by Ben Boulden
J.D. yanked the Winchester from the hardpan soil. He checked the barrel for a blockage and racked a fresh load into the chamber and began shooting.
Kate, on her knees, pulled Gentry on to his back. A large open wound oozed blood from his shoulder below the collar bone. His eyes flickered open, a smile brushed past his mouth.
“Leave me, Kate.”
“Hell, no.”
Kate moved so she was behind Gentry’s head and shoulders. She grabbed him under both arms and pulled him toward the boulder field. The lawman groaned. Kate felt the air pressure sizzle as a bullet spun close. A hair-raising crackle in its wake. She ducked lower and pulled harder on Gentry. The lawman bicycling with his legs to help Kate move him.
Pain blistered across Kate’s right arm.
She released Gentry and stumbled backward. The bullet’s heavy impact twisted her sideways. She nearly crashed down on her back, but with her left hand she stopped the fall; pain blossomed across her shoulder, prickled down her arm and into her wrist and hand. Ignoring the wound Kate rose to her knees, grasped Gentry and pulled again.
A heavy hand on Kate’s uninjured shoulder tugged her off-balance and then two strong hands dragged her backwards. She looked up into J.D.’s face. When she was in the boulder field’s safety, J.D. went back for Gentry and pulled him into the rocks. J.D. dropped down next to Kate. His breathing ragged, a smile on his face. The valley quiet except for the steady buzz in Kate’s ears and the arcing pain on her right side.
“Goddamn,” J.D. said. “Who the hell are those guys?”
Kate laughed.
Gentry said, “Whoever it is sure doesn’t like you two.”
“Us? What about you?” Kate said.
“I’ve been Sheriff for six weeks and nobody’s taken a shot at me before you showed up.” The lawman coughed and then cursed.
Kate crawled over to the Winchester leaning against the rock, looked longingly at Gentry’s abandoned rifle lying where he had fallen.
J.D. said to Kate. “You okay?”
“It clipped me.” She looked at her arm, her sleeve torn at an angle. Blood leeched from a wound burned black by the passing bullet. “But it hurts like hell.”
J.D. applied pressure to Gentry’s wound. “It looks clean, Sheriff.”
“It doesn’t feel clean.”
J.D. laughed. “You’ll live.”
Kate, her back against the stone, pushed bullets into the Winchester’s loading port. When it was fully stocked, she rolled onto her knees and looked up at the shadow hiding the snipers. The valley’s sudden silence unnerving. When she found no obvious target, Kate looked over at Joshua still prostrate on the ground at the cliff’s base and waved.
The boy smiled, waved back.
Kate blushed with admiration for Joshua. She motioned for him to stay down. He nodded with vigor.
Kate searched the plateau’s broken wall for movement, for anything to drop a bead on and crash a bullet through. The ambush made her angry as hell. J.D. smashed up, Gentry taking a bullet. His horse lying dead. A feeling of Old Testament vengeance rising.
She wasn’t a gleeful killer. It happened in her and J.D.’s business, but she never looked forward to it, took pride in it, and certainly didn’t enjoy it. But at that moment she wanted nothing more than to wreak havoc on the cowardly men who set the ambush. Punish them for their wanton cold-blooded lust to kill. But mostly she wanted to protect her friends. J.D., Joshua and Sheriff Gentry. But damn if revenge wasn’t part of the deal.
Kate surveyed the plateau. The rifle moved with her gaze, an extension of her person. In her peripheral vision, she saw J.D. rush from behind the cover and onto the open valley floor. Her heart seemed to stop, but her vigilance never wavered. She knew he was going after Gentry’s rifle and it scared her badly.
Sunlight on blued steel caught Kate’s attention. The shooter still invisible, Kate lined up the shot where she imagined the man holding the weapon would be. She drew a breath, exhaled and pulled the trigger. The Winchester bucked, smoke belched, as the explosion pushed the bullet towards the plateau’s edge.
A primal scream.
A stream of curses as a man appeared from the depression, stepped forward and fell from the plateau’s face. He bounced against the steep hillside twice before disappearing behind a low-rising foothill a hundred yards from where Kate knelt.
