Suddenly, Cully heard shots coming from another direction, the north. He fired the last round in his Winchester and then darted a glance in that direction. He couldn’t make anything out, but the shots were definitely coming from the north, and they were having an effect on the outlaws. Two more men fell from their horses, and another sagged in his saddle but managed to stay aboard. Cully slipped his pistol from its holster and began to blaze away with it. He had no idea who the newcomers were or how many of them there were, but for the moment, that didn’t matter. All that was important right now was that the posse had a fresh lease on life, a new chance to survive this ambush.
Cully triggered more shots. The mounted outlaws suddenly stopped their charge and began to swerve to the south, heading for the trees as fast as their horses would carry them. The men already concealed in the trees stopped firing as their companions raced toward them.
Cully sent one last shot after them, knowing that the range was too great for a handgun now. His emotions demanded the gesture.
"Better get down, son," Brennan advised dryly "Those fellas in the trees might try one or two shots before they pull out."
Cully sprawled behind his rock again. "You think they're going to give it up?" he asked.
"It's likely," Brennan replied. "They've lost their advantage now that their little trick didn't work." The lawman glanced toward the north. "Whoever came up on our back trail sure saved our bacon."
Cully was still watching the trees. By now the mounted outlaws had disappeared into them. Then, abruptly, there was a flurry of movement, and Cully caught a glimpse of several more men on horseback. "Looks like they're pulling out," he told Brennan.
The federal marshal crawled over to his horse and retrieved the spyglass from his saddlebags. Focusing it on the grove of trees, he nodded a moment later. "Yep, just caught a glimpse of them as they went over the rise on the other side of that creek. They did part of what they set out to do, and now they're cutting their losses." He stood up. "On your feet, men. We'll be riding again in a few minutes."
Cautiously, Cully got to his feet, as did the other men. The deputy said, "You don't think they could be trying to trick us again by leaving a few men behind with rifles?"
Brennan shook his head. "That wasn't the main bunch. Wolfe probably left them behind to ambush anybody who was following him. They were supposed to wipe us out if they could, slow us down if they couldn't. Well, we've been slowed down."
Slowed down, maybe, but not damaged too badly, Cully saw as he took a look around. A couple of the men had been nicked by bullets, but none of them was seriously hurt.
Roland Stockbridge and Elliott Pannier both looked pale and shaken. Cully wondered if they had even fired a shot during the skirmish. He would ask Angus about that later, when the two easterners couldn’t overhear him.
Brennan reloaded his rifle, then said to Cully, "We'd better check those outlaws who got hit. I don't want any wounded men left behind us."
Cully nodded. He walked alongside Brennan as the marshal strode toward the sprawled bodies. From the look on Brennan's face, Cully wasn’t sure what he intended to do if some of the outlaws were still alive. Surely a United States marshal wouldn’t simply execute them out of hand.
They were spared that decision. All four of the fallen hardcases were dead. Brennan approached them carefully, his rifle trained on them, and turned each one over with a booted foot, nodding in grim satisfaction as he saw that none of the men was breathing.
"We're cutting down the odds a little," Brennan said.
Cully nodded toward the north. He said, "With a little help. Look there."
Brennan's gaze followed Cully's outstretched arm. He was clearly expecting to see the men who had pitched in and made it possible for the posse to beat off the attack. One rider came out of the gathering shadows of dusk.
Cully gave a low whistle. "I figured there were three or four men at least, the way those shots were coming."
"So did I," Brennan agreed. He walked forward to meet the rider.
Cully followed. It was hard to distinguish many details now that the sun had slipped behind the horizon, but he could tell that their rescuer was slight and sat the saddle easily. A broad-brimmed hat concealed the stranger's features.
Brennan said, "Howdy," as the rider came to a stop. "Glad to meet you, mister, whoever you are. You sure came along at the right time."
Cully glanced over his shoulder and saw that the posse members were keenly watching the newcomer. They were plainly well aware of how much trouble they would have been in if this rider had not helped them.
The stranger had a Winchester balanced across the pommel of the saddle. The rider reached up, swept off the hat, and smiled as thick blond hair tumbled around her attractive features.
