Jessica's eyes met the man's clouded ones and for a minute she thought she might go home to Adam and tell him what she'd heard. But then images of Mark's coffin being lowered into the ground flashed through her mind. She thought of the Winchester rifle the boy had never gotten. It was Larry Caine's fault Mark would never have a Winchester, and he was going to pay . . .
Minutes later Jessica walked into Lester's saloon. There was no one inside but the blond-haired Lester and a stranger. The stranger was a mountain of a man with a thick red beard and a head of long hair.
"Are you Buckle McGinnis?" Jessica asked from the doorway. She pulled off her fur hat and let her hair tumble to her shoulders.
The huge man looked up at her from the table where he played cards with Lester. "Depends on who's askin'," he rumbled in a deep voice.
"The name's Jessica. Jessica Landon." She glanced at Lester. "Could you excuse us for a minute? I'd like to speak to Mr. McGinnis in private."
Lester sat frozen for a moment. No one had ever asked him to excuse them in his life. He wasn't quite sure what to do! He popped out of his chair, knocking it over as he went. "C—Certainly, Miss Jessica. I'll just go right in the back. Got . . . got glasses to wash and such."
Jessica waited until the flustered saloon keeper was gone and then she went around the table, set his chair upright, and sat down. Her fingers went to the heavy coat and she unbuttoned it. "I understand you know something about a murder that took place in Marbleton."
Buckle's eyes narrowed. His beard was so overgrown that it covered his entire face except for the tip of his nose and the slits where his eyes were. "I didn't kill him, if that's what you're asking."
She laid her hat on the table. "I'm not interested in the murder. Just the murderers. I hear they were two brothers."
Buckle gave a slight nod. "Jim and Joe Lawrence."
Jessica smiled slyly. Could the infamous Black Bandit have come up with a more original name than that? She had him! She had the bastard! "Blond-haired fellows. One this tall"—she lifted a hand—"the other a little shorter?"
Buckle nodded. "One of 'em a runaway husband?"
She thought she detected a smirk beneath the mounds of red beard. "Not hardly. Will you take me to him?" She shrugged off her coat.
"Might. For a price."
"What do you want?"
He leaned across the table. "You?"
"Not on your life," she shot back. "You touch me and I'll blow your face off. I've killed more men in the last year than I can count on two hands."
Buckle sat back in his chair. "Fair enough. Can't blame a man for tryin'." He sighed and poured himself a glass of whiskey. "Guess it'll have to be money," he finally said, obviously disappointed.
"Name your price." When he did, she nodded. She knew she would have to take money from Adam's cache, but she'd pay him back, just like she was going to pay him back all the money she owed him. "When do we leave?"
"Daybreak. Dress warm. Carry light."
"I'll meet you here." She got up and put on her coat. "Just don't tell anybody, all right? This is personal."
He nodded. "No skin off my back. I'd rather not know what you're up to. But you be here at daybreak or I go without you. With this weather break I want to get through them mountains. We're bound for another storm before the thaw comes."
"Good enough." Jessica got up from her seat and picked up her hat. "See you at daybreak, then."
Buckle gave a nod and went back to his whiskey.
That night Jessica lay in Adam's arms listening to his even breathing. She had wanted to tell him about Caine, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. He didn't understand. He wouldn't have let her go. He didn't know what it was to lose an innocent loved one to violence. She rolled onto her side and looked at his sleeping face. God she loved him. She wanted to marry him. She wanted to be a part of the rest of his life wherever that took her, but first this had to be completed. She had left Loco so many months ago bound to catch Mark's killer and now she was going to do it.
Pressing a kiss to Adam's lips, she slid out of bed and began to dress. It would be daylight soon. Her pack was ready and waiting for her, hidden on the back porch. All she had to do was dress warmly and get to Lester's without being seen. Finally, wearing as many layers as she could put on and still walk, she took a last look at Adam and slipped from the room.
Adam slammed his hand on the checkerboard and black and red checkers scattered, flying through the air and raining on the sanded plank floor. "Why the hell didn't you tell me, Clyde?"
