Wind River

by L. J. Washburn

  "Strawhorn?" Cole repeated. "You were supposed to be keeping an eye on him, not getting into a gunfight with him."

  Casebolt shook his head. "It wasn't a gunfight. He tried to kill me when I caught him havin' a secret meetin' with Durand. They was plannin' to hold up the train and steal that payroll money."

  This was going almost too fast for Cole, and Michael was obviously just as confused. "Where's my wife?" he asked urgently.

  An expression of sympathy and concern appeared on Kent's bearded features. "Durand and Strawhorn and another desperado took her with them, Michael, when they fled from Wind River earlier tonight." He sighed heavily. "They took Mrs. McKay, too."

  "Dear Lord," Michael whispered, his voice stunned. "Was Delia all right?"

  "She was alive when they left here." Kent shook his head. "I can't speak for the safety of either woman by now."

  Cole felt sorry for Michael, who was clearly shaken to the core by this news, but there was no time right now to be patting anybody on the back and telling them things were going to be all right. He said grimly to his deputy, "Billy, you'd better start at the first and tell me everything that's happened around here in the past four days."

  Casebolt did, aided by Dr. Kent. Within a few minutes they had laid it out for him as they had pieced it together, the whole story, from the partnership between Durand and Strawhorn, to the accidental discovery by Delia and Gretchen and Simone, to the outlaws' flight from Wind River with the two women as their hostages. "I'm fixin' to get on their trail right now," Casebolt concluded, "just as soon as the doc gives me my shirt back."

  "You'll do no such thing," Kent said briskly. "If you do anything except rest, Deputy, you'll be risking your life, and I'm not in the habit of losing patients like that."

  "Dr. Kent's right, Billy," Cole told the older man. "You take it easy. You did a damn fine job uncovering all of this, and now you just leave it up to me." His earlier weariness was gone now, forgotten in his desire to see justice catch up to Durand and Strawhorn. "I'll get after them right away."

  "I'm going with you," Michael said in a choked voice. "They've got my wife."

  Cole was about to tell him no, then he saw how futile that would be. If he had been in Michael's place, no force on earth would have stopped him from going after the fugitives. Michael had a right to come along.

  Cole nodded and clapped the young man on the shoulder. "Get yourself a fresh horse," he said. "You'll need one."

  Abigail Paine stepped forward and said, "I'll take care of little Gretchen for you, Michael. She can stay with us until you and Delia get back."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Paine." Michael hugged the child hard, kissed her, then said, "You be good, Gretchen, you hear? I'm going to get your mama."

  The little girl tried to cling to his neck, but Michael handed her over to Abigail, even though Cole could see it pained him to do so. Michael turned to the marshal and nodded his readiness to go.

  "You'll be in charge around here until I get back, Billy," Cole told Casebolt, "but take it easy as much as you can."

  The deputy promised to do as Cole said, then went on, "You better be careful, Marshal. That Strawhorn's fast, damned fast. And you can't trust Durand."

  "I never did," Cole said flatly.

  He and Michael strode out of the doctor's office and went back to where they had left their horses. The mounts were worn-out from the long, fruitless chase, and although Cole hated to set off on some other horse, he knew Ulysses had to have some rest. Quickly, he led the sorrel to the livery barn to be unsaddled. Michael followed him.

  It didn't take long for both men to get fresh mounts under them. As they rode out of the stable Michael asked, "Are you going to form a new posse?"

  Cole shook his head. "The men who went with us are as used up as those horses we left back there. You and me have personal stakes in this, but I can't ask anybody else to go along. There's no way of knowing how long it's going to take, and these folks have lives of their own they need to get on with."

  "You won't turn back, though, will you?" Michael asked desperately. "No matter how long it takes?"

  "I won't turn back," Cole vowed, "not until those ladies are safe, and Durand and Strawhorn have gotten what's coming to them."

  * * *

  Thunder was rolling and booming to the north as Cole and Michael rode northwest. Cole knew from his talk with Casebolt that Strawhorn and Durand had fled in this direction with their captives. He watched the sky as streaks of lightning played through the gathering clouds. "Can't tell if that storm's coming this way or not," he mused aloud.

