“All right, but do you think we have another chance, Waco?”
“Always a chance,” he told her. “Your dad said something about praying. He’s a praying man?”
“Yes, he is, and my mother, too. Do you ever pray, Waco?”
“No, wouldn’t be right.”
“Not right? What do you mean?”
“A fellow like me, I never think of God, never do anything for God, then out of the blue I start beggin’. Seems pretty small to me.”
Sabrina chose her words carefully before she spoke. “I think all of us have to reach some point where the only thing we can do is ask God. Until we get there, we’re pretty likely to stay stubborn—at least that’s what I’ve been. I’m turning in. We have a lot facing us tomorrow.”
“What do you think about this fellow Waco, Sabrina?”
“Think about him? Why, I don’t know.” She had come to her father’s room early in the morning to talk to him, and now he said, “Well, you must have some thoughts, girl. You trusted him enough to go gallivanting around the desert with him.”
“I—don’t really know, Dad. He’s a strange man.”
Charles Warren knew this elder daughter of his. She never had acted like this about a man before, and her difficulty in speaking of Waco Smith made him want to ask more, but he decided not to press her. “Well, I’ve discovered one thing. He’s tough as a boot heel. Far as I know he’s not vicious.”
“He’s had a hard life,” Sabrina said. “I think if he’d had more chances, he would have made something out of himself. He’s very quick. Not educated, but he knows things. He’s what you used to call ‘country smart.’”
“He’s quick-witted all right. You know, he looks kind of like a wolf. His eyes are sharp, looking right through you.”
“I dread the funeral. I don’t do well at funerals, but I’ve never lost anyone that I was close to like I was to Silas.”
“Well, funerals are never happy affairs.”
Waco accompanied the Warrens as they left the hotel and went to the small, weather-beaten white church. The funeral was heartbreaking.
The minister was a well-built man with greenish eyes and curly blond hair. He had known Longstreet for many years, and he preached a sermon about how wonderful it was that Silas Longstreet had stepped from one world into another one. “In an instant’s time,” he said, “he stepped from earth to heaven. And however many problems he had, he doesn’t have them anymore.”
The mourners left the church after the sermon, went out to the cemetery, and gathered around the grave. “Would you care to say a few words, Judge Parker?” the minister said.
Parker cleared his throat. “I’m not a preacher, but I am a believer, and I want to say something about Silas my friend. Well, that’s what he was to me. He was more than a marshal, you know. He had a hard job, and he always did his duty, but even when he was doing the hardest things, he stood by the way of Jesus Christ. He was a faithful servant, and his greatest desire, as he told me many times, was to stand before God and to be with his faithful wife, Lottie.” He hesitated and then looked around the crowd. “One of the last things Silas said to me before he went on this trip concerned some of you standing here. He was worried and concerned about your souls.”
The preacher then read Scripture, and the wooden coffin was lowered.
Waco turned and left, but Sabrina caught up with him. “I’ve cried myself out, Waco.”
“I wish I could cry. I know I’d feel better.”
Waco heard someone call his name, and he turned to see Judge Parker approach him. The tall man’s face was grave, and he said, “I didn’t want to call any names in public, and it was you, Waco, and Miss Sabrina here, that Silas was concerned about. Before he left, he asked me to pray for you, and if I had a chance to give you an encouragement to turn to the Lord.”
“How kind of you, Judge,” Sabrina said. Tears filled her eyes again. “He was such a good man.”
Waco escorted the Warrens back to their hotel. He began to walk a bit aimlessly down the street. He was hard hit by the death of Silas Longstreet, and his grief was mixed with a bitter, fiery anger against LeBeau. He finally encountered Heck and said, “I don’t think a posse will ever catch up with LeBeau.”
“No, he’s pretty sharp. When he sees a bunch comin’, he’ll kill that girl or threaten to.”
“Somebody’s got to pay for Silas,” Waco said, then turned and walked away without another word.
Later in the day, Charles and his family were seated on the front porch of the hotel.
“There comes Waco,” Sabrina said. “He has that serious look on his face. He’s thought of something.”
