Rescue

by William W. Johnstone

Frank smiled at that.

  “You find that amusing, Morgan?” the sheriff asked.

  “Somewhat, yes. The law damn sure hasn’t been much help up to now.”

  “That is about to change, Morgan. I want you to stay out of trouble while you’re here. You hear me?”

  “I hear you, Sheriff. But what am I to do if I’m braced by some gun hand looking for a reputation?”

  “Defend yourself, Morgan. I wouldn’t deny that right to any man. But you know what I meant.”

  Frank nodded his head. “What about the kids out at the ranch?”

  “They’ll become wards of the territory.”

  “A damned orphanage?”

  “Probably.”

  Frank swore under his breath.

  “They’re not going to go traipsin’ all over the damn country with you. I can tell you that for a fact.” The sheriff stood up. “I’ve got to see about gettin’ outfitted. It would pleasure me greatly if you were gone when I get back, Morgan.”

  “I’ll probably be right here, Sheriff.”

  “I can’t begin to tell you how much that thrills me, Morgan.”

  “I’ve received warmer welcomes from hostiles on the rampage, Sheriff.”

  “I’m not a fan of yours, Morgan. Gunfighters don’t impress me a damn bit.”

  Frank shrugged that off.

  “Just stay out of trouble in this town, Morgan. And if you want to do me a big favor, get gone from here as quickly as possible.”

  The sheriff, his deputies, and the posse rode out, and Dewey came to stand by Frank’s side outside the jail. “The folks I’ve talked to in town say the sheriff is a great feller. But right by the book all the time.”

  “I’m sure he’s a good lawman. He just doesn’t like gunplay in his town, that’s all.”

  “Well, I think he’s gonna be surprised when he gets back from this raid on the ranch.”

  Frank looked at his friend. “What do you mean?”

  “They’s a couple of hard cases in town askin’questions ’bout you.”

  “They have names?”

  “Don’t ever’body?” the mountain man asked with a smile. “Yeah. The Crow brothers. Do that name ring any bells in your noggin?”

  “Seems to. Yes. Friends of Ray Hayden. Ray got crossways with me over in Wickenburg a couple of months ago.”

  “Where’s this Hayden feller now?”

  “Buried.”

  “Thought so. Them Crow boys is talkin’ ’bout killin’ you.”

  “All I need now is for the Bookbinder boys to show up,” Frank said.

  “The who?”

  “Friends of a man named Mack something or another.”

  “This Mack feller . . . did he get crossways with you too?”

  “As a matter of fact, he did.”

  “And now he’s buried?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you tryin’ to depopulate the earth all by your lonesome, Drifter?”

  “Sometimes it sure looks that way. Is there anyone else with the Crow brothers?”

  “I don’t think so. Was you ’spectin’ someone else?”

  “Just wanted to make sure, that’s all. The Crow brothers. . . two of them?”

  “Yeah. They’re hangin’ tight with each other over the other side of town. Little saloon name of . . .” Dewey frowned. “Hell, I forgot the name.”

  Frank shrugged that off. “It isn’t important. The Crow boys are Todd and Boyd. The Bookbinder brothers are Jules, Kenny, and Alvin.”

  “Now I know who you’re talkin’ ’bout. Jules changed his name to Books. Jules Books. He’s a bad one, Frank. Hired gun and he’s greased lightnin’. Been killin’ sodbusters over in Colorado.”

  Julie walked up to the two men. She had enjoyed a long hot bath, and was now dressed in a simple but form-fitting calico dress.

  “You look lovely,” Frank told her.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m gonna go check on them damn Crow brothers,” Dewey said. “Y’all behave. See you later.”

  “Frank,” Julie said, touching his arm, “am I going to have trouble taking Becky with us?”

  “No. I asked the sheriff about that.”

  “That is—” Julie frowned—“if she’s out there.”

  “But the other children will go to orphanages.”

  “I feel sorry for them.”

  “So do I. But the sheriff made it plain that it’s out of our hands. And this is a man who is not going to brook any interference.”

