"They were in on it with you from the first, weren't they?"
"Hell, it was all Mart's idea. We all rode together when we were pullin' jobs in Missouri and Arkansas. Then he decided he wanted to get respectable and talked Dave into comin' out here with him. He built that damned hotel and saloon and even got hisself elected mayor. Got Dave the marshal's job. But when it didn't work out, it didn't take him long at all to go back to the old ways! He sent for me, told me to get a gang together and we'd clean up. So far we have been, too." A shrewd look came into Rainey's eyes. "And you're just tryin' to get me to talk to keep from gettin' your brain cooked for that much longer. But it's not gonna work." He turned to Scanlon and Jonah. "I told you two to get on the other end of that rope!"
"We're goin'," Jonah said. He walked around the big rock.
Boone Scanlon followed more reluctantly, casting a glance back at Tilghman as he did so. Tilghman didn't say anything, but his solemn gaze was a mute reminder of Casey Spencer.
At least, he hoped so. That slender thread was the only thing he had to cling to.
The rope at Tilghman's feet grew taut. He started sliding toward the fire. Rainey moved behind him, bent down, got hold of him under the arms and lifted him. His feet kept rising until he was almost upside down. With most of his weight on the rope, Rainey was able to maneuver him around the fire, then let go of him and give him a shove that sent him crashing against the rock face.
The flames were right below him. Tilghman's lips drew back from his teeth in a grimace as the terrible heat surrounded him. He expected his hair to catch on fire at any second.
"Haul him up higher!" Rainey yelled. "I'll tell you when to stop!"
Tilghman's head bumped painfully against the rock as he rose a couple of feet. The heat was only marginally better. He knew he wouldn't last long like this. Already it felt like his eyeballs were about to explode.
"A little more! There, that's good! Hold him right there!"
Tilghman came to a stop with his head about five feet above the fire. This was the worst thing he had ever experienced. But he still wasn't going to give up.
He had to draw in a deep breath in order to shout, and the super-heated air seemed to sear his lungs. He yelled, "Boone! You can still stop this!"
"Shut up, lawdog!" Rainey yelled. He cackled as he drew his gun and pulled back the hammer. The revolver roared twice. A bullet slammed into the rock face on either side of Tilghman, just a couple of feet away. Little slivers of rock stung his face. "By the time you're good an' cooked, you'll be beggin' me to put you out of your misery! But I won't do it, no, sir!"
Two more shots blasted into the rock around Tilghman as Rainey continued to torment the lawman. Then another report sounded, but it didn't come from Rainey's gun. Tilghman's heart leaped in his chest as he realized it came from the other side of the boulder.
A split-second later, he plummeted toward the flames beneath him as the rope, loose now, slithered over the top of the rock.
Chapter 12
Tilghman twisted desperately in mid-air as he fell so that he wouldn't land directly on his head and probably break his neck. He crashed into the fire on his left shoulder first and rolled. Flames licked at his exposed skin and made him want to scream.
He gritted his teeth and swung his legs to kick out at Cal Rainey as the boss rustler charged up to the very edge of the fire. The blow swept Rainey's legs out from under him and dumped him in the flames as well. Rainey yelled as he toppled into the fire.
Tilghman got his feet against the ground and shoved as hard as he could in an attempt to get away from the blaze. His clothes were smoldering now. He rolled over and over on the dirt, smothering the tiny flames that began to leap up.
He had scattered the burning branches when he landed among them. One lay only a couple of feet away. Tilghman put his back to it and thrust his hands as far behind him as he could, holding the ropes in the flames that still danced along the wood.
Again he wanted to scream from the pain as the fire blistered his skin, but he felt the strands around his wrists weakening. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bunched under his coat as he heaved against the burning rope as hard as he could.
It parted, and suddenly his arms were free. He looked around and saw Rainey scrambling clear of the fire, yelling and cussing as he did so.
Between them lay the revolver that Rainey had dropped when Tilghman kicked his feet out from under him.