She moved her focus from the plateau to where she had last seen J.D. and sighed with relief as he moved back into the broken field with Gentry’s rifle in his hands. She turned her attention back to the hillside and scanned for another target.
A rifle’s report made Kate flinch because it came from behind. She pivoted toward the gunshot. The Winchester steady in her hands. Three men moved across the valley toward her small group, each held a rifle in his hands. Kate put a bead on the first man, flaming red hair on his head. And eased her finger onto the trigger.
CHAPTER 18
“Put down your guns!” The redhead shouted. His rifle ready at his shoulder, but its muzzle pointed at the ground.
J.D. analyzed the situation and decided hesitation was in their best interest.
“Hold up, Kate.”
Kate looked at J.D. Her rifle steady and on target. She frowned, opened her mouth as if she had something to say, but closed it again before nodding her agreement.
“Come out of there,” Red Hair said. “Your hands empty.”
“We have a wounded man,” J.D. shouted without leaving cover. “And there is at least one bastard on the plateau wanting to ventilate us.”
Red Hair lowered the rifle from his shoulder. His right hand in the lever and his left on the fore stock so he could get it back to firing position in a hurry. “He skedaddled. You’re safe to come out.”
“Okay.” J.D. scooted to where Kate kneeled, hunched over her rifle. “What do you think?”
Kate responded without taking her hand off the Winchester. “I’m uneasy about it, but my instincts are always blurred after a shoot-out.”
J.D. nodded. “You’re okay with us moving from cover, then?”
“Yeah.” Kate lowered her rifle. “I guess I am.”
J.D. said, “We’re coming out. But we’re not dropping our guns. We won’t shoot if you don’t.”
Red Hair looked at his companions, each grimaced in turn and nodded. They didn’t bother to put any distance between themselves and that made J.D. feel good about their intentions. Or, if they were hired guns, their incompetence.
Red Hair said, “That’ll be fine.”
To Kate, J.D. said, “I’m going to show myself. You mind putting a bead back on the plateau since we know those bastards want to kill us?”
Kate swiveled to the narrow trench’s other side. She pulled the Winchester to her shoulder and put its front bead on the shadow where the men had been hiding.
“Okay.”
J.D. stood to reveal his upper body to the three men. Gentry’s rifle held firmly in his hands. He counted to ten, trying not to show his desire to flinch as he waited for a bullet to slam into his chest or back. When nothing happened he turned to Kate, “Anything?”
“Quiet as death.”
“Not the word I wanted to hear.” Then to the three men, “I’m going to walk over this way”—he pointed down the narrow rock alley to his left—“and exit there.”
Red Hair nodded.
J.D. moved to the boulder field’s edge. He stepped over Gentry, winked at the lawman. He stopped a few feet outside the protective stone labyrinth. “We have a wounded man here. His name’s Ira Gentry and he’s the sheriff in Unity. We need some help moving him.”
“Tell the other rifleman to come out, then we’ll help you with the lawman.”
J.D. grimaced at Red Hair’s referral to Kate as a ‘rifleman’ since he knew it would make her angry.
“Come on, Kate.”
The three men looked at each other, a small wiry fellow wearing spectacles and a yellow shirt said, “Kate?”
Kate stoo
d, a frown on her face. “You better believe it’s ‘Kate.’”
“No offense meant, ma’am,” said the man. His two friends laughed at his obvious discomfort.
Kate nodded, her mouth a line. “Some taken.” She followed J.D.’s path through the boulder field and stopped where Gentry was lying and kneeled beside his prone figure. “How are you, Ira?”
“I’ll survive.” He snuck a peek at J.D. and his eyes returned to Kate. “It’s been a long time since anyone as pretty as you called me ‘Ira.’”
Kate smiled, tousled his hair with her hand. “Where’s your hat?”
A thin smile on his lips. “Damn if I know.”
Kate removed her flat-brimmed hat, placed it on Gentry’s head. “Till we find yours.” She stepped over the lawman, her blonde hair shimmering in the desert sun, and walked from the boulder field. The Colt in its leather. The Winchester in her right hand.
