Chapter 12

Dillon rode for three hours, hoping he was on the right trail and that his friends were all right. He knew if the boy died, there wasn't much hope they would keep Doc and Kitty alive. A sense of urgency filled him as he let his horse climb the trail. He came to a bend in the trace and peered back over his shoulder at the scene below him. A feeling of being watched filled him and he turned cautiously, trying to spy anything out of the ordinary. Further up the trail, he spied a wheel poking out of the brush and he rode cautiously towards it.

Sitting haphazardly with brush covering it, Kitty's buggy sat off the trail. Approaching it slowly, Dillon dismounted and moved towards it. He was just about to turn back to his horse when a shot rang out hitting the buggy and sending a spray of splinters in his direction. Two more shots from a different direction hit nearby.

Crouching behind the buggy, he tried to see where the shots had come from. Another burst of gunfire and he had zeroed in on the location of one of the shooters and fired back. Timing his shot, he smiled as he saw one of the men peek from behind a rock a few yards in front of him and his well placed shot hit the man in the chest, causing him to roll down the trail to Dillon.

The other man rose up and began to run up the slope away from Dillon who leaped to his feet and chased the man. Taking careful aim at the fleeing bandit, he smiled in satisfaction as the man fell at his shot.

Walking carefully to him, he felt his pulse and cursed when he found nothing and made his way back to the other man. A quick check showed he was still alive. His eyes fluttering, the man looked up into the dark eyes of the marshal and he grimaced.

"Well, you won this one, Marshal," he whispered.

"Where are they?"

"Who?"

"You know who. Your boss, Jace Sutton and his men. They took two friends of mine. Where are they?"

The man laughed hoarsely, then began to cough. "I ain't gonna tell you nothin'."

"Poor choice. The way I figure it, you and your little friend were sent this way to set a false trail. The rest of your gang headed for the old line shack out by Saw Log Creek."

Dillon watched in amusement as the man tried to cover up his surprise. "So I'm right. They went to the shack?"

The man glanced at Dillon uneasily, pain, marring his features. "You'll…never catch them. The…they got at least a day on you. Mebbe more"

Dillon leaned back. "They may have a day on me but not on my deputy."

"That whiskered fella? I told Jace we shoulda killed him."

"But you didn't. Now where are they headed?"

"You have all the answers. You tell me."

"Look, if you help me, I'll help you."

The injured outlaw laughed. "Ain't no help for me."

"I'll get you to a doctor. There's one near here. Just tell me where Sutton is headed."

The man looked up into Dillon's eyes, then glanced away. After a moment he said, "They's headin' fer New Mexico. Santa Fe."

Dillon laughed. "That's a long way off. A lot can happen between here and there. I need to bury your friend, then we'll head out. Just hang tight."

The man watched as Dillon moved to his friend and prepared to bury him, smirking as he did so. "Ain't no way you or that deputy's gonna take ole Jace. Ain't no way," he whispered before closing his eyes.

Dillon worked as fast as he could to bury the outlaw. It rankled that he felt the need as the urge to catch up with Festus before he ran into anything he couldn't handle was strong.

Finally, the grave dug, Dillon strode back to the other man only to discover he too was dead. Cursing loudly, he grabbed the shovel and dug another grave, knowing every minute brought Festus closer to the Suttons.