Stronger Than the Rest (23 page)

Jericho watched the men work, then checked his own weapons. He’d rather stay with them, but someone needed to head back and he was the logical choice. “I’ll start back. With luck I’ll have men back here by morning.” He mounted, then turned his horse toward the others. “Where do you want us?”

“I’d suggest a small group stay back here. It’s the main exit to the east and town. The rest should follow our trail and group up with us on the other side.” Jamie had considerable experience tracking and arresting outlaws from his years as a U.S. Marshal. He looked to Will, the other brother with experience against ruthless killers.

“I agree. We need to have a few men here to cut off any who’d try to escape. They could ride out going south, but it’s tougher terrain than going east.” Will mounted his horse, a clear indication he was through talking.

“Good luck, Mr. Jericho,” Drew called out as he followed his brothers.

“Same to you, Mr. MacLaren. I’ll see you on the other side.” Jericho nodded toward the Ibarra barn. His gut told him the brothers were riding into a horde of trouble. The sooner he got to the Big G and back, the better he’d feel.

******

Denver, Colorado

“Pierce, you in here?” The brother looked around but the place seemed empty.

The back door pushed open and Pierce walked in, gun drawn, ready for trouble.

“What’s going on?” his brother asked.

“Had a visitor earlier today. Didn’t knock, just came in, took a brief look at me, and started rifling through my stuff. I’d just put the ledger and other materials away. Funny thing was, I’d just loaded my gun and laid it on my lap. When he turned to look at me he was staring right down the barrel of it.” Pierce chuckled at the memory of the look on the man’s face. He’d known he was a dead man if he reached for his own weapon.

“He tell you his name?”

“Greg Stiles. You know him?”

“Works for Walsh. We need to get out of here. Now. No time for explanations. Take everything you have and pack up. You have a horse?”

“No, but I’m sure I can get one pretty quick,” Pierce replied.

Thirty minutes later the two were at the stables, paying for Pierce’s horse and loading his gear in the saddle bags.

“You head out of town to the west. Don’t stop until you reach Frisco. Wait for me there.”

“Hell no. I’m not leaving you here to face Stiles and any of Walsh’s other men. I’m staying.” Pierce cinched the last saddle bag and turned to his brother, anger flowing from him.

“I have to get a message to our boss, let him know what’s going on. Walsh suspects you’re involved in something to discredit him and he hired Stiles to follow you. The gunman doesn’t care if you’re guilty or innocent. All he cares about is the money Walsh pays and moving on to his next job. Your death will make that easier,” his brother ground out, then stepped within inches of Pierce. “Besides, you have the evidence to convict Walsh and the others. The information you decoded will put a lot of people out of commission for a long time. There’s no way to prove anything without that ledger.”

“Shouldn’t I get it to the boss?”

“Too late for that now. Best to get it out of town.”

Pierce placed his hands on his hips and stared down at the dirt floor. This job was to be quick. Decode, hand over the evidence, and get out. They had been a day away from that happening, until now

His brother walked to the stable door and peered out. “Stiles is on his way with two others. You have to leave, now,” he ordered.

Pierce jumped on the horse and reined it around toward the back door. He glanced over his shoulder once more as his brother strode to a doorway behind the supply shed.

“I’ll see you in Frisco,” he called out.

Connor only nodded and slipped outside.

Chapter Twenty

Cold Creek, Colorado

Jericho had ridden non-stop to the Big G. It was late, after suppertime, but lights were showing through the windows. He dashed up the front steps, knocked twice, then opened the door to see Grant walking out of this office.

“There’s a situation at the Ibarra ranch, Mr. Taylor,” Jericho managed. He was tired and hungry, but determined to ride back tonight.

“What happened?” Grant was already walking to the gun cabinet to grab a rifle. Eleanor and the other women had heard Jericho’s voice and joined them.

“Nothing yet, but we think the outlaws may be holed up at the Ibarra place. We went to Rosado’s and no one was there, and I mean no one. All their animals were gone. The house was a mess and we found dried blood.” Jericho scrubbed a hand over his stubbled face. “We rode on to the Ibarra ranch but stayed a ways back. Again, no sign of life other than a few horses. We watched for a while but nothing. The MacLarens are making their way around the north end of the property, trying to get to the trees and rocks behind the house on the west. But if there’s trouble, like we all expect, they’ll need help.” Jericho noticed the anxious looks on the women’s faces. “The men were fine when I left them,” he added for their benefit.

Grant didn’t wait any longer but bounded down the steps and marched to the bunkhouse. “Jake! Everyone up. We need to ride out!”

Fifteen minutes later Grant, Jericho and eight of the Big G men were saddled and on their way. They didn’t spare their horses but rode flat out toward the Ibarra ranch.

******

“You see anything, Jamie?” Niall was behind him, holding the reins to Zeus and Jamie’s horse, Rebel.

“I can just make out three men with guns. They’re in the office. Another man is in there with them. Looks like he’s in a chair, tied to it.” He looked at his brothers. They’d found what they’d hoped they wouldn’t.

“Any women, children?” Niall asked.

“Can’t see any from here, and that’s a problem. We can’t go in until we know where they are and how many men Luther has. I need to get closer.” Jamie slipped down from the rocks, walked to Rebel, and pulled out a knife and another gun from his saddle bags, then grabbed his rifle from its scabbard. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he whispered before Niall grabbed his arm and spun him around.

“Wait a minute. You’re not going alone. Let me get my gear and we’ll go together.”

“No. This is a one man job. Two of us may draw attention.” Jamie ignored the concern he saw in Niall’s eyes. “Trust me, Niall. I’ll take a look and get back before you miss me.”

