“Do you reckon he’ll make it to Endsville?” Cresswell asked.
“Bodie’s tough,” Jesmond said. “He’ll make it.”
“And then?”
“And then we’ll ride on to Ash Point where we’ll get him the best help we can afford. As we’re now rich men, that should be good enough.”
Jesmond pointed at their saddlebags making everyone whoop, although Cresswell didn’t join in as enthusiastically as the others did.
“We’ll do that,” Cresswell said. He gestured ahead at Bodie. “But if the marshal comes after us, he won’t be able to outrun him.”
Yardleigh and Flynn frowned. Then the group considered Jesmond sternly.
“We’ve not seen the marshal yet, so it looks as if the pursuit will be some time coming.” Jesmond shrugged. “But we’ll face that problem when it happens. For now, we’ll just concentrate on riding instead of talking.”
Cresswell nodded so with the matter discussed Yardleigh and Flynn turned to follow Bodie, but Cresswell dallied to meet Jesmond’s eye. His narrow-eyed expression left Jesmond in no doubt about what he’d be advocating if trouble did follow them.
Then the two men rode on after the others. As it turned out, Bodie rode for another hour before he had to stop again. As there was still no sign of a pursuit, they had stopped checking behind them frequently and while Jesmond changed Bodie’s dressing, the others rode on at a walking pace.
This didn’t appear to concern Bodie, but Jesmond couldn’t offer any comforting words, as the cloth was drenched in blood. When he peeled it away, fresh blood welled and he dabbed it away and then leaned closer to the wound.
Blood formed and filled the raw wound slowly letting Jesmond examine it. He judged that his earlier observation was right, that Bodie had suffered a deep cut and the bullet wasn’t in him.
He put a fresh cloth over the wound and tied it in place. Then he moved to get up, but Bodie stayed sitting. Jesmond fetched him water, which Bodie used to swill around his mouth before spitting to the side.
“If we’re pursued, don’t do what Cresswell says,” Bodie said. “We stay together.”
Jesmond frowned. “I won’t abandon you, but how do you know he wants to leave you behind?”
“I know Cresswell and he’s wrong. We run together. If we have to, we make a stand together.”
“I agree, but I’ll tell you what I told Cresswell. We’ll face that problem when we come to it and we might not have the problem if we spend more time riding instead of talking.”
Bodie nodded and held out a hand for Jesmond to help him to his feet. When Bodie stood up he steadied himself and then moved on to his horse. This time he took several attempts to get into the saddle and then he leaned forward breathing deeply before he rode on.
Even though the leading group was riding slowly it took them several minutes to catch up with them. Cresswell turned to Jesmond, but Jesmond ignored him. He hoped they could reach Endsville without stopping again as they had left Marcel with not only the fresh horses, but with food and water, so they could make that stop a longer one.
Unfortunately, after another half-hour Bodie slowed to a halt. Jesmond moved closer and withdrew a fresh dressing from his pocket, but Bodie waved him away. Then he rode on at a walking pace and hunched over.
Jesmond slotted in behind him in case he fell off his horse, while Cresswell ordered Yardleigh and Flynn to spread out. If they rested properly when they reached Endsville, it was still three hours to Ash Point and, even then, the final location they’d picked to hole up in was a long day’s riding away in High Pass.
So Jesmond remained tense as they approached their first destination. Cresswell shouted to the others when he caught his first sight of the tangle of trees where Marcel would be waiting and then rode on ahead while the others stayed behind, but when Jesmond waved them on, they galloped after Cresswell.
By the time Jesmond and Bodie had reached the worn trail where they’d met a traveler yesterday, Cresswell’s group had disappeared into the trees, but it still took Bodie another ten minutes to cover the short distance. When they reached the trees, Jesmond dismounted and hurried to Bodie’s horse.
He was just in time to stop Bodie from falling out of the saddle. With a hand pressed against Bodie’s uninjured side he helped him to the ground. With him supporting Bodie, he kept him upright, but when he asked him if could walk, Bodie didn’t reply other than to murmur in pain, so Jesmond turned away.
