Sam wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He just had a gut instinct that if he kept looking, something would jump out at him.
He covered the main roads leading into town, and a few smaller paths. In most places, of course, the ground had been trampled into dust. Even so, there were enough isolated prints that Sam could piece together information.
Finally, along one of the lesser-traveled paths, he found something interesting: a hoof print that matched the ones he had seen in town. This time it was much deeper in the soft dust, as if the horse had carried a heavier load than usual.
Sam thought it would be interesting to see where this particular trail led.
He remounted his horse and took it at a run back into town to get Matt’s horse ready for him. Sam thought this was one hunt that Matt would want to participate in.
Matt didn’t like the odds. Jordan was between him and the door. Behind him was a room full of angry miners. And Malinda was missing.
“You were the last person she was with,” Jordan said softly. He was holding his cigar in his hand. “We found the buckboard, but the woman wasn’t on it. As far as I know she never made it to the hotel. Just what is your game, anyway?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Matt answered. “I wouldn’t put it past you to try and pull a dirty trick like this. Trying to frame me and maybe get a lynch mob after me.”
Behind Matt, the crowd started to murmur. Matt heard his name mentioned several times in voices that got increasingly louder.
“Look at it from my viewpoint,” Jordan said, reasonably. “You and your partner come into town uninvited. You beat up and shoot my men. You destroy my property. What makes me think you’d be beyond kidnapping?”
“Those were all fair fights,” Matt said.
Matt could feel the crowd around him moving in closer.
Jordan said loudly, “You were the last man to see Malinda this afternoon. Obviously you did something to her. Perhaps you even killed her?”
Matt lunged at Jordan. “That’s a lie, and I’ll see you in hell before . . .”
Strong arms pulled Matt away from Jordan. The lapels of the businessman’s coat tore away in Matt’s hands as another man tried to pin his arms. Matt didn’t like to fight in such close quarters, but he had no choice.
He lifted a knee into the groin of the attacker in front of him and backhanded the attacker beside him. The man trying to hold him lost his grip. Matt whirled around and punched him in the stomach.
Several more of Jordan’s men had stepped between Matt and the door. Several had pulled their guns, but did not use them for fear of hitting each other.
Matt didn’t have that worry.
He pulled his Colt and fired three quick shots just over the heads of the men in front of him. In the crowded room, the gun sounded like cannon shots. The bullets cut through the hats and grazed the scalps of the men, sending them to the floor. There wasn’t enough room for all of them, and they quickly got tangled up in each other’s legs.
Matt stepped on the back of the closest man, jumped to the chest of the next one, and then leaped toward the window.
“Shoot him!” Jordan cried. “What are you waiting for? Shoot him!”
Several more shots exploded in the room. Matt heard one of the bullets as it whizzed past his head, missing him by only inches.
Matt rolled as he hit the ground. He looked around for the best escape route when he heard the sound of familiar hoof beats.
Sam’s was racing his horse down the street, with Matt’s reins in his hand.
“How’d you know I’d need you about this time?” Matt asked as Sam tossed him the reins.
“I didn’t. You just got lucky.”
“You call this lucky?
“You asked for it.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
In seconds Matt was on horseback.
The angry miners had now gotten off the floor and were trying to climb through the window after Matt. Jordan’s men fired more shots over their heads, sending the men in front to the ground once again.
“Come with me,” Sam said. “I’ve got something to show you.”
“As if I have a choice, with that angry mob behind me?” Matt asked.
By the time Jordan’s men made it out of the building, the two blood-brothers had already disappeared into the night.
Chapter Twelve
Strep was still aching from the beating he had gotten earlier in the day. He was stiff and sore and irritable.
“To hell with Bodine, to hell with Malinda,” he muttered between drinks of whiskey. “Any woman’s a damned sight more trouble than she’s worth.”
When the others had stampeded out of the saloon after Bodine, Strep had remained standing against the bar. The building was now vacant except for him. He reached over the bar, grabbed the bottle and poured another shot.
As he drank, he looked out the window. The damned idiots were mounting horses to give chase. Not that it would do them any good, Strep thought. They’d make so much noise and get in each other’s way so much that they wouldn’t have a chance in hell of finding Bodine, Two-Wolves, or the woman.
If Bodine had the woman. As much as Strep hated Bodine and Two-Wolves, he wasn’t sure they were the kind of men who would kidnap a woman. And if they were, they’d more than likely be a little more careful about showing their faces around town.
Outside, Jordan was waving his arms, giving orders. Strep noticed now that several more persons had joined the outer fringes of the crowd. They were Hart’s men, perhaps curious about what was going on. Or maybe they had a hand in Malinda’s disappearance? Some wore guns around their waists. A few carried rifles.
Tensions were already running high. Strep thought, Wouldn’t it be damned funny if the actual shooting started over a missing woman?
Strep filled his glass again and took it to the door to better hear what was going on.
“I never thought you’d stoop so low as this,” Jordan said. “We both know I’d win eventually. It was only a matter of time. So you had your men strike where you thought I’d be most vulnerable.”
