‘It’s Miss Sandy,’ Sandy said calmly. She ceased wriggling. ‘These clothes were expensive, and I’ll thank you not to pull them around. Very well, I accept your kind invitation.’
Although the first man kept hold of her arms, Sandy managed to give the appearance of leading him as she entered the shabby shack with the men. As the door closed behind them, Robinson backed away, pausing briefly to untangle his jacket from the spines of the currant bush. What was he going to do now?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Robinson stayed frozen in place until the door closed. Then the spell broke and he gasped in a deep breath. Help: he had to get help. Backing through the undergrowth, he tore his trousers and scratched the back of his hand, but barely noticed. Once clear, he jogged back to the horses, thankfully still where they’d been left.
‘We’ve got to make haste now, yeah?’ he said to his borrowed horse as he unfastened the reins. Robinson dismissed the idea of taking Sandy’s horse with him. It was too far for Sandy to have walked from town, so if the outlaws went looking for her horse and didn’t find it, they would probably guess correctly that another person had taken it away. Turning his own horse, Robinson found himself looking blankly into the trees for a few moments. Picking out the faint trail they’d followed would take time. Jonah wouldn’t sit dithering; what would he do?
Thinking about his surroundings as landscape, Robinson got his answer. All he had to do was to keep moving downhill, and he would reach the creek in the middle of the gulch, which would lead him back down to the river valley. His face lit up, and he set the rangy horse in motion, ducking to scrape beneath the trees.
By the time they reached Motherlode, Robinson was more out of breath than his horse. He wasn’t too unhappy to slow to a jog to pass between a crowd of laden burros and a wagon. Breathing heavily, he looked about, trying to guess where Jonah might be. Looking up and down the busy street, Robinson wondered where to begin. He tried to check his horse, but the bay was striding out keenly and shook its head. Robinson realized it was aiming for its stable, and food. Searching in the town for Jonah would be easier on foot than on horseback, so Robinson let the bay make its way between buildings and into the yard behind Jenny’s parlour house.
Robinson slid gratefully, if not gracefully, from the saddle and tied the horse to a ring on the stable wall. ‘Someone will take care of you, yeah?’ he told it, patting it on the neck before heading across the yard.
The rear door of the parlour house led directly into the kitchen. At the table was a tallish, fair man wearing a cook’s apron, and the black doorman, Albert, drinking coffee together.
‘Ah, good afternoon,’ Robinson said. ‘I was out with Miss Sandy; she assured me it was acceptable for me to borrow Miss Jenny’s horse.’ His brain began to catch up with his actions. ‘Is Miss Jenny in? I need to see her on a rather urgent matter.’
‘She’s in her office with Mr. Durrell,’ Albert informed him.
‘Oh, excellent! I was hoping she might know where Jonah is, yeah? I need him to help Miss Sandy.’
‘Help Miss Sandy?’ Albert repeated, coming to his feet, fast.
Robinson nodded. ‘It is rather urgent.’
Albert led him through to the front of the house, and to Jenny’s office, behind the music parlour. He knocked once before opening the door.
‘Miss Jenny? Mr. Robinson here says Miss Sandy needs help.’
Jonah stood up as Robinson entered the room. ‘What’s this about Sandy?’
Robinson quickly and clearly explained to them both what had happened.
‘I’ll go put on riding clothes; Albert, please call Erica,’ Jenny said, hurrying to the door. She departed, calling for her maid to help her change quickly.
Robinson stared after her, but his attention was brought back by Jonah asking if he’d recognized any of the bandits.
‘Well, no,’ Robinson admitted. ‘I was too worried about Miss Sandy to look closely at the men apprehending her.’
‘All right. What was the shack like? How big was the clearing?’ Jonah asked.
‘Um. . . . A picture paints a thousand words, yeah?’ Robinson took a pencil from Jenny’s desk and drew a diagram of the clearing and buildings on some blotting paper. He neatly sketched in the window and door, showing which way it opened.
‘We’ll need more than three guns,’ Jonah mused, studying the diagram.
‘Marshal Tapton may bring someone with him,’ Robinson suggested.