Cresswell’s group was coming out of the trees. Then they gestured to each other in apparent irritation before turning to the crest of the hill. Jesmond started to call them over, but then he realized what had concerned them. Marcel wasn’t here.
Chapter Four
FLYNN NOTICED JESMOND’S predicament first and he hurried over to help him. They took one arm apiece and dragged Bodie along.
“There’s no sign of Marcel, then?” Jesmond asked when they’d sat Bodie down and propped him up against a tree trunk.
“We found what looks like someone’s camp,” Flynn said. “There’s a blackened circle and a flattened area, but there’s no sign of him or the horses.”
Jesmond shrugged. “Marcel wouldn’t know the exact time when we’d arrive, so he might not be far away.”
Bodie raised his head, his eyes pained. “His orders were to stay here. Find him so I can make him suffer.”
Flynn nodded and hurried off to talk with the others while Jesmond changed Bodie’s dressing. This time, the cloth wasn’t as drenched as the previous dressings had been and the wound had closed up.
Jesmond decided to view this as a good sign. He settled down beside Bodie with his back to the trunk leaving the others to assess the situation. Presently Cresswell arrived, his scowl telling Jesmond everything he needed to know before he spoke up.
“The camp we found was too big to be Marcel’s,” he said. Cresswell pointed down the slope. “There’s no sign of the horses having been here recently either, so I reckon there’s only one place he could have gone.”
“That’s one of the better outcomes,” Bodie said, his voice now stronger than it had been. “Because I’ve been thinking about what happened in Bluff Pass and I reckon someone sold us out.”
Cresswell tipped back his hat and his mouth fell open, his surprised reaction showing that, like Jesmond, he hadn’t thought about that before. His consternation caught Flynn’s and Yardleigh’s attention and they came over. When Cresswell explained Bodie’s theory, they both shrugged.
“Back in the pass it did look as if Marshal Dobson was expecting trouble,” Flynn said. “And at first the guards didn’t put up a fight. It could be that the marshal had ordered them to stay out of trouble and let us take the payroll so he could ambush us afterward.”
Bodie nodded and sat up straighter as he warmed to the troubling idea.
“That’s what I figure, and the only way he could have given such an order is if he knew about our raid.”
Flynn grunted that he agreed, but Cresswell shook his head.
“Dobson was helping the railroad guard the payroll,” he said. “So he could have just feared that someone would raid the train. It doesn’t mean that he knew we’d do it.”
“I might have agreed with you, but Dobson made a mistake,” Bodie said. “He called me by name.”
“He did do that!” Jesmond said, now remembering a taunt he’d forgotten about after all the frantic activity of the last few hours.
“That’s the trouble with thinking like this,” Cresswell said, pointing an admonishing finger at Jesmond. “One thing goes wrong and then we cast doubt on everything and everyone.”
“Then answer me this: when Dobson ambushed us, I couldn’t work how he’d gotten out of the train and then climbed up Bluff Pass without us seeing him.”
Cresswell shrugged. “He was being sneaky, like you’d expect from a U.S. Marshal.”
Jesmond shook his head. “Except he was too sneaky. I reckon the only way he could have done that is if he ha
dn’t been on the train and he was waiting for us in the pass.”
This observation silenced everyone and for long moments nobody met anyone’s eye. Cresswell was the first to speak.
“I trust Marcel,” he said, his tone now defensive. “He wouldn’t turn against us.”
“Except Marcel volunteered to wait here.” Jesmond shook a fist. “Just about the only thing that makes sense is that he told Dobson about our plans and then, while we walked into a trap, he ran.”
As the others murmured darkly, Bodie raised a hand.
“We won’t condemn Marcel without hearing him out, but as I said, Marcel selling us out is one of the better outcomes.” Bodie faced each man in turn. “Something has gone wrong and if Marcel didn’t alert the marshal, that means someone else did.”
This time, the silence that followed Bodie’s revelation dragged on for a minute, and it was broken only when Cresswell moved away to look down at Endsville. This encouraged Flynn and Yardleigh to join him.
