PART 1WO
Tanner could feel the heat of the sun on his back as Thompson and his cronies led him on a generally winding path. Wherever they were headed, it was east of White Horse Bluff. There had been some steep climbs, and the iron shoes of the horses frequently clicked against rocks or slid on loose gravel.
"Last stop before Tascosa, Mr. Tanner," called Thompson. The horses stopped and rough hands jerked him from the saddle. "Ike, go saddle up the fresh horses. Clyde, you and Randall take Mr. Tanner in to say goodbye to his friends."
"What's the hurry? Ain't anyone chasing you this time," Tanner asked.
EJ. grinned. "I'm not taking any chances."
Tanner felt a jerk on the chain between his wrists and stumbled forward, feeling like a blind dog on a leash. He was led some fifty paces into a dark and cool place. The air smelled dusty and dank. They continued on for a while, the sounds of their passage echoing strangely. Then Tanner heard the squeak of hinges, and his shoulders brushed against a doorway.
"Well, we've got company again," came the reassuringly calm voice of Buck, laced heavily with sarcasm. "You wanna turn off that damn lantern?"
"I brought you a visitor," Thompson said from somewhere to Tanner's left. "Blindfold stays on," he added as the tracker reached up.
Tanner let his hands drop. "You boys okay?"
"Vin?" Larabee's tone was surprised.
"Yeah." .
"Where's JD.?" asked Buck.
Tanner was quiet for a long moment. "I think Thompson's man Danny killed him."
There was stunned silence. "You bastard!" Buck roared, struggling to push himself upright. "Let me get my hands on that son of –"
"Buck." Tanner's voice was harsh, almost pleading. "There'll be another time."
The shuffling stopped and he heard Buck mumble a disheartened, "Son of a bitch."
"I brought you here to let you know your friends are alive. Well, most of them, anyway," Thompson said. Buck growled ominously. Tanner said, "I appreciate that."
"Now what?" Larabee asked.
Thompson moved closer to Tanner. "Mr. Tanner and I are going to Tascosa. The rest of you are staying here in the safekeeping of my men. You have my word that none of you will be harmed."
"Yeah, right. I ain't stayin' here that long," vowed Buck.
In spite of the blindfold, Tanner thought he could see the smile on Thompson's face. "You'll have to catch us first. Ike, take Mr. Tanner back outside."
"We caught you last time," Larabee snarled.
"You won't this time, Mr. Larabee, I guarantee it," EJ. replied confidently.
A rough hand grabbed Tanner's shoulder and shoved him back toward the door. The door hinges squeaked as Thompson told someone, "I'll send a message when they've hung Mr. Tanner. You can let them go then."
The door swung shut, but Tanner heard the impact of something -- someone -- slamming into it. The door wasn't thick enough to hide the momentary scuffle from the other side, then there was silence.
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"Brother Buck, " Josiah said calmly, placing a restraining hand on his shoulder, "Calm down. It's not going to do us any good now."
Ezra leaned his head back and stared into the blackness. "Does anyone have any idea where we might be?" he asked.
"An abandoned mine," Buck said sarcastically, pacing the small room.
Ezra glowered at him, an expression that was lost in the darkness. "I mean aside from the obvious. It would be nice to know where we are when these hoodlums finally release us."
"I don't think their gonna let us go, Ezra. They'll probably just blow the mine."
Silence followed Buck's announcement. Chain clinked as someone moved, then Nathan said, "I figure we're at least two days from Four Comers. From what Chris said, none of us were missing all that long."
"Don't much matter now, though," said Buck, "we got more important things to worry about. You got any ideas, Chris?"
"I think we'd better concentrate on getting out of here," Larabee said quietly.
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The buckboard rolled to a stop. Judge Travis stood on the seat and scanned the rocky terrain. His hand shaded his eyes from the afternoon glare as he scanned the horizon. "Do you see anything?" Mary asked hesitantly.
The judge sat heavily next to his daughter-in-law. He shook his head slightly and took up the reins. Mary looked at him as he flicked the reins gently on the bay's back. His sharp, weathered features were shadowed by more than his hat. They rode along in silence for a while before he said, "Mary, it's a good thing you came to get me when you did but we should have brought a posse or at least a tracker with us." She looked at him in horror. He saw the look and, before she could voice her protest, he said, "But I respect Mr. Tanner enough to honor his request." They rounded a small rise that brought White Horse Bluff into full view.
