“Trying to see why he ran off? To find out if I’m such a horrible woman that he just couldn’t stand to be around me anymore?”
“Miz McKinney, don’t say that,” Collins said. “Nobody ever thought you were to blame for Jack leaving, or for what he did later. That was all his responsibility, not yours.”
As if she hadn’t heard the sheriff, the woman looked across the table at Luke and said, “I’ve asked myself those same questions, Mr. Jensen. Over and over again, in fact, on more dark nights than I can count. But I have no answers. I don’t know why my husband did what he did.”
“I do!” That angry exclamation came from Aaron, who pushed past Collins into the cabin. “He left us and ran off because he’s no good! My pa’s an outlaw. He’s a terrible man, and whatever happens, he’s got it comin’ to him.”
Amelia came sharply to her feet. “Aaron, stop that! You know better. Your father always took good care of us—”
“Until he wasn’t here anymore. You know somethin’ went bad in him, Ma. It had to for him to run off the way he did.”
Collins said, “You speak to your mother with respect, boy.”
Aaron whirled on him. “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my pa! I don’t have a pa anymore!”
“Aaron!” Amelia’s voice was like the crack of a whip. “You go on back out to the barn now. I want you to watch that cow, and you come get me when she starts to calve. Do you understand?”
Aaron’s face was pale. He looked like he wanted to continue arguing, but after a moment he jerked his head in a nod and stalked out of the cabin, past the sheriff who had come a few steps into the room.
“I don’t reckon you can blame the boy for being upset,” Collins began in a mutter.
“I don’t blame anybody,” Amelia broke in. “What’s the point in blame? It doesn’t change anything.” She turned her head to look at Luke. “And you still haven’t told me what you’re going to do. Don’t you think you owe me that much, since you accepted my hospitality?”
“What do you want me to do?” Luke asked. “There’s a bounty on your husband’s head, and going after men like that is my job. But if I do, there’s a possibility it won’t end well for him.”
“I don’t care,” Amelia said in a flat, hard voice. “After all this time, I don’t care what happens to Jack. Anything that was ever between us is long since over.”
Luke glanced at Collins and saw the sudden flare of hope in the sheriff’s eyes at Amelia’s words. He wanted to turn the trouble that had befallen Amelia and her sons to his own advantage. That made Luke dislike Collins even more.
“But . . .” Amelia went on.
“What is it?” Luke prodded when her voice trailed off.
She drew in a breath, blew it out through her nostrils. “Thad.”
“Your other son.”
She nodded. “A few months ago, he left, too. He said he was going into the hills to find Jack and his gang and join them. I don’t suppose I can blame him, either.” She sighed and sank back into the chair. “He wasn’t facing anything here except a lot of hard work for nothing. We were never going to be able to keep this place going.”
Collins said, “Now, that’s not necessarily true.”
“It is, and you know it, Sheriff. Sooner or later you’re going to be standing out there on the porch—if it hasn’t fallen down by then—selling the place at auction for the taxes.”
“It might not come to that.”
Amelia ignored him again and turned back to Luke.
“I want my son back, Mr. Jensen. Even if we lose this spread, I don’t want Thad spending the rest of his life as an outlaw . . . and I don’t want him being gunned down by some other bounty hunter or lawman who doesn’t understand that he’s just a boy who’s upset because he thinks his father’s abandoned him.”
Jack McKinney had abandoned his sons and his wife, Luke thought. No matter what his reasons might have been, there was no getting around that fact. But reminding Amelia of it wouldn’t accomplish a blasted thing.
“Are you asking me to find Thad and bring him back?”
She nodded. “I am. If you have to kill Jack, then so be it. Kill him and every one of those men who ride with him. But spare my son and bring him back here to me.”
Collins said, “Amelia, you don’t know what you’re doing. You can’t trust a man like Jensen—”
“Will you do it?” she asked Luke, ignoring the sheriff’s protest.
A tense silence hung over the room for a moment, and then Luke nodded and said, “I’ll do my best. But ma’am, I can’t give you my absolute promise to save your son. He may not even be with your husband. He may not have found the gang. Something else could have happened—”
“He’s with Jack,” she said. “I can feel it in my bones.”
“If he is,” Luke said, “I’ll do everything I can to bring him back to you safely. That much I can give you my word on.”
“So you’re going after Three-fingered Jack?” Collins said with a sneer. “Funny how that worked out, isn’t it, Jensen? You come in here pretending to be a gentleman, and you take advantage of this poor woman’s emotions, and it still winds up with you going after a pile of blood money. That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?”
Luke didn’t bother answering that. He stood up and reached for his hat. “I’m obliged to you for your hospitality, Mrs. McKinney. Looks like I won’t get around to working on that porch for you after all, or helping you with the calving. Perhaps the sheriff would like to pitch in.” He slanted an ironic glance toward Collins, who scowled back at him. “Is there anything you can tell me that might help me locate your husband and . . . your other son?” He had started to say his gang but changed it to emphasize his promise to try to find Thad.
Amelia shook her head. “No, I don’t know anything except the same rumors that everyone else around here has heard. The gang’s been seen on the other side of the hills and have raided some ranches and settlements up there.”
