“I’m not going anywhere,” she said without hesitation. “This is my home.”
“I know that. But like you said, there’s gonna be a lot of trouble, and . . . I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Frowning darkly, Monroe added, “I hate to agree with the boy, Eden, but you’d probably be safer in Dodge, even as wild as it is. Porter and Norris will put up a fight.”
“And when they do, everybody else in Redemption will have to take their chances.” Stubbornly, Eden shook her head. “No. I’m . . . touched . . . that you want to keep me safe, Bill, but I won’t run out on the town.”
She was showing more backbone now than anybody else in Redemption had for a while, he thought. If everybody in town had been that muleheaded, Porter and Norris wouldn’t have been able to take over as easily as they had.
But that was in the past and couldn’t be changed, just like a lot of other things.
“You really think you could find somebody to help us?” asked Monroe.
Bill nodded. “It might take a day or two, but I believe I can.”
“Take my wagon, then.”
Eden looked at her father. “You’re going to help him with this crazy idea?”
“Those two so-called lawmen will clean out the town if somebody doesn’t stop them,” said Monroe. “They’ll bleed us all dry and ride out leaving Redemption just a husk of a settlement. I don’t want to see that happen.”
“Neither do I, but—”
“I wish you’d go with Harvey.”
Bill couldn’t resist asking, “With a wild Texan?”
Monroe glared at him. “Don’t push your luck, son. Maybe I’ve misjudged you and maybe I haven’t, but these are desperate times. I reckon they call for desperate measures.”
Eden crossed her arms over her chest and returned glare for glare. “I’m not going,” she insisted. “And you can’t make me.”
A wistful smile crossed Monroe’s bearded face. “You sound just like you did when you were a little girl. You’d get like that, and because your mama had died, I’d let you have your way most of the time. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but it was all I could do.” He looked at Bill. “I won’t force her to go with you. But I will give you my word I’ll look after her.”
Eden snorted. “For years now, it’s been me looking out for you.”
Monroe didn’t deny that. He went on, “The wagon’s parked behind the store, and the team is down at Hartnett’s. I’ll tell Josiah to bring the horses down here and hitch them up as soon as it’s dark. You can slip out of town then. Best not to let Porter and Norris know you’re going.”
Bill nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“Can you follow the trail north to Dodge in the dark?” Bill thought about the broad trail that had been pounded into the Kansas earth by millions of hooves belonging to Texas longhorns, and he chuckled. “I can follow it,” he said.
“I figured as much.” Monroe gestured toward the glass-topped cabinet. “Get one of those Winchesters and take it with you. They use the same rounds as the Peacemaker. Better take an extra box of cartridges, too.”
Eden looked back and forth between them. “You two have lost your minds,” she said.
“No, maybe I’m just thinking straight for the first time in quite a spell,” said Monroe. He started for the cabinet. “Think I’ll get one of those Greeners and load it.”
Bill didn’t know where the man’s newfound courage had come from. Sheer desperation, maybe.
Or the realization that a man could go along with evil for just so long before he risked being no better than that himself.
He turned to Eden. “You’re sure you won’t come with me?”
“I’m sure. And you’re bound and determined to do this?”
“I am.”
“Then you have to promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Sure, I—” Bill began.
The promise was cut off by Eden’s lips as she stepped forward, came up on her toes, and pressed her mouth to his.
Instinctively, Bill’s arm went around her and pulled her tighter against him. His pulse thundered inside his head. The feel of Eden’s body molded to his sent the blood racing through his veins, and her lips were warm and moist and even sweeter than he’d thought they would be, when he allowed himself to think about such things.
They broke apart as Perry Monroe snapped closed the shotgun he had taken from the cabinet, after thumbing a couple of shells into its twin barrels. The old man cleared his throat, shook his head, and said, “Well, I reckon now you’ve got an even better reason to come back here, boy.”
“Yeah,” Bill whispered as he looked into Eden’s blue eyes. “I reckon I have.”