Mary placed her hand on his shoulder and stood. "A horse," she said, pointing. As her words carried across the distance the seal brown horse looked up, ears forward. The white blaze on its face glowed in the sunlight. "Isn't that Mr. Tanner's horse?"
Judge Travis reined in and brought the wagon to a halt. He studied the horse carefully. "Could be. It belongs to someone, though," he said, spotting the dusty saddle it wore. He stepped down from the buckboard and held his hand out to Mary. She gathered her dark blue-gray skirts and joined him on the road.
Walking slowly toward the horse, the senior Travis kept an eye open for a possible ambush. The horse shied from him as he reached out to catch the reins. He immediately noted the horse was favoring a foreleg. Using his years of experience, Judge Travis spoke calmly to the animal and began easing forward very slowly.
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Mary wiped her sweating brow with the back of her hand. The tracks Tanner's horse left were distinct and easy to follow in the soft soil at the base of the bluff. She was about to give up her search when she spotted a scuffed up brown boot poking out from behind a large boulder. "Orrin, come here quickly!" She scrambled around the boulder and came up short. The man lying in the shadow of the rock was not the man she expected to find.
She immediately recognized JD. Mary put her hand over her mouth. His still form lying against the rock reminded her of a crumpled newspaper haphazardly tossed into a comer.
"What is it?" Judge Travis shouted back to her.
"It's JD.!" she shouted as she knelt. She steeled herself as she hesitantly reached out to brush a lock of his dark hair off his face. She couldn't believe he was dead. The skin on his cheek was gray and cool to the touch. Various sized tears and blood spots covered his clothing. Most of the stains were sun-dried. The largest on his back, however, was moist. It was then she realized dead men didn't bleed.
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The darkened interior of the cabin was broken up by shafts of sunlight piercing the shabbily boarded walls. A short dumpy man stood over an uneven wood stove stirring the contents of a blackened and generally abused kettle. Ike grumbled under his breath as he stirred the beans, "If I have to cook one more God forsaken bean. I think I'm gonna mutiny. Can't we cook something different for a change? I mean ten more days of this. . ."
Dwayne looked up from the horn-handled Colt he was lovingly cleaning. "You plan on sticking around ten more days?"
"But EJ. said--"
Randall bit off a hunk of tobacco and chewed on it thoughtfully a minute before he spat in the corner and remarked, "EJ.'s not here to say different."
"We were talking about it last night, Ike. If we just let them go like EJ. wants us to, they'll come hunting us sure as rain. And I'm not willing to take that chance." Dwayne loaded the Colt and deftly slipped the cylinder back into place, concluding with an uneven grin, "I say we should just kill them. Now."
There was silence in the one room cabin as Dwayne's words sank in.
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Ezra shuffled around, patting the uneven ground as he moved. His slender fingers analyzed and discarded items he found, tossing them behind him.
Josiah cocked his head to one side, tracking Ezra's movement by the rattle of chains. "Do you need help, my friend?"
Ezra stopped, considering. "I need two pieces of wire, or at the least two long nails."
Buck frowned. "Exactly what're you up to?"
"I, sir, am working on our freedom from this predicament before they attempt to feed me another plate of those deplorable beans." The gambler grunted in satisfaction as he found a short piece of wire he considered adequate. "With some patience and my...dexterity...1 should be able to remove these manacles."
He found another wire and moved back to the others. He felt around until he encountered a boot in the general area where he remembered hearing Nathan's voice.
"Mr. Jackson?" he asked hopefully. When he received an affirmative answer, he knelt. "Hold out your hands and I'll see if I can affect your emancipation."
"I'm glad to see you're continuing the work of Mr. Lincoln," Nathan said, offering his hands.
Ezra felt along the chains until he found a cuff and fumbled for the keyhole. He slipped the wires into the opening and carefully began manipulating them.
"You done this sort of thing before?" Nathan asked.
Ezra cocked an eye at him, although the man couldn't see him. "Please, Mr. Jackson, I've never used this particular means to procure my release. A gentleman I gambled with in Wyoming described the technique to me. It takes a few moments longer to get leg irons off." As he finished speaking, the lock opened with an audible click.
"Me next," Buck said, his voice a dangerous growl.
"Just wait your turn, Buck," chastised Nathan. It wasn't long before they heard a second click, followed by the thud of manacles hitting the ground. "Let me get Ezra free first." He smiled, imagining the look the others were giving him. "I got pretty good at this before the war. I'll manage the leg irons if you'd like to find more wire, Ezra." A click followed his words and in a moment, Ezra was free as well.
