“Doc Chandler had the key to both sets,” Paul said. “The sheriff gave them to him in the event that he needed to be moved. You know . . . fires or the like. I got my hands on the keys, and when the doctor had to step outside to answer nature’s call, I unlocked the shackles.”
“And you did that strictly in the name of lighting a fire under me and the law dog while doing your best to prevent Terrigan from raiding Pueblito Verde?”
“That . . . and to give you two a reason for bringing me along.”
Sprole nodded. “You never told me why Jack Terrigan is so important to you.”
“I already told you as well as the sheriff. Terrigan is making a mistake and I need to have a word with him.”
“It’s got to be you who speaks sense to him?”
Paul’s answer to that was a simple “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the path I’ve chosen. Now, why don’t you get some rest? I’ll take first watch.” Once that was said, Paul walked over to his saddlebags so he could put his empty tin cup away and then dig out some fresh ammunition for his hunting rifle.
For a moment or two, Sprole watched every move Paul made as if he didn’t trust him enough to leave him unattended. His face shifted through several different expressions, all of which were difficult to discern in the inky desert night. He stood there until Paul found a spot where he could sit with his rifle lying across his lap. Finally the bounty hunter gathered his own weapons and chose a patch of ground that provided him the same amount of protection as the sheriff’s resting place.
Within minutes, Sprole was asleep and Paul was alone.
In fact, Paul hadn’t felt so alone for quite some time.
Chapter 16
Sprole had been right. It would have been easy enough for Theo Price or just about anyone else to sneak to within a hundred yards or so and start firing at the camp, picking the men off one by one. But if Price was the sort of killer who preferred to work from a distance, Paul guessed that danger was always there. It had been some time since he’d had to concern himself with such things, and doing so now brought back plenty of unwelcome memories. Those memories, like the rifleman who shared the darkness of that night with him, would always be out there until something was done to clean them out. When this ride was finished, one way or another, plenty of filth would be swept away.
Dawn was swiftly approaching when Noss kicked off his coarse wool blanket, rubbed his eyes, and dragged himself to his feet. He looked around and eventually spotted Paul sitting with his back against a rock and his feet splayed out away from the campsite.
“I thought you took first watch,” the lawman said.
Paul rubbed his eyes. “I did . . . along with second watch. There wasn’t enough time for a third.”
“When will you get your sleep?”
“When I can. You and Dave are the ones that need your rest. The least I can do is see that you get it.”
“Won’t do us any good to have you falling from your saddle after dozing off.” Rubbing the arm that was held by the crudely fashioned sling, he added, “I know what I’m talking about in that regard.”
“How is your arm, by the way?”
“It’s fine. Shoulder feels like it’s still being twisted about by a team of wild horses, but I’ll make it through.”
“Good,” Paul said.
Just then the uppermost portion of the sun crested the horizon. Rays of light sliced through the few clouds that would burn off in the next few hours, turning the entire sky a deep, rich shade of orange. “Always did love this time of day,” Paul mused.
The lawman smiled. “Makes you feel closer to heaven, don’t it?”
“There’s that . . . but I just like the quiet.”
“Quiet ain’t never a bad thing, Father.” With that, Noss closed his eyes to soak in what the morning had to offer. One eye came open to watch Paul’s face when he asked, “So, what was all that commotion between you and Dave last night? Sounded like you two were about to come to blows.”
“What did you hear?”
“Something about you cutting my prisoner loose and letting him escape from Doc Chandler’s office.”
Paul studied the lawman’s face carefully. There was no anger to be found amid the creases engraved by so many years spent in a hard, cruel world. He didn’t even find any accusations in Noss’s eyes. What he did find was the tired resignation of a man who’d already thought the worst of his fellow man and had once again been proven correct.
“You hear a lot, Sheriff.”
“I make it a habit to keep my ears open. You’d be amazed how much I’ve learned just listening to prisoners talking in their cell when they assumed I was too dumb, deaf, or lazy to hear them.”
Those words stung Paul’s heart. It had felt bad enough calling the lawman lazy the night before, but knowing he’d been heard made it even worse. Then again, it only seemed fitting for him to have to pay the price for such actions taken in anger. “Then you must have also heard my explanation for what I did,” Paul said.
“I did. After sleeping on it, I gotta admit you were right about a few things. Me and Dave really would have been content to sit back in town and wait for them outlaws to come a-knocking. Riding out after them has done me a world of good. I feel like a real lawman again, even if I could be riding to meet my end at the hands of a cold-blooded killer.”
When Paul started to protest, he was stopped by a simple gesture from Noss.
“Don’t worry,” the lawman said. “I don’t honestly think this is a death sentence. Actually, between the three of us workin’ together, I’d say we stand a better than average chance of riding back to Pueblito Verde sitting upright instead of being dragged there in a pine box. As for the business with you shooting all over creation with that hunting rifle, I wouldn’t have expected any less.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’ve always been a man who marches to his own drummer. Back when Martha and I used to go to Sunday services, we could tell you weren’t like any other preacher we ever heard. Sometimes you’re just like every other minister who talks about forgiveness and all that, but other times you say things that make the usual fire-and-brimstone speeches seem like a bunch of hot air.”
