by James, Terry
‘What are you aiming to do about that?’ Finally, the sheriff sounded interested.
‘Help her remember. To tell the truth, that’s the least of my worries.’
‘It is?’
‘She’s running scared. I’m not going to let her down this time.’ Jake noticed a sudden frown driving deep furrows into his friend’s brow. ‘What?’
‘I’m just not sure you’ve thought this through. Three years ago you were a different person. The past ain’t always a good place to revisit, especially when you killed a man to put it behind you. What about Parley Jones and Jay Langerud? Have you thought about them?’
Jay Langerud, a fast gun with a reputation. Jake hadn’t thought about him in a long time. He didn’t welcome the image that flooded his mind of a body lying face down at the bottom of a ravine with buzzards circling.
He shrugged it away. ‘I always expected the past to catch up with me, Riley. To tell the truth, I thought it would’ve happened sooner. You can only borrow time for so long.’
‘True, but do you think this woman’s worth risking the life you’ve carved out for yourself?’
Jake smiled. ‘Riley, she’s the only thing worth risking my life for.’
CHAPTER 3
After undressing quickly and removing the bindings around her breasts, Ros slipped into bed. Despite her screaming tiredness, a dozen questions refused to let her sleep. Mainly, they were about Rudd. Something about him was familiar, but whether he was friend or foe, she couldn’t decide. Had he been the one following her when she left the livery? Was he another hired gun? No. She relaxed. If she believed that, she wouldn’t be naked and unarmed in a room he’d paid for.
Still, he continued to worry her, or maybe it was her willingness to trust him that really bothered her. He was too at ease with himself to be a hired killer, she argued. More than likely he was a gambler and those three who’d set on him were mean losers. Yes, a gambler … slick … fast with a gun…no threat to her she decided as she drifted off.
Jake got back around midnight hoping to talk but the snores that greeted him put paid to that idea. He decided to let Ros sleep, despite the arousal her nakedness caused before he pulled the edges of the blankets over her. He couldn’t trust himself to join her and settled into the chair by the door. Like the rest of the hotel the furniture had seen better days and after half an hour fidgeting, Jake gave up the pursuit of sleep and let his mind loose to wander.
It had been a long day and in all the excitement he’d forgotten to ask Riley what was so important that he’d had to drop everything and travel halfway across Kansas and Colorado. Maybe forgotten wasn’t quite the truth. Maybe he just didn’t want to know since, until tonight, trouble had been avoiding him and he kind of liked it that way. Experience told him Riley’s wire could only mean an end to that peace.
He banged his elbow again and resigned himself to a sleepless night. Stalking irritably to the window, he scowled into the street. A dog crossed the road, but nothing else stirred and his attention fixed on the saloon opposite where lights glowed with a bright invitation.
Could he risk showing himself in a saloon? Maybe not, but Riley had a flask. No, it was too late to disturb him. Besides, there was still the question of who had sent Sully and his cronies after him, and why. A saloon would be the best place to find out. Mind made up, he tiptoed to the dresser to collect his hat but Ros’s gun lying beside it caught his eye. Carefully, he slipped it from its holster and moved closer to the light.
‘Pretty. Colt Peacemaker. Solid silver handle. Inlaid with mother of pearl.’
He spun the chamber, listening to the smooth action, then weighed it on his palm. It slipped easily into firing position, impressing him with its balance and feel. It was a nice weapon. Clean. Ready for action.
A groan startled him and he glanced towards the bed as Ros rolled onto her side. He waited for her to settle then let out his breath, surprised to realize he’d been holding it. Turning his attention to the Colt, he slid it back into the holster, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. Women shouldn’t carry guns. They sure as hell shouldn’t know how to use them. Jay Langerud had a lot to answer for teaching her that particular trick.
‘I’m sorry, Ros. What happened in Hays was meant to be the beginning, not the end. I promise you I won’t make the same mistake twice.’
There was no response and he hadn’t expected one. He picked up his hat and turned down the lamp, needing a drink more than wanting one.