Ezra returned to the area where the wires had been found and resumed his search. He found the second piece as he heard Nathan's leg irons fall free. He moved to Josiah while Nathan sought out Buck.
Nathan paused in his work, realizing there had been no sound from their unofficial leader. "Chris? You okay?"
"Fine." The word sounded strained, Larabee's voice tight. He also seemed farther away than before.
They heard the sound of the bar across the door being moved away. Ezra and Nathan scrambled back to their positions against the wall as the door opened. Lantern light flooded the small room. The prisoners blinked away the spots as their eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. Their four captors strode into the room, weapons ready.
"You have one minute to say goodbye and make peace with God," declared their leader.
A black shadow lunged out of a comer to the right of the door and plowed into two of the killers. Larabee's free left hand slammed into one man's face while his other hand closed on the revolver.
Buck was the first to follow Larabee's attack, charging forward with a roar. He smashed his chained fists into the first man's stomach, then wrapped the chain around his neck.
Nathan reacted as the third man brought his gun up. His attack knocked the man back into the wall, and the two of them went down in a struggling mass of arms and legs. There was a bloodcurdling scream, then abrupt silence.
Regaining his balance after Larabee's assault, the fourth man fled. Larabee wrenched the gun away from his feebly struggling opponent and fired at the fleeing man. The bullet smashed into the back of his knee, dropping him with a scream.
Larabee got to his feet and moved back, surveying the scene. His opponent and the man he had shot were alive and out of the fight. Nathan was kneeling over a body with a length of wire protruding from one eye socket.
Buck still had the chain wrapped around his victim's throat as he methodically smashed the dead man's head into the ground.
"See if one of them has the keys," Larabee said to Ezra through clenched teeth.
Josiah moved to Buck and put a hand on his shoulder. "Brother Buck," he said calmly, "his Maker will see that justice is done now."
Buck stopped, looking from the preacher to his victim. A look of disgust twisted his features. Unwrapping the chain, he let the bloody corpse fall to the ground. Ezra came back from the man Larabee had shot, keys in hand, and moved to Josiah.
Nathan joined Larabee, noting the bloody band around his left hand where he had sacrificed skin to force the cuff off. "Let me have a look at that hand," he said.
Larabee nodded, his teeth set against the stinging pain. The former slave picked up the lantern and carefully looked at the injury while Ezra removed his restraints. The deepest scrapes were at the base of the thumb and little finger where the span was the widest, and across the knuckles. Dirt from the fight stuck to the seeping blood.
"You keep doing that, and someone's eventually gonna realize you got skinny hands," said Nathan. "I'll have to clean that up when we get some water."
"It'll wait." Larabee's icy gaze fixed on their other prisoner, who was stirring as consciousness returned. The gunslinger knelt, grabbing the man by the front of his shirt. "You're going to give us some answers, boy. How many men are waiting outside?"
"None," the man mumbled, holding his jaw.
"Don't lie to me!" Larabee shook him. "How many?"
"None! Honest to God! EJ. took everybody else with him!"
Larabee rose, exchanging looks with Josiah and Buck. "Check it out," he instructed. "And see if you can find our guns and horses."
"They're there," the prisoner said emphatically. "All the horses, your gun belts... everything!"
Josiah reached down and lifted the man to his feet as easily as he would have a child. "Why don't you show us where, brother?" His tone left no room for argument. The big man and Buck headed outside. Ezra and Nathan followed, helping the wounded man, and Larabee brought up the rear.
The morning sun was nearly too bright for eyes used to total darkness. They stayed in the shadows of the mine shaft, letting their eyes adjust gradually. The mine was located at the base of a rocky overhang. A flat, narrow valley spread out before them. A crude cabin was located to the left of the mine. A dozen horses milled about in a run-down pole corral near a buckboard filled with hay.
"Looks like you weren't lying," Buck said to the prisoner.
He started toward the cabin, keeping his borrowed revolver ready just in case. Larabee followed him. The others started toward the corral.
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The railroad clerk wrinkled his nose in disgust as men riding down Bonito's street stirred up a large quantity of dust that came right in his window. He blew some of the dust off the neat stacks of paper and tickets on his rolltop desk and straightened them carefully. He heard horses stop outside the ticket office and gave the papers one last adjustment, pushing his spectacles back up on his nose.