“I . . . don’t know what to make of that,” Paul admitted.
The lawman shrugged and rubbed his aching shoulder. “While you may not be the sort of preacher I was used to, you’ve never proven yourself to be anything less than a good man. That ain’t no excuse for you sneaking about to set a prisoner loose and then lie about it. It’s too late for anyone to change that, and you did come to me before taking such drastic action to see about riding with us to find Terrigan. I suppose there are parables you could read to me or scripture you could recite where a good man has to do something the wrong way for the right reasons, but I don’t need to hear any of that. What’s done is done.”
“That still doesn’t make it right,” Paul said. “Please forgive me.”
“I ain’t qualified to forgive anyone,” the lawman was quick to reply. “Especially considering all the wrong I’ve done. We’re here now and we’re doing the right thing. I’ve been letting too many of my duties slip since losing Martha and the boys for me to pass this one to someone else. As long as I wear a badge, I’m the one that has to stand up to the likes of Terrigan and his men.”
“What about him firing on everything but the one man who needed to be shot?” Sprole asked from where he’d been lying the entire night. The bounty hunter propped himself up on his elbow so he could look at the other two through tired, bloodshot eyes. “I still haven’t heard a good enough explanation for that.”
First, Noss looked at Paul. Then he looked to Sprole and said, “He’s a preacher, Dave. Truth be told, I would have been more upset if he had shot anyone. Y
ou and me were the ones out there in the thick of it. If we wanted them outlaws shot, we should have shot them ourselves. Expectin’ a preacher to pick up a gun and do your shooting for you just don’t make much sense.”
That brought the bounty hunter straight to his feet. “But . . . he lied to us!”
“Didn’t he come to you askin’ to have a word with Jack Terrigan?” Noss asked. “Because he sure stated his case to me and I didn’t take him seriously. I sure am taking him seriously now. I may not agree with his methods or reasons, but I gotta respect any man who goes through such lengths on account of what he believes.”
“We can’t just let this pass,” Sprole said.
“And we won’t.” Noss turned to level every bit of his stare at Paul when he said, “Trust me on that. If there’s something else you feel we should know, now’s the time to tell it to us, Father.”
Plenty of words rushed through Paul’s head. Some had already been spoken. Some were excuses for actions that had already been taken as well as acts that had yet to be committed. The rest were not fit for the ears of anyone within earshot at the moment, so he shook his head and said, “It seems you already know what brought us this far. I just hope we can move on from here.”
“You’re with us now and I ain’t about to turn you away,” Noss said. “It seems like you can do us more good than harm, so we should be able to work together just fine.”
“And what happens when we get to Raynor?” Sprole asked. He looked over to Wes, possibly expecting a threat or an insult from the prisoner, but there was no such thing to be had. Wes seemed more than content to keep his head down and let the others have it out.
Noss started gathering his bedroll. “When we find Terrigan, Father Lester can have his words with him. That is, if there are any words to be had once the smoke clears.”
“And you don’t think he’ll make sure he gets to him first?” the bounty hunter said, sneering. “He’s already stepped in to muck things up for us just so he could have his way. Who’s to say he won’t do it again?”
“Someone had to go after these killers,” Noss replied. “Terrigan and his gang have had free rein long enough. That’s because folks are either too scared to run him down or too willing to let those wild dogs scurry off into someone else’s jurisdiction. They came to my town when a bounty hunter was there waiting to hunt them down. On top of that, there’s another fellow who’ll do just about anything to ride along. Some might call those sorts of things signs from above. Whatever you want to call ’em, the father here showed more gumption than my own deputies, so I’m inclined to let him help. We all got our cards on the table now, though.” Looking at Paul as if he were staring into his soul, Noss said, “I’m normally not a forgiving sort, but you’ve shown me through plenty of hard times. Now’s my chance to return the favor.”
“Thank you,” Paul said. “I truly appreciate it.”
“Just don’t make a fool outta me. That . . . I won’t forgive.” Turning his attention back to the task of preparing for the morning’s ride, he added, “And don’t take offense if you’re watched even closer than that idiot wrapped up like an inchworm. That’s the price you pay for leading me and Dave around by the nose.”
Paul nodded. At the moment, he simply didn’t want to take a chance on saying anything to ruin the blessing he’d been given.
“You can bet your last cent I’ll be watching you,” Sprole growled. “And if I don’t like what I see, you better hope you’re a good enough preacher to call down God himself to save you.”
Paul remained silent.
The camp was broken down.
Horses were loaded and the four of them rode on.
In a strange way, Paul hoped that Price would make another appearance soon. At least that would give everyone someone else to scowl at for a while.
