Lone Star 05 (24 page)

The next morning, Jessie was quick to sense that something had happened between Ki and Cynthia. After breakfast, as they mounted up and rode out, she saw that the girl stuck as close to Ki as possible, not letting him out of her sight for a moment.

Thad rode beside Jessie, his arm bound up and hanging in the sling. He looked pale and worn, a thick stubble of whiskers on his face. Last night he had slept fitfully and painfully, dreaming of blood and gore and death. He was unrefreshed and restless. Having Jessie nearby calmed him. He felt the familiar stirring in his own loins when he thought back on the time they had spent together. He hoped to God he'd have a chance to be with her in Provo—providing they all got there in one piece.

Jessie was not unaware of Thad's musings, sensing the bounty hunter's concern and affection. She found herself wanting more time alone with him. She could not separate the confused mixture of emotions she felt toward him; before they parted—and they would go their own ways eventually—she wanted to sort out their relationship, to conclude, if possible, on a friendly note. She worried that she had drawn him too closely to her—yet she had only followed her instincts with the man, and she could not deny the true feelings she had for him.

If only Mueller had not gotten away, she might feel as if she had accomplished something. As it was, the affair was incomplete, unfinished. For now, they were going to Provo to bring the boy's body to the authorities and to report Ulysses, Scott's death. Then, without pausing for more than a day or two, she and Ki would have to turn around and hunt down the Prussian.

She did not relish the prospect of another week or month on the trail—but they had to find him, make him confess his part in this mess. She found herself hating the man bitterly, not only for his membership in the cartel, but for the poison he had spread, the deaths he had caused—including Thomas Starbuck's. Mueller had drawn her into his web of danger and deceit, and she would not be free of it until he was brought to justice for his crimes.

The party started off, Jessie at the lead, Cynthia and Ki behind, followed by the extra mounts. The body of the boy was draped across one of the horses, hidden by a blanket. It was as solemn as a funeral train, which, in a sense, it was. They were in no hurry, so they let the animals set their own pace. In this fashion they covered no more than a couple of miles in their first hour out of camp.

As they gained the river trail again and turned to follow its winding westward course, they heard the approach of horses from behind them. Jessie and Thad unholstered their rifles and Ki drove the extra horses ahead of the others, moving them out of the way. Jessie turned in her saddle to see who it was that followed them. “By God,” she said, “I don't know if I can take any more of this. Whoever it is, I'll give them a fight if they want one—but they'll regret it.”

A grin crossing his dark face, Thad nodded. “I don't doubt it, gal. I'd sure as hell hate to run up against you right now.” He was proud of her and knew that she would indeed throw herself into battle with the ferocity of a cornered mountain lion. One thing about Jessie Starbuck, she never gave up.

The oncoming horses crossed a tall ridge just a hundred yards away, and Jessie could see that they were ridden by Mormons; she recognized a face or two from Skyler. A second, closer look revealed that Joshua Carpenter himself was with them, the old man riding as hard as any of the others. Jessie called for her party to halt and stand their ground. If the fiery patriarch wanted a fight, he'd get one—but she'd not provoke it by running or shooting first.

Carpenter had war flames burning in his eyes as he and his men caught up with them on the narrow trail. His stark white-streaked beard streamed over his chest, and his powerful, compact body sat atop a majestic white and tan stallion. It was much different than seeing him hobbling on the withered foot with the aid of his stick. In the saddle he gained the swift physical mobility he lacked on the ground.

He rode up to meet Jessie. His hard gaze held hers as he said, “Young Miss Starbuck, you have caused my people much trouble and angered me. Before you came, we had the situation under control, the prisoner safely incarcerated. But you”—and he glanced around at Ki, Thad, and Cynthia—“turned the place upside down. Many men have died.”

“What is your business with me, Mr. Carpenter?” she asked in a straightforward tone. “It's certainly not my fault that these men have been killed. And as for the prisoner—he's dead too, and we're taking his body to Provo.”

“So you never saw your fair trial after all,” the prophet said. “And has justice been achieved by this impulsive, foolhardy gesture of yours?”

