Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit. Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.
A Man of Few Words
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"Raaaarrh!"
The distant scream jerked Hopkins from his restless sleep. The crescent moon rising barely above the mountain ridge didn't provide enough light to see well. The grizzled man sat up straight and squinted, looking for the source of danger. Baxter prowled the campsite, pistol in hand twisting his head left and right. Jubal sat by the fire, his wide eyes staring. The prisoners were in pretty much the same place. The gunman was still tied to the tree, his partner now curled up on his side.
"Wh… what was that?" Jubal's voice quavered. "S… sounded just like a woman screaming."
"No… it was a wild animal…," objected Baxter, but he sounded uncertain.
"Cougar," a sure voice stated. "Ain't close."
Jubal's hands shook. He prodded the coals with a narrow stick, sending sparks up. Flames flickered higher, casting baleful shadows between men and trees. The light reflected in Curry's watchful eyes. Hopkins didn't want to agree with the prisoner, but he did want to calm Jubal and Baxter. Frightened people did foolish things, made mistakes. Not good for a bounty hunter, or anyone for that matter.
"Ain't nothing to worry about," soothed Hopkins. "That critter is a long ways off. Get back to sleep."
"I'm not getting back to sleep any time soon after hearing that," shuddered Baxter. He holstered his pistol and looked towards the warmth and safety of the fire. "I'll start my watch now. Jubal, you get some sleep."
Jubal looked as if he didn't appreciate being ordered about by Baxter. However he didn't argue. The youth laid his stick beside the ring of stones. He burrowed beneath his blanket before Baxter settled himself at the fireside.
"Baxter, be sure to keep the fire going," ordered Hopkins. He turned to Jubal and tried to sound reassuring. "Get to sleep, we've got a long ride tomorrow."
Hopkins didn't think he'd sleep at all, but he dozed off grateful that Baxter hadn't asked Jubal how he knew what a woman's scream sounded like.
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"Raaaarrh!"
The second scream woke Hopkins about two hours later. Baxter stood by the blazing fire. The fractious man nervously twisted and turned, trying to look everywhere at once. Jubal's eyes were open even wider, wilder, than before. Firelight flickered in the open eyes of the fair-haired prisoner. Curry still watched, it looked like Heyes might have tried to roll over.
"That creature sounded like it was right here in the camp!" hissed Baxter.
"Sounded closer," agreed Jubal.
Jubal's shoulders scrunched together as the shivering young man tried to not show his fear.
"Can't be," insisted Hopkins. "The horses are too quiet for that."
The wary sound of horses nickering an alert mingled with the rush of tumbling water coming from the nearby creek. Restless mounts shifted their hooves along the lead line, but there was no sign of a panic yet, no sign of flight. Well, at least no sign of panic among the horses.
"Then why did it howl like that?" two voices asked at once.
"Caught its prey," a calm, confident voice stated.
Hopkins narrowed his eyes and frowned. He wasn't too worried about the distant cougar roaming into their campsite, but a prisoner with gumption in his campsite? That was something to worry about.
"What do you know about cougars?" snarled Hopkins. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the man adding more branches to the fire. "Baxter, I told you to keep the fire going, but no so high! That wood has to last until morning!"
"But…"
"Quit your bellyaching! It ain't that cold," interrupted Hopkins. He glared at the men surrounding him. "Now I'm going back to sleep. Don't wake me until it's my watch!"
Hopkins and Jubal were both asleep before Baxter spoke again in a low voice out of the side of his mouth. His eyes watched Hopkins while he surreptitiously added another piece of wood to the fire.
"Do you really know anything about cougars?"
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"Yes," breathed Kid a short while later.
No one else could hear his soft exhalation. The last strands of rope parted from his wrists. He flexed his hands. Sawing at the thick rope with the narrow four inch serrated blade he'd retrieved from his partner's hatband had been slow, painstaking work. He kept a watchful eye on the bounty hunters. Hopkins snored. Baxter crouched in a tense, tight ball by the roaring fire. Jubal slept curled up with his back towards the warmth of the fire, facing away from the pines and the prisoners. The dexterous man next inserted the blade in the lock holding the shackles tightly against his legs. He glanced over at his still companion.