Ros waited for a click to signify Rudd closing the door, then swung her legs off the bed. She’d only been half-aware of him moving around until he mentioned Hays. That had woken her up as effectively as a bucket of cold water and unleashed a few more questions. Like, had he had something to do with her accident? Was he the one who’d pushed her in front of that stagecoach?
Squinting through one eye, she searched the semi-darkness for her clothes and spotted them on the dresser. Quickly she bound her breasts and finished dressing. To the east, a train whistle shrilled, stopping her as she fastened on her gun-belt. She listened to the steady chug of the engine grow louder. She’d prefer not to travel tonight, but whatever Rudd’s motives were, she couldn’t risk waiting. Not only that, but without money, catching a midnight ride in an empty boxcar was probably her only option.
She looked around for her hat, remembering she’d lost it, then snatched the door open. No. She couldn’t risk meeting Rudd, and if the desk clerk saw her he might get word to him. She closed the door as if she were handling dynamite then moved stealthily to the window. Easing it open, she paused a moment to let the gentle breeze cool her cheeks, then after a quick glance along the street, she looked down, swaying as the boardwalk shimmered beneath her. After a few seconds, she climbed onto the window ledge, turned and swung her legs down. Lowering herself to arm’s length, she dropped. It felt as if she’d done it a thousand times and she met the ground with cat-like grace, landing on the balls of her feet then effortlessly shifting her weight to her hands and knees. Without a pause, she sprang into the shadows and ran.
A couple of turns later, she spied a light shining from the stationmaster’s office. She hunkered down in the shadows to wait and within moments a dozen freight cars screeched to a stop and a guard jumped down onto the platform.
‘All right, Monty? Didn’t expect to see you tonight,’ he shouted, when the stationmaster lumbered out to meet him. ‘Heard the news then?’
‘Heard my wife say she’d shoot me in my dumb ass if I forgot to give you your sister’s birthday present this time through,’ Monty said, drily. ‘You’re late, Clyde. You were supposed to be here four hours ago.’
‘We ran into some trouble. Had to make an unscheduled stop.’ The guard swung his lantern high and peered inside the first boxcar before sliding the door shut and moving to the next.
‘What kind of trouble?’
‘A body on the track.’
‘What kind of body?’ Monty asked, keeping close.
A prolonged creak preceded a gush of water as the driver refilled the engine. Clyde shouted over the sound. ‘A dead one. A woman.’
Using the darkness for cover, Ros followed the two men, morbidly eager to hear the details.
‘Did she throw herself in front of the engine?’ Monty asked.
‘No. The sheriff said it looked like murder. She’d been shot in the back, stripped naked and left on the tracks as though whoever did it, didn’t want her found.’ Clyde checked inside the penultimate car. ‘Funny thing though. Whoever it was, they scalped her.’
‘What!’
Monty’s shock matched Ros’s and she barely covered her mouth in time to keep from echoing it.
‘You heard me right,’ Clyde said slamming the door and leading Monty back towards the office. ‘I bet she was pretty too. Had a face full of freckles and you just know she was a feisty little redhead.’
CHAPTER 4
In the early hours of the morning, Jake let himself into the sheriff’s office. He
found Riley asleep in a cell and nudged him.
‘You awake, old man?’
Without opening his eyes, the sheriff rolled out of his cot and let himself out of the otherwise vacant accommodation. Stretching and yawning, he pulled up his sagging britches and kicked his feet into his boots before staggering to the stove. He was halfway through a cup of coffee before he opened his eyes.
‘What are you doing back here so soon? Kick you out again, did she?’ he asked, slurring his words and struggling to tuck his shirt in. ‘What time is it anyway?’
‘Past midnight.’ Throwing a log into the stove, Jake settled himself into the sheriff’s chair and crossed his ankles on the desk. ‘You still got that flask handy?’
It appeared in Riley’s fist with a sleight of hand that baffled Jake.
‘What’s wrong with yours?’ Riley asked, pouring some in a cup and handing it over.
‘I gave it up,’ Jake said flatly. ‘I just went back to the hotel and Ros is gone, out the window I reckon.’