******

Frisco, Colorado

Pierce settled into the small hotel room on the top floor. He checked the window but saw no evidence that he’d been followed. It had been hours since he had left Denver. He was exhausted. The owner had gone to the kitchen and found some leftover stew. Pierce had thanked him, wolfed it down, and trudged upstairs.

He thought of Connor.

Had he gotten the message off to their boss? Had Stiles found him? Connor was a survivor—a man with many lives. Pierce had seen him get out of more difficult situations than he cared to count. If Connor said he’d be here, he would.

Pierce removed his boots and sat back on the bed. The ledger was hidden in a place he believed no one could find. The code used was more sophisticated than most Pierce had seen. Decoding was quick once he’d found the key, except for one word in the ledger.  Walsh hadn’t used the code for it. He’d made up a word using a mix of letters and numbers. It had taken time, but Pierce had figured it out the day before, and that one word brought it all together. Opium.

Pierce was aware of the laws prohibiting the importation of the drug into San Francisco. Ironically, opium dens weren’t illegal—importing it into the city was. Ira’s suppliers were in British Columbia. It was legal to import the raw opium into that city, although there were steep import duties imposed.

Walsh had chosen to import into one the few cities who had enacted laws making it illegal instead of cities where it may have been tolerated. The reason, of course, was the number of opium dens and users in the large California bay city. Walsh had chosen a city which could make him rich or would send him to jail if his involvement was discovered.

Pierce closed his eyes and drifted off.

******

Denver, Colorado

“What do you mean, gone?” Ira bellowed at Stiles when he delivered the news that Pierce couldn’t be found. “I told you to frighten him, but not enough to run him off.”

“He had help, Boss.”

“How’s that?”

“Your man, Connor, helped him get away.”

Connor?
The red began on Walsh’s neck and crept up toward his face, although the color turned a sickening purple as it surrounded the skin around his eyes and made its way up his forehead. “You’re sure?” Ira bit out.

“We found this in a hidden storage closet where Pierce lived.” Stiles spread out the documents he and his men had found when they searched the abandoned room.

Ira stared down at copies of two of his ledgers. Other papers showed notes, scribbles that Walsh recognized as parts of his code. He pushed them aside, scrutinizing the other documents Stiles had recovered. His hands shook as he picked up and studied each scrap of paper.

“And you’re sure Connor was involved?”

“We watched them leave Pierce’s building together, but lost them. I figured Connor was trying to get Pierce out of town and went to the closest livery. We saw Connor slip out at the same time Pierce rode away through the back. Believe me, they acted together.”

“And you didn’t follow them?” Ira tried to control the almost debilitating rage he felt.

“Pierce got away before we could get to our horses. We followed Connor but he disappeared. One minute he was fifty feet in front of us, the next he was gone.” Stiles watched Ira attempt to bring his anger under control. He’d seen him take out his fury on others. Stiles rested his hand on the butt of his gun. One could never be too careful around Ira Walsh.

“There’s more.” Stiles reached into his coat and extracted a few more papers from the inside pocket. He threw them on the desk.

Ira picked one up, then another. Dates, names, amounts. These could have come from just one place—the third ledger. He crumbled the document in his hand and threw it across the room. The original was still in the safe. He’d used it not long before Stiles entered his office. Someone had a copy and the means to decipher the entries. Pierce or Connor. Or both. The realization that he’d been manipulated gripped his chest, squeezing until it became painful to breathe. His hate-filled eyes lifted to Stiles.

Stiles cleared his throat. “I’ve had men watching the train station. Neither has shown up. We know Pierce is on horseback, but Connor…” He trailed off, not wanting to anger his boss further.

Ira looked around his office. The lavish furnishings, artwork, cigars, and expensive liquor. He thought of the enormous mansion he owned in an exclusive part of Denver, and the actress he kept in a fashionable apartment near the theatre. Ira came to a decision. “Get us on the next train to Great Valley. Load horses and plenty of ammunition. They’ll head to Cold Creek, but they’ll be on horseback. If we leave tonight we’ll arrive ahead of them.” Ira paused and looked at the papers on his desk. “Then we’ll kill them.”

******

Louis Dunnigan looked at the note he’d been handed when he returned to his office. It was a note from his associate, Connor. Pierce had deciphered the final sections of the ledger. Cattle rustling, embezzling, instructions to intimidate, orders to kill, and illegal shipments of opium. Although he knew Walsh was dirty, the extent of his crimes staggered Louis. The activities had been going on for years without consequence. But now they could stop him.

Connor wrote that Walsh had issued another kill order, this one against Pierce as Ira had discovered his involvement. A man name Greg Stiles had been brought in to eliminate him. Connor and Pierce were headed to Cold Creek with the ledger.

“Terrance,” Louis called from inside his office.

“Yes, Mr. Dunnigan.”

“I need a message sent to Grant Taylor in Cold Creek. Without delay.”

******

Cold Creek, Colorado

Jamie moved with silent determination toward the Ibarra house. He was fortunate. It was a dark night with heavy clouds that obscured the small sliver of a moon. He’d seen no dogs, no guards. Judging by the number of horses he’d seen during his brief look in the barn there could be as many as twelve men. Their animals were easy to spot, all kept in stalls on one side of the barn, compared to the high-grade horse stock that Ibarra kept. Jamie moved around the house and stopped.

He was close enough to hear conversations. Men’s voices, laughing. A woman’s voice, pleading. His stomach tightened. Jamie crept forward to stop beneath an open window and peered over the ledge. Two men were holding a woman down, tying her to the bed posts, while another man, arms folded, ankles crossed, leaned against a wall, and smirked at the scene in front of him. Eight men so far.