Massacre Canyon (22 page)

One was Mordecai Kroll.

The other was Smoke.

Smoke drew in a sharp breath when he saw the unsteady figure shamble out onto the balcony and stand next to Rudolph Kroll. He and Mordecai still weren't close enough to make out many details, but the newcomer's general size was right to be Luke, and so were the dark hair and beard.

The man's shaky gait as he came up to the railing made Smoke believe that he was looking at his brother, too. There was no telling what the outlaws had done to Luke, what tortures they might have inflicted on him, but at the very least he had suffered through several weeks of captivity. He wouldn't be in top shape.

“Well, what do you know?” Mordecai said. “Looks like Rudolph ain't killed that bounty-huntin' brother of yours after all. I reckon maybe he's savin' that pleasure for me.”

“I thought you said your brother was a man of his word,” Smoke snapped. “What happened to your claim that he would honor the deal he proposed to me if I brought you here?”

Mordecai laughed.

“Hell, you believed that? I thought you were too smart to get taken in that way, Jensen.” Mordecai paused suddenly and frowned. “You
are
too smart. You got some sort of trick you're plannin', don't you?”

It had taken Mordecai long enough to realize that, Smoke thought. Too long, because they were here now and Matt and Preacher had to be somewhere in the vicinity, too. Soon they would be getting the lay of the land and sizing up the situation, figuring out the best way for them to make their move and get Smoke and Luke out of this canyon.

But Smoke just shook his head and said, “I don't know what you're talking about. I kept up my end of the bargain. You're here, aren't you? Now all I can do is hope that your brother will hold up his end.” Smoke slipped his Colt from its holster and aimed it in Mordecai's general direction. “I'm going to give him a good reason to do that.”

“You do know there's probably a dozen rifles trained on you right now, don't you? You're lucky you didn't get drilled when you pulled that hog leg.”

“I figured as long as I stay close enough to you, nobody will get too trigger-happy.” Smoke nudged his horse ahead. “Let's go.”

They continued riding up the lane. Smoke's gun never wavered. If he died, Mordecai would die, too. He didn't think any of the outlaws would risk Rudolph's wrath if his brother was killed while right here on the verge of being returned safely.

A massive, bearlike man in a long, beaded vest and flat-crowned black hat waited for them at the open gate in the thick adobe wall. Several other men stood nearby, holding rifles.

“Galt!” Mordecai greeted the big man as he and Smoke reined to a halt. “It's good to see you again, you big ol' buffalo!”

Judging by the scowl on Galt's face, he wasn't as happy to see Mordecai. But he said, “Your brother told me to bring you and this other fella up to see him as soon as you got here.”

“Well, let's go!” Mordecai said impatiently. “No sense in wastin' time.”

He started to swing down from the saddle, but Smoke snapped, “Hold on a minute, Kroll.”

Mordecai froze in an awkward position and glared over at him in disbelief.

“You really mean to tell me you ain't given up yet?” he asked. “Just look around you, Jensen. You shoot me and two seconds later you'll be so full o' lead they could use you as a sinker on a fishin' line! Not to mention ol' Galt there could bust you in half and tear you apart with his bare hands.”

“I don't doubt either of those things,” Smoke said, “but you'd still be dead, wouldn't you?”

Galt asked, “What do you want, Jensen?”

“I hang on to my gun.”

“Nobody's asked you for it, have they?”

Galt had a point there. Smoke said, “I want my brother brought down here. He's going to take a couple of these saddle mounts and ride out of here. I'm going to watch him until he's gone through the pass. Then, and only then, I let you have Mordecai.”

“You've gone loco!” Mordecai exclaimed. “Rudolph will never agree to that. Tell him, Galt.”

“I don't speak for the boss,” Galt said. “I'll have to go talk to him.”

“Then do it,” Smoke told him.

“Dadgum it!” Mordecai exploded. “I've waited all this time to see Rudolph again, and now you tell me I got to wait more?”

“It won't be long,” Galt said. Smoke could see the scorn in the big man's eyes. He had a hunch the rest of the gang tolerated Mordecai because of his brother, rather than him wielding any real power over them.

Galt told the riflemen, “Keep an eye on them,” then turned and lumbered through the gate in the wall. Smoke watched the big man as he made his slow, stately way back to the house and disappeared inside.

“I'm gonna see to it that you pay for this, Jensen,” Mordecai said. “You should've just gone ahead and died like you was supposed to. Would have been quicker and easier on you that way. Now I'm gonna make you suffer.”

“I've been doing that all the way from Yuma,” Smoke said. “I had to listen to you.”

He thought he saw grins on the faces of a couple of the guards as they quickly looked away. They probably didn't have much use for Mordecai, either. That wouldn't really be any help to him in the long run, more than likely, but it was good to know he wasn't the only one who felt that way.