The old man ignored Adam's tirade and went on sipping his morning coffee. "Weren't none of my business, besides, I didn't know she was going to take off with Buckle."
"Who is this Buckle McGinnis? How the hell do I know she'll be safe with him?"
Clyde slurped his coffee loudly. "You don't, but my guess is, she's as safe with Buckle as Buckle is with her. That woman of yours"—he shook his head—"she's got a mean streak in her."
"She took a pistol and a rifle. If these two brothers are the Caines, she means to kill the one who murdered her brother."
"Sounds fair enough to me."
Adam glared. "It's not up to Jessica to be judge and executioner! It's my job to bring Caine to justice in a court of law!"
"You mad because she aims to kill the dirty bastard, or because she's going to best you and get to him first?"
Adam turned away, swearing foully.
Clyde chuckled. "Get her harnessed and she'll make a hell of a partner for life, Adam."
Adam stuffed his hands into his pockets, seething. He couldn't think about marrying her now, all he could think of was throttling her when he got a hold of her. Adam turned back. "How do I get there?"
"Where?"
"You know damned well where! Marbleton!"
"Marbleton." Clyde slurped his coffee. "Don't nobody in their right mind get to Marbleton this time of year."
"What do you mean, nobody gets there? You just said yourself Buckle McGinnis came across those mountains and turned around and went right back, taking Jessica with him!"
"I said nobody in their right mind. Nobody ever said Buckle McGinnis was sane."
Adam exhaled with impatient anger. "Clyde, who can take me over the mountains? Today. I can't let Jessica kill Caine. She'll regret it the rest of her life."
Clyde glanced at the checkers all over the floor. "You spilled my checkers."
"I'll pick up the damned checkers, just tell me who'll get me over those blasted mountains!"
The old man belched and then sighed with pleasure. "The only person I can think of is Benny."
Adam grabbed his coat and ran for the door. "Thanks, Clyde!"
"What about my checkers, boy?"
Adam's only response was a slam of the door.
"What do you mean he'll take me, but he won't take me today," Adam demanded of Melba.
Melba looked at Benny seated at her kitchen table, dressed in a white pressed shirt, reading his Bible. "I mean, he won't go until tomorrow. Monday. Today's Sunday, the Lord's day, according to Benny."
"I can't wait until tomorrow. Tell Benny I can't wait! Jessica left hours ago. I have to catch up with her!"
Melba turned to Benny who shook his head emphatically, never lifting his gaze from his Bible. "I'm telling you, Adam," Melba said. "You're not going to budge him. Ever since that missionary man came through here, Benny's been hell-bent on the Lord. That Bible of his tells him to keep the Lord's day holy and he's going to do it if it kills him. You know how he is; you've been here all winter. Sunday comes he won't cook, he won't haul wood." She dropped her hands to her slender hips. "Adam, he won't even screw. You certainly don't think he's going to haul you through the mountains!"
Adam threw up his hands in disgust. "Lunatics! I'm surrounded by lunatics!" He paused. "Well, guess I'll have to go alone."
"Don't be a fool! You'll die before you reach the first ridge. You won't do that woman of yours any good as wolf bait."
He ran a hand over his face. Melba was right; he knew she was right. But damn Jessica! If she died in those mountains, if Caine killed her . . . He tightened his balled fists. He'd looked all his life for Jessica. He didn't want to lose her now!
"All right," he finally said, heading out of the kitchen. "Fine. Tell Benny tomorrow, but first thing and I mean first thing," he called over his shoulder. "He'll have to say his damned morning prayers walking on his feet instead of kneeling on his knees."
Jessica lifted one leaden foot and planted it forward, followed by the other foot. The wind blew so hard that she was blinded by whirling snow. She was beyond being cold. She no longer felt the weight of her small bag and her rifle strapped on her back. Her face and feet were numb. She'd lost all feeling in her fingers hours ago.
Jessica felt something bump into her. She turned her head slowly to see Buckle's iced-over red beard. She smiled beneath the woolen scarf that covered her entire face except for her eyes. Buckle took her arm and helped her over the snowdrift. It was too cold to talk, but the intensity of his eyes told her to keep moving or she would die.