Hart stood with his arms crossed, a defiant look in his eyes. “I’ve had nothing to do with any of this,” Hart answered. “And Heaven help me if I even thought of hurting a single hair of a woman.”
“Well, she’s missing.”
“So she is. Maybe she just decided she’s had enough of you and moved on. Did you ever think of that?”
Jordan inhaled cigar smoke, blew it out through his nose.
“I think you’re getting desperate, and was somehow involved. I hold you personally responsible. If you don’t produce her by morning, I’ll come after you personally. I’m tired of playing nice.”
“Bring all the thugs you want. We’ll still beat you.”
Jordan turned on his heel and headed back for the saloon. Strep moved out of his way as he entered.
“Why aren’t you out looking for Malinda, too?” Jordan snapped.
“There’s no chance that group of idiots could find anything. I’m going out on my own.”
“Then do it,” Jordan said.
Strep finished his glass of whiskey then went outside to get his horse.
Parrish chuckled to himself as he watched Hart and Jordan almost come to blows. He had thought that the shooting might start tonight. Well, there was still the explosives he had stolen from Hart. That would surely be what it would take to finally get the two groups to start shooting at each other in a full-fledged war.
The gunfighter was stretched out in the hayloft of an outbuilding near the center of town. He couldn’t hear all the words being said, but he could follow the action.
The two groups started to break up. Hart and several of his men headed toward the livery. Parrish pushed himself further back into the shadows of the loft.
“You still looking for Parrish?” Hart asked.
“He’s still around, somewhere,” Shannahan said. “I heard some talk that he wa
s spotted this afternoon headed out of town. I’ll find him sooner or later.”
“Make sure you find him before he finds you.”
Parrish had heard enough threats from Shannahan. The gunfighter decided to take care of him right away. The shooting could always be blamed on an overzealous Jordan hand.
Parrish took aim, then stopped as Strep came out into the street. He looked up and down the street and then lit a cigarette.
Parrish let his gun down. If he shot now, Jordan’s man would investigate and Parrish wasn’t ready to let his whereabouts be known. There could be some awkward questions that he didn’t want to get into now.
Hart and his men continued down the Street. Strep waited until they had passed and then came over to the livery. Parrish heard the other man below saddling his horse and then ride out of the building.
With most of Jordan’s men out chasing shadows trying to find Malinda, Parrish would now have a free hand to set the explosives.
Matt and Sam weren’t too worried about the makeshift posse on their trail. Even though they seemed to be in a difficult situation, they didn’t panic or go off half-cocked. They had succeeded against greater odds in the past, and knew they would again. After they got safely out of town, they took the opportunity to get a few hours sleep in a cold camp. They were up before dawn, refreshed and ready to face the day.
The area where they had camped was well-secluded. Since they traveled light, it took only minutes to break camp. They warily circled around. Apparently their pursuers the night before had given up, for there was no sign of unusual activity around Jordanville.
Sam dismounted, followed by Matt.
Sam cast his eyes to the ground, started walking slowly.
“This is not a well-used path,” Sam explained. “With any luck, it should still be . . . Ah-hah! Here it is.”
Matt bent down to also examine the hoof print.
“What good is one print out of all the hundreds of horses in this town?” Matt asked.
“I’ve found the same print in other parts of town where some of the mischief has been going on. By Jordan’s hotel after somebody took a shot at you. By Hart’s supply shed after it had been broken into.”
“Good work, brother. Guess some of my talents are rubbing off on you!”
Sam got back on his horse.
“I’ll admit you’re a decent tracker, though not in my league,” Sam said. “After all, we both learned from the same source. You take that side of the road, and I’ll take this one. That’ll give us a better chance to follow the trail.”
It was not good ground to track on. It was mainly rocks, and what soil there was had been burned into a bricklike surface or stomped into powder. Even so, there was enough sign that trained trackers like Matt and Sam could follow.
The trail led away from town along the path for about a mile. The rider they were following then had turned off the path to the left. The ground here was slightly hilly, with a little more grass. The sign here was a little easier to follow.
After another hour had passed, Sam held up his hand to stop. With silent hand gestures, Sam indicated that the camp of the man they were looking for was just a little ahead. Both men got off their horses, tied them to trees, and approached on foot. Matt took the left, Sam took the right.
They approached slowly, unsure how many men might be in the camp or where guards could be stationed. Matt was a little surprised that he found no indication of guards being posted. And the camp itself seemed deserted. Maybe it was just one man they were following?
Matt crawled closer to the small clearing, carefully pushed aside some brush to get a better look.
Sure enough, there was no sign of activity. Whoever had been in camp and left hours before.
A slight movement caught his eye. Somebody seemed to be under a blanket near the edge of the clearing.
Matt slipped back into the brush, circled around to come up to the tree from behind. He moved to within a few feet of the figure, when it moved again and the blanket fell away to reveal a fair arm that was familiar to Matt.
Strep was admittedly not a great tracker, but he did know the area around Jordanville. His procedure for looking for Malinda was simple. He would start hitting all the possible sites around the area where the woman might be hidden . . . or buried.
He had been searching for most of the night. So far, he had no luck at all.