Riley’s breath whistled as he sucked it in knowingly. ‘You must be losing some of your charm.’
Jake stared into his cup, too caught up in his thoughts to indulge the sheriff’s attempted humour. ‘I know she didn’t have any money, she admitted that much. The livery owner told me she sold her horse and saddle. She must have skipped out on the freight train that came through. The question is, why?’ He ran his fingers through his hair as if trying to extract an answer. ‘What’s she running from?’
‘How do you know she’s running from anything? Maybe she just had to be someplace else.’
‘Look,’ Jake snapped, ‘I might not be wearing my badge but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped being a lawman, or thinking like one. I told you, she’s in trouble.’
Riley grimaced. ‘I’ll take your word for it, son, but did you stop to think that maybe you don’t want to get mixed up in it? Before you even knew for sure who she was, she nearly got you killed.’
Jake grunted, unconvinced and unwilling to blame her for his stupidity. The only thing was, if he thought about it he might start to agree.
Riley poked him in the shoulder, startling him from his misgivings. ‘Are you listening?’
‘No,’ he said, sullenly.
The sheriff rolled his eyes. ‘I was saying, what you need is a job to do, give yourself time to think things over.’
Suspicion narrowed Jake’s eyes. ‘I take it you have something in mind.’
‘Well, now you ask, yes.’ The sheriff hesitated, obviously weighing Jake’s reaction. ‘What do you know about Langley?’
Only half listening, Jake drained his cup and pushed it into a pile of papers on the desk. ‘Never heard of it before your letter caught up with me, and so far I haven’t had time to form an unbiased opinion.’
‘Don’t surprise me. It’s a cattle town. Not too big. It’s got a couple of hotels, two or three saloons, a general store, a schoolroom. The railroad arrived about six months ago, but we don’t get many visitors. That’s about it if you don’t mention the richest cattle spread for two hundred miles.’ Riley poured whiskey into his cup. ‘Around a hundred and fifty folks or thereabouts call it home. It’s a nice place, or was, but it’s turned nasty. A feller by the name of Emmett Swain is muscling in, taking over the territory, seems like.’
Jake recognized the name. Sully had mentioned it.
‘A newcomer?’ he asked.
‘Not exactly. He’s from around these parts, but he’s been away. Got back a couple of months ago and opened up a can o’ worms. It’s an old feud of sorts, between him and a local rancher.’
‘What kind of feud?’
‘What kind? Fence cutting, cattle rustling … murder.’
Jake’s concentration waned. Most of what Riley said was hardly noteworthy. Fence cutting had been widespread since the introduction of barbed wire and where there were cows there’d always be rustlers.
‘Why don’t you let them get on with it? These things usually sort themselves out, don’t they?’
‘Maybe, but this town’s dying. The word’s getting around. There’s already talk about the railroad pulling out.’ He shook his head. ‘Pretty soon all that’ll be left is a cemetery with some interesting markers.’
Jake shrugged, reluctant to ask his next question. Riley had cleverly skirted the issue of the shootings, but there couldn’t be any other reason he’d want his help. He waited, but the silence irritated him.
‘What’s any of that got to do with me? You know I work behind a desk these days.’
‘And you hate paperwork. Besides, this is more a favour to me.’
Jake’s loyalty made him raise an eyebrow, inviting Riley to tell him more.
‘Swain’s bringing in hired guns.’ Riley’s shoulders slumped and he circled his fingertip around the rim of his cup. ‘I ain’t a young man, Jake. Maybe I could have handled this kind of trouble ten years ago, but I’m just too old. Truth is, I can barely see three feet in front of my face these days.’
Jake held up his hand and nodded. The fewer bleeding-heart details he had the better. ‘I get it, Riley. You want to bring in a hired gun of your own.’
The sheriff fetched himself another coffee. ‘You and me go back a long way, Jake. I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t mean a lot to me. What do you say?’