Desperation, fueled as well by the anger Tilghman felt over the hell Rainey had put him through, gave the lawman a slight edge as he lunged toward the gun. He reached it first and scooped it up in both hands. His fingers were partially numb from his wrists being tied and didn't want to work right. They felt swollen and clumsy.
But he managed to tip the barrel up and pull the hammer back as Rainey charged toward him. Tilghman got a finger on the trigger and squeezed.
The gun bucked in his hands as it blasted a bullet through Rainey's shoulder. Blood flew in the air as the slug's impact drove Rainey backward.
Over the roaring of his pulse in his head, Tilghman heard rapid footsteps rushing toward him. He rolled and twisted and brought the gun up again. He didn't know if Rainey was in the habit of carrying the hammer on an empty chamber. If he was, that meant the gun was empty.
Tilghman didn't have to find out. A few yards away, Boone Scanlon came to a sliding stop and cried, "Don't shoot, Marshal!" He had a gun in his hand, but he dropped it and thrust both arms skyward. "Don't shoot, I came to help you!"
Tilghman believed him. He dropped Rainey's gun and pushed himself into a sitting position.
"Pick up your gun and cover Rainey," he told Scanlon as he began fumbling with the bonds around his ankles. "I don't know how bad he's hit."
Scanlon hesitated for a second, then did as Tilghman told him. He retrieved his gun, pointed it at the fallen Rainey, and dug in his pocket with his left hand. When he brought out a clasp knife, he tossed it on the ground next to Tilghman.
"Try that, Marshal," he said. "You might have better luck."
Tilghman picked up the knife. It took a minute for him to get the blade open. When he did, he started sawing on the ropes that fastened his ankles together.
"What about Jonah?" he asked Scanlon.
The young man looked a little sick as he choked out, "He's dead. First man I ever killed. And the last one, I hope."
"I hope so, too, kid," Tilghman said. The rope fell away from his legs as he finished cutting through the twisted strands.
"I just couldn't let Cal go through with it," Scanlon went on. "I told Jonah we had to help you. I started to let go of the rope, but he hung on to it with one hand while he made a grab for his gun with the other. I got mine out first and shot him." Scanlon shook his head. "When we both let go of the rope, that dumped you right in the fire, didn't it?"
"The burns I got will heal," Tilghman told him. "The way things were going, I wouldn't have lasted much longer. You saved my life, Boone, and shooting Jonah was self-defense. If you were telling me the truth about never killing anybody else, I can help you with the court, just like I said."
"It's true, all right, but I did rustle a heap of cattle," Scanlon said gloomily.
"And saved a federal marshal's life. I'd like to think that's worth something."
Tilghman had been letting the blood flow back into his feet as he talked, restoring the feeling in those mostly numb extremities. Now he climbed a little unsteadily to his feet and checked Rainey's gun.
Empty, just like he'd suspected. But it was a .45 like the one Tilghman carried, so fresh cartridges from the loops on the lawman's shell belt fit the chambers just fine.
When he had the gun reloaded, he stepped over to Rainey, who lay on the ground clutching his bullet-shattered shoulder and whimpering. There was a lot of blood on Rainey's shirt, soaking the sleeve down to the elbow.
"It's a long ride back to Guthrie," Tilghman said as he tore strips off the bottom of Rainey's shirt and started usi
ng them to bind up the wounded shoulder as best he could. "If I try to take Rainey there, he probably won't make it. There's a doctor in Burnt Creek, though, isn't there?"
"Yeah," Scanlon said, "but Mayor Rainey and the marshal are there, too."
"Well, I'll just have to deal with them when the time comes," Tilghman said with a thin smile. "You want to help me get Cal on his horse?"
"After what I did for you, you expect me to go back with you and face the law?"
Tilghman said, "I expect you to do that for your own sake, not mine, Boone. If you run now, you'll spend the rest of your life on the run. There won't be any way you can ever marry Casey and have a family with her. But if you go back and face whatever you've got coming to you, face it like a man, the two of you can start over. I'm not saying it'll be easy. It won't. But you can do it and still build a life worth having."
A small, bitter laugh escaped from Scanlon's lips. He said, "Are you a star packer or a sky pilot, Marshal Tilghman?"
