Sam put his legs over the edge, dropped quietly to the ground, put his books back on, and walked over to where the getaway horse must have been.
Though the ground seemed torn-up beyond all hope, Sam’s keen eyes noted partial impressions where the horse had waited impatiently. And very near the building was one well-shaped hoof print. To most people it would mean nothing. To Sam, it was as unique as a fingerprint. He memorized its shape, its size, and the fact that the shoe was worn down.
It wasn’t much, but Sam had tracked down other men with less than this to go on.
The sun was starting to go down. A cool breeze was blowing in from the river. Matt and Malinda took the final sips of the homemade wine.
“It’s been wonderful,” Malinda said. “I can’t remember when I’ve had so much fun. But you know what they say: All good things must come to an end.”
“I’ve never much believed that.”
“No, Matt, I guess you wouldn’t. You sure don’t live your life that way.”
“I know that someday there may be a bullet marked with my name, or a horse that’s a tad too wild. But I’d rather take my chances and experience as much of life as possible while I have the chance!”
“That’s one of the qualities I find fascinating in you. But I need to get back to town and get ready for tonight’s performance.”
“What if I don’t bring you back?”
“You’d have an awful lot of jealous miners after your hide! Why, you might be lucky to even get out of town alive!” She lowered her eyes and added softly, “Or so I’ve been told.”
Matt laughed. “Very well, but I expect to see you again!”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
Sam made his way back to Hart’s supply shed. Though light was now getting scarce, there was still enough for Sam’s keen eyes. The ground around the building was hard packed and did not take prints. Still, there were damp patches near water troughs and other areas where a print might be found. If he found another hoof print to match the one he found near the hotel, he might be onto something.
He started just outside the door, where the lock had been broken, and moved outward, his eyes scanning the ground. He finally found what he had been looking for behind some bushes several feet from the path leading to the shed.
The print was only partial, but matched the earlier print.
Of course, in themselves the prints proved nothing. But it was something that might be useful at some later time. Sam had learned to always remember the details, for you never know when a piece of information would prove valuable.
Sam had been crouching close to the ground, to get a better look at the print. He stood, stretched, and felt a tingling in his back. He loosened the gun in his holster, stepped out from around the shed into the street. The setting sun cast long shadows on the street.
“I see you skulking around,” a voice said. “Probably trying to figure a way to break into the building and steal something.”
“Come on out in the open,” Sam said, holding his empty hands in front of him. “If you have a beef with me, come on out and talk about it. I’m reasonable man.”
“I didn’t like you the moment I saw you and your Indian friend.”
“I think you have it backwards. My brother is not Indian. I am. Or half Indians. Maybe the proudest half.”
“Makes no difference. Injun is injun.”
Sam was a reasonable man, most of the time. But he had been pushed about as far as he could be pushed. And if there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was racial slurs directed against him and his heritage.
“Come on out in the open.”
A man holding an older model revolver stepped out into the long shadows of the street. He looked familiar to Sam, but couldn’t place him at first. Then he remembered. It was the man named Rex who had caused problems the night before at Jordan’s saloon. Then he was drunk, which had perhaps blunted his hatred as well as his judgment. Sam and Matt had been able to avoid a shooting then.
Now Rex was sober, with anger and hatred in his eyes. In his hand was an older model revolver aimed at Sam’s stomach.
Rex’s talk was starting to draw a crowd.
“Indians aren’t good for anybody or anything. Now you’re after our women.”
“Like I said, Matt Bodine is not Indian, though we are bonded together as blood-brothers. And he isn’t after your women. He is simply having a meal with a woman he admires, as do you.”
Sam knew it was more hopeless to try and reason with a bigot than with a drunk. Still, he felt he had to make the attempt.
Somebody in the crowd called out, “Forget it, Rex. Go on home.”
Rex acted as if he hadn’t heard. He continued, “I’m going to kill me an Indian, and take that necklace around his neck as a souvenir . . .”
Rex’s gun was cocked and aimed as he started to squeeze the trigger. Sam’s gun was still in its holster. It was intended murder, and Sam had no choice but to defend himself.
He fell to the ground and rolled as he drew his gun. The bullet from Rex’s revolver almost grazed his back as it hit the ground and raised a puff of dust where Sam had just been.
Sam fired a shot while still on the move. The gun belched flame and the slug hit the other man squarely in the chest. He staggered, tried to aim his gun again.
Sam fired twice more, spacing the shots within inches of each other.
Blood seeped through Rex’s shirt and he fell lifeless to the ground.
Sam stood cautiously. This was clearly a case of self-defense. There was no law in this town, however, and the crowd might take Rex’s position and try to get together a hanging party.
But nobody made a threatening move toward Sam. The excitement over, they went back to their pursuits as a couple of volunteers dragged the body from the street.
“It’s not the first shooting we’ve seen in this town, and won’t be the last,” Hart said from behind Sam.
“It’s such a waste,” Sam said.
