all the shooting and such.”

She smiled, her white teeth gleaming. “Don't ‘golly, ma'am' me, Thad. I'm serious. I'm concerned about you. Going back to bounty hunting?”