Jonah shook his head. ‘Tapton won’t come; it’s out of his jurisdiction and he doesn’t approve of whores, so he won’t go out of his way to help them.’ He turned and looked Robinson in the eyes. ‘Have you ever used a gun in combat?’
Robinson straightened himself. ‘Not often,’ he admitted. ‘But on my first trip west, I helped to fight off a war party of Comanches that attacked the stagecoach I was travelling in. It was rather stimulating, but also brutal. I killed men, and I saw others killed. I didn’t panic under fire,’ he added with a touch of pride.
Jonah nodded. ‘I’m glad to hear it; so, we’ll have four guns then.’
Robinson frowned. ‘You and me; who else?’
Jonah grinned at him. ‘Why do you think Jenny and Erica are getting ready to come with us? I’ve seen them in a gunfight and they don’t panic under fire either.’ He clapped Robinson on the shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s get the horses ready.’
They were on their way sooner than Robinson had expected. The women wore simple, practical clothes and rode astride. Jenny was riding one of the chestnut carriage horses she kept, and had her Winchester on her saddle; Erica carried her shotgun. There were an anxious few moments when Robinson struggled to find the place where he and Sandy had turned off and headed into the trees, but Erica spotted the marks they had left and the four were quickly on the move again.
The group spoke very little, conferring now and again over the faint trail. At Robinson’s suggestion, they dismounted and began to lead their horses.
‘Much further?’ Jonah asked.
The newspaperman looked around thoughtfully, squinting into the trees ahead. He absently pushed his springy, brown curls back from his forehead, vaguely aware of his somewhat dishevelled state. Jonah, in contrast, looked nearly as smart as he had at breakfast. Part of Robinson’s mind automatically registered the disparity as an interesting note for a letter, but he was more concerned with their current situation.
‘I think we’re quite close,’ he said softly. ‘We should leave our horses here.’
The others took his word, hitching their mounts, apart from Jonah, who left his grey horse ground tied. Creeping forward, the clearing soon became visible through the trees. Jonah crouched behind a deadfall that was smothered in mountain snowberry. As they looked, there was a sudden burst of noise, accompanied by a shrill whistle, from inside the shack.
‘What are they doing?’ whispered Robinson anxiously.
Jenny frowned in puzzlement. ‘It sounded rather like applause.’
‘Good heavens; they’re not applauding one another for. . .’ Erica stopped speaking as another sound was heard.
After a few moments, they made out the opening lines of a bawdy song in Sandy’s distinctive voice.
Erica stifled a giggle, her eyes shining. ‘How clever of her. Sandy’s found another way to entertain them until help arrives.’
Jonah nodded in approval. ‘Well, help’s here now,’ he said. ‘Jenny, you and I’ll go around this side,’ he said, gesturing to the left. ‘Robinson, you and Erica will approach from the right; they can’t see us approaching from the sides, luckily. When we’ve all reached the shack, we’ll get into position along the front. Robinson and Erica, you crouch beneath the window, ready to pop up, break it and cover them when I go in. You’ll be after me,’ he added to Jenny.
The other three nodded, their expressions sober. Jonah had talked to them on the ride from town, reminding them of the importance of not relaxing their guard, and that a man wasn’t out of the fight
until disarmed. The pairs separated, making their ways around the edge of the clearing to their appointed positions. Robinson peeked out and saw Jonah opposite. When the manhunter gave the signal, Robinson moved cautiously into the open, his plain revolver in hand. He kept the gun in excellent condition, and practised target shooting every three or four months, but it was years since he’d last held a weapon with the intention of actually fighting with it. His nerves were buzzing as he paced rapidly across the grass to the shack.
Only when he reached the end wall safely, did he glance back. Erica was a couple of steps behind him, a look of cool determination on her lovely face. Reassured by the competent way she carried her shotgun, Robinson turned to see Jonah and Jenny in place at the other end of the building. Jonah nodded and began stepping along the front of the shack to the door. Robinson took a couple of steps towards him, before crouching to make his way beneath the window.
He was hunched awkwardly, his long limbs folded at odd angles as he tried to keep low. Looking up to check where Jonah was, Robinson lost his balance and fell sideways against the front of the shack. He bit off a short yelp of surprise as his shoulder crashed into the thin boards. As Robinson pushed himself back to his feet, a shout from inside cut through Sandy’s singing.
