by Bobbi Smith
"You think they might go after a bank?" Jared went still at the thought.
"It's a possibility. Harris is smart. That's why he's stayed alive this long. If he thinks we're watching the jewels, he'll go after the bank."
Jared was on his feet and starting from the office. "Let's go take a look around."
Harris had enjoyed every minute of the robbery. They'd ridden right into Durango under the nose of Marshal Trent, and nobody had even noticed them. There had been no extra guards at the bank, and they'd taken full advantage. They would have made it out of town without firing a shot if the stupid bank president hadn't gone for a gun. They'd left him lying, bleeding, on the floor. Now Harris had the money and they were getting out of town. Harris charged through the front doors of the bank with Tom, Al, and Terp following close behind him.
Trace and Jared were nearing the area when they heard shots ring out and saw four masked men come running out of the Bank of Durango. They drew their guns instantly as they raced straight toward the action, firing as they went.
Harris was angry that they'd been discovered, but they still had the loot, and they could still get away. They'd done it often enough before. He fired back in the general direction of the gunmen, who were shooting at them as he swung the money-stuffed saddlebags across his horse's back.
Al was running close beside Harris. He gave a sudden scream as hot lead slammed into his back. He fell writhing on the ground, crying out in agony for help from his friends.
"Don't leave me!"
Harris cast only a quick glance at his wounded comrade as he mounted up. They had long ago agreed that if any of them went down, the others would keep going.
Tom and Terp looked Al's way, too, but they did not go to his aid. They leaped on their horses.
Trace and Jared kept firing, hoping to hit another of the outlaws.
Harris turned to shoot back, and it was then that he got a look at the two men coming after them. One had a marshal's badge on his vest, so he knew that had to be Trent. The other man looked like a dude. He was wearing a suit and had eyeglasses on. In spite of the fact that he looked so different, Harris thought there was something familiar about the man. He frowned, but couldn't waste any time on it now. They had to get out of there.
"Let's ride!" he shouted as he put his spurs to his horse's sides. He leaned low as he led his men from town at top speed, firing indiscriminately.
Tom and Terp were riding close behind him. They followed him out of town, shooting at anything and everything that moved.
"Damn!" Trace swore violently as the outlaws made their getaway. He stopped shooting as they disappeared around a corner on their way out of town. "How fast can you get your deputies ready to ride?"
"As fast as I can get to the horses."
"I'll meet you at your office."
Jared hurried inside the bank to check on things there before going to organize his posse.
Trace ran toward the newspaper office to get his horse and let Elise and Andy know what had happened. He found the two of them already out of the building hurrying in the direction of the shots.
"What happened? What were all the gunshots about?" Elise cried out as she ran to him. She had feared that something had happened to him or to her grandmother and George when she'd heard the eruption of gunfire.
"Harris and his men just robbed the bank. We're going after them," Trace said tersely.
They ran back into the office, where he threw off his suit coat and glasses.
As Andy and Elise both looked on, Gabe transformed himself, once and for all, into Trace Jackson. He walked back into his own office, and when he came out, he was carrying his saddlebags and rifle and had his Stetson on. There was no mistaking him for Gabe now. He looked every inch the fierce lawman they knew him to be.
"I don't know when I'll be back," he told Elise solemnly, "but I'm not coming back without Harris."
Elise went to Trace, not caring that Andy was there, and kissed him. "Be careful. I'll be praying for you."
He nodded grimly, then looked up at Andy. "Keep an eye on her," he told him.
Trace strode from the room. He did not look back. If he had, he would have seen Elise standing in the doorway watching him leave, tears running down her cheeks.
Trace reached the marshals office, and the other deputies looked at him strangely.
"Men, I'd like you to meet Trace Jackson," Jared told them.
Their shock was obvious. "You're Sheriff Jackson?"
"That's right," Trace said.
"Then that report in the Star was right!" another said.
"Yeah, the last time I saw Harris, he shot me in the back and killed the rest of the men in my posse. That isn't going to happen this time," he told them with savage determination. "We're not stopping until we've brought him in."
"They wounded Henry Jergens over at the bank," Jared added. "The Harris gang's days are at an end-as of now. Let's ride."
Jared left one deputy behind to take care of things, and the rest of the men rode with them. They were ten heavily armed, very serious lawmen. They were prepared for whatever it would take to bring down the Harris gang once and for all.
The gang's trail was fresh, and the posse rode steadily, doggedly, after them. They never wavered in their pursuit, but they were always watchful of the surrounding area. They were taking no chances, giving Harris no opportunity for an ambush. They had long hours of daylight ahead of them, and they were not about to give up.
"Who the hell is leading that posse?" Harris demanded as they continued their flight into the mountains.
"It must be that Marshal Trent we heard about."
"He's one helluva tracker," Harris complained. "They look like they're gaining on us."
"We'd better move faster," Terp said, worried. He, too, had noticed the way the posse had come quickly after them and had not lost their trail, not even when they'd ridden over rock and through several creeks. These men were good real good.
They stopped talking and concentrated on making their escape, moving ever higher into the mountains.