The minutes stretched out slowly, and Mordecai's continued profane grumbling didn't help them pass any faster. Finally the door into the big house opened, and Galt emerged again.

He wasn't alone this time.

Luke was with him.

And so was Rudolph Kroll.

Even though this was the first time Smoke had seen the man close up, he had no doubt who he was looking at. Kroll was dressed plainly, in brown trousers and vest and a collarless shirt buttoned at the throat. As far as Smoke could see, he wasn't carrying a gun or any other sort of weapon.

But he carried himself as if he were king of this canyon, and in a very real way, he was. He possessed the power of life and death over everyone here.

Smoke didn't really spare Rudolph Kroll more than a cursory glance. Most of his attention was concentrated on Luke, who walked under his own power but was clearly unsteady on his feet. Anger welled up inside Smoke as he saw how captivity had transformed his vital, powerful brother into a gaunt, hollow-eyed, bearded shadow of himself.

Then they were close enough for Smoke to look into Luke's eyes, and he suddenly felt a little better about things. Defiance and intelligence still burned in Luke's eyes. He hadn't given up. Being a prisoner hadn't knocked the fight out of him.

Smoke hadn't expected that it would—Luke was a Jensen, after all—but it was nice to see confirmation of that hunch.

Kroll came to a stop, and so did Luke. Before Rudolph could say anything, Mordecai exclaimed, “Howdy, big brother! I'm back!”

“I can see that,” Rudolph said. That curt reply was the only one he gave Mordecai. He swung his attention to Smoke and said, “You'd be Smoke Jensen.”

“I would,” Smoke agreed.

“Why are you pointing that gun at my brother? Don't you know you won't stand a chance of getting out of this canyon alive if you shoot him?”

“I know that,” Smoke said. “I just want you to understand . . . anything happens to me or
my
brother, Mordecai is going to die. That's a hundred percent guaranteed.”

“You can't know that for sure,” Rudolph snapped.

“Close enough.”

Smoke's simple, confident answer made Rudolph frown. Mordecai said, “You see how he is? Just go ahead and kill him, Rudolph. Shoot the son of a bitch. He ain't near as good as he thinks he is.”

“You want to bet your life on that?” Rudolph asked. “Because that's what you'd be doing.”

Mordecai sat back in the saddle a little and didn't say anything.

Rudolph turned his attention back to Smoke and asked, “What do you want?”

“Your man Galt didn't tell you?”

“I'll hear it from you.”

“Fair enough,” Smoke said. “I keep this gun pointed at Mordecai until Luke gets on a horse and rides out of the canyon.”

For the first time, Luke spoke. In a rusty croak, he said, “No! You can't do that, Smoke. They'll kill you.”

“I'll take my chances. First order of business is to get you out of here to where you're safe.”

“Hell, no,” Luke rasped. “I'm not leaving without you. If the situation were turned around, would you ride out and leave me behind?”

Smoke had hoped his brother wouldn't ask him that question. The answer was no, of course he wouldn't do that. When he'd seen Luke's condition, though, he had hoped that his brother might have enough sense to agree.

It never paid to underestimate the stubbornness of a Jensen, though.

For the time being, Smoke ignored Luke's refusal to go along with his impromptu plan. He looked at Rudolph and said, “How about it, Kroll? Do we have a deal?”

Rudolph fixed him with a cold stare and said, “I've killed men for trying to dictate terms to me.”

“They probably didn't have your brother's life for leverage,” Smoke pointed out.

“But we have your brother's life in our hands,” Rudolph said. “Galt!”

Smoke tensed, ready to open fire. Despite the fact that his gun was aimed at Mordecai, his first shot would be directed at Galt, since the bear of a man seemed to be the biggest threat to Luke. Then he would drill Rudolph and finally Mordecai.

By then he'd probably have several slugs in him. But as long as he could draw breath and pull the trigger, he would continue to kill outlaws.

He hoped Sally would forgive him someday for not coming back to her.

Galt stepped forward and whipped a knife from under his long vest. Moving with surprising speed, he wrapped an arm around Luke's neck and jerked him back against his broad chest. Galt's forearm pushed up against Luke's neck to expose his throat under the beard. Galt put the blade's edge against Luke's throat but didn't press on it.

Smoke controlled the instinct demanding that he kill the big man. Luke's life hung by a thread . . . but then, so did a number of other lives.

“It appears that we have a classic Mexican standoff,” Rudolph said.

“Yeah,” Mordecai said, “except none of us are Mexicans!”

That prompted a gale of laughter from him. None of the other men gathered in front of the gate joined in his amusement, and after a moment his cackling trailed away.

“What it comes down to, Kroll, is whether or not you're a man of your word,” Smoke said. “Mordecai tried to convince me that you are, but then after we got here, he went back on that and claimed you were going to double-cross me. So what's it going to be? I brought you what you wanted. Do you let my brother and me ride out of here or not?”