"I know you could open it quicker, but just be patient. I'm gonna get us out of here partner," Curry's low whisper promised.
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The next time Hopkins woke up, the first shafts of early morning sunlight warmed his face. Baxter sprawled beside the cold fire. Jubal snored softly beneath his blanket. And the prisoners were gone.
"Baxter!" roared Hopkins.
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"Good lungs," muttered Kid with a rueful grin at the sound of Hopkins' angry shout.
Gentle hands tucked the red blanket more firmly around his unconscious partner. Kid's tired blue eyes blinked. After ensuring that Baxter couldn't follow them, Kid moved Heyes out of the bounty hunters camp. They heading north first. As soon as they neared the twisting turning creek Kid hoisted his partner over his shoulder. Heyes didn't get wet when Kid waded back downstream. A hiding spot for his unconscious partner was Kid's first priority.
"You'll be safe here Joshua," assured Kid.
Bushes blocked the view of this sheltered rocky ledge on the opposite side of the creek from the horses, their gear and the bounty hunters. This temporary hideout was a bit closer to the bounty hunters than Kid would have liked but Heyes needed to be resting, not carried all over the countryside. Once Heyes was settled, Kid removed the ropes and shackles from his injured partner. Kid didn't like leaving Heyes alone, but he needed to ensure the bounty hunters couldn't find them. Kid back tracked all the way from their hiding spot to the water's edge. With every step, he carefully wiped away any sign of their presence. Back tracking further, Kid reached the bounty hunter's camp. Baxter was still out while the others slept. Kid erased any signs of where he'd got the drop on Baxter. Then he carefully stepped in his previous footprints making the initial path to the river with Heyes clearly evident. Once he crossed the water he laid a loop of false tracks zigzagging northwards back and forth across the stream several times, followed by a second parallel set of tracks. He'd sloshed in and out of the water for most of the night.
"Well partner, I reckon it won't be long before those fellas find the tracks I left," murmured Kid.
He moved the canteen closer to the set of shackles piled in front of Heyes' face. If Heyes woke while Kid was away, they would be the first things the mastermind would see. A warm bed, a warning and water was all Kid could give his partner right now. Kid needed to wipe away the signs of his most recent return to check on Heyes. With any luck, the bounty hunters would split up when they reached the beginning of his trail back to the rocky ledge and Kid would only have to deal with one man hunter at a time.
"You just rest now, Joshua. I'll be back as quick as I can."
He picked up the only weapon he had right now. He'd fashioned the small slingshot from a pine branch and piece of shredded rope. The crude weapon had served to take Baxter down. Taking Baxter's gun then was a tempting thought, but Kid left it to keep both hands free to carry Heyes. He reached for the second set of shackles. Armed with a handful of pebbles in his pocket Kid went back for their horses and gear and maybe just a little bit of payback.
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"How could you let them get away?"
Hopkins' angry shout caused Jubal to stir, but Baxter remained motionless. The aging bounty hunter scrambled over to the mustached man. Hopkins quickly flipped Baxter face up. The normally brazen man was uncharacteristically quiet. Baxter blinked his eyes, his mouth opened and closed wordlessly. He gingerly placed his fingers along the side of his head as if it was aching. Hopkins peered closer, but couldn't see any signs of damage. Jubal sat up now, watching his actions with concern.
"He… he must have hit me." Baxter's voice hitched as if he were in pain. "What… what happened?"
"You tell me," growled Hopkins. "Did you fall asleep?"
"No, I didn't fall asleep, there was a noise, something thumped," protested Baxter. He waved his hand towards the far side of the pines. "I went to check. He... he must have snuck up behind me..."
