Deadly Road to Yuma (12 page)

Ike Winslow’s heart pounded heavily in his chest as he approached the place where he had left the outlaws. Dusk hung over the landscape now. He had waited until it started to get dark before leaving Arrowhead, thinking that his departure might more easily escape notice that way.

Not that anyone had paid much attention to him anyway. He had drifted around the town for hours, nursing beers in several different saloons and talking to anybody who’d pass the time of day with him.

There had been no shortage of people who wanted to talk either. Everyone seemed excited about the trial, the verdict, and the sentence that had been handed down. More than one person had gone on at length about how that son of a bitch outlaw Joshua Shade was finally gonna get what he had coming to him.

Ike had no fondness for owlhoots, so it would have been just fine with him, too, if Shade wound up on the end of a rope…if not for the fact that Maggie’s and Caleb’s continued survival depended on Shade staying healthy.

Ike knew quite well that if anything happened to Shade, the gang would have no reason to keep his wife and son alive.

For that reason, he would do anything in his power to help them, even though in the back of his mind he had already realized that once Shade was free, the outlaws would have no further need of him and his family.

He would deal with that ominous prospect when he came to it, he told himself. For now, he had to concentrate on following orders.

Two shadowy forms suddenly materialized out of the twilight. “Hold it right there,” one of them rasped. Ike saw guns pointed at him. “Is that you, pilgrim?”

Ike recognized the voice of the outlaw called Garth. “It’s me,” he said. “I found out what you wanted to know.”

“That’s good, pilgrim, mighty good,” Garth said. “Get down off that horse and tell us all about it.”

An unaccustomed surge of defiance that took him as much by surprise as it must have the outlaws prompted Ike to say, “I’m not telling you anything until I know that my wife and son are all right.”

The other man stepped forward. Ike had already recognized the big sombrero, even in this dim light, so he wasn’t surprised when he heard Gonzalez’s sinister purr.

“Let me teach this foolish gringo a lesson about how he ought to talk to us, Garth,” Gonzalez said. “I’ll make him tell us everything he knows.”

“Back off,” Garth growled. “If you cut him up, he won’t be any good to us anymore if we still need him. I’ve learned my lesson.” He motioned with the gun in his hand. “Come on, Winslow. Your wife and kid are fine. I’ll take you to them.”

Ike dismounted then and followed Garth, leading his horse. Gonzalez fell in behind them, and Ike could hear the Mexican muttering in Spanish. Ike didn’t speak the language, but he was willing to bet that whatever Gonzalez was saying, it wasn’t anything good.

Garth led the way to a depression ringed by trees where the rest of the gang had gathered. Ike’s wagon was parked there as well. His eyes searched desperately in the fading light for Maggie and Caleb, but he didn’t see them.

“Where are they?” he asked, unable to keep the fear from making his voice tremble.

“In the wagon, pilgrim,” Garth told him. “Nobody’s bothered them. Here, gimme that horse and go take a look for yourself.”

Ike handed over the reins and ran to the wagon. When he’d seen the vehicle, he’d hoped that Maggie and Caleb would be in there, but now he had to see them with his own eyes before he would believe it.

“Maggie!” he called when he was still twenty feet from the wagon. “Maggie!”

“Ike!” She scrambled from the wagon bed over the back of the driver’s seat. Her fair hair shone under her bonnet, even in this bad light. “Oh, Ike!”

By the time he reached the vehicle, she had scrambled down to the ground. She threw herself into his arms, and he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, so tightly that it seemed nothing could ever pry them apart.

The leering drawl of the owlhoot called Jeffries managed to do that, though. “Well, ain’t that touching?” He lounged next to the wagon with one shoulder leaned against the sideboards. He held his gun casually in his hand.

Ike stepped back and rested his hands on Maggie’s shoulders. “Did they hurt you or Caleb?” he asked. “Did they lay a hand on you?”

She shook her head. Tears ran down her cheeks. “We’re all right,” she told him. “Caleb’s sound asleep in the wagon. He’s fine, Ike.” She clutched him closer for a second. “Oh, when can we get out of here?”

