The Man with the Iron Badge (11 page)

Castillo pulled the woman down off the horse and carried her into the trees. He found a clearing and put her down. She was wearing a simple, homemade dress that easily came apart in his hands. Her naked flesh excited him even more. He took her all in. She wasn't young, and had a soft belly, but she had full breasts and a bushy patch between her legs. And he hadn't had a woman in five years.

“You want to scream?” he asked.

“I want to die,” she said.

“What is your name?”

“Why does it matter?”

“If you do not tell me, I'll hurt you.”

“You're going to hurt me, anyway,” she said. “You killed my husband, and my children. Do you think I care what you do to me? Come on.” She spread her legs for him, so he could see the pink there. “Let's see what a big man you are.”

He stared down at her and smiled. He undid his gun belt, dropped it, and his trousers to the ground.

“There,” he said, touching himself. “You see how big I am.”

She looked at his penis and laughed. “You are not half the man my husband was.”

“Your husband?” Castillo asked. “The man who begged for his life?”

“He did not beg for his life,” she said. “He begged for mine, and for the lives of my children.”

Castillo advanced on her, sat on her legs, and grabbed her breasts. His penis was rigid, and huge. He knew she was trying to insult him so he'd kill her quickly.

“I have been waiting five years for this,” he said, “and you will not cheat me out of it.”

He got to his knees, spread her legs, and drove himself into her.

Janet Simmons was determined not to scream . . .

 

Jessup, Foley, and Masters drank some of the water and ate some of the food they'd taken from the house.

“Take it easy,” Jessup said. “This food and water has to last.”

“Until we come to another house,” Foley said.

Jessup looked at the three horses they'd taken from the corral. Only one was a saddle horse, and he'd taken that one for himself. Castillo had taken the best of the other two. That meant Foley and Masters were riding double on the weakest animal.

“These horses ain't gonna last long,” Masters said.

“Why did we change direction?” Foley asked. “We shoulda came to another house.”

“I didn't want to keep going to Fenton City,” Jessup said.

“I thought there was a lawman you had to kill,” Masters said.

“And I will,” Jessup said, “as soon as I'm properly outfitted.”

The only weapon they'd gotten from the house was a Winchester. Jessup was holding on to that and the guard's gun.

“You boys can go your own way now,” he said. “You've got a horse, and some food and water.”

“This horse? It ain't gonna get us far ridin' double,” Masters said.

“If you head for Fenton City, you might find something better.”

“What are you sayin'?” Foley asked.

Jessup pointed the rifle at them and said, “I'm tellin' you to go—unless you want a turn at the woman first.”

The trail wasn't difficult to follow. Eventually Clint, Dockery, and Starkweather came upon the woman and the two men.

They dismounted, checked the bodies.

“She was raped first,” Clint said, looking at the naked woman. “Probably more than once.”

“That's Janet Simmons,” Dockery said. “So now the whole family is accounted for.”

They walked over to the two dead men. Starkweather was standing there, staring down at them.

“Still wearing their prison clothes,” he said.

“Jessup killed them, that's for sure,” Dockery said. “According to the telegram I got, these would be Masters and Foley.”

“And who else?” Clint asked.

“Fella named Castillo.”

“You know him?”

Dockery shook his head. “Don't know nothin' about him, except he's probably either friends with Jessup or is of value to him.”

“So they killed these two,” Starkweather said.

Dockery nodded. “Rather than share the food, horses, clothes—probably the woman—with them.”

“If Jessup wants you dead,” Starkweather asked, “why did he change direction?”

“He's not ready,” Dockery said. “It's that pure and simple. Once he's outfitted, he'll come for me.”

“So why don't you just go back home and wait?” Starkweather asked.

Dockery looked at him.

“I'm not trying to be smart,” Starkweather said, “I'm just asking.”

“Because by the time he got around to me, he might have killed a lot more people—like the Simmons family, and these two.”

“That makes sense,” Starkweather said.

“We've got to bury these people,” Clint said.

“Good thing I brought one of the shovels.”

 

They buried the two men in the same grave, the woman separately.

“If we had the time, I'd take her back and bury her with her family,” Dockery said.

“Doesn't much matter,” Starkweather said.

“Might matter to her.”

“Not anymore.” Starkweather turned and walked away.

“That boy got any family other than Nate Starkweather?” Dockery asked.

“Not that I know of.”

“That might explain a lot.”

They walked away from the graves. This time Dockery left the shovel behind. Clint guessed that if they managed to kill Jessup, Dockery had no intention of burying him.

They mounted their horses.

“If we move fast, we can ride them down,” Dockery said. “Even if they have Simmons's saddle horse, they're only gonna be able to move as fast as their slowest animal.”

“Clint could probably ride them down faster than we could,” Starkweather said.

“That's probably true,” Dockery said, “but he'd be outnumbered two-to-one.”

“He could take them.”

“Jessup's good,” Dockery said. “With and without a gun. You're probably right, and I'd probably bet on Clint, but I'd rather we stay together.”

“You're the boss,” Starkweather said.

“Thanks, kid.”

 

They followed the trail. Clint was not the most accomplished tracker at this point. Dockery was.