The angry man jerked Baxter upwards into a sitting position. Hopkins scanned his surroundings. The muddled footprints on the ground where the prisoner's had been led into the woods, away from the camp. There were no tracks to support Baxter's story of checking out an unexplained noise at the other side of the pines, no footsteps or drag marks to show how he got back to the fire.
"Don't bother with that pack of lies. You ain't hurt none," snapped Hopkins. "Where are my prisoners? And my shackles?"
"Our prisoners," retorted Baxter as he became more alert.
Hopkins glared. He released his hold on Baxter as he rose to stand. The wily bounty hunter continued to assess the campsite. Beneath the pines, shredded pieces of rope joined an assortment of pebbles, twigs, sticks and leaves on the ground. The rope looked as if it had been shredded, or chewed, maybe. Could a man chew through a rope? Hopkins turned his head and grunted in satisfaction. His tobacco stained lips curled up at his view of the tether line… with all five horses.
"They ain't gone far without horses."
Hopkins pointed at the smear of tracks leading north. The unsteady Baxter peered at the ground, blinking his eyes. But it was Jubal who realized the significance of what they were looking at.
"One of them is dragging the other," Jubal stated. "Probably pulling the blanket."
Hopkins smiled. He might make a bounty hunter out of the green youth yet.
"Jubal, you stay with the horses," ordered Hopkins. "Pack up the camp while Baxter and I go fetch them two back."
"But… don't you want me to help?"
"Getting us ready to leave is helping."
Hopkins grabbed Baxter by the collar and hauled the swaying man upright. When Hopkins was sure Baxter wouldn't fall over, he pushed Baxter towards the flattened foliage heading north.
"He lost our prisoners, he's gonna work to find them.
"But it took all three of us to capture them last time," protested Jubal.
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"This way? Really?" Baxter stared at the tumbling rapids in dismay. "Across the river? Again? It's cold!"
The sun was fully above the ridge now. The two bounty hunters still hadn't caught up to their quarry. Hopkins fumed at the confusing trail. The drag marks disappeared shortly after they left camp, shortly before they reached the narrow stream the first time. Hopkins thought that Curry must have carried Heyes, but when the bounty hunters crossed the water, they found two sets of tracks side by side. To all appearances, it seemed as if two former captives walked together. The stride length indicated the men were walking freely without shackles. Where were his shackles? Hopkins wanted the expensive restraints back almost as much as he wanted Curry and Heyes. The trail continued away from the camp, crossing back into the shallows a short while later. The trail resumed on the opposite sandy shore bank. For the last half hour, Hopkins and Baxter followed the convoluted trail and now they were back at the water's edge.
"Quit complaining," grumbled Hopkins.
The two bounty hunters splashed across the shallow creek for the third time. Footprints continued together up the sloping bank for a bit, then for the first time, the tracks separated. One set of tracks plunged deeper into the woods. The other set of tracks headed back alongside the river towards their camp, the horses and Jubal.
"You follow that one," Hopkins gestured towards the forest. "I'll go after this one."
"We're splitting up?"
Baxter didn't sound happy at the idea. He cast a nervous glance at the tracks leading away from the river.
"You got a problem with that?" growled Hopkins.
"Camp is that way," protested Baxter. "How do I know you won't leave me?"
"You don't," snapped Hopkins. "But I want my prisoner's, my shackles, and my reward. So I ain't leavin' just yet."
"Our reward," reminded Baxter with a sniff.
"Gotta get them fellas back first," retorted Hopkins. He gestured with his pistol. "Now go on, get!"
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Hopkins cursed in frustration as the tracks led him back to the river's edge again. Since separating from Baxter he had zigged and zagged back and forth across this creek several more times and circled back north again. He was wet and cold and tired of this hunt. Cautiously, he crossed the slippery rocks. Tracks led up the sandy slope towards the woods again and then they disappeared.
"Now where have you gone?"
The sound of a stick breaking seemed to answer his question. Hopkins pointed his pistol in the direction of the rustling bushes.
"Come on out now!" ordered Hopkins. "I got you."