Chapter 15
Since it would still be several hours before Bill left Redemption, he expected Eden to try to talk him out of going. She didn’t, though, and he couldn’t help but wonder why.
Maybe after thinking about it she had realized he would be running an even greater risk by staying in town. Monroe was right: now that Bill had defied Porter and Norris and openly accused them of being criminals, they would have to do something about him. As far as they were concerned, his words had painted a target on him.
Smack-dab on his back, in fact.
They might think it over for a little while before they came after him, though, so the sooner he got out of Redemption, the better. He wasn’t running away this time, because he would be back, but when he returned he wouldn’t be alone. If he couldn’t find Hob and the boys, at this time of year he was bound to run into some other Texas cowboys headed home from the railhead. Once he had explained the situation to them, even if they were strangers, he was confident they would help him.
After all, a Texan might wait for the right time, but in the end he never ducked a good fight . . . as General Santa Anna and his army had found out to their everlasting regret on the plains of San Jacinto.
Monroe left the store for a while, and when he came back he said quietly to Bill, “I had to tell him the plan, but I’ve got it fixed up with Josiah Hartnett. He’ll have the team hitched to the wagon as soon as he can after dark.”
“He’ll keep his mouth shut about what I’m doing?” asked Bill.
Monroe gave a curt nod. “Josiah’s suspected all along that either Porter or Norris killed his partner. He’ll do his part, don’t worry.”
Bill stepped out the back door of the store and put the loaded Winchester on the floorboard of the driver’s seat, covered with a blanket. That way he wouldn’t have to go inside to get it later.
Monroe closed the store a little earlier than usual that day. All three of them walked to the house together, and as they went inside, Eden said, “I’ll get supper started. If you’re going to be driving all night, you’ll need some food before you go. I’ll pack some breakfast for you to take along, too.”
Bill nodded. “I’m obliged.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” she said. “You’re risking your life for us, and it hasn’t been even a month yet since you were badly injured. You shouldn’t be fighting our battles for us.”
Somebody had to, thought Bill, but he refrained from saying that. Anyway, the people of Redemption weren’t fighters. They were settlers. There was a difference, and he supposed one group was just as important to the world as the other.
Maybe even more so, because when the fighting was over, as it inevitably would be, there would always be a need for people to keep the world running day after day.
A strained silence hung over the table at supper. Bill was aware that outside, dusk was settling down over the town. He would have to leave soon.
Eden knew that, too, and she frowned as he pushed his empty plate away. “I can get you some more,” she offered.
Bill shook his head. “I appreciate it, but I’d better get started. No telling how far I’ll have to go before I run into somebody who can help us.”
He got to his feet, using the cane to help him rise, and glanced toward
the window. It was dark outside. If he went out the back door of the house and stuck to the alleys, he thought he could reach the rear of the mercantile without anybody seeing him.
It would be a good idea to get as far from Redemption as he could before the crooked lawmen realized he was gone.
“Wait just a minute,” said Monroe as he stood up. He left the room and came back holding a wide-brimmed, flat-crowned hat made of brown felt. It had a black band around it. Monroe held the hat out to Bill and went on, “You’ll need something to keep the sun off your head while you’re on the trail.”
Bill took the hat and nodded. “Much obliged, Mr. Monroe,” he said. He settled it on his head, pleased with the fit. A smile touched his mouth. With a hat on his head and a Colt on his hip, he was starting to feel like a cowboy again, instead of a cowboy pretending to be a store clerk.
“Now, here’s how you need to go to get back to the store,” said Monroe. He gave Bill directions for the best route. “Stick to that, and nobody should spot you.”
Eden still sat at the table, her head down and her gaze on the plate in front of her. Bill hesitated, waiting for her to say something or at least look at him. But she remained silent, eyes downcast.
“Well, I, uh, reckon I’ll be going now,” he finally said.
Monroe stuck out a hand. “Good luck.”