"Get down from there," a smooth voice said from beyond the ticket window.
The sound of feet landing on the packed earth and the jingle of chains were too disturbingly familiar. The clerk stood slowly, an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach. He'd heard that voice before. Heavy boots stepped onto the porch, and the jingling chains followed. A well-dressed cowboy appeared in the ticket window.
"Three tickets for Santa Ria, Texas," he said. "And the use of your storeroom for the afternoon."
Granted, it had been just under six months, but the clerk clearly remembered EJ. Thompson. "No, not again," he mumbled under his breath as he walked slowly to the window. The skinny clerk looked hesitantly beyond the bounty hunter and didn't see anyone. He started to relax.
Tanner poked his head into view and said, "Remember us?"
The clerk jerked back in surprise. The comment earned Tanner a right cross that left him sitting on the porch, ears ringing. Even so, he couldn't contain his grin.
EJ. fixed Tanner with an icy stare, his hand resting on the grip of his gun. "I see that spark of rebellion in your eyes. Lose it."
Clyde and Danny yanked Tanner to his feet and led him to the storeroom door. The clerk fumbled with the lock for a moment, then pulled the door open. Tanner couldn't resist leaning toward the clerk and saying "BOO!" The tiny man nearly turned around in his skin in his haste to retreat from their prisoner.
Danny pitched Tanner head-first into the storeroom, heedless of the contents. There was a loud crash and the clerk flinched as they heard boxes falling. Danny smiled as he pushed the door closed and turned the key in the lock. Click.
EJ. laid the money for the tickets on the desk and told the other two, 'Watch him both of you." He picked up the tickets and strode from the building.
"Danny, who takes first watch?"
"You do. I need a drink."
"So do I. Why should you go first?" Clyde protested.
"Because I'm second in command," Danny said as he exited the building.
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Larabee passed the slip of paper to the grey-haired telegrapher, along with a silver dollar to pay for the telegram. As the man read the message, his brows rose slightly.
Mary Travis, Four Corners, care of the Clarion News.
We have escaped and are headed for Tascosa.
Will contact you as soon as I can.
C. Larabee
"Where will you be for the return message?" he asked hesitantly.
"There won't be any return message," Larabee said as he turned and walked out the door. He joined the others at the horses where they were securing supplies to their saddles.
"You ready to ride?" asked Buck.
"Just one more thing." Larabee looked at each of his friends. "I think one of us needs to go back and find JD.'s... bring back JD."
Everyone fell quiet for a moment. "Knew that fool kid'd get himself killed one of these times," Buck said bitterly.
"You volunteerin'?" asked Nathan.
"I'm gonna kill the man who did it."
"I think we all feel that way, Buck," said Josiah. "But someone needs to go. For the boy's sake."
"Gentlemen, might I propose a fair and equitable solution to our dilemma?" All eyes went to Ezra. The gambler held up a newly acquired deck of cards and said, "We cut cards for it. Low card goes back."
"All right." Larabee reached over and took the cards from him. "But I'll hold the deck."
Ezra smiled. "No matter. It just makes the challenge a little more difficult."
Larabee deftly shuffled the cards, then held them out to Buck. He made his draw but didn't reveal the card.
Nathan and Josiah went next. Ezra drew fourth. Larabee was the last to draw.
Buck looked at Ezra. "Show your card, gambling man."
Ezra looked at his card. A smile crossed his handsome features and he revealed the ace of spades. "The master's touch," he explained. "Your turn, Mr. Wilmington."
Buck held up his card, the seven of hearts. Josiah impassively turned over the two of clubs. Larabee's card was the king of diamonds. Nathan looked at his card, then showed it: the two of diamonds.
"So now what?" asked the black healer. "Do we both go?"
"No." Larabee's tone left no room for argument. "I'll need all the guns I can get when we ride into Tascosa."
"They could draw again to break the tie," Ezra suggested.
"Nathan needs to go," Josiah suggested softly.
"Now, hold on just a minute! Why should I be the one who goes?" asked Nathan. "I owe Vin just as much as any of you do. Maybe even more." For a brief moment he imagined he could feel the noose tighten around his throat once again.
Josiah put a hand on' Nathan's shoulder. "Vin thought Danny killed JD. But where there's doubt, there is always room for hope."
Indecision flickered across Nathan's face for a moment, then he nodded. "All right, I'll go." Everyone started to mount their horses, and he said, "But I still think I'll be able to do Vin more good than I can JD."