"Mmmph!"
Pistol in hand, Hopkins stepped closer to the source of the sound. A man stumbled forward. Covered in mud, gagged, wrists bound, a gun belt with an empty holster buckled low around his thighs, and wearing leg irons. At this distance, he was unidentifiable. Hopkins placed a warning shot into the dirt in front of the weaving man.
"Stop right there or next time won't be a warning!"
"Mmmph!" sounded the voice, higher pitched, frantic. "Mmmph! "Mmmph!"
Hopkins closed the gap between them. He leaned in and peered closer. Beneath the gag, a dirty handlebar mustache drooped.
"Baxter?"
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Jubal stopped playing his harmonica. The horses seemed to enjoy his music and Jubal found it soothing. Their gear was packed beside the tether line, ready to be loaded when Hopkins and Baxter returned, but waiting was hard. Jubal listened. The unfamiliar noise sounded again. Jubal tucked his harmonica into a pocket and pulled out his pistol. He stepped away from the horses. Cautiously, he climbed down the slight embankment towards the burbling creek. Jubal came face to face with the curly haired blond, Curry or Jones or whoever. The former prisoner stepped out of the shallow water and strode towards him.
"You? You're here?" Jubal sounded both surprised and scared. The pistol shook in his hands. The tall muscular man now carried a pistol too. Hard to tell with a sturdy hand holding the grip, but the weapon looked like Baxter's. "Are you gonna shoot me?"
"Wasn't planning on it," answered the soft spoken man.
"Then why are you here? You're supposed to be headed north, further into the mountains."
The intimidating man stepped closer towards Jubal. The youth backed up a step.
"I don't want to hurt you," the armed man spoke in a low calm voice. "But my partner and I need our horses and supplies back."
Jubal backed up another step.
"How did you get out of the shackles? And the rope?"
The pistol didn't waver as the blond fumbled his empty hand into his jeans pocket for a moment. He withdrew a narrow sliver of metal. Jubal realized the serrated edge would do nicely to saw through ropes, and the piece itself was small enough to insert in almost any keyhole. Curry, or Jones, smiled as he stepped closer.
"Joshua works with locks," the man answered. "Keeps this handy under his hatband."
"We didn't search your hats," sighed Jubal.
"I appreciate that," the man's lips curled up in a bit of a smirk.
The piece of metal disappeared back into his pocket as Jubal backed up again. The youth stumbled on the uneven rocks. The fast hand reached out to Jubal, but Jubal's arms flailed in an attempt to balance himself. Jubal's feet slipped, slid, fell out from under him. The twenty year old crashed to the ground. His head hit the rocks. Involuntary muscle reaction pulled the trigger. Jubal lost consciousness before the bullet hit a cottonwood tree, startling several birds into flight.
"No!"
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"You want to tell me how you got yourself in this condition?"
Hopkins pulled Baxter's gag down in disgust. He reached for his knife to cut the ropes binding Baxter's wrists.
"He's quiet! He… he snuck up behind me…"
"You going with that story again?" interrupted Hopkins.
"It's true!" insisted Baxter. "He's slinging rocks…"
"Rocks?" grumbled Hopkins. He glared at the gun belt with its empty holster. "And now he's got your pistol too."
"Uh huh," nodded Baxter. Hands free, he started unbuckling the misplaced gun belt. "Took my gun, hogtied me with this bit of rope and my gun belt. The he locked the shackles on me!"
Hopkins reached into his pocket. He didn't find the keyring he normally carried. A sigh of frustration escaped his mouth. He'd left the key to the shackles in his saddlebags. No help for it, Baxter would have to hobble back to camp as best he could.
"You best start walking back to camp…"
"I can't walk like this!" protested Baxter.
"Other folk do…"
The sudden loud noise ended their argument. Hopkins turned towards the sharp sound of the shot. Without a thought for Baxter, he took off running towards their camp. Edna would have his hide if anything happened to Jubal.
"Don't leave without me," wailed Baxter.
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