"You're welcome, Marshal," Hannah Stockbridge said.
Cully and Brennan stared at her, speechless for a moment. The younger man found his voice first. "What the devil are you doing here, gal?" he demanded.
Hannah laughed. "Saving your hide, from the looks of things, Deputy Markham."
"That was you who laid into those outlaws, miss?" Brennan asked.
"I don't see anybody else around here, do you, Marshal?"
Brennan smiled. "Have to allow that I don't."
Hannah looked at Cully again. "I told you I was coming along with this posse, Deputy. You should have listened to me."
Roland Stockbridge came striding forward from the crowd of surprised men. "Hannah!" he exclaimed. "What...what are you doing here? Where did you get those clothes?"
The girl glanced down at the butternut shirt and brown twill pants. They weren’t designed for a woman's figure, even a relatively slender one such as Hannah's, but they still looked good on her. "The clothes are from Karatofsky's store, back in Abilene," she said. "They also sold me the hat and boots and this rifle here. I brought plenty of ammunition, and more supplies, too," she added, slapping the well-filled saddlebags draped over her horse's back.
"But you can't intend to go along with us," her brother protested.
Hannah turned to Brennan. "Didn't you just say that you figured I saved this posse, Marshal?"
Brennan's grin grew wider. "Reckon I did."
"Wait a minute!" Cully said, speaking up before Roland could. From the look on Roland's face, he was about to object just as loudly as Cully was. "Marshal, you know this is no job for a woman. You can't let Miss Stockbridge ride along with us."
Hannah's blue eyes stared coolly at him. "I didn't notice you turning down some help from a woman," she said, nodding toward the fallen outlaws. "I think two of those men were killed by my shots."
Cully shook his head. "That's just it. You're a lady—"
"And my sister's been kidnapped by Roscoe Wolfe," Hannah cut in. "Whether or not I'm a female doesn't matter, Deputy. I'm going to help get her back. I've been trailing you ever since you left Abilene, and I don't plan to go back until we've caught up to Wolfe."
Elliott Pannier stepped over to Hannah's horse and reached up to take her hand. "Hannah, I think this is a wonderful gesture on your part. I know how concerned you are about Elizabeth, and I appreciate that. But this is simply no place for a young lady. This...this is a wilderness, full of ruthless men."
"Like those, Elliott?" Again, Hannah indicated the dead outlaws. "I know you must think I'm awful," she went on softly. "I should be having hysterics and fainting at the mere suggestion of blood, just like any other proper, well-bred young lady. But there's no time for that. We have to think about Elizabeth."
Cully glanced at Brennan. Night was rapidly falling now, and it was hard to read the older man's expression. Finally, Brennan said, "We'll push on to that creek where Wolfe's men were waiting for us. That'll be a good place to camp tonight. Miss Hannah, you've earned the right to come with us."
"What?" Roland Stockbridge exclaimed. "Marshal, I demand—"
"I'm in charge of this posse, Mr. Stockbridge," Brennan cut in sharply. "We've come a long wa
y from Abilene already. We can't spare a man to take Miss Hannah back to town, and I don't intend to tell her she has to ride back by herself, even if she did follow us on her own. And I'm sure not going to leave her out here to fend for herself."
"But—" Roland started again.
"That settles the matter," Brennan said flatly. He looked at Cully. "Unless there are any more objections."
Cully returned the marshal's level stare. After a moment, a grimace pulled at the young deputy's mouth. He shrugged. "No objections," he said. "You're right, Marshal."
"Let's get moving, then." Brennan turned to the rest of the posse. "Mount up, men. I think some coffee, some hot food, and a little sleep will do all of us some good."
Cully went to his horse and swung up into the saddle. He felt eyes on him and looked over to see Hannah Stockbridge regarding him speculatively. He couldn’t tell whether she was angry with him, or if she simply felt vindicated by Brennan's acceptance of her demand to ride with them.
Cully heeled his horse into motion. I'm not going to worry about Hannah Stockbridge, he told himself. But that wasn’t true, and he knew it. He had a feeling that he was going to be worrying a lot about Hannah in the days to come.