  “Do you have any plans for this afternoon, Frank?”

  “No. You?”

  “There is a small traveling show in town. I thought I might take the kids to see that. I think it would do them good.”

  “I’m sure. I’ll meet you for dinner at the hotel this evening.”

  “It’s a date.” She smiled. “See you then.”

  * * *

  Frank lounged away most of the afternoon, taking short walks and then sitting in a chair in front of the hotel, talking with Dewey. Just before six that afternoon, the sheriff and his posse returned to town. There were two wagons filled with kids, a half-dozen men with their hands handcuffed behind them, and seven horses with dead men roped down across the saddles.

  Julie stepped out onto the boardwalk and looked intently at the wagons as they rumbled past. “Becky is not among them, Frank.”

  “There may be more wagons, Julie.”

  “You see any kids you recognize, Miss Julie?” Dewey asked.

  “No. None of the Sutton kids, nor any of the Carter children.” She turned slowly and went back into the hotel.

  Frank walked down to the jail and waited for the sheriff to show up. He wasn’t long in coming. The lawman looked at Morgan and grunted.

  “Hello to you too,” Frank said.

  “Come on in, Morgan. I’ll fill you in and maybe then you’ll get out of my town.”

  “I can’t tell you what a warm feeling your greetings give me, Sheriff.”

  Inside the large outer office, the sheriff pointed to a chair. Frank sat. The sheriff took a sheet of paper from his jacket. “The names of all the kids who were out at the ranch. There was no one named Becky Barnes.”

  “Julie saw the wagons as they went past the hotel.”

  “Now what, Morgan?”

  “We keep looking.”

  “Let me question the prisoners. If they know anything about the Barnes girl, I’ll tell you.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff. I’ll be at the hotel. Oh, by the way. There are two brothers in town, Todd and Boyd Crow. They’re gunning for me. I’ve done my best to avoid seeing them. Just thought you’d like to know.” Frank walked to the door. The sheriff ’s voice stopped him.

  “Maybe I’ve been wrong about you, Morgan. Stay around in town until I talk to the prisoners and send out some wires. I’ll know something late tomorrow or the next day.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff. From both Julie and me.”

  “I’ve heard of the Crow Brothers. They’re bad ones. If they brace you . . .” He shrugged. “A man’s got a right to protect himself.”

  Frank smiled and stepped out of the office.

  * * *

  “I’ll never see my daughter again,” Julie said. “I just know it.”

  “Don’t say that,” Frank gently admonished her. “You don’t know any such thing.”

  “The kidnappers are staying one step ahead of us, Frank. And we don’t have any idea where Val Dooley is or where Becky might be.”

  The two were sitting in the hotel’s dining room, at a table in a far corner, away from other diners.

  “Val isn’t far away,” Frank said. He held up a hand. “I don’t know that for sure, Julie. It’s just a feeling I have.”

  “Why do you feel that way?”

  “He’s running out of places to hide, that’s why. He can’t go to Texas. Folks over there will shoot him on sight. Every lawman in Arizona and New Mexico Territory is looking for him.”

  “You think he’
s close?”

  “Yes. I think he’s here in the northern part of New Mexico.”

  “And you’re going to continue the hunt?”

  “Of course. If the sheriff has any more information on the kids, he’s going to let me know as soon as he finds out something . . . one way or the other. Then we’ll provision up and move on. But I have one thing I’d like to request of you.”

  “You want to leave the kids here.”

  Frank smiled. “You have this knack of getting into my head, Julie. Yes.”

  “I spoke with some ladies from a local church group today about that very thing, Frank. They agreed to look after the children for as long as it takes.”

  “Danny and Susan too?”

  She hesitated, then said, “Susan asked me today if she and Danny could be married.”

  “And you said?”

  “I said I’d give it some serious thought.”

  “And have you?”

  Julie nodded her head. “She’s almost fifteen and it’s very obvious to me that she and Danny are in love. I’m going to tell them tomorrow that they have my permission to marry. And I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

  “Do they have any plans?”