“So, Mordecai told you I'm not an honorable man, did he?” Rudolph muttered. “I can't say that I'm fond of the idea of letting you go. You Jensens have been a major annoyance to me.” He shrugged. “But a deal's a deal. Galt, let the bounty hunter go.”

Mordecai's eyes widened in surprise. He exclaimed, “Rudolph! You can't mean it! You can't let these two skunks ride outta here!”

“I still give the orders,” Rudolph grated. “You'd do well to remember that, Mordecai.”

“But . . . but they know where the hideout is!” Mordecai sputtered. “What's to stop 'em from goin' and tellin' the law or even the army?”

Rudolph looked like he was thinking, and after a moment he said, “That's a fair point. Believe it or not, I like to think of myself as an honorable man. But I'm even more of a practical man. Galt, hang on to Luke Jensen. Smoke Jensen, drop that gun now . . . or go ahead and pull the trigger.”

Smoke came mighty close to doing just that. In an earlier time, he would have.

And both he and Luke would have died in the next thirty seconds. Even though surrender ran counter to everything in his nature, a life of danger had forced him to become a practical man, too.

Plus he had a couple of hole cards that no one else here knew about.

“Smoke, don't do it,” Luke croaked, his voice even more strained by Galt's grip on his throat. “I'd rather go out . . . fighting. . . .”

“They're not giving me any choice, Luke,” Smoke said. He lowered the Colt so that it wasn't pointing at Mordecai anymore, and then tossed it onto the ground.

As soon as the revolver thudded onto the dirt, Mordecai left his saddle in a diving tackle aimed at Smoke. He wrapped his arms around Smoke and the impact of the collision spilled both of them from the horse's back. They crashed to the ground, and hatred gave Mordecai a slight edge as he scrambled up first.

He yelled, “I'm gonna kill you with my bare hands!” and sent a punch speeding toward Smoke's face.

Matt lowered the field glasses through which he had been peering as he watched Smoke and Mordecai Kroll ride on through the pass and disappear on the other side.

A few moments earlier, he had been studying them through the glasses when he had seen them pause for some reason. Mordecai had tilted his head back a little as if he were looking at something up on the walls of the pass. Matt had shifted the glasses and caught a split-second reflection up there, even though not much sunlight penetrated into the pass.

Then Smoke and Mordecai had ridden on, with the outlaw waving to someone and confirming Matt's hunch that sentries were posted up on those walls of stone.

“I reckon the hideout must be on the other side of that pass,” he said to Preacher and Darcy as he stowed the field glasses away in one of his saddlebags.

“What makes you think that?” Darcy asked.

“The pass is being guarded. The gang wouldn't go to that much trouble unless there was something on the other side of it to protect.”

Preacher said, “That makes pure-dee sense. Which means we got to find some other way around.”

Matt studied the sheer cliffs, the rocky ridges, and the rugged peaks on both sides of the pass.

“That's not going to be easy,” he said. “Looks like that's the only gap for miles.”

“We can just ride around,” Darcy suggested. “How long can it take?”

“Dependin' on what we find,” Preacher said, “it might take days. And I ain't sure Smoke and Luke'll have that much time to spare.”

“Neither am I,” Matt said. “It'll be pretty dark in that pass come nightfall, though. Somebody who was really good at sneaking around might be able to get through it without the guards noticing him.”

“Meanin' me, o' course,” the old mountain man said.

“Actually, I was thinking about me.”

“Dadblast it!” Preacher said. “I've done forgot more about sneakin' up on varmints than you ever knowed, boy. Besides, it ain't easy for a big ol' galoot like you to move around without makin' some noise.”

“You're not exactly small yourself, Preacher,” Matt pointed out. “Scrawny, yes, but not small.”

“I'm the smallest of any of us,” Darcy pointed out, but Matt and Preacher both shook their heads at the same time.

“You're not going anywhere near that outlaw hideout,” Matt said. “We'll tell you all about it later, so you can write your story and try to sell it, but we're going to find some place where you'll be safe and leave you there.”

Darcy got a stubborn look on her face that Matt was already familiar with, despite the relatively short time they had traveled together, and he knew she was going to argue.

To forestall that, he raised a hand and held it toward her with the palm outward.

“If you give us trouble, we'll tie you up,” he warned her.

“You wouldn't dare!” she said. “If you tie me up and then go off and get yourselves killed, I'd starve to death or die of thirst or get eaten by a mountain lion!”

“Oh, we'd fix it so's you could get loose sooner or later,” Preacher said. “You'd just be stuck there long enough for me an' Matt to do what needs to be done.”

She glared at them for a long moment, and then said, “You two are incredibly annoying.”

Preacher nodded and said, “Thank you kindly. I reckon we been doin' things right, then.”