Bill shifted the cane to his left hand and shook with the storekeeper. Monroe glanced at Eden and shrugged. Bill gave a little shake of his head. If she didn’t want to say goodbye, he wasn’t going to force her to.
He walked into the kitchen. Monroe said, “I’ll blow out the lamp, so nobody can see you leaving.”
Bill waited at the door. The lamp went out, and as it did, Eden rushed in from the dining room. She threw her arms around Bill and hugged him tightly, as if she didn’t intend to let go.
He returned the embrace as best he could. She lifted her head and kissed him again. It was as hot and sweet and urgent as the first time. As she pulled back slightly, she whispered, “You come back safe.”
“I will,” he promised.
Once this was all over, once the threat of Porter and Norris had been taken care of, they would have to sit down and figure out what they were going to do next, thought Bill. He knew Eden wouldn’t want to leave Redemption and her father and travel all the way to Texas to be the wife of an almost penniless cowboy.
But he was equally certain he couldn’t stay here and continue clerking in the Monroe mercantile. Perry Monroe had warmed up to him a little, and no doubt he would be willing to provide a job for a son-in-law, but Bill didn’t want that. He couldn’t live that way.
Not even for Eden.
He was getting way ahead of himself, of course. A lot of other things had to happen first, and he had no guarantee he would survive the showdown with Porter and Norris. It would be better to concentrate on dealing with that threat first. Getting too distracted by thoughts of the future could make the present even more dangerous.
He hugged Eden again, then slipped out the door before she could stop him. Monroe closed it behind him, leaving him in the thick shadows behind the house. Bill turned to his left and began making his circuitous way toward Main Street and the mercantile.
He didn’t see anyone. Redemption didn’t quite roll up the sidewalks at sundown, but close to that. The saloon was open, along with a few of the other businesses, but most folks were at home, either having their supper or getting ready to turn in for the night. This was the sort of town where people went to bed with the chickens.
When Bill reached the alley behind the store, he saw the dark shapes of horses looming in front of the wagon. Josiah Hartnett had made good on his promise. The team was hitched up and ready to go. Bill put a hand on the floorboard and felt the hard shape of the Winchester under the blanket. Nobody had bothered it.
He put his cane on the seat, took hold with both hands, and placed his right foot on the step. Since his left leg was still weak, he had to haul most of his weight up with his arms and shoulders. With a grunt of effort, he swung himself onto the seat.
The reins were looped around the brake lever. Bill untied them. He had driven a wagon plenty of times while he was growing up and working on his aunt and uncle’s farm. He clucked to the horses and slapped the reins against their backs. They pulled against the harness and the wagon lurched into motion with a creak of wheels.
Bill stuck to the alley until he reached the edge of town. Then he headed northeast over the prairie. The main cattle trail was half a mile in that direction.
It didn’t take him long to get there. The team handled well, and the wagon was in good shape. It rolled easily over the plains.
Bill turned on the seat and looked behind him. The moon wasn’t up yet, so all he had to go by was starlight. He didn’t see anyone following him. It appeared he’d been lucky and had gotten out of Redemption without anyone knowing he was leaving except Eden, Perry Monroe, and Josiah Hartnett. And they wouldn’t be telling anybody.
The ground was packed so hard by the millions of hooves that had pounded it down, driving on it was almost like driving on a paved city street, Bill supposed. He didn’t know for sure that was true, because he hadn’t actually ever driven on a paved street. Keeping to the trail made for an easy ride, though, and he was grateful for that because it didn’t jar so much on his bad leg.
The stars wheeled through the black sky overhead while he put several miles behind him. He didn’t want the team to get worn out, so he reined the horses to a halt and gave them a chance to rest for a few minutes.
As the wagon rocked to a stop, Bill stiffened on the seat. He heard the swift rataplan of hoofbeats somewhere behind him. A rider was coming up fast.
That didn’t necessarily mean the horsebacker was after him, he told himself, but the possibility was worrisome enough that he twitched the reins and got the horses moving again.