“Maybe…maybe as soon as I tell them what they want to know.”

From behind him, Garth said, “Be a good idea if you went ahead and did that, pilgrim.”

Ike hated to let go of Maggie, so he kept his arm around her shoulders as he turned to face Garth again. “They had their trial this afternoon, just like you thought they would.”

Garth nodded and said, “With so many people in town today, I figured that must be what was goin’ on. How’d it come out?”

“You know what the verdict was. Guilty.”

Garth nodded again. “Yeah, that ain’t no surprise. What are they gonna do with the boss? They don’t have no gallows built yet.”

“That’s because they’re not going to hang him there in Arrowhead,” Ike said. “A deputy U.S. marshal showed up just as the trial was over with a court order that gave him custody of Shade.”

“You call him Rev’rend Shade,” Gonzalez ordered, emphasizing the command with a snarl.

“Reverend Shade.” Ike nodded, although referring to that bloodthirsty monster as a man of God rubbed him the wrong way. Ike had never been a particularly religious fella, but he believed in the Lord and knew that Joshua Shade wasn’t doing His work, regardless of what the crazy owlhoot claimed.

“Go on,” Garth urged. “What’s this U.S. marshal gonna do with the boss?”

Ike thought the outlaw sounded a little worried now, as if he didn’t like the idea of clashing with a federal lawman.

“He’s going to take Reverend Shade to Yuma Prison. The hanging will take place there.”

“Yuma! Hell, that’s clear across the territory! Why in blazes would the law want to take him all the way over there to hang him?”

Ike shook his head. “I don’t have any idea. From the gossip I heard about what went on in the courtroom, Marshal Thorpe doesn’t know either. All he knows is that he’s got his orders, and he intends to carry them out.”

“Thorpe, eh?” Jeffries said. “So that’s the fella’s name?”

“Yeah. Asa Thorpe.”

Garth looked around at the other bandits. “Anybody heard of this fella Thorpe before?”

“I have,” one of the outlaws said. “He’s supposed to be a pretty tough hombre.”

“But he’s just one man!” Gonzalez said. “We can take the rev’rend away from him, no trouble!”

Garth rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know Thorpe, but he’d be a damned fool to try to take the boss all the way across the territory by himself. I’m surprised he don’t have a cavalry patrol with him, or a posse of deputies.”

“I heard he’s going to deputize some men and take them with him,” Ike said.

“What about Bodine and Two Wolves?” Jeffries asked.

Garth nodded. “Yeah, those two are supposed to be hell on wheels, and they’re the ones who captured Joshua in the first place. Are they goin’ along?”

Ike shook his head again. “No, Marshal Thorpe didn’t want them going. From what I heard, he thinks they’re gunfighters and doesn’t want them along.”

Jeffries snorted contemptuously. “There’s your answer, Garth. This so-called marshal
is
a damned fool.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But he’d be smarter to take those two hellions with him. We’ll take advantage of the fact that he ain’t.”

Ike saw Garth studying him. He didn’t like the look on the outlaw’s face, what he could see of it in the fading light, and he tightened his arm around Maggie’s shoulders. Now that he had accomplished their bidding, were they going to kill him and his family?

“Listen, I’ve done what you asked,” he said quickly. “I found out everything there was to find out. You promised you’d let us go if I helped you.”

An evil, leering smile spread over Gonzalez’s face, and cold steel whispered against leather as he began to draw the big knife at his hip. Maggie sobbed and shuddered against Ike’s side.

He would fight, he told himself, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. In the end, these bastards would do whatever they wanted to.

“Put that pigsticker away, Gonzalez,” Garth snapped.

“But the gringo’s right,” the Mexican protested. “We don’t need ’em no more.”

“I’ll decide what we need and what we don’t need, and I reckon the pilgrim here can still be of some use to us.”

Sensing how close he and his wife and son had just come to death, Ike said, “Whatever it is you want from me, I’ll do it. I swear.”

Garth turned his head toward the other outlaws and said, “Somebody get the pilgrim a six-shooter.”