  "Does it matter if it does?" Michael asked. "You're not really following any tracks, are you? You couldn't see them in the dark."

  "That's true enough," Cole said. He was holding his horse to a walk, saving the animal's strength and stamina for later, if he needed it. "What I thought we'd do is stop by Kermit Sawyers place and find out if anybody there noticed some riders going by earlier in the night. That valley where Sawyer's got his ranch is the easiest passage through the foothills, and I figure Strawhorn and Durand would take that route if they want to put a lot of miles behind them as fast as they can."

  "And if Sawyer or some of his men saw them?"

  Cole shrugged. "Then we'll know we're on the right track. We'll spend the rest of the night at the ranch and start out again at first light in the morning. Like you said, we can't track at night." He paused, then added, "Well, actually, some folks can, if there's enough light from the moon and stars. But that's not the case tonight. Too many clouds have blown in. Getting back to your question, I'd just as soon it didn't rain. That'd just make it harder to follow when we do pick up their tracks."

  Michael nodded and muttered, "I guess there's a lot I don't know about living out here on the frontier."

  Cole glanced over at him. "You'll learn," he said. He had grown to like Michael over the past few days. The young newspaperman hadn't complained any more than any of the other townies, and although he wasn't much good during the fight with the outlaws, he hadn't lost his nerve. As Michael himself had said, he was just inexperienced.

  Cole hoped the youngster lived long enough to gain that experience.

  Even in the darkness, Cole was able to follow the trail that led to Sawyer's Diamond S spread. When he and Michael topped the bluff and started down into the valley, Cole frowned and said, "Look yonder."

  "At what?"

  "All the lights burning at Sawyer's headquarters. Except for a couple of nighthawks, everybody ought to be asleep by now and the cabins ought to be dark. Maybe they've had some trouble." Cole glanced at the sky to the north and could almost feel electricity crackling in the dry air. "Could be the cattle are restless from this weather and Sawyers trying to keep them from stampeding again."

  As they approached the cabins a voice suddenly challenged them from the shadows, demanding to know who they were. "Marshal Tyler and Michael Hatfield from Wind River," Cole called in return. "What's going on around here?"

  "There's been trouble, Marshal," the cowboy who was on guard duty replied, walking his horse out from behind some trees. He was carrying a Winchester across the cantle of his saddle. "Ride on in, but be sure to sing out to let 'em know you're comin'."

  "Thanks," Cole said, then heeled his horse into a faster gait. Michael followed.

  A few minutes later they were being ushered into Sawyer's cabin by another rifle-carrying ranch hand. Another puncher—Cole recognized him as the one who had brought him and Dr. Kent out here after the cowboy called Sammy had been trampled—was sitting in a chair with his bandaged head drooping forward. "It's all my fault," he was saying.

  "I want you to stop that damned foolishness, Lon," Sawyer told him sternly. The old cattleman was sitting on the bed while another man wound a strip of cloth around his head. Both Sawyer and the cowboy called Lon had obviously been clouted by somebody. Sawyer looked up, saw Cole and Michael, and grunted, "It's about time the law got here."

  "What happened?" C
ole asked.

  "That fella Durand was here earlier," Sawyer replied, "along with some hardcase pard of his. That other son of a bitch pistol-whipped me, knocked me out. Then Durand stole the poke I brought up here with me from Texas." He growled, "This country's full o' thieves."

  Cole didn't waste time arguing with him. "Did they have two women with them?"

  Sawyer frowned. "Women? I didn't see anybody but Durand and that bastard Strawhorn, I think Durand called him. After they laid me out, they did the same for Lon here, then stampeded the cattle we had penned up in the corrals and took off headin' north, as best we can figure. Happened less'n an hour ago."

  "They're heading for the mountains," Cole muttered.

  "Yeah." The man bandaging Sawyer's head finished, and the cattleman stood up. "But I'm goin' after them. They won't get away."

  "You'll have company," Cole said. "Michael and I are trailing them, too."

  "What the hell's goin' on, Tyler? I thought Durand was some big important businessman in that town of yours. I even made a deal with him myself."