* * *
The first few hours of that day’s ride passed slowly. Noss’s cobbled-together posse headed southwest toward the town of Raynor before stopping to eat a breakfast of jerked beef and some oatcakes that tasted as if they’d been at the bottom of Sprole’s saddlebag for the better part of a year. They washed it down with a few sips of water from canteens filled at a small puddle of water. The horses were watered and the group ventured on.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, its heat became unrelenting. Smoldering waves beat down on Paul’s shoulders, soaking through his waistcoat until every stitch of clothing felt as though it had been glued to his skin. And, to make things even less comfortable, all of them spent every second looking for a glint of light off a rifle barrel in the distance or listening for a shot that might claim one of them from afar. Price was still out there. Whether he’d decided to turn the tables on the posse or race them to Raynor was anyone’s guess.
“Hey!” Noss barked as he shifted to turn toward the horse beside him. “What do you think your friends are up to?”
Wes was still tied and shackled from head to toe. He lay across his horse’s back with a few strands of rope connecting his torso to his saddle horn. He was kept occupied by constantly shifting his weight so as not to fall to the rocky desert floor. He tried to answer the lawman’s question, but his words were muffled beyond recognition by the red bandanna that had been stuffed into his mouth. Noss removed the bandanna just long enough to hear the first portion of a string of profanities before promptly sticking the dirty rag back into place.
“I thought you talked some sense into that one, Father,” Noss said while hooking a thumb back toward the outlaw.
Paul shrugged. “I can only do so much. At least he’s not trying to get away.”
“That’s just because there ain’t nowhere to go.” Looking around at the bare rocks and prickly bushes scattered for miles on all sides, the lawman grabbed his canteen and opened it to take a drink. “Looks like Dave’s on his way back.”
One advantage of the barren terrain was that just about anything within a quarter of a mile that was larger than a jackrabbit could be seen the instant it moved. Sprole’s horse galloped toward them after having been absent for the last few hours. The three of them met up and slowed to a walk as they continued riding to the southwest.
“Did you find our elusive Mr. Price?” Noss asked.
Ever since the sun had come up, Sprole’s face had been etched into a deep scowl. Removing his hat with one hand, he used the other to swipe a rag across his glistening forehead. “Well, aren’t you just the chipper one?”
“I’ll feel even better when I hear some good news.”
“Hate to disappoint you, Sheriff,” Sprole said, “but I don’t got any of that for you. Found a couple of tracks that must have been put there in the last day or so, but that’s pretty much it.”
“Were the tracks pointed toward Raynor?”
“More or less. As far as I know that town’s the closest bit of civilization within three days’ riding.”
“Then all’s well,” Noss said.
The bounty hunter circled around the group until he was riding alongside Wes’s horse. “Sure it is. Just so long as we ain’t headed into an ambush or there’s not some other spot Price is supposed to meet up with Terrigan. What do you say, mister?” he asked Wes. “Got anything more to tell us?”
Wes craned his neck to look up at him. His entire face screwed into a hateful glare around the bandanna that dangled like a dog’s tail from his mouth.
“You sure about that?” Sprole asked.
Even though nobody could make out what the outlaw said, the muffled syllables did not sound friendly.
The bounty hunter muttered a few unintelligible words to himself as well as he looked around at the miles of desert to his right. When he snapped his head back around to look at Wes, he drew the big .44 pistol from its holster and yanked the bandanna from Wes’s mouth. “What about now?” he snarled while thumbing the pistol’s hammer back
and pressing its barrel against Wes’s forehead. “You recall anything more you’d like to say?”
Wes’s eyes widened and he shook his head in trembling motions so as not to rattle the gun in Sprole’s hand.
“That’s enough of that!” Paul said.
“Keep out of this, preacher! You’ve done enough damage!”
Noss snapped his reins so he could ride around to get on the other side of Sprole’s horse. “We put that behind us, Dave,” he said.
“Maybe you did, but I don’t forget so easily. And even if this preacher has come clean, having him around just makes this one here think we’ve gone soft. Ain’t that right?” Sprole said as he leaned over to press the barrel even harder against Wes’s head as if he meant to bore all the way through to the other side. “You think we’re soft on account of the company we keep, don’t you?”
“N-no! I—I—I never thought that!” Wes said.
“Then maybe we been too easy on you, because I think you still got more to say!”
“No! I swear it!” Wes hollered.
“Where’s Jack Terrigan?” Noss asked. “Best be honest with us now.”
Unwilling to move in the event that he might cause the pistol to bump against Sprole’s trigger finger, Wes only moved his eyes. They rattled in their sockets, bouncing back and forth between Sprole and Noss, as he said, “East Raynor! I already told you! East Raynor!”
“Would that partner of yours head straight there or would he try to pick us off along the way?” Sprole asked.
“How should I know?”
The bounty hunter cracked the barrel of his gun against one of the darker bruises near Wes’s temple, which covered a large welt that had been put there after one of the many other cracks he’d taken to that part of his skull. “Make an educated guess!”
“We were all supposed to meet in East Raynor!”
“Where were you supposed to go once you got there?”
“Some cathouse named the Wayfaire.”
Ralph Compton Brimstone Trail (9781101612637) Page 17