“They're ridin' shit horses,” he said. “You can see where they've stumbled from time to time.”

“You can see that by their tracks?” Starkweather asked.

“You wanna learn something?” Dockery asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Clint remained mounted while Starkweather stepped down to take a lesson from Dockery. Clint wasn't looking, but from what he could hear it had to do with the horse stumbling, or leaving scuff marks instead of clear imprints.

Clint kept watch, just in case Jessup and Castillo were lying in wait for them.

“See anything?” Dockery asked Clint.

“Not a thing,” Clint said.

“Okay,” Dockery said. “Let's get mounted and keep going. We're gettin' closer.”

“We are?” Starkweather asked.

Dockery settled into his saddle and said, “We are.”

Jessup and Castillo could not wear the clothes they had found in the Simmons house. The dead man had only been five-foot-ten. None of his clothes, or boots, would fit.

After Jessup had killed Foley and Masters, he had released the third horse. He was riding the rancher's horse, using his saddle. Castillo was on the other horse, riding bareback. His was the animal that was beginning to stumble and would probably soon collapse.

“I'll walk,” Castillo told Jessup. “If the horse goes down while I am on it, it might fall on me.”

“That's fine,” Jessup said. “But that's gonna slow us down.”

“I can ride double with you.”

“That'll still slow us down.”

“Then you go on ahead,” Castillo said.

“I think we should stay together, amigo.”

Castillo stared up at Jessup. On more than one occasion one had kept the other alive in Yuma Prison. That kind of thing tended to forge a bond between even the most vicious of men.

“Here,” Jessup said, handing Castillo the rifle. It was a show of trust that surprised the Mexican. “There must be a posse looking for us by now. We have to find better horses, and more guns. I'll scout on ahead, and when I find something, I'll come back for you.”

“Agreed,” Castillo said. “I will keep walking.”

Jessup nodded, and started his horse forward. Castillo left the other horse where it was—standing, exhausted, with its head down—and started walking. He had taken about three steps when he heard the animal fall.

 

“We're close,” Dockery said.

“How can you tell?” Starkweather asked.

“The tracks are fresher,” Dockery said, “and deep, which means the horses are tired . . . and it also helps that I can see one of their horses lying over there.”

He pointed. Starkweather saw a barebacked horse lying on the ground, it's sides heaving with its labored breathing.

“Deeper tracks . . . ,” he muttered as they rode over to the fallen animal.

Clint dismounted to check the animal.

“He's done in,” Clint said. “Won't last much longer.”

“If you shoot it, the shot will warn them that we're comin',” Dockery said.

“You don't think they already know that somebody's coming after them?” Clint asked.

“You're right,” Dockery said. “Go ahead and do it. It'll give them somethin' to think about.”

Clint drew his gun and fired one bullet into the horse's head.

Just a couple of miles up ahead Castillo heard the shot. He might have been in prison for a long time, but he could still tell where a shot had come from. It was fired from behind him, not ahead, so it hadn't been fired by Jessup.

They had pursuers, and they were getting close. If Jessup did not return with fresh mounts soon . . .

 

“Did you have to shoot it?” Starkweather asked as Clint remounted. “It didn't have a broken leg or anything.”

“That horse had worse than a broken leg,” Clint said. “Somebody had just ridden it to death. Once they go down on their side like that, they're done in.”

“He's right, Dan,” Dockery said. He looked ahead. “Well, now we got two men with one horse. You know what that means.”

“They're riding double?” Starkweather asked.

“Not a chance,” Dockery said. “First of all, Jessup is about six-four. If Castillo has any size at all, they couldn't ride double. They'd kill the last horse for sure.”

“Then what?” Starkweather asked.

“One of them is on foot, probably carrying a rifle they got from the Simmons place,” Dockery said.

“The other one has probably ridden ahead, scouting for more food, fresh horses . . .”

“Right,” Dockery said. “We might just catch up to one of them alone.”

“Yeah,” Starkweather asked, “but which one?”

“My money says Jessup kept the horse,” Dockery said. “If I know him, he's got no intention of comin' back for the other man.”

“Maybe not,” Clint said. “I've seen even hard men bond in prison.”

“Well,” Dockery said, “either way, we'll probably come up on whoever's on foot first.”

“After that shot,” Clint said, “he'll probably take cover and wait for us.”

“Tell you what,” Dockery said. “I'll scout up ahead of the path here, and you two just keep going. If he's layin' for us, I'll be able to tell.”

“Okay, Dock. Watch your back.”

“You, too,” Dockery said, “and watch each other's back.”

 

Castillo knew there was somebody hot on their trail. He had two choices, keep walking or stop and wait. If he'd had a better rifle, one he was familiar with, he would have decided to wait. But with this weapon, and with Jessup due anytime with fresh horses, he decided to keep walking, stay on the go, and keep an eye peeled both ahead and behind.

 

When he'd left, Jessup had every intention of returning to Castillo with fresh horses. He really did. But he'd left the Mexican a rifle, left him able to defend himself. More importantly, Castillo would be able to hold off any pursuers, giving Jessup more time to get farther away.

So yeah, he'd had every intention of finding fresh horses and returning . . . but he wasn't going to.