  Cole said, "We don't know the whole story yet, but it looks like Durand was nothing but a crook. He set up Strawhorn to steal a Union Pacific payroll from the train bringing it in. I took a posse out after the robbers, but two of 'em got away. That had to be Strawhorn and another man. They circled back to Wind River to split the loot with Durand, but things didn't work out for them. All three of them nearly got caught, and they had to run." He looked over at Michael. "Durand probably sent your wife and Mrs. McKay around the ranch with that other outlaw to watch them. They'll all meet up again somewhere north of here."

  "I've done enough jawin', and listened to enough, too," Sawyer said as lie reached for a gunbelt hung from a peg on the wall. "My boys got their hands full keepin' that herd from goin' crazy again, but they can manage without me for a while. I'm goin' after Durand."

  "So are we. Might as well ride together."

  Sawyer looked stonily at Cole for a few seconds, the old resentments obviously still there. But then he nodded abruptly. "Might as well," he agreed.

  The young cowboy called Lon stood up. "I'm going with you, boss," he said.

  Sawyer shook his head. "Nope. I know you feel like vou got a score to settle with those bastards, Lon, but this is a job for the marshal and me and this other fella."

  "Damn it, Mr. Sawyer, one of 'em hit me over the head—"

  "I know it. But I promised—"

  Lon interrupted, his voice bitter. "I know, you promised my mama you'd look after me. But you knew this trip up here wouldn't be easy. Why in blazes did you bring me along if you knew it was goin' to be dangerous?"

  "I've asked myself that same question, boy," snapped Sawyer. "Now, you do as you're told." He finished buckling on the gunbelt, then took down a Winchester from another set of pegs. He picked up his black hat and put it on gingerly, wincing a little as it came down over the bandages around his head. "Come on if you're ridin' with me," he said to Cole and Michael. "We got some owlhoots to catch."

  They followed him out of the ranch house. Sawyer obviously intended to take up the trail tonight, storm or no storm. Now that he knew how close they were behind Durand and Strawhorn, Cole was inclined to agree. It wouldn't hurt to push on for part of the night, anyway.

  The odds were even now, Cole thought as he and Sawyer and Michael mounted up and rode away from the Diamond S. Michael was a greenhorn, of course, but so was Durand, at least to a certain extent.

  Something Sawyer had said came back to Cole suddenly. The rancher had referred to Wind River as "that town of yours." And that was the way Cole thought of it now, he realized. Somehow, without noticing it, he had put his nomadic existence working for the army and the railroad behind him, and now his life was tied up inextricably with the settlement called Wind River.

  Despite the corruption that had lurked underneath the surface, he sensed that the town would be a good place to live, a good place to settle down and make a life. The whole idea came as a surprise to him, and his acceptance of it came as a bigger surprise. He knew now that when he had ridden into Wind River tonight, he felt like he was coming home. He looked forward to experiencing that feeling again.

  But first there was a chore to do and some scores to settle with William Durand and Deke Strawhorn.

  Cole was looking forward to that, too.

  Chapter 17

  Simone's body was a mass of pain as she rocked back and forth in the saddle. Strawhorn had not called a halt until well after midnight the night before, and they had all been up and in the saddle before dawn this morning. The lack of sleep and the unaccustomed exertion had taken a toll on Simone, and on Delia Hatfield as well, Simone knew. Delia was still riding with the man called Benton, who seemed to have taken quite a liking to her.

  So far neither of the women had been molested; the outlaws had been too tired the night before to do anything except sleep and take turns standing guard. But Simone knew that situation wouldn't last. Eventually, once the fugitives thought they were safely beyond pursuit and could slow down, she and Delia would be attacked.

  Before she would allow herself to submit to them, Simone vowed, she would throw herself in a ravine or off the side of a bluff. She just hoped she would have the resolve to carry through on that when the time came.

  Strawhorn and Benton kept an eye on their back trail as they led the group deeper into the foothills. The mountains of the Wind River range were still up ahead, seeming to draw closer at a snail's pace due to the deceptive nature of distances in this high, clear air. From time to time Simone looked back, too, hoping to see someone following them, someone who would rescue her and Delia.