“Wait a minute,” Jeffries said. “You’re going to give him a gun?”

“That’s right. He can’t volunteer to go along with that U.S. marshal unless he’s armed, now can he?”

Ike stared at the man in disbelief. “You…you want me to go along as one of the deputies?”

“That’s right,” Garth said. “That way, when the time comes for us to make our move, we’ll have you right there amongst ’em to help us.”

“But what can I do? I’m just a farmer!”

“You can point a gun and pull the trigger, can’t you?” Garth smiled savagely at him. “That’s what you’re gonna do, Winslow. The marshal won’t know you’re with us, so you stick close to him. And when the shootin’ starts…”

One of the outlaws brought a coiled shell belt with a holstered Colt attached to it. Garth shoved the weapon into Ike’s stunned hands.

“You take this hogleg and blow that son of a bitchin’ badge toter’s head off,” Garth said.

Matt and Sam were in the Ten Grand that evening, nursing beers and talking with Archie Cochran, when Sheriff Flagg came into the saloon. The sheriff looked around, spotted the blood brothers leaning against the bar, and came over to them.

“Evenin’, Sheriff,” Matt greeted him. “I hear you’ve got one more night to guard your prisoner. Then he’s not your responsibility anymore.”

“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to talk to you fellas about,” Flagg said.

“You want us to spend the night at the jail like we’ve been doing?” Sam asked. “I’m not sure how Marshal Thorpe would feel about that.”

“Yeah, he made it pretty clear he doesn’t have much use for us,” Matt said.

“Listen,” Flagg said, lowering his voice, “I know Thorpe’s a pure-dee jackass, but I got to talk to you boys anyway. Private-like.”

Matt and Sam both drained their beer mugs. There wasn’t much beer left in them anyway.

“We’ll take a walk outside,” Sam suggested as he placed his mug on the bar. Matt’s empty glass thumped down beside it.

The three men left the saloon together and walked toward the sheriff’s office. When they were out of earshot of the Ten Grand, Flagg said, “Thorpe let it be known around town that he’s not leavin’ with Shade until tomorrow mornin’, but that ain’t true.”

“He’s sneakin’ out of town tonight, under cover of darkness,” Matt guessed.

“That’s right.”

“Maybe he’s not as foolish as we thought after all,” Sam said.

“I wouldn’t say that. He’s still bound an’ determined not to take you two with him. But I got me a hunch that you’re goin’ anyway.”

“You think so?” Matt asked.

“You been mixed up in this whole deal so far,” Flagg said. “I just can’t see you turnin’ your backs on it now.”

“Well…” Sam began, “it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for us to tell a lawman that we’re going to defy the wishes of a United States marshal.”

Flagg gave a disgusted snort. “Don’t you fellas know me better’n that by now? I don’t give a hoot in hell what Thorpe thinks. I just want Joshua Shade to make it to Yuma so’s he can dance at the end of a rope where he belongs!”

“All right,” Matt admitted. “We thought we might trail along, just to see what happens.”

“You’d better go get your horses ready to ride then, because Thorpe intends to pull out in less’n half an hour. I didn’t find out about it until just a little while ago, and I come to find you fellas as soon as I could.”

Matt and Sam both felt urgency gripping them. Thorpe’s ruse was actually fairly smart. If the outlaws were somewhere in the hills, keeping an eye on the settlement, they wouldn’t be able to see him slip out of town with his prisoner because of the darkness.

Even if the gang had spies in town, which neither of the blood brothers would have doubted for a second, it was possible they wouldn’t find out that Thorpe and Shade were gone until the next morning. That would give the federal lawman a good head start.

“How many deputies is he taking with him?” Sam asked.

“He’s got nine men lined up to ride with him. There’ll be eight outriders all the time, and a shotgun guard on the wagon box with the driver. Thorpe’s plannin’ on handlin’ the shotgun himself, I think. One of the fellas goin’ with him says he’s a good hand with a wagon team.”

“Can you vouch for all the men goin’ along on the trip?” Matt asked.

“Well…all but a couple of ’em. But the two I don’t know don’t look like any owlhoots I ever seen.”