“You think so?”
“I know that look, like he could bite an iron spike in two. He’s stubborn about things like that.”
“Hello, Mr. Warren. Mrs. Warren. Sabrina.”
“Sit down. Tell us what you’ve been doing, Waco,” Charles said. Now he saw what Sabrina meant about the steady look on Waco Smith’s face. His features seemed to be set in metal somehow. There was a dark preoccupation in his face, and Warren saw that he was a man taller than the average, heavier boned, more solid in chest and arms. His life, perhaps even the life in prison, had trimmed him lean. Exposure to rain and sun and cold had built within him a reserve of vitality. Warren knew without being told that never in his life had he known real peace. There is a sorrow shining through this man, Warren thought, guiding him into strange ways.
“I’ve been thinking, and I have a plan for getting your daughter back.”
Instantly all three members of the family straightened up. “What is it?” Sabrina asked quickly.
“Well, we’ve talked about how it’s hard to sneak up on LeBeau. He’s ready for that. But you know if somebody was there on the inside, a member of the gang, well, he could make a chance to get your daughter away, Mr. Warren.”
“Are you thinking about yourself?” Charles Warren spoke sharply.
“I can’t think of anybody else,” Waco replied offhandedly. “I know LeBeau. All he really knows about me is that I’ve had my share of run-ins with the marshal. As a matter of fact, we rode together for a while. He trusted me then.”
“That will be pretty dangerous,” Mr. Warren said. “If they found what you’re there for, they’d kill you in a blink. You think he knows you were in that shootout when the marshal got shot?”
“No, it was dark. I didn’t say anything. I was hid real good.”
Sabrina said plaintively, “Waco, how could you do it? I mean, even if you were there, they’d be watching you. They’d be suspicious, wouldn’t they?”
“They’re suspicious of everybody, that bunch is.” Waco shrugged. “But like I say, if I was right there, I could make a chance for Marianne. They’d ride out sometime and leave just a man or two with her. I might be one of those men they leave. Then I’d just take Marianne and ride out with her.”
Silence fell over the group, and every face except Waco’s was troubled. After a while Charles Warren said, “I’ve thought of everything in the world, but not one idea that would have a chance. Maybe, just maybe, this one would, but it’s dangerous. I’d pay you for it though. Real well.”
Waco did not act as if he had heard.
“How could the rest of us help? You can’t go out alone.”
“Better that way.” Waco looked at Sabrina and said, “So if you agree to it, I’ll pull out as soon as Gray Wolf comes in. Probably a couple more days.”
“But we’ve got to make a better plan than this,” Sabrina protested. “You propose just to disappear into the desert. You can’t get in touch with us. We won’t know what’s happening.” The vehement flow of words stopped, and her eyes narrowed.
Charles Warren knew his daughter’s determined expression. “What’s going on in that head of yours, girl? I know that look.”
“I just had an idea, but I’ll have to think about it.” She got up suddenly and left without another word.
; “Well, there she goes. We’ve seen her look like that before, haven’t we, Caroline?”
“Yes, we have.”
“I don’t know what she’d be able to think about in this kind of a situation.” Waco shook his head. “Anyway, I’ll see you again before I leave.”
The sun lit the tips of the eastern mountains, touching the ragged rim of the hills. Then livid red balls began to break out, spilling over the spires and peaks and rough-cut summits of the mountains far to Waco’s left. He looked quickly as light flashed a thousand sharp splinters against the sky, creating a fan-shaped aurora against the upper blue. He had watched the mountains since he had left Fort Smith an hour earlier, and now hot silence covered the summit as he stared. He heard only the staccato beat of a woodpecker pattering rocking waves of noise out in the distance.
Suddenly, as if he had received a clearly spoken warning, a sense of danger overtook him. He had had this sense before, and it had saved him more than once. He drew his horse in sharply and took shelter behind a large outcropping of rocks. Dismounting, he tied his horse to a small sapling and crept back. Inching his way on his belly, he worked his way up to the top of the outcropping of rocks. He lay flat, his outline invisible to any onlookers, appearing only as a darker part of the stone. There was enough light to see, and now he heard what he thought he had heard more than once that morning, a sound of hoofbeats coming from the same direction he had traveled.