As she trudged forward she thanked him mentally for the hundredth time for having the forethought to bring along a pair of snowshoes for her. Without them she would never have made it through the mountains.
Hanging onto Buckle's arm, she forced one foot in front of the other, glancing up into the sky. It was amazing that the snow could blow and the sun could still shine. Of course the sun had been up five hours and already it was beginning to set. Buckle had promised they would make Marbleton by sundown. They had to be close.
As if reading her mind, Buckle lifted his mittened hand and pointed. Jessica squinted, pulling down her scarf. The wind had eased and the snow wasn't blowing so hard that it stung her face. In the distance she could see lamplight twinkling.
"Marbleton?" she asked in disbelief.
Buckle nodded.
They came over a crest and started down the last hill. Marbleton? Jessica thought. Why it was no more than a huddle of eight or ten ramshackle cabins! How many people could possibly live here in the winter? Even Harrisburg sported a winter population of thirty-six, thirty-eight, counting Jessica and Adam.
"Fine place, don't you think?" Buckle released her arm and forged ahead. "That's my cabin. The big one on the end." He pointed to a log cabin that looked to be twelve feet by fifteen.
She followed him the last quarter of a mile and entered his cabin just behind him. Buckle shed his thick seal-fur mittens and struck a sulfur match to the wood in the iron stove left in anticipation of his return.
Within minutes the airtight cabin began to warm and Jessica began to shed her layers of clothing. She sat in a chair near the fire and loaded her pistol while Buckle hurried about the cabin making coffee and biscuits.
In the three days it had taken them to cross the mountains between Harrisburg and Marbleton, Jessica and Buckle had become good friends. She had no trouble with him making any more indecent propositions. Once she had told him she wasn't interested, he had never mentioned it again. She found that his initial gruffness was only a front to conceal his genuine good-heartedness. When Jessica had explained to Buckle why she was looking for Caine, he had offered quite enthusiastically to kill him himself. But she had insisted she had to do it herself if she was ever going to put Mark's death behind her.
When the biscuits were ready, Jessica and Buckle sat down to eat them, washing the sourdough bread down with cups of black coffee. After the meal, Jessica put on her coat, tucked her pistol into the waistband of Adam's pants she wore, and pulled on her fur hat.
Buckle followed her to the door, carrying her rifle. "You certain you don't want me to go along, just in case one of them boys gets out of line?"
She took her rifle, offering her new friend a quick smile of determination. "I've got to do it myself, Buckle. But thanks."
He nodded and pushed open the door. "Third cabin down. It belongs to Billy Glick but with Billy gone for the winter, the Caines took it over."
Taking a deep breath, Jessica stepped out into the frigid night air and hurried for the cabin. "I've got you," she whispered over and over again. "I've got you, you bastard!"
When Jessica reached the door, she listened for voices, but heard none. Maybe Larry and Toby were asleep. She knew they were there. Lamplight burned in the window. Taking a deep breath, she hit the door with her fist. To her surprise, it swung open.
Pulling back the hammer in her Henry rifle, she peeked around the corner, but saw no one. The smell of rotting food immediately assailed her nostrils. Cautiously, she stepped inside. It was almost as cold in the cabin as out.
The place was a pigsty of filth. Tin cans and spats of sticky brown tobacco littered the floor. Half-eaten cans of beans sat open on the pine table in the center of the room. The fire in the crude fireplace was nothing but a pile of dying embers.
On the far wall Jessica spotted a platform bed. Beneath the covers she could make out the form of a body. She laid her hand on the trigger. "Caine!"
The body didn't move.
"Caine, is that you? You'd better say something before I blow you off that bed."
She heard a groan and then the covers began to move. She sighted in, just in case this was some trick.
"Wh—who is it?" cried a pitiful voice. He pushed aside the wool blanket and Jessica caught sight of Larry Caine. His hair was dirty and matted, and he had a full beard that covered his face. His eyes were hollowed out with illness, but it was Larry. She'd recognize those weasel eyes anywhere.