Matt and Sam glanced at each other. They didn’t know if whoever had assumed command of the gang in Shade’s absence was smart enough to try to plant somebody among the deputies, but it was a possibility. There probably wasn’t much one man could do against nine, though.

“I hope Thorpe’s got enough sense to keep an eye on the two you don’t know,” Sam said, giving voice to the worry that he and Matt shared.

“I’ll say somethin’ to him before he leaves town. He ain’t the friendliest fella I ever met, and he’s right full of himself, no doubt about that. But I don’t think he’s dumb. He’ll keep his eyes open for tricks.”

“So will we,” Matt promised.

Their gear was still in their hotel rooms, even though they hadn’t used those rooms since their first night in Arrowhead. It didn’t take long for them to gather up those few things and head for the livery barn where their horses were stabled.

Sheriff Flagg had told them that Thorpe had the wagon parked behind the jail and would be taking Shade out the rear door, then swinging wide around town to intersect the main trail southwest of the settlement. It was a decent enough plan and stood a chance of fooling the outlaws…assuming that Thorpe wasn’t right about the rest of the gang deserting Shade.

Matt and Sam weren’t going to believe that unless and until the journey to Yuma went off without a hitch.

The elderly hostler was surprised to see them. “You boys leavin’ town in the middle of the night?” he asked as Matt and Sam began saddling their mounts. The old man had come out of the office, which doubled as his living quarters, wearing a nightshirt and scratching his head.

“Thought we’d get a good start while the weather’s cooler,” Matt explained.

“Well, I’m sorry to see you go,” the old-timer said. “You been good customers. Ain’t caused me a lick o’ trouble.” He cackled with laughter. “And things been right excitin’ since you boys rode into town. You draw trouble like honey draws flies.”

“So we’ve been told,” Sam said.

“Too many times,” Matt added.

They drew the cinches tight, secured their saddlebags, and snugged their Winchesters down in the saddle boots. Then they swung up onto the horses. Matt ticked a finger against the brim of his hat and said, “So long, old-timer.”

“Y’all come back any time now, hear?” the man called after them as they rode out.

They went around the barn, through some back alleys, and left town heading south, not following any trail. Once they were well clear of the settlement, they would cut west and pick up the wagon, hanging back so that Thorpe wouldn’t realize he was being followed, but still close enough so that they could catch up in a hurry if any shooting started.

According to what Flagg had told them before they bade the portly sheriff farewell, Thorpe didn’t intend to follow the main road all the way to Tucson and board the train there. The biggest danger would come while he was transporting the prisoner in the wagon, so the sooner they made it to the railroad, the better. Once they were clear of the hills that ranged around Arrowhead, Thorpe could turn due south and reach the Southern Pacific sooner by heading for a little whistle-stop village near the Dragoon Mountains called Pancake Flats.

“You’ll know why when you see the place, too,” Flagg had said. “It’s as flat as a pancake thereabouts.”

Now, as they rode at an easy lope through the night, trusting on their keen sense of direction and their knowledge of the stars to keep them on the right track, Sam said, “Do you think Shade’s gang will actually try to rescue him?”

“I’d bet a hat on it,” Matt said.

“They haven’t shown any signs of it so far.”

“That’s because they’re waiting for the right time. They knew they’d be in for a hard, bloody fight if they tried to bust him out of jail. It’s a hell of a lot easier to waylay a wagon out on the trail, even with guards around it.”

“Yeah, things have worked out pretty well so far for Shade, haven’t they?” Sam mused. “We keep those lynch mobs from getting him, and then instead of being strung up there in Arrowhead as soon as the trial was over, Thorpe shows up to take him all the way to Yuma, giving his gang an even better chance to bust him loose.”

Matt frowned as he looked over at Sam. “You think there’s somethin’ fishy about Thorpe?” he asked. “Like maybe he isn’t a real marshal?”

“Oh, I think he’s real enough. I got a pretty good look at his badge—”

“Anybody can pin on a badge,” Matt pointed out.