The posse stayed with them. Their pursuit was relentless. Harris and his men were not going to get away from them. They knew every inch of the area surrounding Durango, and they were determined to catch them before they got too far away. They wanted no surprises from these outlaws. They knew just how deadly they could be. The lawmen stayed on their trail, moving ever more quickly, their eyes always watchful, always suspicious.
"Up ahead about two miles, there's a steepwalled canyon with a single trail up the far end," Jared told Trace as they rode side by side at the head of the posse.
"Will we be able to get any shots off at them before they get a better position on us?"
"If we ride harder, maybe. We can split the posse and send half of the men around the long way. It's several miles longer, but if we stay on them and manage to slow them down in the canyon, they could get to the far end at about the same time Harris and his men are riding out."
"I'll do it," Trace volunteered, wanting the chance to face down Harris.
"You sure?"
"Positive."
"We won't be able to make a run at them when they're upon that trail. There won't be much cover for us, and I don't want to risk losing any men."
"Do what you can. We'll ride our horses into the ground if we have to. They're not getting away again."
Jared reined in and signaled to his men. "I want you four to ride with Trace and take the long route. The rest of us will stay after them, and try to drive them to you-if we can't stop them completely."
Trace and the deputies headed out in the other direction. The deputies explained to Trace why they were glad that Harris and his men had chosen this particular canyon for their escape route. It was tricky terrain, but they were all familiar with it. They didn't know how well the outlaws knew the lay of the land, but right now things seemed to be going their way.
Hours passed. The sun sank lower in the western sky, but stil
l the gang rode on. They could not stop. They could not rest. They could not shake the posse.
"Who the hell are these men?" Terp complained, growing more and more exhausted with each passing mile. "We ain't been chased like this since Jackson was after us that day in Eagle Pass."
"Whoever they are, they're good, but they ain't gonna catch us," Tom said, determined not to give in to his own fear.
"Jackson!" Harris said as if he'd had a revelation, and then he suddenly started to swear out loud.
"What's wrong?"
"It was Jackson! That's who the hell it was with the lawman in town!"
"What are you talking about?" Terp demanded, thinking he'd lost his mind.
"We now know where Trace Jackson's been hiding out all this time. I saw him in Durango. He was one of the two men shooting at us when we came out of the bank. He was the one wearing the eyeglasses!"
"Why would he be doing that?"
"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Matt snarled. "But it was him, and the whole thing was a setup!"
"What do you mean?"
"Jackson probably made up that whole story about the jewels just to draw us into town. And now they're staying on us so close. No wonder they're not giving up or backing off. We gotta find a way to trap them, to turn the tables on them. We got to take them out, just like we did with his posse from Eagle Pass."
"I don't think there's any way to do that up ahead. We can try to get some shots off at them when we start up the trail, but if they stay out of range, there's nothing we can do."
"Well just see about that when we get there," Harris told them, furious.
They rode as quickly as their tired horses could carry them, but every time they looked back they could see the dust of the posse. When they finally reached the end of the canyon and started up the trail that led to the rim, the posse hung back, taking care not to give them anything to shoot at.
"Harris!" Terp called out to him when he saw that the posse was half its original size.
"What?"
"Look! Half the men are gone! They must have split up and sent half the posse to catch us on the other side."
Harris cursed even more violently and kept riding. They were going to get out of this. He was Matt Harris. No one was going to bring him in. It just wasn't going to be easy or simple. It was going to be savage and bloody. He might have missed killing Trace Jackson the first time, but he wouldn't miss again.
Jared was frustrated with his vantage point. He wanted to slow the outlaws' flight and give Trace and the other deputies the time they needed to be ready and waiting for them on the other side. He moved his men in as close as they could get and then ordered them to start firing at the gang as they made the trek to the top of the canyon.
The gang didn't return their fire, but kept riding, their pace slowed as they tried not to give their pursuers any clear or easy shots. They knew they didn't have far to go to escape, and they knew they had to move fast to get away before the rest of the posse showed up.
Harris and his men finally reached the crest and hoped that freedom was just a few miles and a few hours away. If they could elude the posse until sundown, they could sneak away during the night and be long gone by the next morning. They just needed a little luck right now.
But this time, luck was on Trace's side.
As Harris, Tom, and Terp rode the crest and started down the trail they thought would lead to freedom, shots rang out around them.
Trace and the deputies had ridden like the wind to get there before they did. Trace had feared running their horses into the ground, but he knew this was the best place to trap Harris, and he had to do everything he could to make sure the outlaws did not escape them.
At the sound of the shots, Harris, Tom, and Terp spurred their horses on. They tried to get to cover, but bullets were flying around them. Screams erupted as Tom and Terp were both shot. They fell and lay unmoving on the narrow, rocky trail, leaving Harris on his own.
Harris threw himself from his horse's back and dodged into the nearby rocks to hide. He was furious at being trapped this way and desperate to escape. There was no going back. He knew that. Half the posse would be riding up the trail from the canyon now. He couldn't go forward, for Jackson and his men were waiting for him.