  The outlaws had a good lead on any posse that might have left Wind River, and a larger group wouldn't be able to travel as fast as the three outlaws and their hostages.

  Simone did what she could to slow them down, hanging back on her horse and forcing Strawhorn to ride back and threaten her if she didn't pick up the pace. She knew he was losing patience with her, but she was going to stick to her plan as long as she could. It was the only hope for her and Delia.

  There was one other thing to be thankful for—it hadn't rained the night before. The storm had slid out onto the plains to the east, leaving behind only some distant lightning and thunder. Simone was glad she hadn't been soaked by a downpour.

  And that meant their tracks hadn't been washed out by the storm, too, and she was glad of that. Somewhere back there, someone was following them. She sensed it in her bones, and from their attitudes, so did Strawhorn and Benton. Help was on its way.

  Simone clung to that hope, clung to it tightly.

  * * *

  Michael Hatfield had gone beyond tired. He and Cole and Sawyer hadn't stopped until very late, and Michael had gotten only a couple hours of sleep. Cole let him take the last watch so that at least he could sleep straight through before taking his turn at standing guard, but that hadn't helped much. The long days of riding had hardened Michael's body somewhat. His aching muscles still cried out in protest at every jolt of the horse's hooves, though.

  He didn't waste time and energy feeling sorry for himself. No matter how exhausted he was, the situation had to be worse for Delia, and his thoughts were all of her. He wished with all his heart that they hadn't parted angrily.

  If only he could get her back safely, he promised himself, then he would give in to her demands and take her and Gretchen back to Cincinnati. But that was a big if, and Michael knew it.

  At least it hadn't rained the night before. This morning, as the sun rose, Cole had picked up the tracks of four horses, one of them carrying double judging from the impressions left by its hooves. That was an encouraging sign; it meant that both women were still alive, even if they were also still prisoners.

  Today the air was clear and clean and the sun cast a warm yellow glow as it rose higher in the blue sky. Cole was able to follow the tracks with little trouble, and he kept his companions and himself moving at a gru
eling pace.

  They had already closed up some of the gap, Cole had declared earlier. Michael prayed the marshal was right and kept riding.

  Right now that was all he could do.

  Strawhorn reined in sharply. "Son of a bitch!" He was peering back to the south. Pointing, he asked Benton, "You see what I see?"

  The other outlaw pulled his horse to a stop and turned around to stare at their back trail. About a mile behind them, three figures on horseback were silhouetted for a moment at the top of a ridge. The riders disappeared a second later.

  "I saw 'em," Benton said grimly. "But there ain't nothin' sayin' they're after us, Deke. Could be somebody else ridin' through these hills. Trappers, maybe."

  "Most of the beaver in these parts have been trapped out for twenty years or more." Strawhorn's voice was taut and angry. "I'd be willin' to bet one of those bastards is that damned marshal from Wind River."

  Simone's heart leaped at Strawhorn's bitter declaration. From the first, she had known that the only real chance she and Delia had for survival lay in Cole Tyler. The frontiersman was probably the only man in Wind River with the savvy and toughness to track down the outlaws and rescue the prisoners. She hoped Strawhorn was right about the identity of the pursuers. She looked over at Delia, hoping to see some spark in the eyes of the other woman, but Delia still had her head down. Her shoulders slumped in despair.

  Durand was sweating under the increasingly hot sun. He mopped moisture from his face with what had once been a fine silk handkerchief and asked nervously, "What do we do now?"

  "We saw them, but there's a chance they didn't see us," Strawhorn replied. "They must've damn near rode those horses into the ground to catch up to us. They ain't goin' to get discouraged and turn back. We'll have to deal with 'em sooner or later, and I want to pick the spot for the showdown."

  "Then we push on?" Durand asked.

  "We push on"—Strawhorn nodded—"but as soon as we find a good place to fort up, we'll fix a little surprise for Tyler and whoever he's got with him." A savage grin pulled Strawhorn's lips back. "This'll be one ambush that son of a bitch won't get out of."