“Mr. Carpenter—” she began, but was cut off by Thad.

“What the hell do you want, Carpenter? We can't stand here jawboning about it all day.”

Carpenter ignored the bounty hunter's interjection, but said, “I do not think you understand, Miss Starbuck, how very near you came to destroying my town, my people. However, I am not judging you—in fact, I am somewhat grateful to you, in a way.”

Jessie's brow furrowed at the strange declaration. “What the Sam Hill, if you'll pardon me, are you saying?” She swiveled around, catching Ki's eye, wondering if he had an idea of what Carpenter might be getting at. But the Oriental did not.

The Mormon leader gave a sort of guttural, gurgling laugh. And on his grizzled face was a look that she supposed indicated he was amused. “First, I have somebody with me whom you probably want to talk to.” He called back to his troops, “Bring him forward!”

One of the Mormons led a man on a horse out from among the others. The man's hands were tied behind his back. His dark suit was soiled and torn and he did not look the prosperous businessman at all. He was Heinrich Mueller.

The livid scar stood out on his flushed forehead. He looked at Carpenter with undistilled hatred, and at Jessie contemptuously. “Carpenter, you have no right—”

“Silence!” Carpenter boomed, his gnarled hand upraised. “I shall determine what I have the right to do. Mind, I needn't have preserved your life at all if I had chosen not to. And I can have you executed at a moment's notice.”

“You're bluffing. My company would be at your throat so quickly as to make your head swim.” A prisoner now himself, the Prussian had not lost his haughty stubbornness. But his threat went unanswered as Carpenter turned again to Jessie Starbuck.

“I have learned from his own lips of the plot to get you to Skyler, Miss Starbuck—how he had the boy claim to be your lost brother. And I want to tell you I knew nothing of that. Also, you must know that I did not send any of my men after you—indeed, they rode off expressly against my orders. I realized that the marshal, Mr. Scott, had jurisdiction over the prisoner, or at least more than I properly did. Nonetheless, Mueller here paid a dozen men to ride with him, to come after you. Therefore they had severed themselves from the community of God by intending to kill you and the others and to take the boy from you.”

“They are all dead, Mr. Carpenter,” Jessie reminded him.

“I know that. I also know that they died in disfavor with the Lord—and with me.” Carpenter seemed to be enjoying the odd reversal of his usual role of the avenging man of God.

Jessie asked him, “What are you getting at, then?”

“Miss Starbuck, this man Mueller was out to do you harm. Since I discovered that, I wanted to give you a chance to question him yourself, if you so wish.”

He gestured at the angry, dishevelled German. Mueller spat, “I've answered all the questions I am going to answer.” He glared at Jessie. “I will not justify my actions to you.”

“I already know
why
you did it. You represent the cartel,” she said. “Nothing they do surprises me anymore.”

Joshua Carpenter's bushy eyebrows rose and fell. He asked her to explain what she meant. She told him. The Mormon narrowed his gaze as he heard of the cartel's role in Alex Starbuck's death and their subsequent dirty dealings. His wrath was boiling over by the time she reached the end of her story.

Jessie then turned to Mueller. “And furthermore, you lured me from Provo, using the kid as bait, because there is something happening there you wanted to conceal from me. What is it, Mueller?”

The German thrust out his unshaven chin. “We shall destroy you,” he hissed. “Even now our man in Provo has reduced your company's operations to rubble.”

“Who is your man in Provo?” Jessie demanded. Even as she asked the question, she knew the answer. She glanced over at Ki, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

Carpenter was ready to explode. Thad and Ki watched the patriarch's reaction with satisfaction. Both men knew that if she convinced him of the rightness of her cause, she would have a staunch ally—and it would not go down well with Mueller.

Carpenter searched Jessie's eyes. “This is true? This man is connected with such unholy dealings as you describe? The murder of your father, the destruction of your business interests in Provo?” Jessie simply nodded. He turned to Mueller. “What do you have to say, son of the devil?”