Bodie held out his arm and Jesmond helped him to get up. When they were all standing in a line, the town was as quiet as it had been yesterday and there was no sign that Marcel had gone there.
“The horses need rest and so do we,” Cresswell said. He pointed at the bandage around Bodie’s chest where a spot of blood had already leaked through. “Do we rest up here before moving on to Ash Point, or do we head into Endsville?”
“Endsville,” Bodie said. “Despite everything we’ve said, Marcel could be drinking liquor and resting up with the horses there, and someone down there might be able to patch me up.”
With that decision made, Jesmond helped Bodie to his horse and when the others had mounted up, Cresswell led the group down the slope. When they reached the bottom of the hill, they met a trail that led into town.
In the other direction the trail went around the hill. The path was grassed over and hard to follow making Jesmond wonder if the town had been abandoned. As it turned out, when they reached the rickety sign that proclaimed the town’s name, they came across the first sign of life.
A stable was at the other end of town and the doors were open. The clang of metal being hammered reached them and a tendril of smoke drifted across the main drag from the side of the building.
They moved on through the town. Most of the buildings were derelict with open doors and windows that revealed the empty interiors, but the last two buildings on either side of the main drag were more promising.
Opposite the stable stood a saloon where a faded sign claimed rooms and food were available. The interior that was visible through the window was dark and as noise was still emerging from the stable, they stayed on that side of town.
Cresswell jumped down and headed to the stable door. Jesmond checked that Bodie was all right and then joined him. Both men stopped in the doorway. The interior was deserted with rows of empty stalls at the back. Cresswell frowned.
“This is the only place where Marcel might have left the horses,” he said.
“Agreed, although he might still have come here before moving on,” Jesmond said.
Cresswell nodded and then walked inside. The noise was coming from an annex where a boxed-in fire and the crisp clang of metal on metal showed it was being used as a smithy. Cresswell headed into the doorway where he came to a sudden halt.
Jesmond joined him and he couldn’t help but smile when he found out what had surprised him. The blacksmith was bent over an anvil where he was hammering a metal strip into a curved shape.
Even when hunched over the man was taller than Jesmond was and he was wider than Jesmond and Cresswell would be if they stood hip to hip. The blacksmith had his back to them and he was engrossed in work that was making so much noise Jesmond doubted he’d hear them if they called to him, so they waited for him to complete his task.
With a few firm clips, the blacksmith forced the strip into a semicircle. He held the metal arc up to the light and then picked up a similar piece of cooled metal. Both pieces were of the same size so the blacksmith thrust the hot metal into a pot of water, producing a brief sizzling sound and a flurry of steam.
Then he tossed the metal pieces on to the anvil and turned around. Jesmond had thought the man hadn’t heard them arrive, but from under a heavy brow he faced them without registering surprise. As he’d drawn up to his full height so that he towered above them, both men took an involuntary step backward.
“We’re looking for someone,” Cresswell said. “He might have come here recently with horses?”
They waited for a reply, but the man stood impassively without showing any sign he was even aware Cresswell had asked a question. Cresswell turned to Jesmond and shrugged, so Jesmond repeated the question, again without getting a response.
Then they stood in awkward silence, but a solution presented itself when a new voice spoke up outside. Jesmond moved away from the door, finding that a newcomer was leaving the saloon.
The man appeared to put everyone at ease as Yardleigh dismounted while Flynn helped Bodie dismount. Then the man carried on past them into the stable.
“I’m Wickham Logan and I own the saloon,” the man said. He gestured at the door into the smithy and frowned. “You won’t get much in the way of conversation out of Hoyt. My brother doesn’t talk much.”
“We’d gathered that.” Jesmond smiled as in the smithy Hoyt had already turned his back on them and was selecting the next strip of metal to work on. “But maybe you can answer some questions.”
Wickham nodded. “I gather you’re looking for someone. I might be able to help you with that.”