8
At the crest of a rise, Cully Markham drew his horse to a stop and glanced over his shoulder at the group of riders behind him. It was two days since Hannah had caught up with them, and three since the posse had set out. Surveying the tired, unshaven faces of the men, he reflected that if he looked anything like them, he must be a pretty sorry sight indeed.
The exceptions to that were Tom Brennan and Hannah Stockbridge. Both the marshal and the young woman somehow had managed to stay fresh during the trek from Abilene.
Brennan reined in his white horse alongside Cully and looked down the slope. In the distance, the late afternoon sun sparkled on the waters of a winding stream. "You know that river, Cully?" Brennan asked.
"It's probably the Cimarron," Cully replied. He looked over his left shoulder and pointed to a low mountain rising in the distance to the northeast. "That's Mount Jesus back there." He gave the name the Spanish pronunciation.
"We ought to be getting close to Indian Territory, then, if that's the Cimarron."
"If we haven't crossed the line already." Cully scanned the terrain across the river. While still flat, the land was growing more rugged. Low hills, gullies, and rocky bluffs marked the landscape ahead, and the trees and brush were low and scrubby.
"Not a very pretty country," Brennan commented, following Cully's gaze. "But then we're not after very pretty people, either."
Roland Stockbridge rode up beside Cully and Brennan, a frown on his face. During the last few days, his face had become leaner, and he was badly sunburned, as was Elliott Pannier. Roland said, "Why are we stopping, Marshal? Shouldn't we be pushing on?"
Brennan smiled. "Well, now, Mr. Stockbridge, I guess you could say we paused for a moment's reflection. Deputy Markham and I agree that we're about to cross into Indian Territory."
"So?" Roland asked sharply.
"So, there's something the deputy and I have to do," Brennan replied. He reached up and unpinned the badge from his chest. As he stowed it in his saddlebags, he said to Cully, "I'd advise you to do the same. Where we'll be riding from now on, these tin stars will only serve as targets."
Slowly, Cully removed his badge. His reactions surprised him. There had been a time when he might have scoffed at the idea that such a thing bothered him. Now he realized that the little piece of metal meant something to him.
He tucked the badge into his saddlebags and said, "You're right, Marshal. I suppose I'd better stop calling you that, though. How's Mr. Brennan sound?"
"Make it Tom," the federal lawman said with a laugh. He turned to the posse. "Did the rest of you hear that? As far as anyone else is concerned, Cully and I aren't lawmen until we catch up to Wolfe and his gang."
The posse members, including Hannah, nodded in understanding.
Brennan turned to Hannah. "Ma'am, you'd best be sure to wear your hat as much as you can. I don't want to advertise the fact that we've got a pretty young woman traveling with us."
"All right," Hannah replied. "And thank you for the compliment." She smiled.
Cully shook his head. Hannah wasn’t the same shy young woman she had been in Abilene. She was thriving out here on the trail. Her blue eyes sparkled, her cheeks were flushed with color, and in spite of her concern for Elizabeth, she seemed to be enjoying herself. Cully had run into a few women who were comfortable around guns and horses, but none quite like Hannah. She radiated self-confidence. She had not complained once since she joined the posse, and she was apparently untroubled that she had killed two men in helping them fight off the ambushers.
The trail had continued southwest from the creek that had been the scene of the attack. Brennan had found the spot where the men who had ambushed them had rejoined the rest of the gang. Then the posse had followed the trail for two days, stopping to camp at night even though Hannah, Roland, and Pannier were impatient to catch up with Wolfe.
As Brennan had expected, the outlaws had avoided Dodge City and the other, smaller settlements, swinging around them and continuing toward Indian Territory. The posse had circled the towns as well, although Brennan had sent Angus into Dodge with money to replenish their supplies. They had also been able to shoot some game along the way, so they were in no danger of going hungry.
If they were closing in on Wolfe, the tracks offered no indication. Cully thought the sign looked a little fresher, but he couldn’t be sure.