J.D.’s heart pounded like a thirteen-year-old boy, his mouth dry as a desert, as he watched her swivel towards him, a smile on her face. He remembered where they were, shook his head and shamed himself for indulging fantasy.
Kate turned to the plateau, gave a “come here” motion to the prone boy, said, “Joshua.”
Red Hair’s eyes bulged. He made a nervous motion with his rifle and brought it to his shoulder.
J.D. held his hand up, palm out. “Wait. Joshua’s an Indian boy helping us find Stephen Wiley’s place. He isn’t armed and he’s no threat to you. Hell”—J.D. grinned broadly—“none of us are a threat to you.”
Red Hair lowered his rifle when he saw Joshua. The boy approached Kate and J.D., his eyes looking at the ground, his hands in his pockets. When he arrived, Kate gave him a hug, held him back by his shoulders, said, “How are you, handsome?”
The boy’s face paled, a tear popped from his eye.
J.D., grinning like a teenager, said, “Kate, this is too much. First you flirt with Gentry. Hell, you give him the hat I bought you on your birthday. And now it’s Joshua. I’m not a jealous man, but this is taking it too far.”
Joshua looked from J.D. to Kate. A giggle escaped and turned quickly to raucous laughter. He bent over, hands on knees, and laughed away the stresses from the last several minutes.
“This is no laughing matter,” J.D. said to keep the game going.
Kate said, “If you can’t tolerate a modern woman’s desires, Mr. Blaze, you best keep riding and let me be.”
The three men looked at each other, the uneasiness on their faces replaced with hesitant mirth. The small man with spectacles slapped Red Hair on the back. The two looked at each other and laughed.
“Hey!” Gentry shouted. “I’m shot.”
J.D. looked at Kate. The most beautiful smile he’d ever seen on her face.
“We better go help the lawman.”
J.D. said, “I guess.”
CHAPTER 19
Red Hair was James Ames and Spectacles was Moses Moon, both middle aged with a lifetime under the blistering desert sun. Crow’s feet crinkled around their eyes and their faces were stained and marked by wind and heat and cold. The two men formed the partnership of Ames-Moon. The third, a stocky man in his thirties with a cherub face, was introduced only as Billy. He looked like a stable hand; his boots stained yellow-green and his trousers filthy. He smelled bad. His eyes cast shyly at the ground.
It took Gentry a few minutes to gain his feet, but once he did he was able to walk and he refused help.
J.D. with a mischievous grin on his face, said, “What if Kate helped?”
“Well,” Gentry said, returning J.D.’s grin, “everyone needs help sometime.”
Kate offered a shoulder, but Gentry politely turned her down.
The horses were scattered. J.D.’s and Joshua’s standing by the corral. Kate’s had retreated down the trail and Gentry’s was dead. James Ames sent Billy after Kate’s horse and everyone else walked towards the buildings. Gentry a little slow, but he moved better than J.D. expected.
When they reached the house, identified with a small painted sign as the Ames-Moon Stagecoach Inn, James Ames invited them in. J.D. stopped a few steps from the door, asked Joshua to look after the horses.
Moses Moon with high-pitched voice said, “Put them in the corral.”
“Yes, sir.” Joshua sprinted to where his and J.D.’s horses loitered.
“Maybe we should keep him,” J.D. said to Kate. “I’m starting to like the boy. He’s helpful.”
Kate frowned. “Sure. Maybe next time he’ll get shot.”
J.D. was smart enough to keep his tongue. He raised his hands in surrender and watched Kate pivot away and walk into the hotel with a tight gait. Her ponytail bounced angrily with each step. He was in trouble, but wasn’t sure why since the two had been in tighter situations than they now faced. And more than once.
The building’s fine interior surprised J.D. The walls papered with a tasteful flowered pattern. A feminine hand obvious in its choice. A narrow pine desk disguised as oak at the room’s back wall. A large dinner table to the right. An open staircase traveled across the back wall from the first floor to second.
“Have a seat,” James said, as he pulled a chair away from the table and sat down.
“What about Gentry and Kate?”
“Moses will see to them in the back room.”