Larabee reined his horse around. "If that's the case, join us in Tascosa."
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A quiet moan woke Mary out of a fitful doze. She looked over at her charge. JD. was beginning to stir. Her heart leapt as she rose from her chair. "JD.?"
There were a few unintelligible sounds in response to her question. She brushed a dark lock of hair off his forehead. JD.'s eyes were open but still unfocused. She poured a short glass of water and lifted his head so that he could drink.
He drank eagerly but Mary kept him from drinking too much at a time. "Easy now, you're safe," she said softly.
JD. looked up at her, his dark eyes finally focusing on her. "Mary?" he croaked softly. 'Where?"
"You're safe in Nathan's quarters," she said, setting the glass on the night-stand. "The judge and I brought you here from White Horse Bluff two days ago." JD. stirred in his bed as if to get up. Mary put a hand on his shoulder. Lie still or you'll open your wounds again."
"The others?"
Mary looked away for a moment carefully considering her words. "We don't know yet," she said softly. JD.'s eyes closed slowly as he slipped back into the pain-free darkness. She silently prayed they'd return soon. JD. needed more help than she could give him.
Taking advantage of the moment, Mary walked across the carpeted floor to the door. She opened it quietly and spoke to her son who was playing cowboy quietly in the hallway. "Billy, go over to the restaurant and have Mrs. Huxley fix us a picnic lunch." She handed him a few coins. The boy smiled widely and dashed down the hallway. Mary closed the door and returned to her chair.
A few short minutes later she heard hurried footsteps coming up the stairs in the hall. She reached the door as Billy turned the knob. Her son was out of breath. He held a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. "Mom, Mr. Duncan said to hurry and give this to you."
Mary quickly read the telegram. "Thank you, Billy," she said, her voice more cheerful than he had heard it in the past few days. "Hurry now, go get our lunch," she encouraged.
As the door clicked shut. Mary heard JD. stirring again. She went to his side and checked on him. His eyes opened at the touch of her hand on his shoulder.
"Mary?" JD. asked softly.
"I'm here," she replied. She picked up the half glass of water off the bureau and helped him to drink. "Just a little more.". ,
JD. shook his head slightly and Mary put the glass back. "The others back?" he asked softly.
Mary realized suddenly that JD. had no idea how much time had passed since he last put coherent thoughts together. "No, not yet. But I have just received a telegram. They're all alive and well."
"Where?" .
"JD., you have to rest."
"Where are they?" he asked again. His eyes pleading with her.
Finally Mary was forced to relent and tell him the others had escaped from their captors and were trying to catch up with Tanner in Tascosa, before they could hang him for the murder of Jess Kincaid.
"Take me there. Please."
"You can't go. You're too weak to travel. It'll kill you."
"I'll go without you then!" he said as he tried desperately to rise up from the bed. He managed to sit up before the color in his cheeks drained away and he pitched forward into her arms.
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Nathan took a long drink of water from his canteen and made a face. The liquid was warm and had a tinny taste, but it was all he had until he reached the springs on the south side of White Horse Bluff.
He hung the canteen from his saddle horn again and wiped the sweat from his brow. He could see the bluff ahead. The only access to the top was a trail on the other side, sloping up the west face. He figured that would be the best place to start.
He touched his heels to the bay's sides, starting it forward again. The horse picked its way through the tall sagebrush and soft sand. Nathan headed it generally southwest, keeping his eyes open for any trouble. Not all the Indians in this area were as friendly as Koje's tribe or the Seminole.
He reached the springs without incident and slid stiffly out of the saddle. The horse walked forward a few feet and drank deeply from the pool of water. Nathan emptied the stale water from his canteen and refilled it at the spring head. He ducked his head under the cool water, then walked around slowly to work the kinks out of his legs.
"I weren't meant to be no cowboy," he grumbled.
A flash of color in the brush a dozen feet away caught his attention and he walked toward it. It was a piece of cloth, stained brown with dried blood. He picked it up carefully and realized the original cloth was a familiar tan and black checked pattern.
Nathan straightened, searching for any sign that a wounded JD. might be somewhere nearby. He nearty missed the wagon tracks, filling with blowing sand.
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Larabee stopped near the livery stable. "Buck, you and Ezra see about getting supplies. Especially more ammunition. Josiah, get four tickets to Santa Ria. Use Judge Travis's name if you have to. I'll see to the horses."