“Sorry,” he muttered, even though the animals couldn’t understand him. “Wish I could’ve let you rest more. Maybe in a little while.”
The rider might veer off to one side or the other. Or maybe he would pass the wagon and continue on toward Dodge. Bill didn’t know, but he could hope.
That hope turned out to be futile. He heard the sharp crack of a rifle as the horseman closed in behind him. His head jerked around, and he saw a spurt of orange muzzle flame in the darkness as the man fired a second round.
This shot came close enough Bill heard the whine of the bullet as it passed over his head. He turned around again and slapped the reins hard against the backs of the team as he shouted at them. The horses broke into a run.
Bill had no doubt the man trying to kill him was either Frank Porter or Zach Norris. Nobody else in Kansas had any reason to want him dead.
Even on the beaten-down cattle trail, the wagon bounced quite a bit as the team stretched out into a gallop. Bill knew the horses couldn’t keep up that pace for very long, and even if they could, it wouldn’t matter, because they couldn’t pull the weight of the wagon and outrun the pursuit. The horseman would catch up sooner or later, most likely sooner.
So Bill did the only thing he could. He hauled back hard on the reins, dragging the team to the left at the same time. The turn was so sharp it caused the wagon to tip. As the wheels left the ground, Bill reached down and grabbed the Winchester from the floorboards.
He leaped clear, sailing into the air as the wagon went over with a grinding crash.
It was a risky move, but it was better than letting the gunman catch up and kill him. He made sure he came down on his good leg. His momentum carried him to the ground, where he rolled over a couple of times in the dust of the trail before coming to a stop.
The horses had broken free of the wagon and were racing off into the night. A few yards from Bill, the overturned vehicle lay on its side, a couple of its wheels still spinning freely in the air.
He planted the rifle butt against the ground and heaved himself to his feet. He was shaken up and breathles
s, but his bad leg seemed to be all right. Limping heavily, he ran to the wagon and dropped behind it just as the hoofbeats of the pursuer’s horse welled up like thunder somewhere close by.
A muzzle flash split the night again. Bill heard the bullet thud into the thick planks of the wagon bed. He brought the Winchester to his shoulder and fired, aiming at the place where he’d seen the jet of orange flame. A horse screamed, and a man gave a hoarse yell of alarm.
Bill figured his shot had knocked the would-be killer’s horse out from under him. The man might be all right, though, and would definitely still have murder on his mind.
That hunch was confirmed a second later when a pair of shots blasted out. These came from a handgun. The man must have dropped his rifle when he was thrown from the wounded horse.
Both slugs hit the wagon but failed to penetrate. The vehicle gave Bill good cover. He fired twice, squeezing off the shots as fast as he could work the Winchester’s lever, then crouched behind the wagon again.
His daring move of deliberately wrecking the wagon was paying some benefits now. Out here on this broad, open trail, there was no cover to be found except the overturned wagon, and he held that ground. He wasn’t out of danger, though. The killer could always circle around and try to get behind him.
A mocking voice floated out of the blackness. “How you doin’, Tex? Bust that bum leg of yours when the wagon turned over?”
Norris. Well, that came as no surprise, thought Bill. He didn’t bother answering, nor did he fire toward the sound of the voice. Norris was probably hugging the ground, and it would be sheer luck if Bill hit him. They were in a standoff of sorts.
But it would end when the moon came up in a little while. Once the silvery illumination washed across the plains, Bill would be able to see his enemy and pick him off.
Norris had to be aware of that, too. He needed to end this fight before moonrise. He wasn’t done goading Bill just yet, though.
“I’ll bet you thought you got out of town without anybody knowin’, didn’t you?” Norris taunted. “Hell, the marshal knew you’d run. He set me to watching the back of Monroe’s store. Said to let you leave town and follow you, whichever way you went, then take care of you once you were far enough away from the settlement. He didn’t know if you’d head north or south. You were gonna go to Dodge to look for some help, weren’t you, cowboy?”
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