“That’s rugged country. Plenty of places for a hideout.”
“I wouldn’t know about that. Maybe Sheriff Collins can tell you more.”
Judging by the obstinate look on the lawman’s face, he didn’t intend to tell Luke anything except maybe to go to hell. But that was all right. Luke was used to not getting any cooperation from the authorities. Most star packers had no use for bounty hunters.
“Thank you again. I’ll be in touch.” Luke walked out of the cabin, leaving Amelia McKinney sitting at the table with what he thought was probably an uncharacteristic slump to her shoulders. No matter how strong a person she was, sooner or later carrying the weight of the world had to have an effect.
Collins stomped out after him and closed the door as Luke paused on the porch to put his hat on. “You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve. I ought to arrest you—”
“On what charge?” Luke interrupted coolly.
“Making that poor woman’s life even harder.”
“How am I doing that? By giving her hope that maybe I can bring her son back to her?”
“You know damn well that if you get the chance, you’ll kill him, just like you’ll kill McKinney and the others.”
“Why would I do that?” Luke asked.
Collins glanced at the closed door and lowered his voice. “Because there’s a reward on all the men riding with the Three-fingered Jack gang. Some of them by name, with higher amounts, but there’s a blanket reward of two hundred dollars for anybody caught riding with him.”
“You’re talking about a boy who’s, what, sixteen or seventeen years old?”
“Since when did that ever stop a man like you? Thad’s worth two hundred bucks to you, dead or alive, and that’s all that matters.”
Luke looked narrow-eyed at the sheriff for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re awfully quick to jump to conclusions, Collins. You think you know me, but you don’t. Well, listen. I don’t expect you to like me—”
“Good,
because that’ll sure as hell never happen.”
“But you’d better stay out of my way,” Luke said. “And if you really want to help that poor woman in there, as you call her, you’ll tell me anything you know that might give me a lead on finding the gang.”
Collins glared at Luke and chewed his upper lip for a few seconds, then said, “Have you ever heard of a place called the Black Castle?”
Luke frowned. “No, I . . . Wait a minute. I do recall hearing someone mention it a while back. Supposed to be some sort of sanctuary for outlaws, isn’t it?”
“I’ve never laid eyes on the place myself, don’t even know if it really exists. But if it does, it’s up there in those hills”—Collins nodded toward the low, rugged peaks—“maybe twenty miles north of here. Out of my jurisdiction, so I’ve never gone looking for it. But if I was an owlhoot operating in this area and needed a place to lay low for a while, I reckon I’d see if I could find out whether the rumors are true.”
“Thank you, Sheriff. That might actually come in handy.”
“If you could find Thad and bring him back here, it’d make his mother happy. That’s all I want for her.”
Luke still didn’t like Collins, but the obvious sincerity in the sheriff’s voice at that moment made it a little more difficult to dislike him.
That brief respite in the hostility between them didn’t last.
Collins went on. “And if you go up there and find yourself in some robbers’ roost and get shot full of holes . . . that won’t bother me one damned bit, either.”
CHAPTER 10
Luke rode back along the creek the way he had come, hoping to find a better trail north toward the hills. After a couple of miles he turned in that direction. He could have gone all the way back to the main road he had followed from Singletary, but that would have been out of his way after the detour to the McKinney spread. The path he chose was smaller and only dimly marked, as if lone riders passing that way every now and then had made it.
As he moved along at an easy pace, he thought about the rumors he had heard concerning the Black Castle. Such places were scattered throughout the West, the most famous—or notorious—being the Hole in the Wall. But there were other owlhoot havens, legendary sanctuaries like the Dutchman’s and Zamora and Robbers Roost. Luke had no idea how the Black Castle had gotten that name, or honestly, if it even existed. If it did, paying a visit probably wasn’t a very smart thing for him to do, given the fact that he made his living by hunting down outlaws. There was a very good chance he would run into somebody who had an old grudge against him, a score best settled with hot lead.
He was going to have to take that chance, Luke thought. After all, he had never expected to die peacefully in bed. In many ways, he had been living on borrowed time these past twenty years, ever since he had come so close to dying during the war.
The terrain grew more rugged as the trail twisted like a snake into the hills. The landscape was rock and bare sand, with only an occasional clump of hardy grass or a lonely, stunted bush. Saw-toothed ridges jutted up and formed sheer canyon walls on either side of the winding trail. It was dangerous country, Luke knew, perfectly made for an ambush.
That thought had barely gone through his mind when some instinct made the skin on the back of his neck prickle. Like a physical touch, he felt eyes watching him. And when a rock clattered somewhere ahead of him, he suddenly yanked his horse to the side.
At that same instant, the flat crack of a rifle shot echoed from the looming ridges. Luke felt as much as heard the slug whine past his ear. He slid his Winchester from its sheath as he hauled the horse around in a tight turn. More shots blasted as he kicked the animal into a run.
More than one bushwhacker had been waiting for him, he realized as he bent forward in the saddle. Bullets cut sizzling paths through the air around him. It was a good two hundred yards to the most recent bend in the trail. As many shots as were flying around him, he couldn’t hope to cover that much ground without one of the bullets finding him.