The four men dismounted taking their saddlebags and headed off to their assigned duties. Josiah walked along the narrow boardwalk to the railroad ticket office. He waited on the bench by the window until a matronly woman and her teenaged daughter had purchased their tickets. He stood and tipped his hat as they passed. He stepped up to the window and leaned on the sill. He watched the people on the street as he requested four tickets to Santa Ria Texas.
When there was no response, Josiah looked through the bars. The clerk stood just inside the window, his mouth open and face as pale as his spotless white shirt. "Good afternoon, brother," Josiah said recognizing the clerk from his last visit to Bonito.
The clerk fainted dead away when Josiah smiled.
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Mary sat up with a start, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. She hadn't meant to doze off. She smoothed her clothing and looked at her patient. JD. was sleeping peacefully, but his face was still flushed with fever. Mary moved to a nearby night stand to get water from a pitcher, but it was empty. She held the empty pitcher and looked at JD., momentarily torn by indecision. The injured man's needs won out, and she turned toward the door.
Heavy footsteps clumped up the steps outside. Mary drew back as the door swung open. Judge Travis strode in, followed by Nathan Jackson. The judge went to her while Nathan went to JD.'s side.
"Oh, thank God," Mary breathed in relief. She looked toward JD. "We've been terribly worried about him. He spends most of his time asleep, and he has a fever."
Nathan paused, bent over JD. "Go fill that pitcher with water and bring it back right away. Then find me some clean cloths. Lots of them."
Mary left quickly. Travis watched Nathan adjust the lamp nearest to the bed, then ease JD. onto his side. He carefully removed the bandages and inspected both the entry and exit wounds. The holes were caked with an ugly yellowish crust, and the flesh around them was an angry red. Nathan felt around the wound, and the youngster's muscles twitched involuntarily.
"How serious is it?" the judge asked.
Nathan looked up, his expression relieved. "A hand-span either direction and we wouldn't've had to worry. But I've seen worse. He should be okay with plenty of rest."
"Mary's concerned about his temperature being so high."
"Body's natural reaction to getting shot," explained Nathan. "Should go down once the wound starts to heal."
"Then why did you send Mary away?"
"It gives her something to do."
Travis smiled in appreciation. "Eh, sort of like telling an expectant father to go boil water."
"Right." Nathan smiled, too. "But I am gonna need water and fresh bandages sooner or later."
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The train's whistle blew mournfully as Tanner rubbed the thickening beard stubble on his chin and stood shakily, the rocking of the train causing him to lean against the wall for balance. His stomach churned violently for the second time in an hour. "Again?" Danny questioned as he trained his rifle on Tanner.
"Bad food," Tanner said, his features pale, voice shaking. He took a few steps toward the door of the rail car. Danny stood and opened the door an inch or so and checked the surroundings that slipped by the opening. He smiled as the train passed along the steep grade of White Rock Canyon and onto a high trestle. Tanner wouldn't dare try to escape from the train here. He nodded to Clyde and opened the door.
The former bounty hunter leaned against the door frame, breathing in the crisp desert air. He spat, clearing the bile from his throat. Tanner's eyes narrowed as he scanned the gorge below. He sagged to his knees beside the door. Danny came forward, taking hold of Tanner's shoulder to keep him from falling out of the car. He leaned closer, saying, "You'd better not die on me."
Tanner looked up, eyes flashing with cold hate. "I won't," he promised softly as he braced his shoulder against the door frame. He grabbed Danny by the shirt and launched him out the door.
Danny's death scream brought Clyde across the railcar at a run.
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Nathan carried the bowl of soup up the back stairs that led to his office. He carefully balanced the bowl in one hand and opened the door slowly, not wanting to disturb JD. if the boy had fallen asleep again.
"That damned fool!"
He set the bowl on his desk and hurried to the empty bed. He looked under it, then in the closet. Finally he looked out the window, but there was no sign of JD.
Nathan raced out of the office and down .the stairs. He paused in the street, looking around. As weak as he was, JD. could not have gone far. Then he saw a horse, eyes rolling in fear, dancing in a nervous circle. Under the horse's belly he could see two white, hairy legs.
JD. was as white as the nightshirt he was wearing. He clung tightly to the saddle, trying to get the horse to hold still so he could mount.
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"Planning on going somewhere?" inquired Nathan.
"Nathan. . . "
JD. turned to face the healer. That took the last of his strength. His knees buckled and he collapsed. Freed from his grasp, the horse trotted away. JD. made a futile grab for the reins, but fell flat.