  “They said they would stay here and wait for some word about Becky.”

  “And then?”

  “They would go to Iowa and farm. I told them to go on to Iowa and get on with their lives.”

  Frank pushed back his chair and stood up, holding out his hand to Julie. “Then I guess we’d better get busy.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Doing what, Frank?”

  “Planning a wedding, my dear.”

  Twenty-six

  Julie arranged with for the kids to stay in Santa Fe. Frank bought train tickets for Danny and Susan, and then laid in several weeks’ provisions, then went to see the sheriff.

  “Nothing new, Morgan,” the sheriff told him. “But I did get the impression that Val Dooley, some of his gang, and some of the kids are still in this part of the country. They got them a hidey-hole somewhere. Probably up in the mountains.”

  “That’s my thought, too, Sheriff. I’m thinking that is just might be in the general area where I’m planning on buying some land and settling down.”

  The sheriff gave Frank a very dark look. “Somewhere close to here, Morgan?”

  Frank laughed at the expression on the man’s face. “Several days’ ride away, Sheriff. Does that make you feel better?”

  “It helps. But just havin’ you in the territory gives me a queasy feelin’. Exactly where is this land you’re lookin’ at, Morgan?”

  Frank pointed. “Thataway, Sheriff.”

  The sheriff grunted. “That certainly helps a lot, Morgan.” He leaned back in his chair. “Sorry I couldn’t be more help to you and Mrs. Barnes. Are you leavin’ town now?”

  “Right after the wedding.”

  “What wedding?”

  “Julie’s daughter and the young man who rode in with us. You’re invited, if you’d like to attend.”

  “Two things I hate, Morgan. Weddin’s and funerals. But thanks for the invite.”

  “See you around, Sheriff.”

  “Not soon, I hope,” the sheriff replied with a smile.

  Danny and Susan were married in a church, with only a few tears shed, most of those coming from Julie.

  Dewey told Frank just before the ceremony, “You look plumb nekked without your hogleg strapped on.”

  “I feel naked too,” Frank replied.

  “Be quiet, both of you,” Julie told them.

  “Be a hell of a time for the Crow brothers to come bustin’ in here,” Dewey whispered.

  “Dewey,” Julie said just as the piano player began playing, “if you don’t be quiet, I swear I’ll hit you with a church hymnal.”

  “I got my knife, though,” Dewey whispered as soon as Julie had turned around.

  “Frank,” Julie said, “get up here. You’ve got to give the bride away.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Dewey said. “Don’t give her to the wrong person, Drifter.”

  * * *

  Three days later, Frank, Julie, and Dewey had put the growing town of Santa Fe far behind them. They topped a rise, broke through the lush timber, and were looking down at a beautiful long valley sprawling below them.

  “It’s lovely,” Julie whispered.

  “That’s my valley,” Frank said.

  “You done good, Drifter,” Dewey said.

  “There are passes that open to large grazing areas on both sides of the valley,” Frank said. “The passes are open twelve months out of the year. It’s got good water. Farther on up the valley, although you can’t see it from here, there’s a stone house built on a ridge.”

  “Why did we come here first, Frank?” Julie asked.

  “I can answer that,” Dewey said. “ ’Cause like me, he smelled and then seen the little fingers of smoke yesterday, just off to the north of where we is now. And he’s also been followin’ sign that I admit I missed at first. Right, Drifter?”

  “That’s right.” Frank dug in his jacket pocket and handed Julie several tiny pieces of cloth. “Look at these.”

  Julie fingered the cloth. “Two ribbons and half a dozen torn pieces of calico.”

  “One of the captive girls has some smarts,” Frank said. “She’s been marking the trail. I came upon the first one, that dark blue ribbon, by accident. Then I picked up a very distinctive hoofprint. I think Val and the kids he took from the ranch outside of Santa Fe are somewhere right over there.” He pointed.

  “But you didn’t say anything about it,” Julie chided mildly.