Wickham folded his arms and when he said nothing more, Jesmond raised an eyebrow. The silence dragged on until Jesmond worked out Wickham’s intent.
“I guess we could rest up here for a while,” he said.
Wickham rubbed his hands and then gestured outside.
“In that case, my saloon can provide you with hospitality, and my sister Rosemarie can care for your horses.”
“We also have an injured man.”
Jesmond pointed outside at Flynn, who was helping Bodie move toward them. When they reached the doorway, Bodie put a hand to the wall and then stood with his head bowed. Wickham joined him and when he raised Bodie’s shirt, Jesmond hurried over and removed the bloodied bandage. Wickham moved Bodie so that his injured side faced the sun and then winced.
“That’s a bad cut,” he declared with a frown that appeared to acknowledge he knew it was a bullet wound. “A wound that wide won’t heal on its own, so it’ll need closing up before he either bleeds to death or it goes bad.”
“That’s what I figured,” Bodie said.
“Then there’s no point waiting to do it.”
When Jesmond nodded, without ceremony, Wickham took Bodie’s arm. Bodie put up no resistance and in short order Wickham led him away. Bodie managed several paces before he stumbled, but that only encouraged Wickham to take a firmer grip of his arm and pull him along.
As Wickham led Bodie into the smithy, Jesmond hurried after them while Cresswell joined them sporting a grim expression. Hoyt was already heating another metal strip so Wickham directed Bodie to a bench where Bodie lay down with his injured side uppermost.
While Wickham spoke quietly to Hoyt, Cresswell took hold of Bodie’s legs and Jesmond located a leather strap, which he directed Bodie to bite down on. Bodie took a deep breath and then clamped his teeth down on the strap.
Jesmond took a firm hold of Bodie’s shoulders. Then Hoyt stepped forward and held his latest strip of hot metal up before his face. Hoyt licked his lips and then moved around the bench until he stood over Bodie.
He roved the strip back and forth, and even though he tried not to, Jesmond did what Bodie was doing and watched the glowing metal. Hoyt then moved the metal strip toward Bodie’s side.
His action was slow, presumably as he ensured he would hit the right spot. Then, with a sudden movement, Hoyt lurched forward and pressed the red-hot metal against Bodie’s raw wound.
Sizzling sounded and the smell of burned meat invaded Jesmond’s nostrils while Bodie bucked forcing Jesmond to press down on his shoulders. He kept Bodie’s upper body still, but Cresswell wasn’t as effective and when Bodie kicked out, he went sprawling on the ground.
Jesmond reckoned Hoyt would need to hold the metal down only briefly, but long moments passed before Wickham nodded to him. Even then, Hoyt took another few moments before he raised the metal.
By now, Bodie had stopped struggling, although when Jesmond raised himself he found that was only because he had passed out. The wound was even rawer than before, but Jesmond patted Bodie’s shoulder and then turned to Cresswell, who was picking himself up off the ground while shaking his head.
Both men turned to Wickham, who gave an approving nod, but Hoyt didn’t acknowledge them as he took the metal strip back to the fire and reheated it. Then Hoyt made a strange noise, a deep rumbling sound from the back of his throat.
It took Jesmond a moment to register what the sound meant. Hoyt was laughing.
Chapter Five
IT TOOK TWO GLASSES of whiskey in the saloon to restore Jesmond’s spirits, but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget the sight and smell of a man being effectively branded. Bodie was lying on a bench with his wound uncovered and he was breathing shallowly.
He had barely acknowledged them since he’d come around other than to accept the offer of whiskey, which despite his obvious pain he had only sipped. The only good thing, as far as Jesmond could tell, was that his side was no longer bleeding.
Jesmond had taken a corner table beside the window while Yardleigh, Flynn and Cresswell stood at the bar. The only movement outside had been Rosemarie taking their horses into the stable, while inside Wickham had bustled around.
Despite his earlier hint about knowing something, Wickham hadn’t met Marcel, but he had been true to his word with his other promises. He had served them liquor and he had cooked up a mess of beans and pork ribs.
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