“True. But most of the shootings here have been in the back. At least you two faced each other. You may not be so lucky next time.”
Matt and Malinda rode in relative silence back to town. It was not an uncomfortable silence. It was more the easy feeling two people get who are simply enjoying each other’s company.
Finally, near the hotel, Matt said, “I still have a couple of questions for you.”
“Yes? I’ve been waiting all night for the question.”
“Is Malinda Melody your real name?”
The woman laughed. “So that’s the question! If you don’t tell anybody, I’ll tell you my real name.”
“I won’t tell a soul.”
“Smith. My given name is Malinda Smith. Not very catchy, is it?”
“Sounds good to me. But the way I look at it, a name is what you make it. But you acted like you thought I was going to ask you another question. What would that be?”
“I though you were going to ask if you could kiss me.”
“That was my other question.”
Matt got the answer to his second question as her lips met his.
He had just started to enjoy their soft and inviting warmth when he heard the gunshots.
“That’s Sam,” Matt said. “He may need my help.”
“How do you know it’s him?”
“It’s just a feeling. We’ve rode together long enough that it’s almost a sixth sense.”
“Then go. Here’s the hotel. I’ll be alright.”
“I’ll see you again?”
“Of course.”
And then Matt was gone, disappearing into the shadows to back up his brother, if needed.
Had anybody seen Matt and Malinda arrive back in town? Parrish doubted it. And if they had, who cared? She still would have been last seen with Bodine, so her disappearance would naturally be credited to him.
Parrish waited patiently by his horse, watching the buckboard drive up to the hotel. He was a little surprised
that Strep or another bodyguard was not around to receive her. But maybe Jordan was miffed and didn’t want Malinda to think he was upset by this turn of events?
Malinda and Matt’s final kiss was cut short when the gunshots rang out. Malinda gave Matt a final quick peck on the cheek as he stepped down from the buckboard and ran toward the shots.
This was the chance that Parrish had been waiting for.
Chapter Eleven
Malinda was surprised at her reaction to the stranger in town. Matt Bodine surely wasn’t any better or worse than any of the hundreds of other western men wanting to meet her and know her . . . and more. She was not overly vain, but she knew that many men in Jordanville would kill for the chance at even the quick kiss she had given Matt.
And why had she warmed up to him so much? She first agreed to have dinner with Matt as a dig at Jordan, to show him that he still did not entirely own her. It was more a product of her stubborn streak than anything else. She hadn’t expected to have a good time. And she certainly hadn’t expected to tell him her life story.
On the other hand, Matt Bodine and his blood-brother and partner, Sam Two-Wolves, seemed to be the kind of men to do the unexpected. Perhaps it was not unreasonable for the same to happen to those they came into contact with?
Malinda watched as Matt tipped his hat and took off in the direction of the gunshots. She watched until he turned the corner, and then disappeared from sight. Malinda realized that though she had talked a lot about herself, he had revealed little about his past. She wondered about where he had been, what he had seen, what his future plans might be. Malinda decided that if circumstances were different, she might even wind up liking Matt a lot . . .
She knew she should be getting ready for that night’s show. Still, she sat in the buckboard, listening to the sounds of night. The natural sounds of insects and birds were almost drowned out by the noise spilling out of the saloons into the street. She heard footsteps in the dark alley, and figured it was Strep or another of Jordan’s men. It would be just like Jordan to get impatient and send men out looking for her.
Malinda lifted the bottom of her dress slightly and started to step down from the buckboard when she suddenly felt strong arms around her body and a rough hand over her mouth.
She tried to bite the hand and then to scream. To her surprise, it was Matt’s name at the tip of her tongue. It made no difference who she called for help, since the words were immediately choked off by a gag stuffed into her mouth.
The woman tried to kick and scream, but the hold on her was too tight. Her hands were quickly tied behind her and a bag slipped over her head and a blanket wrapped around her body. She felt herself lifted off the ground, carried a few dozen feet, and dumped on the back of a horse. She felt the rear of the saddle under her, and guessed that whoever was kidnapping her had placed her on the back of the horse he was riding. Malinda wriggled and kicked, but all she managed to do was fall off the horse to the ground.
The jolt knocked the wind out of her, and she couldn’t scream now even if her mouth wasn’t gagged.
Who was doing this to her? Could Jordan be going to extremes to punish her for having dinner with Bodine? Who else would dare to do this to her?
Her unseen attacker lifted her from the ground, but before she could make another move, the woman felt a quick, jarring blow to her head with what could have been the handle of a gun.
Malinda’s questions came to a sliding halt as she lost consciousness.
The crowd had already started to clear and Rex’s body was being dragged away when Matt came upon the scene and quickly figured out what had happened. Sam, though appearing nonchalant, kept his eyes on the crowd in case anybody else wanted to make trouble.
“Same guy that gave us trouble last night,” Matt said.