Harris looked around, frantically searching for a way out. Behind him was a sheer drop-off of nearly fifty feet to the rushing river below. There was no escape. He was trapped. Jackson had done it. Jackson had won!
The thought left Harris even more enraged. He refused to die easily, though. If he could, he was going to lure Jackson out, so he could at least kill him before he himself was gunned down.
"Throw out your guns, Harris. It's over!" Trace shouted.
"You go to hell, Jackson!" he returned and fired blindly in his direction.
"I've been there already. Now it's your turn."
Harris couldn't tell exactly where Trace's voice was coming from. It disconcerted him, and he tried to decide whether to charge forward and take them all on, or wait it out in hopes that he could pick off a few of the other deputies riding up behind him.
He never got the chance to make a choice. A shiver of terror went down the hardened killer's spine as Jackson's voice spoke up from near by.
"I told you to throw down your gun," Trace snarled as he stood up close to Harris, his gun trained straight at the middle of the outlaw's chest.
Harris had been so distracted trying to think of a way to escape that Trace had managed to crawl forward and get this close to him without being seen.
Harris glared at the lawman, hating him more than he'd ever hated anyone in his entire life. He wanted to shoot him, to try to take him out one last time. He refused to be taken in by a damned posse of lawmen-and especially not by Jackson.
Trace was ready for him, though. When Harris lifted the gun to fire, Trace shot first, hitting him in the shoulder. Harris's gun flew from his hand.
"You bastard!" Harris swore at him. The outlaw stumbled backward, trying to get away.
"You're going in. I'm going to watch you hang!"
Harris continued to back away from him, clutching his shoulder, which was streaming blood. He was dazed and disoriented. He looked back at the edge of the cliff and then back at Trace. Harris smiled an evil grin, then turned and jumped from the cliff, screaming as he plunged more than fifty feet into the raging river below.
Trace lunged forward, trying to grab him before he went over the side. But he was too late. He looked down, praying that he could see Harris below, but there was only the rushing water. There was no sign of the wounded outlaw.
"What happened?"
The other deputies were beside him in an instant.
"I wounded him in the shoulder, but then he jumped."
They looked, too, but couldn't see him anywhere below.
"The other two are dead," Jared said as he and his part of the posse joined them. "You say you shot him?"
Trace nodded. "Then he looked straight at me and jumped."
Jared looked over the edge. "There's no way he could have survived that fall."
"I want to believe that, but I'm going to ride down and check on him anyway. I don't trust Harris. He's got as many lives as a cat, and I'm not taking any chances."
"All right," Jared agreed. "Take half the men with you. Well wait for you back in the canyon."
Trace and the deputies mounted up and rode down to the river. It was a slow, tedious trail, hard for even the most sure-footed of horses. They had less than an hour of sunlight left when they reached the bottom, and they started to search for Harris immediately. The only trace they could find was his battered, sodden hat on the riverbank. Otherwise, there was no sign of him anywhere.
"I'm going to stay the night here and search for him again in the morning," Trace told them. "I don't trust this bastard. If there was any way to live through that fall, Harris did it. Any of you who want to head back and meet Marshal Trent, go ahead. I'm going to stay here and go over t
he area again at daybreak."
Two of the deputies decided to return to Jared with word of his plans, while two stayed on. Trace told them to tell the marshal that he would see him back in town the following day.
They made camp for the night, but decided to post a guard, just in case. They knew how deadly Harris could be, and they wanted to be ready, no matter what.
Jared and his deputies tied the bodies of the dead outlaws to their horses and rode for town once they'd heard from Trace. They managed to travel for about an hour before it became too dark and the horses were too tired to go on. They, too, made camp for the night. They would return to Durango in the morning.
Elise passed a miserable night. Her grandmother and George had come back to the house to stay with her, but even their loving presence had not helped to lessen her fears about Trace's safety. She knew Trace had meant it when he'd said he wouldn't come back without Harris. She knew it might be days, even weeks, before he returned. But being logical didn't change the way she felt. Trace was going after a vicious murderer who'd tried to kill him once before. She would not be able to relax until he was safely back in Durango with her. Morning found Elise up before dawn, restless and tense.
"Sweetheart, are you all right?" Claire asked when she found her in the kitchen.
She gave her grandmother a tight smile. "I'm as good as I can be."
"Trace will be back. I'm sure of it."
"So am 1.1 just wish he was back now."
"Are you going to work at the paper today?"
"I'd better." Elise knew work was the only thing that could keep her distracted from her worries. She smiled more brightly at the thought. "Andy and I can start putting together a special edition on the robbery and on Trace!"
Claire completely understood her need to keep busy. "Well, if you hear anything, let us know right away."
"I will. What do you want to do about Lord and Lady Winston?"
"George and I were discussing that. Do you want to reveal everything about the fabulous `Winston jewels' in your story?"
"Yes, there's no need to keep up the charade any longer."
A short time later, Elise was at the office writing her story. When Andy showed up, he was impressed that she had arrived so early, but he knew the truth.