“And I took a gander at that court order, too, while Judge Stanfield had it spread out on the table. It was genuine.”

“So if Thorpe’s really a marshal and that court order was the real thing, then what are you sayin’?”

“Just that it’s a mite suspicious, him showing up right when he did,” Sam said. “I’d like to know what prompted the Justice Department to come up with this business of taking Shade to Yuma.”

“Well, when we get done here, I reckon you can just ride on up to Washington and ask,” Matt said.

“I wouldn’t mind going to Washington one of these days. There are a lot of things there that could use some straightening out.”

“Amen, brother,” Matt said.

They rode on into the night, angling southwest when they came to the main trail that led to Tucson. Flagg had told them the landmarks to look for where the smaller trail to Pancake Flats turned off.

“There’ll be a big rock to the left o’ the trail that looks like the head of one o’ them Mexican dogs. You know, the ones with the pointy ears. About fifty yards past it is a lone pine tree. The Pancake Flats trail is just past that pine.”

Now, as they approached a dark, bulky shape beside the trail, Sam pointed at it and said, “That must be the rock Sheriff Flagg was talking about.”

“Yeah, you can see the ears stickin’ up and the snout stickin’ out in front of ’em,” Matt agreed. “Looks like a dog’s head to me.”

Sure enough, just past the big rock, a single pine tree stood solitary watch beside the trail. The blood brothers drew rein beside it and studied the ground in the light of a rising half-moon.

A couple of narrow ruts branched off from the main trail. Sam dismounted and hunkered on his heels next to them, sniffing the air.

“I don’t smell any dust,” he said. “I don’t think the wagon’s come along here yet. We’re ahead of Thorpe.”

“You sure about that?”

“Pretty sure.”

Sam took a lucifer from his shirt pocket and snapped it to life with the thumbnail of his left hand, cupping the right around the flame so that it couldn’t be seen from more than a few feet away. He studied the ground for a moment before snuffing out the match.

“Nobody’s been over this branch trail for days,” he said positively as he straightened. “Let’s get over there behind the rock and wait.”

The dog-head rock was big enough to shield them completely from the road. They had been there for about fifteen minutes when the thudding of hoofbeats and the creaking of wagon wheels announced the approach of someone coming along the trail from Arrowhead.

Matt and Sam put their hands over their horses’ muzzles to keep the animals quiet as the group of riders neared. Invisible in the deep shadows next to the rock, they watched as the first outriders came into view, followed by the wagon and more men on horseback ranged around it.

The wagon had an enclosed bed with a couple of small windows in its sides and one in the back. Slats had been nailed over those windows to form bars. They weren’t as secure as iron bars, of course, but they would do for a short trip. Matt and Sam knew that the wagon ought to reach Pancake Flats and the railroad by nightfall the next day.

The temperature inside that wagon would get mighty hot in the middle of the day, Matt and Sam knew, but neither of them felt any sympathy for Joshua Shade. It was going to be a lot hotter where the outlaw was going.

A hell of a lot hotter, in fact.

A saddle horse was tied on to the back of the wagon, plodding along behind it. Two men were on the seat, one handling the reins attached to the six mules pulling the wagon, the other sitting there with the butt of a shotgun propped against his leg and the twin barrels extending skyward at an angle. The rising moon cast enough light for Matt and Sam to recognize Marshal Asa Thorpe as the shotgunner.

“Ever seen the driver before?” Matt asked in a whisper.

“I can’t really tell in this light, but I don’t think so,” Sam replied.

“There’s somethin’ familiar about him,” Matt mused. “Can’t quite place him, though. Reckon I must’ve seen him around Arrowhead sometime before we left.”

“He was one of the men Sheriff Flagg didn’t know. I hope the sheriff had a chance to warn Thorpe to keep an eye on him.”

“Thorpe’s got enough sense to do that—I hope.”

The wagon and the outriders all swung onto the trail leading south to Pancake Flats. Matt and Sam watched them go, letting them get well ahead before they led their horses out of the shadows next to the rock and mounted up.

Then they set off at an easy lope, heading south themselves and listening for the sound of gunshots in the night.