Darcy just blew out a frustrated breath.

Preacher ignored her and turned to Matt. He pointed at the mountains to the right of the pass.

“I been studyin' on them peaks,” he said. “I got a hunch there's a way through there. See that leetle bitty notch?”

Matt squinted and frowned as he looked where Preacher was pointing.

“Maybe, but it'd take a mountain goat to get there,” he said.

The old mountain man nodded and said, “I been accused of worse. Thought maybe I'd get as close as I can on horseback, then Dog and me will scout around up yonder and see what we can find. Might be a way to circle around and come at the hideout from the north.”

“Even if you make it to the notch, you don't know what's on the other side.”

“You don't know what's on the other side o' that pass, neither. And there's only one way to find out.”

“You're right about that,” Matt admitted. “I don't much like splitting up, though.”

“Neither do I, but the odds are gonna be mighty heavy against us no matter what we do. Catchin' those varmints betwixt us wouldn't make 'em even, but it'd help.”

Matt nodded.

“All right, go ahead. I'll find a good place to leave Darcy and then wait for it to get dark so I can try slipping through the pass.”

“I'm right here, you know,” Darcy said. “You don't have to talk about me like I'm not.”

“Wasn't my intention,” Matt told her, but he didn't actually apologize.

Preacher lifted a hand in farewell, and then rode off on Horse with Dog padding along beside them.

“Now,” Matt said as he looked at Darcy, “what am I going to do with you?”

“You don't want me to answer that,” she said with a half-snarl.

Matt turned away so she wouldn't see him grinning. She was feisty as all get-out, but he suspected she wouldn't appreciate it if he said as much.

“Let's go,” he said. “We'll have a look around for a good place.”

Darcy looked none too happy about it, but she came with him.

A short time later, they found a little canyon that twisted between two rock spires. It narrowed toward the back, so it would be relatively easy to defend. With her rifle, Darcy could hold off quite a few men if she had to.

Although there was no spring or creek, the presence of some grass told Matt water was seeping in from somewhere. He pointed that out to Darcy and told her, “If you're in here long enough to need more water than what you have in your canteens, you can dig for it. Just be careful and make what you have last.”

“What about food?”

“Same goes for that. You have enough provisions to last for several days, though.” He paused, and then went on. “If Preacher and I aren't back before your food runs out, chances are we're not coming back. What you should do when you have only a couple of days' rations left is pull out and head for Phoenix. If you get down out of the mountains and head west, you'll hit it before you run out of food.”

“What you mean is that you'll be dead. The Kroll brothers will have killed you.”

“That's the only thing I can think of that'd stop us from coming back for you,” Matt said.

He picked out the best place for her to camp, where the graze was thickest for the horses he would leave with her and also where some boulders would provide cover if she needed it. He wished she were back in Boston, where she had come from, or just about anywhere else other than here in the Superstition Mountains not much more than a stone's throw from the lair of some of the most vicious outlaws on the frontier.

But one of the secrets of life was that you had to deal with things as they were, not how you wanted them to be. Despite his relative youth, he had learned that lesson and learned it well. He nodded to Darcy and told her, “All right, I'm going to leave you here now. You'll be all right. Just wait for me or Preacher to come and get you, and in the meantime keep your eyes open. Don't fire any guns unless you absolutely have to. Shots will just announce where you are. Same thing is true for a campfire. You'll have to make do without one.”

“I know all that,” she said. “There's nothing I can tell you to change your mind about taking me with you?”

“Nope. Not a thing.”

“Then maybe I can
do
something.”

Without warning, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was tall and didn't have to stretch up very much to press her mouth to his in a kiss.

When he thought about it later, Matt realized he
could
have stopped her if he tried. The reflexes that had kept him alive in numerous gunfights certainly were fast and sharp enough to have prevented one woman from kissing him. He tried to tell himself that it was because she took him by surprise, but he knew that wasn't exactly the case.

The truth was he didn't mind her kissing him.

But it wasn't going to change his mind about what he'd decided, either.

He slipped an arm around Darcy's waist and held her close against him for a moment. He had no doubt that her actions were calculated to help her get what she wanted, but from the way her mouth moved under his and her hips surged against him, he thought she found herself enjoying it more than she'd expected.

That didn't make any difference, either. He broke the kiss and stepped back.

Darcy's lips curved in a smile as she said, “Are you sure—”

“Remember, keep your eyes open,” he went on as if nothing had happened. “If you see anybody coming up the canyon who isn't me or Preacher, take cover. And if you have to shoot . . . don't shoot to warn.”

The grim import of his words was clear.

Darcy looked angry and exasperated at his failure to rise to the bait she had flung his way. But she nodded and said, “All right, I understand. But you be careful, too, Matt. As you put it, don't shoot to warn.”

“I don't make a habit of it,” he said dryly.