Lying as motionless as the rock beneath him, every nerve in Waco was tingling with a familiar sensation, one he had always felt at the approach of danger. More than once since he had left Fort Smith he had sensed that someone was following, but never until now had he heard the sound of pursuit.
The hoofbeats of a single horse sounded along the trail that wound directly beneath the rock. With extreme caution, Waco moved into a crouch, his legs gathered beneath him, his boots gripping the rough surface. He could have used his gun, but he was wary of the sound of gunshots carried to other ears.
Suddenly a horse appeared with a single rider. Waco tensed his muscles. The animal slowed to a trot. Waco’s nostrils flared as he tried to judge the distance. The rider would pass within five feet of him. He could easily ambush the stranger without having to arouse any unwanted attention.
When the shadowy figure appeared directly in front of him, he released himself in a powerful spring, the muscles of his legs thrusting him forcefully, his arms outstretched. Knocking the rider from the saddle, the two of them hit the ground. The horse reared and neighed shrilly, and from underneath Waco heard a muffled grunt. He pinned the rider down, and his hand went down the side of the coat looking for a weapon.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “Why are you following me?” Even as he spoke, he caught the faint wisp of delicate scent. He whirled the rider around and knocked the low-brimmed hat back, then stood in shock. “Sabrina!”
Sabrina was gasping desperately for breath. “You didn’t have to do this.”
Hot anger coursed through Waco, and a chill of fear gripped him over what might have happened. “You crazy, fool woman!” he shouted. “I almost shot you!” Clutching the lapels of the jacket she wore, he pulled her to her feet and bellowed, “What are you doing out here? Don’t you know you could get killed? Assuming I didn’t shoot you first, there are Indians and outlaws around here.”
Sabrina was finally able to draw a deep breath. “I was following you.”
In disgust Waco muttered, “Fool woman! You could have gotten killed.” He looked up at the sky in disgust and then asked, “Are you hurt?”
“No, just the breath knocked out of me. I know you are furious with me, but I had to come. I had to. You’re going into danger, and I didn’t like—I mean, I didn’t think it would work.”
“Does your dad know you’re here?”
“Yes, I left him a letter telling him what we’re going to do.”
“What we’re going to do?” Waco jerked to a stop. “We’re not going to do anything. You’re going back to Fort Smith.”
“Wait a minute. Please, Waco,” she begged. “Just let me tell you my idea. Just give me a minute, please.”
“Oh, for crying—” Waco blew an exasperated breath. “Well, let me go catch your horse. He’s probably halfway to the next territory by now.”
He turned and scrambled up the steep rock outcropping, went to his horse, and swung into the saddle. It was an easy job to catch her mount, for the little bay had not gone far before she stopped. Waco found her dawdling around nibbling at some scrub brush. On the next rise he could see the form of a rider, and he recognized Gray Wolf’s familiar mount. Grabbing the reins, he went back to Sabrina. “Well, let’s go riding. Gray Wolf’s up ahead.”
“All right,” Sabrina said meekly. She swung up into the saddle.
Waco relentlessly searched the horizon. “I hope Gray Wolf doesn’t shoot us. Now what’s all this about?”
Eagerly Sabrina began to speak. “I thought of a way that would be better. You were going in blind without any plan at all, and I don’t think it would have worked, Waco. You could have been found out. They could watch you every second. You know they’re suspicious.”
“Well, what’s your plan, Miss Sabrina Warren?” He was still angry at her and couldn’t keep it from his voice.
“All right. I thought about this a lot.” She took a long, deep breath and then spoke rapidly. “You take me into the outlaws’ camp. You tell LeBeau that I’m the daughter of the manager of the Western Express Company over at Durango. I was in New Orleans when LeBeau came to our house, and he won’t know who I am. We never met. Anyway, they ship gold coins usually by train.”
“How do you know that?”