His gaze fell on a fissure in the ridge he had passed a few moments earlier. It was coming up fast on his left and offered the only cover anywhere close. Without stopping to think too much about what he was doing, Luke let his instincts guide him and kicked his feet free of the stirrups. Holding tightly to the Winchester, he went out of the saddle in a rolling dive.
He landed hard enough to knock the breath out of him, but his momentum carried him on over and back up onto his feet. Bullets kicked up dust around his heels as he dashed into the crack in the rock. The horse galloped on down the trail, but the bushwhackers weren’t shooting at it anymore. They concentrated all their fire on Luke.
The rifles fell silent as he disappeared into the crevice. He pressed his back against the rock and stood there with the Winchester held at a slant across his chest, which heaved as he tried to catch his breath. His heart slugged heavily, and he felt his pulse beating inside his skull.
The thought he’d had more than once over the past few years crossed his mind. I’m getting too old for this ...
After a minute or two, he began to recover his breath and his composure. Now that the echoes of gunfire had rolled away, an eerie silence descended over the hills. The sun hung high overhead, and the baking heat that enveloped the landscape made beads of sweat pop out on his forehead. He sleeved them away and thought about his next move.
He considered popping out of the crack long enough to crank off a few rounds in the direction of the ambushers, just to let them know he still had some fight in him, but he discarded that idea. Let them wonder if they had hit him. They might get curious enough to come and check on him, and that would bring them out in the open where he would have a clear shot at them.
Or they might try to wait him out. He had no water, and the heat and thirst would get worse as the day went on. If they had shade and full canteens, they could afford to be patient.
He turned his head to look along the cleft, which was narrow to start with and grew even narrower as it penetrated into the ridge. One side was almost sheer, but the other side had more of a slant to it and was rough enough that Luke believed he could climb it. That was his best bet, he decided. If he could get to the top of the ridge, he might be able to circle around behind the bushwhackers and get the drop on them.
Of course, if they caught him while he was climbing, they wouldn’t have any trouble shooting him off of there like a fly on a wall. That was a risk he would just have to run, he told himself.
Climbing with the Winchester wasn’t easy, but he didn’t have anything he could use to rig a sling for it. He moved carefully, trying not to let the rifle bang against the rock. If the ambushers heard it, they might figure out what he was doing and move quickly to stop him. Sweat coated his face and trickled down his back before he had ascended ten feet. Somewhere not too far away, men’s voices called quietly to each other, but he couldn’t make out the words. They were closing in on his hiding place, he thought.
With no warning, his left foot slipped. He had good holds with his right foot and left hand, so he was in no danger of falling, but several small rocks rattled down the steep slope beneath him, alerting the men stalking him.
“Go!” one of them shouted.
Luke pulled himself up, drove with his feet, and scrambled toward the ledge five feet above him. Rapid footsteps slapped against the ground nearby.
“There he is!” a man cried.
A split second later, a shot blasted. The slug smacked into the rock a few inches from Luke and whined off. He grabbed the ledge, hauled himself up and over as more shots rang out. He came up on his knees, leaned out, and fired three times back down the slope as fast as he could work the Winchester’s lever. He caught a glimpse of movement as men shouted in alarm and dived for cover, but he didn’t think he’d hit any of them.
Still, he had the high ground. He might not have a horse or any water and a limited amount of ammunition, but the men trying to kill him were at a strategic disadvantag
e. He backed off, got to his feet, and started working his way along the ledge, which rose gradually toward the top of the ridge.
“Get back to the horses and spread out!” a man called. “He’s got to come down from there sometime, and we’ll be waiting for him.”
The voice was familiar to Luke. He paused and shouted, “You brought help with you this time, didn’t you, Clint? You couldn’t kill me alone, even when you tried to ambush me, so you got some of your uncle’s cowboys to come along and hold your hand!”
Clint Norman bellowed a curse. Shots slammed out one after another as Clint emptied a revolver in Luke’s general direction. The angle at which he was firing ensured that all the bullets sailed harmlessly into the sky.
Luke laughed harshly. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Clint!”
“One of you climb up there after him!” Clint ordered.
“I don’t know about that,” another man said. “That fella’s a bounty hunter. He’s used to shootin’ it out with hombres who want to kill him.”
“Do what I told you, damn it!”
Luke called, “If I were you boys, I’d take my chances with Clint’s uncle. It’s bad enough he tried to turn you into murderers. Keep following his orders, and some of you are bound to get killed.”
Clint continued cursing and ranting. Luke dropped to one knee and trained the Winchester on the part of the ledge he had climbed onto a few minutes earlier. He heard rocks clattering and knew Clint had browbeaten one of the men with him into making the attempt to get behind their quarry. Luke waited patiently until he saw the crown of a hat ease up into view.
He squeezed off a shot. The hat sailed wildly into the air as a man yelped. Luke caught a glimpse of a gun barrel and knew the man had lifted the hat on it in order to draw his fire and find out just how dangerous it was going to be to continue climbing.
Now he knew. Luke heard more rocks clatter down the slope, followed by a man exclaiming, “The hell with this!”
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