  “I didn’t want to get your hopes up and I didn’t want to get in a rush. I wanted to lie back and take it slow and easy.”

  “How far away are they?” Julie asked.

  “Five or six miles, maybe less. Right over those mountains.” Again he pointed. “That’s a guess, but I think it’s a good one.”

  “So close,” Julie said.

  “We’ll stay right at the timberline for the ride over to the house,” Frank said. “Once there, we’ll use dry wood to built a fire for supper. I don’t want any more smoke than is absolutely necessary.”

  “And then?” Julie asked.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Frank replied, avoiding Dewey’s smile and his knowing glances.

  “You want us to stay at the house while you go after Val Dooley alone,” Julie said. “Right, Frank?”

  “That’s about it.” Frank lifted the reins. “Let’s go.”

  “You can’t even hardly see the house!” Julie said.

  “That’s right,” Frank said. “It’s partly built into the mountain. Come on. You’ll see.”

  The stone house had four rooms: a large kitchen and living room combined, two bedrooms, and a storeroom that actually was part of the mountain.

  “I think the people who built this place used the storeroom as sort of a root cellar,” Frank explained. “It stays mighty cool in there year-round.”

  “Damn fine field of fire too,” Dewey said from the main room. “Whoever built this place had defense in mind.”

  “Probably from the Indians,” Frank said.

  “Nearest road is two days’ ride away,” Dewey said. “You’ll have to pack in all supplies.”

  “But just look at that view,” Julie said. “Are there any neighbors?”

  “None that I know of,” Frank said. “Probably will be in a few years, though. Country is filling up fast.”

  “Ain’t that the God’s truth,” Dewey said. “Used to be a man could ride for days and days without seein’ a livin’ soul. Now all sorts of folks is a-crowdin’ in. Country’s gonna soon be like one of them damn cities. Won’t be able to spit without it landin’ on somebody. I think it’s a damn shame myself. People ruin everything.”

  Julie laughed at him. “Dewey, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you’re just an old curmudgeon.”

  “A what?” the mountain
man said.

  “A cantankerous old fart,” Frank said with a laugh.

  “Oh, well,” Dewey said. “I know that. I thought you was really insultin’ me.”

  * * *

  Frank slipped out of the house while Julie was still sleeping, and made ready to ride out before dawn. Dewey was waiting for him at the small corral.

  “You aim to take on the en-tar bunch all by your lonesome?” Dewey questioned.

  “I don’t think there will be that many, Dewey.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Val’s gang has scattered,” Frank explained. “The sheriff got that information from some of the men he arrested out at the ranch. We’ve killed two dozen or more ourselves. Lawmen are looking for Val from Texas to California and from the border to Colorado. He’s on the run, running for his life. Val’s been forced to break up his gang.”

  “You hope,” the mountain man added.

  “I’m betting on it.”

  “You’re betting your life, Drifter.”

  “I know. But somebody has to stay here with Julie.”

  “You know she ain’t said a word about Susan since we pulled out.”

  “I know.”

  “Fast as them trains is, they ought to be in I-o-way ’bout now.”

  “I imagine they’re close.”

  “Them two young’uns will be all right. They’ll make it.”

  “That’s what I keep telling Julie.”

  “Does she reply to that?”

  “No. Not a word.”

  “She’ll soon get over that, bein’ a woman an’ all. Y’all talked any more ’bout gettin’ hitched up?”

  “No. I think she may be having second thoughts about that.”

  “ ’Cause of you bein’ who you are?”

  “Probably.”

  “You didn’t make her no promises ’bout changin’, did you?”

  Frank smiled. “No. I’ll never change, Dewey, you know that. I might want to, I do want to, but I never will and you know why I won’t . . . why I can’t.”

  “I reckon, so, Drifter. Your mind shore seems to be made up on that subject. And I know that once you git somethin’ planted firm in that noggin of yourn, there ain’t no changin’ it. Might as well be tryin’ to move a damn mountain.”

  “Am I that stubborn, Dewey?”

  Dewey snorted in reply.

  “I guess I am, for a fact.”