“Some of the men were talking at the hotel. That’s what made me think of it.”
Waco thought then said, “What’s next?”
“You tell them that you kidnapped me and you’re going to make my father give you the number of the train and when it’s due to leave with a big shipment of gold, a million and a half dollars or something like that.”
Despite himself, Waco smiled. “Well, that ought to be enough to get Trey’s attention. So how does this work?”
“We’ll locate some place out here in the desert and plant a sealed bottle there. Your story will be that my father’s going to send us a message about the train.”
“And what then?”
“You tell him that you’ve got this big shipment of gold located, but you don’t have a gang to hold the train up. Trey’s got the gang; you know when the gold will be shipped. You see?”
“What will Marianne say when she sees you? Won’t she accidentally reveal who you are just because she is excited to see her sister?”
“I think if you tell everyone who I am before she has a chance to speak that it will work. She catches on to things pretty quickly.”
Waco couldn’t help himself and muttered, “She didn’t with LeBeau.”
“She was blinded by his loving attention.”
Waco had an active imagination. He rode along without speaking, the clopping of the horses’ hooves on the dusty ground the only sound. The dust rose in the air, and Waco could sense the spicy aroma of sagebrush and the thousand other indefinable scents of the desert that he had grown to love. His mind toyed with what Sabrina had told him, and at length he said reluctantly, “Well, it might work. It has possibilities anyhow. Look, there’s Gray Wolf. I guess I’d better ask him not to shoot us.” He called out, “Gray Wolf, come in here.”
“Will you try it, Waco?”
Waco was of a divided mind. It did sound like a good plan, but it would put Sabrina into danger, and the last thing in the world he needed was for her to get hurt or even killed. He said, “I’ll think on it as we go. If I decide it won’t work, I’ll have Gray Wolf take you back.”
“You can’t do that,” Sabrina said, and suddenly there was that streak of stubbornness that Waco had noted many times. “I’m going to help with this, and you’ve got to let me do it
.”
Waco suddenly grinned. “I probably will. Tell me, woman, was there ever a time when you didn’t get your own way?”
“Yes.” Sabrina smiled brilliantly. “I think it was when I was six years old. Let’s go. I’m anxious to get started.”
PART FOUR
CHAPTER 19
A storm seemed to hover over the land late in the afternoon. The air was filled with streaked lightning and long, booming drums of sound. The sky itself was gloomy and dark, and the wind made a howling noise to accompany it.
This kind of storm Sabrina had never seen before. She lived in a city where the buildings made barriers to cut down on the wind, and she was always indoors when the storms that they did have came. Now the thunder clapped loud and sharply because there was nothing to serve as a barrier, and the sound reverberated endlessly, rolling off into the distance. The thought came to her that this must be something like battle, cannon shots, suddenly deafening and shattering then clattering on, dying by slow degrees. The sound left her stunned, and her ears were dull. The shock seemed to rock the earth.
Lightning suddenly reached down from out of the dark clouds and seemed to fork and branch and grab the ground. The lightning flashes burned and leaped upward, crackling and vivid, dangerous it seemed to her. It almost seared the eyes, and she wanted to cover her ears when the thunder boomed and the white streaks blinded and burned.
She clung to the pommel of her saddle, and slowly the storm seemed to move on. The wind was still there, sounding like the tearing of soft silk, and then without warning rain fell fiercely in slanting lines of light. Glancing over at Waco, she saw that he sat upright in the saddle, appearing to ignore the rainstorm. The fat rain came down on both of them. She noticed it was soaking his clothing, and her own clothing was sodden and uncomfortable.
Waco walked the horses at a medium pace, but now the afternoon was so dark it could have been night. The sky was thick and furred like a blanket. To her the air seemed heavy just to breathe, and there was still the sharp, metallic taste of the storm. For the next half hour the rain did not slacken, and the wind continued to blow, sending before it, high in the sky, vast swollen cloud rollers that slashed earthward in crusted, gravel-core sheets and then in ropey gouts and then in whirling balls of wind.
The Western Justice Trilogy Page 43