And then he got lucky.
He had paused briefly on a tall, rocky overlook. He looked out over area, trying to determine where he would look next, when he saw two smaller figures below him.
It was a one-in-a-million chance that he had spotted Matt and Sam. He figured that they knew their way around the wilderness better than most, and would not be seen if they didn’t want to be seen.
If those two were behind Malinda’s disappearance, they would lead him straight to her. The trick now would be to follow without alerting them to his presence.
Again, luck was with him.
Strep had kept to the high ground, satisfying himself with a brief glance from time-to-time through the trees. Then, before more than an hour had passed, Matt and Sam were in the camp.
Strep hurried down the hillside.
If luck remained on his side, he could get the drop on them and rescue Malinda.
Matt cocked his gun, stood, and stepped into the clearing.
Still no movement occurred in or around the camp.
Matt walked around the campsite, scanning the brush around it, wanting to be sure that nobody remained in hiding and this was not some kind of trap.
“It looks clean,” Matt said.
“Same here,” Sam said, also stepping into the clearing.
Matt stepped over to Malinda as Sam kept a wary eye on the surrounding area.
“Good to see you again,” Matt said, cutting loose the blindfold.
Malinda’s eyes widened in surprise and delight. Matt’s hand started to loosen the gag when he heard a noise in the brush and Sam again motioned for silence. Before Matt could comply another voice was heard.
“I thought that if I followed you, you’d lead me to the woman,” Strep said. He stepped into the clearing, his gun in his hand and aimed straight at Matt.
“How’d you find us?” Matt asked, looking at Sam. “I didn’t think we left a trail that you could follow.”
“Keep your insults to yourself,” Strep said. “You’re not going to rile me this time. I’ll admit I had some luck finding you. I just started checking areas around town that might be a campsite. I didn’t know about this one, but I’ll take good luck any day of the week.”
“Before you shoot, don’t forget that there are two of us, and one of you,” Matt said. “And we’re both faster than you.”
“Killing you would be enough for me,” Strep said. “And who knows? I might get lucky and get your partner, too, before I die.”
“Would it make a difference if we could prove we didn’t have a hand in kidnapping Malinda?”
“How do you propose to do that? I followed you straight to this camp. I caught you red-handed here with the woman. That’s enough for anybody.”
Sam motioned to the woman, who was now struggling against her bonds.
“Why don’t you ask her,” Sam suggested.
Strep motioned with his free hand. “Alright. Bodine, you untie her. But don’t try any fancy stuff.”
“The thought never even crossed my mind,” Matt said.
As soon as the gag fell from her mouth, Malinda cried out, “Matt! I’m so glad to see you!”
“I kind of hoped our next meeting would be under slightly different circumstances,” Matt joked.
Strep interrupted the two. “Malinda. Who kidnapped you?”
“I don’t know. He got me from behind. He knocked me out and kept me blindfolded.”
“Was it Bodine?”
“No, it was not Matt.” Malinda’s voice was so sharp-edged it could have cut steel.
“How do you know? You sai
d you didn’t see who it was. Bodine might be playing you along.”
Matt finished untying her ropes. She rubbed her hands together to get some circulation back in them.
“I’m a woman. I would know Matt’s touch anywhere.”
Strep knew when he was beat. He holstered his gun again. Matt helped Malinda up from the ground. He examined the bruises on her face.
“I sure would like to find out who did this to you,” he said.
Sam started poking around in a bag near the center of the camp. He reached in, pulled out a whip.
“I think this might be the answer to your question,” he said.
Strep looked at the two blood-brothers and the woman.
“I’ll ride into town with you all,” Strep said. “But don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t mean we’re friends. If I get a chance, I still plan to kill both of you. I’m riding into town with you because I don’t want some mob to take that satisfaction away from me.”
“You’ve got a big heart,” Matt said.
“Like I said, keep your insults to yourself. I still don’t trust you, and I want to make sure that Malinda gets safely back to town.”
“Alright,” Matt agreed. “A temporary truce. For Malinda’s sake.” He turned to the woman. “We don’t have a buckboard or a wagon. Think you could ride with me, just this once?”
“I’d be happy to,” Malinda said, taking Matt’s hand and jumping up into the saddle behind him.
Chapter Thirteen
Phil Caphorn didn’t expect much from Jordanville, and he wasn’t disappointed.
He glanced with contempt at the sign on the outskirts of town with “Silver Creek” crossed out and “Jordanville” painted in. He laughed at the meager mining operations that had been started. He sneered at the ramshackle buildings, including the Jordan Hotel.
“Jordan this and Jordan that,” he muttered. “Why would he even want to lay claim to a dip in the road like this?”
Caphorn had been born to a life of luxury, so had spent little time among the dirt and grit of those less fortunate. Early in his life he found he had a way with guns, which he quickly capitalized on. The money came fast and easy, financing his expensive lifestyle on a pile of bodies. Only once or twice had anybody even come close to matching him draw-for-draw, so he had developed a cocky attitude that matched his expensive habits. He wrinkled his nose at this poor excuse for a town as he rode down the one main street.
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