It hurt Jake to deny his friend, but he had a lot of ground to make up with Ros, if he could find her again. Not to mention she couldn’t have walked back into his life at a better time, what with a letter of resignation making its way to the governor’s office. Getting mixed up in somebody else’s war could tie him up for months, after which time, she’d be long gone.
He stood abruptly, sending the chair rolling across the floor as he headed for the door. ‘I need a day or two to think it over,’ he said, more to himself than Riley.
‘Jake, I kinda thought—’
Pausing in the doorway, Jake didn’t bother to turn. ‘I said, I need to think it over.’
‘I heard you. I just hope you know what you’re doing.’ Riley started back towards the cells. ‘If you change your mind, there are a few folks I’ll need to introduce to you.’
Jake didn’t feel inclined to go back to an empty room, but raucous laughter and a tinny piano kept him away from the saloon. He visited the train station for a second time, looking for evidence Ros had been there, found nothing, then walked around town for an hour, finally treading a heavy path back to the hotel.
The clock in the lobby struck two as he passed by the sleeping clerk and crept upstairs. A chorus of contented rumbles and snores marked his passage along the dimly lit hallway, only adding to his discontent. By the time he unlocked the door and stumbled into his own room, his spirits were as low as a bummer’s heels.
Allowing his eyes time to adjust, he scanned the darkness, pausing a moment before shuffling to the bed. Keeping his movements nice and easy, he sat and removed his boots. Despite the cold, he didn’t bother turning back the blankets. It was nothing unusual. Sleeping in his clothes was a habit, something he did when he wasn’t sure what his next move would be.
Just to be careful, he drew his gun and, keeping hold of it, he rested it flat across his belly. Then with his hat tipped across his forehead, he wedged his elbow behind his head and closed his eyes.
‘What made you come back?’ he asked.
He’d spotted Ros, or someone he felt sure was her, standing in shadow by the window. She didn’t speak for a long time but her breathing reached him, heavy and ragged, as though she was crying. Eventually, she sucked in a deep breath.
‘I heard something that frightened me more than you. If it means what I think, the men who’ve been following me think I’m dead and I’ll be safe here. The only question mark is you.’
He started to get up, ready to convince her she should trust him.
‘Don’t move,’ she ordered. ‘I’ve got my finger on the trigger of a Colt pointed in your direction and my hand’s shaking. Even in the dark I dou
bt I’d miss at this range.’
Her monosyllabic tone chilled him and he remembered the last time she’d put a bullet in him. It had been meant for someone else, but that knowledge didn’t ease his anxiety now and he settled back down.
‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘I want to know about Hays. You said Hays was supposed to be a new beginning not the end. What did you mean?’
She was being direct again and he bucked against it. ‘What do you think I meant?’
He heard a movement, the sound of a match, and blinked as lamplight flickered on the dresser. She adjusted the flame low, allowing it to cast only a dim light over the room. After replacing the chimney, she sat on the windowsill, crossed her legs and leaned her elbows on her knees, all the time keeping her eyes and the gun firmly on him.
‘This is not a game to me, Mr Rudd, so I’ll get to the point.’ She looked at him along the muzzle of her gun. ‘Are you here to kill me?’
For a few seconds, he stared at her, looking for the girl he’d known years before. But with the lamp casting ugly shadows across her bruised face, and the Colt held steady, it was a stretch for his imagination. Like it or not, this wasn’t the Ros of old times, teasing him with empty threats. This woman was at the end of her tether, and experience told him that was a dangerous place to be.
Moving slowly, he took up his former position, hand forming a pillow behind his head. ‘You know, I’m not. Why don’t you lower that cannon and tell me what this is all about?’
The gun wobbled, then she lowered it and fixed him with a hollow stare.
‘People have been trying to kill me for a long time, Mr Rudd. I don’t know who and I’m not sure why, but I might need someone to trust and right now you’re the only one I’ve met who even comes close to inspiring me.’
He resisted the urge to gloat. ‘I’m glad I inspire you, but trust works both ways.’
His candour seemed to knock her off guard. She opened her mouth to speak, to offer an argument maybe, closed it then tried again. ‘What do you need to know?’