J.D. nodded. “Nice place.”
“Thank you.”
“What I can’t figure is why it’s here. No stage route anywhere and the trail we followed wouldn’t accommodate a coach anyway.”
Ames shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “My wife left a few months ago with the sentiment.”
J.D. said, “I figured a woman was behind these papered walls.”
Ames looked at his hands. When he looked back at J.D. his eyes brimmed red. “The Army’s been promising a road between Unity and Fort Duchesne for years. Me and Moses purchased the land and built the hotel. We were hoping for a windfall, but instead we’re going broke.”
“No idea when the road’s coming?”
“None,” excitement touched Ames’ voice now, “but this place sits on the highest groundwater between Unity and Fort Duchesne. It’s the only logical place for a trail station. Once that road’s built we’ll make money hand over fist. The Army and anybody else traveling will pay for feed and water and some will even buy a room.”
“Nice deal.” J.D. put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “We’re looking for a farmer named Stephen Wiley. You know him?”
Ames leaned back in his chair. His sales pitch and the subject change seemed to improve his mood. “You a relation?”
J.D. shook his head. “I know his wife. She’s afraid someone is trying to kill him.”
Ames studied J.D. a moment before he answered. “I’ve seen him a few times. Keeps to himself. Doesn’t much look like a farmer. A city man, if I’ve seen one.”
“Where’s his place?”
“Not far. Maybe four miles as the crow flies.” Ames shifted in his chair, straightened. “He doesn’t really have a place. Lives in a tent. The last time I was out there it didn’t look he planned to build a cabin any time soon.”
“What’s he doing if he’s not building?”
The two men looked over as Kate walked into the room and pulled a chair away from the table and sat down.
Ames nodded, said, “Mrs. Blaze—”
“Kate.” She looked at J.D., smoldering anger still in her eyes.
“Kate.” Ames turned back to J.D. “No idea what Wiley’s doing out there.”
“Farming?” J.D. said.
“Nothing at all usual for a homesteader. No buildings, no crops. Visitors pass by here routinely. Not sure if they’re invited since we don’t get over there much and he’s not friendly towards us.”
Kate said, “Who visits him?”
“Well.” Ames looked uncomfortable under Kate’s scrutiny and J.D. didn’t blame him. “They’re secretive. They don’t travel on the main trail, but come over
the plateau. That trail drops into the valley half a mile north. We can hear them clomping a few miles out.”
“Why’s it odd to use the plateau?”
“It’s a hell of a trail. Nobody takes it unless they don’t know where they’re going.”
J.D. looked at Kate. The anger still in her eyes, but now it was accompanied by curiosity.
“Why would Wiley have guests at his place?” Kate said.
J.D. turned to Ames. “You know the men?”
Ames looked at his hands. They were clasped together on the table’s surface. “One is familiar.”
J.D. waited several seconds, when it became clear James Ames had no intention to continue, he said, “Who?”
The hotel keeper looked scared; skin chalky, a slight tremor in his hands.
“Well?” Kate said.
The air seemed heavier while J.D. and Kate watched Ames. The silence thicker. Kate tapped the fingers on the table. Her nails clacked louder and louder.
“That albino.” The words came from Moon, who leaned against the doorjamb at the back of the room. J.D. hadn’t seen him enter.
Ames turned quickly to Moon’s voice. “You sure this is what we want to do?”
The little man shook his head. “No, but it’s what we should do. Hell, it’s probably in our best interest anyway.”
“Albino?” J.D. looked between the two men.
“Marcus Guggenheim,” Kate said.
“That’s him. Mean sonofabitch,” Ames said.
“Ugly as hell, too.” This voice belonged to Sheriff Gentry. His right arm in a sling. “He runs whores out of the Wanderlust in Unity.”
“You know him?” J.D. said to Kate, confusion in his voice.
Kate nodded. “We met in Petey’s last night while you were out running errands. I’ve seen him a few times since. I think he’s been following me.”
“You think was the one shooting at us?”
“Maybe,” Gentry said. “But more likely it was his hired goons.”
J.D. said, “Does this make sense to you Sher—”