Brennan leaned forward in the saddle now and started his horse down the gentle slope. Cully fell in beside him, and the rest of the posse trailed along behind. As usual, Elliott Pannier brought up the rear, and the vigilant Angus MacQuarrie rode near him.
Roland Stockbridge had adjusted to the hardships of the trail better than had Pannier. The long hours in the saddle seemed not to bother Roland as they had at first, but Pannier was still in almost constant pain from his blisters and sore muscles. Cully had been surprised that Pannier didn’t want to turn back, considering both his discomfort and his opposition to the posse continuing its pursuit. The deputy supposed that love could stiffen a man's backbone and enable him to ignore his pain.
The posse crossed the Cimarron River about a half hour before sunset. Brennan kept them riding, rather than allowing them to make camp by the stream. The marshal did call a brief halt to refill the canteens, but that was all.
As daylight deepened into dusk, Cully noticed a light flicker across a shallow valley ahead. Quickly, several more lights began to glimmer near it. Cully nodded at them and said to Brennan, "Looks like a settlement up there."
"It does," Brennan agreed. He reined in his horse and gazed speculatively at the lights. They were becoming more clearly visible and were growing in number as the shadows of evening gathered. After a few moments, Brennan said, "I think you and I should take a little ride, Cully."
"We going into town?"
"Wolfe can't avoid civilization forever," Brennan said, instead of answering Cully's question directly. "Besides, he's across the border now. He probably feels more confident now that he's out of Kansas. These are his stomping grounds."
"And you think maybe we can find out how far ahead of us he is, maybe where he might be headed?"
Brennan nodded. "If we're lucky."
Quickly he instructed the rest of the posse to make camp. There was no stream nearby, but there was a cluster of brush that would give them some cover.
"No fires," Brennan ordered. "We'll have to make do with cold camps for a while. Mr. MacQuarrie, you're in charge while Cully and I are gone."
"Aye," Angus rumbled. "D'ye know how long ye'll be away?"
Brennan shook his head. "It all depends on what we find. If we're not back by midnight, though, you'd better come looking for us."
Angus nodded in agreement.
Elliott Pannier strode up to them, wincing with e
very step but looking determined. "I want to accompany you, Marshal," he said firmly.
Brennan looked pained. "I told you not to call me that anymore, Mr. Pannier. And whatever this settlement is, it's no place for you. Why don't you just let Cully and me handle this part of the job?"
Pannier leveled a finger at the lights of the town. "What if Wolfe stopped and is still there? What if Elizabeth is over there, less than a mile away?"
"Then maybe we can pull her out of there," Brennan returned. "But I really don't think that's likely, Mr. Pannier. Wolfe will head deeper into Indian Territory before he stops for good—you can count on that."
"What about me, Mr. Brennan?" Hannah Stockbridge asked, stepping forward. "I wouldn't mind seeing a town again."
Cully spoke up, answering before Brennan could. "You'd just draw attention to us," he said. "You're too pretty for your own good."
He had spoken the words before he had a chance to think about them. Hannah looked as surprised to hear them as he was to have said them. Cully turned away quickly, glad that it was almost totally dark. The flush on his face couldn’t be seen by the other members of the posse.
Brennan grinned at Hannah. "Like my young friend says, Miss Stockbridge, I'm afraid you would attract too much attention. It's better if just the two of us go in."
Hannah nodded. "All right. If you're sure..."
"I'm sure," Brennan told her. He mounted up again. Cully was already back in his saddle. "Let's go."
The two men rode away from the camp. Picking their way across the valley, they found their progress impeded somewhat by a couple of dry washes. Paths in and out of the steep-sided gullies had to be found and negotiated. But within half an hour, Cully and Brennan were riding down the northern end of the tiny town's single main street. The dusty street was lined on both sides with one-story frame buildings. One false-fronted structure appeared to have a second floor, but that was simply a facade. Not surprisingly, that building was a saloon. The light cast by a lantern hanging outside the livery stable across the street allowed Cully to read the faded letters that stated that this was the Double Eagle Tavern.
Rattler's Law, Volume One Page 49