Mueller shrugged, but held his head up. “I told you, I shall not stoop to justify my actions to this woman. I have not lied to you before, Mr. Carpenter.”

“Nor have you told me the whole truth, man. You led twelve of my men to their graves. I ask you to justify
that
to me!” The rage seethed out of the Mormon and he shook his weathered fist at the Prussian. “And you offered a large sum of money—promised in fact to finance the construction of a fine new town hall for Skyler. What of
that
promise?”

Heinrich Mueller looked furtively from side to side, perspiration soaking his torn shirt collar. “Yes,” he said between clenched teeth, not convincing a soul present. “Believe me, Mr. Carpenter, if you had done as I requested—given the prisoner over to me—”

“Ah, but you promised the money in advance, Mr. Mueller. You were going to wire your company for the funds, and I was to release the boy to you upon the first payment.”

Turning to Jessie, he added apologetically, “This was before I knew the full story, you understand. And perhaps I too was dazzled by the great golden calf he held out to me, to my town which I love. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive a greedy old man.”

“Certainly, Mr. Carpenter,” she said. So unexpected was this turnaround that Jessie could think of no other reply.

The Mormon leader said to Mueller, “So, in order to prove that you were not lying to us, I'm sure you would consent to wire your superiors in this company of yours and request the money you promised. Simply as a gesture of good faith, mind you. We wouldn't expect to take any of the money—but before we release you,
if
we release you, we want to know that you truly did intend to give it to us. Not an unreasonable test, do you think?”

Mueller sputtered. “This is unfair, Carpenter. I say—”

“Why, I think Mr. Carpenter is being quite generous, considering the trouble you've caused him—and the rest of us,” Jessie said. She couldn't help gloating just a bit at the German's discomfort.

Carpenter turned to Cynthia then, his stern glare focused on the frightened widow. “Child,” he said, “I must beg your forgiveness as well. When your husband was mistreating you the other night, and this gentleman”—he pointed toward Ki—“came to your assistance, I berated him unnecessarily. I did not realize—that is, I did not choose to see—that you were being unjustly treated. And for my blindness of the past, this also I ask you to forgive, if you can find it in your heart to do so.”

“Brother Carpenter,” the girl said, faltering with the words, “you're a busy man, and I can't expect you to know everything. It is not your fault that Solomon beat me—and his other wives. I can't forgive you for something you didn't do.”

“Ah, daughter, I am guilty of a sin of
omission
rather than of
commission.
And, yes, for that I beg your pardon—and the Lord's.” He turned to Jessie again. “I have tried to do my duty as a man of God, and I have vowed to sin no more—as much as is humanly possible. And I will direct my people to correct the grievous faults that have become manifest in my person. Building the Kingdom is no easy task, Miss Starbuck, you must understand.”

“I'm beginning to, Mr. Carpenter,” Jessie said.

“Why can you not see fit to forgive me,
Brother
Carpenter?” Mueller said, sensing that he was trapped in a hopeless situation. If the Mormons kept him, he could be sure they'd punish him accordingly and make it hurt; on the other hand, if they set him free he'd have Jessie Starbuck on his tail—and there was no telling what the fiery young woman and her deadly Oriental companion would do. He looked from Carpenter to Jessie and back again.

“Are you prepared to tell Miss Starbuck everything she wants to know?” Carpenter asked him. “Are you ready to ask her for forgiveness?” Mueller said nothing. “I thought as much.” He waved his hand enigmatically, as if calling upon the demons of earth and sky to come forth and ride with the defeated Prussian all the way back to Skyler, or to hell.

Jessie said, “We must be on our way, Mr. Carpenter. I very much appreciate what you've done, and the trouble you took to come here. I want you to take good care of our friend Mueller.”

“Brother Carpenter,” Cynthia suddenly spoke up, surprising everyone, “I think I'd like to go back to Skyler with you—if you'll take me back. I know no other place, no other life.”

A kindly smile flickered over the patriarch's stern face. “Certainly, child,” he said. “The flock should care for its own.”