He shook his head, indicating that Tilghman didn't have to answer, and holstered his gun. "You take his feet. I'll get his shoulders."
"Careful of the busted one."
"After what he did, I'd think that you'd want to cause him as much pain as possible."
"That's not the way I do things," Tilghman said. "He's my prisoner now, so I'll take care of him the best I can."
"Am I your prisoner?" Scanlon asked as he bent to get a grip under the wounded rustler's shoulders.
Tilghman took hold of Rainey's ankles and said, "We'll talk about that later."
They lifted Rainey into the saddle, setting him upright this time. Tilghman tied Rainey's wrists to the saddle horn. Rainey was only half-conscious and swayed on the horse's back.
"We'll ride close beside him on either side and keep him from falling off," Tilghman told Scanlon. He had already seen that his horse was with the other mounts, having been recovered from the rocks where he had taken cover earlier.
Minutes later, after Tilghman kicked out the last few burning branches from the fire that had almost been his death pyre, they rode away from the place. Tilghman's hat was gone, but he wasn't going to waste time looking for it.
"Was it Garza who got behind me and jumped me back there in the rocks?" he asked Scanlon.
"Yeah. You'd winged him, but he said he could do it anyway. Jonah told him to give it a try."
"Were you the fella who tried to crawl across that open stretch in front of me?"
Scanlon grunted and said, "Yeah. I reckon you scared me out of a year's growth when those shots came so close to me, Marshal. It's a good thing the light wasn't any better or you would have ventilated me for sure."
"The light was plenty good," Tilghman drawled. "I was trying to miss you, son. I don't kill unless I have to, and tonight that habit paid off. If I'd drilled you, you wouldn't have been around to help me, and I reckon I'd be roast meat by now."
"Funny how things work out, ain't it?"
"You could say that." Tilghman paused, then asked, "How did the three of you come to be after us? I thought I'd grabbed Rainey without anybody knowing about it."
"He'd told Jonah to keep the cattle moving on to the next canyon where we were gonna graze them, but Jonah turned back to ask him something and got there in time to see you riding off with the boss slung over his saddle. Garza and I were the first ones Jonah found when he went to look for some help. Garza knows these parts better than anybody. He suggested we get around in front of you and set up an ambush. It nearly worked. I don't know what warned you he was about to shoot, Marshal."
"Instinct," Tilghman said. "I saw moonlight reflect off something and figured it was a rifle barrel. That's what made me duck."
"Yeah, but that reflection could've been anything."
"I suppose it could have. And if it had turned out to be harmless, I might've felt a little foolish about reacting the way I did. But I'd have still been alive, wouldn't I?"
Scanlon laughed softly and said, "You're right about that. I guess when you've been a lawman for a long time, you learn that it's better to be careful."
"That's what keeps us alive. That . . . and a big helping of good luck."
The half-breed Garza might know the Devil's Hand better than anyone else, according to Scanlon, but the young cowboy-turned-outlaw was pretty familiar with the area, too. He led Tilghman out of the stretch of rugged hills and pointed them toward the settlement. Tilghman wasn't sure anymore that they could reach Burnt Creek by morning, but he was still going to try.
After they had ridden for a while, Scanlon asked, "How are you acquainted with Casey, Marshal?"
"She waited on me in the hotel dining room. And then she snuck into my room last night and asked me to help you. She's been mighty worried about you, son."
"Yeah, that sounds like her," Scanlon said. "I tried to tell her for a while that I was no good, that she could do a whole heap better than me, but she wouldn't listen. She's got a mind of her own. How'd she know I've been riding with Cal and his bunch?"
"She figured it out," Tilghman said. "I don't reckon it was that hard."
"Yeah, she's smart, too. She's a lot better than an owlhoot like me deserves."
"Then don't be an owlhoot anymore. Earn the way she feels about you."
"That's a lot easier said than done."
"Most things worth doing aren't very easy."
Rainey hadn't made any sounds for a while except an occasional low moan. Now he said disgustedly, "Will you two shut up? I'm bleedin' to death here, and you're yammerin' about some girl!"