‘What was. . .? Something hit. . . .’
Jonah wasted no time. Throwing his shoulder against the shack door, he burst inside, guns in hand. Only the speed he was moving saved his life.
As Robinson rose, Erica was smashing the glass at the bottom of the window with the butt of her shotgun. Annoyed with himself, he gave the dirty glass a hearty smack with his revolver, sending shards everywhere.
A bullet cracked past Jonah’s shoulder as he dived towards the centre of the shack. He found himself facing three armed men.
‘Surrender! Drop your weapons!’ he snapped, even as he was assessing what he saw. Sandy had to be behind him, at the other end of the shack. One of the three men in front, a man with thinning, reddish hair, was trying to correct his aim, following Jonah’s fast entry. Jonah’s long revolver seemed to aim itself. He fired, and the man twisted, falling before he even got his hand to his gun. Even as he saw his first target drop, Jonah glimpsed movement to one side that warned him of danger. He fired fast with his other gun, but the sound of his shot was drowned out by the boom of a shotgun. Blood sprayed the walls of the shack as another man fell, his torso half-shredded by the close-range shot. The smells of wood-smoke and tobacco were replaced by the sharper ones of gunpowder and blood. The last of the three men, his untidy clothing spattered with blood, hastily raised his hands.
Jonah was about to speak when there was a dull, metallic clang from behind, and a cry of pain.
‘It’s all right,’ came Sandy’s voice. ‘You don’t need to worry about this one.’
Jenny, standing beside Jonah, looked over her shoulder and chuckled. ‘I thought you said you were no good with a frying pan?’
‘Only for cooking,’ Sandy corrected. ‘I never said anything about fighting.’
Robinson appeared in the doorway. ‘I’m awfully sorry, yeah?’
‘Never mind,’ Jonah said practically. ‘Go help Miss Sandy with her assailant while I cuff this fellow. Then I’ll have to see to this pair of fools before we can head back to town with them all.’
While Robinson and Sandy dealt with the man at the other end of the room, Jonah watched the uninjured man unbuckle his gunbelt one handed, and toss it onto a nearby bunk. He made no trouble as Jonah cuffed him; he kept glancing in the direction of the window and Erica’s shotgun. Ignoring the red-haired man’s pleas for help, Jonah knelt by the one hit by the shotgun. Bright blood bubbled around the man’s lips, almost the only sign of life. Jonah felt for the pulse in his neck, finding it thin and fast.
‘This may be of some use,’ Robinson suggested, bending to offer a greasy blanket.
Jonah spread it over the dying man; dark patches of blood bloomed on the wool almost immediately as it soaked through. He looked at the newspaperman. Robinson’s face was compassionate but not shaken as he studied the outlaw.
‘Come on,’ Jonah said, rising and moving to the red-haired man. ‘Help me move this fool, Robinson, then fetch the black bag from my saddle, would you?’
‘Of course. I’d love to see your doctor work, yeah?’ Robinson answered, his attention immediately diverted by the thought of new material for his letters.
Robinson felt somewhat self-conscious as they all rode back into Motherlode that afternoon, with the three sullen bandits under restraints and a blanket-wrapped body tied across the saddle of the fourth horse. A search of the shack and stable had produced a couple of hundred dollars in bank bags, but nothing else that looked like the proceeds of a robbery. Jonah smiled cheerfully at the spectators, tipping his hat politely to a couple of women outside a grocery store. Robinson wished he’d combed his hair, but consoled himself with the thought that he was the least-striking member of the party, so no one would notice his appearance. As they halted outside the law office, Marshal Tapton came hurrying along the sidewalk.
‘What have you been up to now?’ he growled at Jonah.
The manhunter slid gracefully from his saddle. ‘Miss Sandy and Robinson uncovered a little nest of vipers up Maggie Gulch.’
Tapton studied the red-haired bandit that Jonah had injured. ‘That’s Rob Roper; he’s done a couple of years for rustling, that I know of. What’s he been up to now?’