Sam nodded his head in agreement. “I wish these troublemakers would think a little before they start shooting,” he said.
“They never have, and I guess they never will.”
Sam’s face suddenly broke into a grin. “Well, Mr. Ladies Man, how did your dinner date work out?”
“I didn’t make her sing for her supper, though I was tempted,” Matt said. “I might have guessed that she was just another saloon floozy, with a little better voice than most. That wasn’t the case. She really is a nice woman.”
“Then what’s she doing with you?”
Matt grinned back. The two men then started walking down the street, side by side.
“Anything new on this Jordan-Hart fight?”
“I may have a lead, but I can’t be sure just yet. I do have a gut feeling that this thing will come to a head pretty soon. And you’re not helping matters any by stirring the pot.”
“It’s more fun to keep things stirred up.”
“Yeah. I know. What’s your next step?”
“To see Malinda’s show again tonight, of course.”
“Of course. She give you some free tickets?”
“Nah. I wouldn’t take advantage of a woman’s favors to get me a free admission!”
Sam’s response was a snort. “While you’re at the show, I’m going to do a little more snooping. There’s one trail I’m curious about.”
“You’re going to try to pick up a trail in the dark?”
“Why not? Sometimes star light brings out features lost during the day.”
“Have my horse saddled, and I’ll join you after the show.”
“You’re so generous!”
“Guess I have a weak spot in my heart for you, brother.”
“Or in your head!”
Parrish had made his camp a few miles down river. His trip out of town with his prisoner was uneventful. The few that saw him didn’t suspect anything unusual. He hadn’t made any special attempt to cover his tracks, since he figured he wouldn’t be followed.
He chuckled to himself when he thought of the scene when Malinda didn’t make her show. If he guessed correctly, Matt Bodine would be right in the middle of the crowd. He and Sam might beat one man, or even a gang of men. Surely they could not escape an entire town of enraged men.
Parrish glanced over at the woman, sitting at the edge of the light cast by the camp fire. She was tied. The sack had been removed while the woman was still unconscious and replaced with a blindfold. The gunfighter figured the woman was a little bruised, but otherwise unhurt.
“You want some coffee?” he asked.
Malinda said stiffly, “How can I drink it with my hands tied?”
“I can help you.”
“I’d rather die of thirst.”
“Suit yourself.”
Parrish kicked another stick onto the fire and took a closer look at the woman. She was prettier than most women and she had a certain amount of class. Still, Parrish wasn’t sure what all the hoopla was about. One woman was about like any other woman in his mind.
Parrish wondered what he would do with the woman when he was through with her. He could let her go, since she couldn’t identify him. He supposed he could ransom her back to Jordan. Or it might be better revenge on Jordan for the woman to simply disappear.
He would make that decision later. For now, he wanted to see the show in town that would take the place of the absent Malinda Melody.
The gunfighter kicked some dirt on the fire, tossed a blanket over Malinda to protect her from the evening dampness, and mounted his horse for the ride into town.
Matthew Bodine knew he had been pushing his luck. Some of the men in town would be jealous of his moves on Malinda. Jordan might be looking for some way to even the score. Rex’s friends might be looking for revenge. It was not in Matt’s nature to “play it safe” and blend into the background, but he did know the value of caution. So he waited until Malinda’s show was about ready to start and then situated himself near an exit.
It had only been a little more than twenty-four hours since Matt and Sam had entered Jordanville, but now everybody knew them. Many in the crowd cast sidelong glances at Matt. Other small groups ta
lked in whispers among themselves. All gave him a wide berth.
As show time neared, the men grabbed their drinks and moved as close to the stage as possible, jostling each other for standing room only. The crowd grew silent in anticipation.
Only this time Malinda did not appear on stage.
The men stared in amazement. Slowly, whispers started in one corner of the room and spread to the others.
Five minutes passed. Then ten minutes passed. After twenty minutes the crowd was restless. The room seemed even more hot and crowded than usual.
Nelson Jordan stepped on stage. He was greeted with a chorus of boos and catcalls.
“Gentlemen, there’s been a slight delay,” he said.
A voice in the crowd called out, “Where’s Malinda?”
Another voice cried, “Get off the stage! We want Malinda! We paid our money! We want Malinda!”
Jordan held out his hands and said, “Give us a few more minutes. If the show must be canceled tonight, we will refund your money!”
“We don’t want our money! We want Malinda!”
Jordan disappeared from the stage.
Matt frowned. What had happened to Malinda? He had left her at the hotel in plenty of time to make the show. When he had left her, she was in fine shape. So why wasn’t she on stage?
Matt decided he had better look into the matter. He edged toward the door and was almost there when Nelson Jordan stepped between Matt and the door. Matt stopped with his face just inches from Jordan’s.
“Why isn’t Malinda on stage?” Matt asked in a soft voice. “If you’ve hurt her in any way because she had dinner with me, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
“I have the same question of you,” Jordan said in an equally soft voice.
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