Nathan put his hands on his hips and leaned over the fallen boy. "Sneaking off ain't gonna do you any good," he chastised. He reached down and helped JD. sit up. "You'd've never gotten on that horse. And even if you did, you would've fallen off before you went fifty feet."
JD. looked up at him. "But we've got to help Vin!"
"Just what do you think Chris and the others are doing?"
"But --"
"Look." Nathan's expression was grim. "I know you want to help. I'm sure Vin and the others know it, too. But if we went to Tascosa, they'd be worrying about you. And they got enough to worry about with savin' Vin."
JD.'s shoulders sagged. "I just don't like sitting here doing nothing."
Nathan placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I feel the same, JD."
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Sheriff Willingham sat at his desk while Tanner stood, having refused the chair he was directed to. A pair of nervous deputies hovered nearby. EJ. Thompson stood on the opposite side of the desk from Tanner. He tucked his gloves in his belt as the sheriff opened a drawer and removed a folder of papers. "There are a few papers you need to sign, Mr. Thompson, before I wire the governor for authorization to release the reward money."
"I'm sure looking forward to celebrating in style with that fifteen hundred dollars," Thompson said smugly. Tanner looked at the sheriff and corrected sarcastically, "That's five hundred dollars."
"I'm afraid you're wrong there, Tanner," the sheriff said, handing Thompson a pen and pointing to where he needed to sign. "The reward's for fifteen hundred dollars. Five hundred dollars, dead or alive, for the murder of Jess Kincaid and a thousand for the murder of Tom Jones."
"What!" Tanner shouted in disbelief as he took a step closer to the desk. "I didn't kill either of those men." The deputies bristled and cocked their weapons. Sheriff Willingham looked up uneasily, not quite sure what Tanner would try. "Don't look so surprised," he said after a moment. "We lost your trail that next afternoon and found the body on our return, right where you had hidden it. Poor old Tom Jones didn't even see you coming before you buried that stolen hunting knife in his back to the hilt."
Tanner's jaw dropped and he sank heavily into the chair behind him.
Thompson smiled fleetingly at the poleaxed look on Tanner's face. "I'd a shot you dead back in Four Corners months ago, but that added thousand dollars made it worth all the extra trouble. It's just a shame none of those boys you chose to ride with had bounties. It would have been a sweet deal," EJ. said, putting a finger to the brim of his hat as he turned to leave.
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"I hope we resolve this in a timely manner," Ezra drawled. "I am tired, thirsty, and my posterior is' more than somewhat tender. "
The others ignored his lamentations. Josiah reined his horse in. "Chris! Hold up!" he called. The others stopped their mounts as well. The former preacher said, "You got a plan, or are we just gonna ride in and break
Brother Vin out of jail?"
Larabee turned around. "You got a better idea?"
"We don't know how many guards there might be. They might've brought in the Army to keep the peace until the hanging. You plan on fighting them all?"
"If I have to."
Josiah's words were quiet, calming. "Uncontrolled anger is a dark thing."
Larabee's expression hardened as he reconsidered. "Split up. Come in from different directions. Take a look around and meet at the Equity Bar."
He turned his horse again and started toward Tascosa. Josiah paused by Buck. "Keep a close eye on Chris," he cautioned the mustached man. "If he sees Thompson, he might just shoot him."
"If he doesn't, I will."
Buck followed his old friend. Ezra and Josiah headed another direction.
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Harry Sanders rolled his eyes and stalked over to the gallows. He stopped beside the new construction and looked up. "Gosh darn it, George. There're supposed to be thirteen stairs, not seven!"
The thin man pounding nails into the platform paused and looked down. He brushed the sweat from his brow and removed the nails from his mouth. "Harry, gall-dang-it, I ain't about to waste good lumber on a killer."
"It's bad luck."
"Not for me. It's good business."
"If there aren't thirteen steps, how do you know he's far enough off the ground?"
George sighed and pushed himself to his feet. "Look, he ain't that much taller than you. And the rope's gonna stop about here," he said, using the handle of his hammer to indicate the distance. "That leaves at least three steps clearance. It ought ta be enough. 'Sides if there's too much distance, I've heard it can be... messy."
"You're sure?" Harry asked dubiously.
"I'm sure. This is my third hanging under ol' Frank Calhoun. Now, I'm tired," George said, climbing down the stairs "And it's your turn to buy." Together they headed for the saloon.