‘We were looking for the criminals who robbed the stage and attacked Miss Louise,’ said Robinson, joining them. ‘Though I must confess that none of them look familiar and they deny having anything to do with the hold-up.’
‘Let’s get them inside and off of the street,’ Tapton ordered.
It didn’t take long to get the living bandits locked up and the undertaker sent for to collect the dead one. While Tapton took a statement from Sandy and Robinson, the others looked through a stack of wanted dodgers taken from a wooden box that did service as a filing cabinet. It didn’t take long, as Sandy had charmed the men into giving her their first names as she occupied their attention harmlessly. They were wanted for a variety of simple offences, like rustling or store robberies.
‘This lot’s near on as useless as tits on a bull,’ Jonah remarked. ‘I don’t reckon they could be involved in what needs real planning like stealing a payroll from a stage.’
‘Perhaps if Louise came and saw them?’ Erica suggested. ‘She’d recognize the one who hurt her, and then we’d have a witness placing them at the scene.’
Marshal Tapton spoke up. ‘It’d be her word against his and a jury ain’t gonna take a whore’s word against a man’s.’
‘Not even when the man’s a wanted criminal?’ Sandy asked angrily.
‘Whores are criminals too.’ Tapton stared flatly at her.
Sandy hissed like an angry snake. Jonah moved smoothly to stand beside her.
‘It ain’t fair,’ he said, his dark eyes flashing but his voice calm. ‘But the marshal’s right. Some folks won’t take a woman’s word over a man’s, no matter how respectable she is, and there’s plenty more who hardly even see prostitutes as people. It’s their loss,’ he added, looking down into Sandy’s face. ‘They miss out on getting to know some brave, funny, honest and loyal friends.’
Some of the tension left Sandy’s body as she smiled back. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. And thanks to you, there’s five-hundred dollars of bounty to be collected on these jackasses.’ He held the sheaf of wanted notices out to the lawman. ‘That divides nicely into one-hundred dollars each.’
‘That’s the best news I’ve heard all day!’ Sandy exclaimed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The group returned to Miss Jenny’s house, where a meal was quickly prepared for Sandy and Robinson, who had both missed lunch. Coffee and cake was served for everyone as they talked over recent events.
‘Well, that was a profitable little diversion,’ Jonah said, leaning ba
ck in his chair. ‘But it gets us no closer to finding the bandits. I feel like I’ve been to every saloon, pool hall, gambling den, whorehouse and dance hall in Motherlode, Silverton and Animas Forks, but I’ve heard nothing so far.’
‘Now a few days have passed, maybe you should start again at the beginning?’ Sandy suggested, and laughed at Jonah’s sour expression.
‘Maybe they’ll go to the dance on Friday night,’ Erica suggested light-heartedly.
‘A dance?’ Jonah cheered up. ‘Where?’
Erica shrugged. ‘It’s in that empty building between the two cafés. It’s a respectable do, in order to raise money to start a school.’
‘Isn’t Mrs. Millard something important in the school committee?’ asked Sandy.
Jenny nodded. ‘We’re good enough to service her husband and take his money, but not good enough to be seen in public at the same events as him, even if we give some of that money back for a good cause.’
‘She’s a wizened, old hypocrite who wouldn’t know how to have a good time if she tripped over it,’ Sandy snorted.
‘It doesn’t sound like the kind of shindig a bunch of owlhoots would go to,’ Jonah said. ‘Not unless they fix themselves up with some fancy clothes. Most thieves get money and just spend it, but this lot seem to be keeping it close.’
‘Maybe they put their money in the bank too?’ Sandy suggested drily.
‘What about the other things they took?’ Erica asked. ‘There was a watch, wasn’t there, and Louise’s brooch?’
‘I forgot about that!’ Jonah exclaimed. ‘She said it was a gift.’
Robinson drew out his notebook and flipped it to the right page. ‘I forgot to write a note about it.’ He sounded surprised at his omission. ‘I guess I was more concerned with the attack on her, so the brooch escaped my attention, yeah?’ He looked at the others as though asking forgiveness for his incomplete notes.
‘We’ll get a description of it from her,’ Jonah said. ‘So we can look out for it and try to track the outlaws through it. I’ll go back to Silverton tomorrow.’
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