"Don't expect any sympathy from me, Rainey," Tilghman snapped. "Some men would've just put a bullet in your head and made things a lot simpler."
"You can't do that, though, can you? High an' mighty lawman. My brothers'll do for you. You don't know what you're ridin' into, Tilghman."
"We'll find out soon enough," Tilghman said. "As soon as we get back to Burnt Creek."
Chapter 13
The eastern sky was gray with the approach of dawn as Tilghman, Scanlon, and Cal Rainey neared the settlement. Tilghman had hoped to reach Burnt Creek earlier than this, increasing the chances of surprising Dave Rainey and taking him prisoner, but under the circumstances he considered himself lucky to be alive, so he couldn't complain too much.
He reined to a halt while they were still several hundred yards away and brought Rainey's horse to a stop as well. Scanlon followed suit.
"We don't want Rainey doing any yelling when we ride in," Tilghman said. "Boone, use your bandanna to gag him."
Rainey let out a string of curses at the idea of being gagged again. Scanlon cut off the flow of profanity by shoving his bandanna in the boss rustler's mouth and tying it behind Rainey's head.
"Now he can't alert his brothers," Tilghman said. "Come on. We need to make it to the back of the jail. Maybe I can get the drop on Dave."
"And lock him up in one of his own cells, along with Cal?" Scanlon nodded. "That sounds like a good idea."
Something occurred to Tilghman. He asked, "What do you know about the deputy?"
"Coley Barnett? We used to punch cattle together, before he went into the law business and I went . . . Well, we both know where I went."
"But is he part of the gang? Does he know what the Rainey brothers have really been up to?"
"I'd bet a hat that he doesn't," Scanlon said. "Coley's honest as the day is long. Dave Rainey's been using him to take care of the marshal's duties while Dave sits back and collects his share of the loot from the rustling and the robberies."
"Would he believe you if you told him what's been going on?"
Scanlon rubbed his chin and frowned in thought.
"Maybe," he said. "We always got along well. And I reckon he'd sure take the word of a deputy U.S. marshal."
"Then if we run into any trouble, we might be able to get some help from him."
"Yeah, I think there's a good chance of that," Scanlon agreed.
Tilghman nodded and said, "We'd be
tter get busy, then, before it gets any lighter. It's already late enough that quite a few folks will be up and around."
"Dave Rainey shouldn't be one of them. From what I've heard Cal say about him, Dave's not one to get up early."
That was encouraging. Tilghman heeled his horse into motion again. They rode through the gray dawn toward the town, where lights were beginning to appear in some of the windows.
Their route took them past the livery stable. The big double doors were closed, but one of them swung open as the three riders passed. Raoul Gonzalez stepped out, yawning sleepily and stretching. He stopped in mid-yawn and his eyes widened as much as his mouth was when he saw Tilghman, Scanlon, and Rainey.
"¡Caramba!" he exclaimed softly. "Señor Marshal Tilghman, is that – "
"It is," Tilghman said. An idea occurred to him. "Señor Gonzalez, I need to use your barn for a few minutes."
He motioned for Scanlon and Rainey to ride into the cavernous building.
Gonzalez hurriedly opened the other door to give them plenty of room. He was clearly nervous as he said, "Señor Marshal, what are you doing?"
"I'm going to leave these two here while I go to the jail," Tilghman said. "I'll stand a better chance of not attracting attention if I'm by myself."
"You trust me that much, Marshal?" Scanlon asked.
"I don't have much choice in the matter. Anyway, you've done enough to tell me that you'd rather be on the side of the law, Boone. Now you've got that chance."
Scanlon nodded and promised solemnly, "I won't let you down."
Gonzalez motioned toward the prisoner and said, "This is Cal Rainey, señor."
"I know that. He's the boss of that rustling ring. One of the bosses, anyway. I'm on my way to round up the other two now."
"I don't have to ask who you mean," Gonzalez said. "You should be very careful. Mayor Rainey, he has quite a few men who work for him. Men who are not good, if you know what I mean."
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