"Where's your brother?"
He wiped his mouth. "Carradine's food locker, I expect."
"Dead?"
Larry lifted his head, then let it fall on the pillowless bed. "If he wasn't, he's dead now, ain't he?" He gave a strange little chuckle. "Either the cold or that bullet I put through his head killed him, I'd expect."
Jessica stared at the man lying in the bed. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. She was supposed to take the Black Bandit on man to man and kill him as he begged for mercy. Shooting this pathetic little man seemed like it would be so anticlimactic. "Where's my bag?" Jessica demanded.
Larry's eyes opened. "Your bag?"
"My carpetbag. You stole it from me on the train. The one you robbed north of Ogden."
Larry tried to focus on her standing across the room. "You came all the way here from Ogden to get a bag?"
"No. You killed my brother so I came to kill you . . ." she said not feeling the same anger and hate she'd felt only minutes before. "Only . . . only first I want my carpetbag."
He raised a shaky finger and pointed.
Jessica glanced at the shelf above the cold cookstove. Her carpetbag! Her grandma's carpetbag! She ran to the wall, dragging a chair behind her. Still keeping one eye on Caine, she hopped up and pulled her bag down.
When she opened it, a smile lit up her face. It was all still there! Her grandma's recipes! The old tintype of Rose Landon and her father's pocket watch! Even the pressed violets her father had tucked into the tiny leather Bible so many years ago. And money! There was more money in the bag than she'd put in it months ago in Tennessee.
"You want my money? You can have it," Caine said. "Never brought me no good anyhow."
Jessica dragged the chair over to Caine's bed and sat down, the carpetbag on her lap.
"So you going to kill me or what?" he asked in a pathetic whine.
"In a minute," Jessica said absentmindedly.
She set down her rifle and opened the bag again. There were so many happy memories in this bag! She lifted her mother's faded tintype and studied the prim, proper figure. The young woman held her body stiff and was without a smile. Jessica smiled for her. It was good to see her mother's face again, if only in a picture. Next she pulled out her grandmother's recipes. They were simple recipes copied onto scraps of paper in flowery handwriting. She pulled them against her chest as the tears slipped down her cheeks.
One by one she
took the mementos from the old carpetbag and held them in her lap. Hours passed and finally she drifted off to sleep with the Black Bandit asleep in the bed beside her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jessica woke to the sound of the cabin door banging open. Immediately, she grabbed for her rifle and before her eyes were open, she was aiming for the door.
"Jessica!" Adam shouted, halting just inside the door.
She blinked away the sleep in her eyes. "Adam?" He was covered from head to foot in snow. Benny loomed behind him in the doorway.
Adam's voice was stark. "Jessica, put down the rifle."
She jumped to her feet, keeping the Henry pointed at Adam. "He deserves to die." She glanced at Caine who was just beginning to wake, then looked back at Adam.
"Yes, he deserves to die, but not this way. You'll be no better than him if you do it."
"Thank God you came," Caine told Adam weakly. "This crazy woman says she's going to shoot me. I'm awful sick. She's going to murder a defenseless man."
"Shut up!" she snapped. "My brother was defenseless, but that didn't stop you, did it?"
"I told you it wasn't me." Caine tried to raise up out of the bed, but fell back. "It must have been my brother, Toby. He was the bad one."
"We're not interested in your lies, Caine. I know you're guilty. I saw you pull the trigger when you wounded me," Adam said from the door.
'So take me back to Utah. Let me stand a fair trial once I'm better. I need a doctor, Sern. I need one bad." He gave a hacking cough and covered his face with his arm.
Adam looked at Benny standing behind him in the doorway. "It's all right, Benny. You go back to Buckle's cabin."
The native gave a nod and closed the cabin door, leaving Adam, Jessica, and Caine alone.
Adam rested his rifle against the door and began to take off his hat and coat. "You shouldn't have come here without me, Jess."
She could feel her palms growing sweaty. God, she wished she'd killed Caine last night. She didn't want to have to do it with Adam standing here watching with accusing eyes. "You don't understand!"
In Close Pursuit Page 28