Those Jensen Boys! (20 page)

Chance grunted. “Very funny.”

“You need to be careful getting that message to Bess,” Ace told her. “I have some paper and a pencil in my saddlebags. We can go ahead and write it out before you start back down.”

Emily nodded. “That's a good idea. It's your theory, Ace, so you ought to be the one to put it on paper.”

Ace retrieved paper and pencil and sat on the ledge. For the next half hour, he struggled to boil down the whole story into a telegraph message short enough to send quickly. When he finished, he folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket to give to Emily before she left.

It was a long shot, he thought, so the odds were against it working, but as far as he could see, it was the only shot they had.

It all depended on Emily dodging the posse searching on the mountain for them.

He stood and rejoined his fellow fugitives.

“I'll wait until it starts to get dark,” she said. “I can find my way around on this mountain at night better than that blasted posse can.”

“I hope you're right,” Chance said. “There's an awful lot riding on you.”

Sensing that his brother wanted a little more privacy to talk to her, Ace walked over to the edge of the cave-like area under the overhanging rock and peered out at the spectacular landscape stretching from horizon to horizon in front of him. Wyoming was a mighty big place, he thought as he heard their voices murmuring behind him.

He wondered what Bess was doing. She had to be worried sick over her sister, and their father probably felt that way, too. The whole thing hadn't had to come to this, he thought angrily. If Eagleton had simply gone to Brian Corcoran and made him a fair offer for the stage line, Corcoran might have taken it, especially if the mine owner had explained that he was going to build a railroad spur across the valley. That would have rendered stagecoach service obsolete. Corcoran could have taken the money, gone somewhere else, and started over. He wouldn't have had to give up his dream of owning a stagecoach line.

Instead, Eagleton had tried bullying tactics to get what he wanted, and when that didn't work he'd moved on to outright harassment and finally violence, even to the point of causing a stagecoach wreck that likely would have killed the Corcoran sisters. The man's lust for wealth and power ruled him until he couldn't think of anything else.

Shadows began to reach out from the mountains and spread across the landscape in front of Ace. He hadn't realized so much time had passed since they fled Palisade just ahead of the posse. Night would be falling soon and Emily would be heading back down the mountain to the settlement. It would be a dangerous trip in the dark under the best of circumstances.

With a bunch of trigger-happy posse men in her way, anything could happen.

Ace reached up and touched the pocket where he had put the message, feeling the paper crinkle as he pressed on it. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Chance and Emily standing with their heads close together, talking quietly. He didn't know what they were talking about, but it was none of his business anyway.

However, his brother's happiness was, and he knew that Chance would take it mighty hard if anything were to happen to her.

Ace made up his mind, and turned to his horse.

As he put his foot in the stirrup and swung up into the saddle, Chance called out from the other side of the cave, “Ace, what are you doing?”

He turned the horse. “Taking that message to Bess. I kept my eyes open while we were coming up here. I can find my way back down the mountain.”

Emily took a step toward him and exclaimed, “That's crazy! I'm going to—”

“You're going to stay here with Chance,” Ace told her. “Chance, take good care of her.”

“Ace, you don't have to do this,” Chance said. “I've been trying to talk her into letting me go—”

“You're
both
crazy!” Emily lunged toward Ace's horse and reached out to grab the reins, but Chance caught hold of her and pulled her back. As Ace started down the trail, she cried, “You're going to get yourself killed!”

“Maybe not,” Ace called as he half-turned in the saddle to wave at his brother and Emily. “I've got the luck of the Jensens, after all.”

Eagleton scowled at his bodyguard and said in a harsh voice, “Do you want to explain to me again why you didn't just go ahead and kill them when you had the chance? This is the third time you've let the Jensens get away, Buckhorn. What the hell am I paying you for?”

“You're paying me to keep you alive,” Buckhorn answered bluntly. “You're still breathing.”

His shoulder hurt like hell, and he was in no mood to put up with Eagleton browbeating him. The doctor had cleaned and bandaged the wound, which was a simple one—in and out of the shoulder without breaking any bones—and rigged a black silk sling for that arm.

He'd also given Buckhorn a small dose of laudanum, which dulled the pain slightly without making it go away and also made his brain feel fuzzy. Maybe he wasn't as careful as he should have been while talking to the boss.

“Nobody's tried to kill me,” Eagleton said coldly. “It seems to me like you're not earning your money.”

“Maybe they haven't tried to kill you because they know they'd have to get past me, and nobody wants to risk that.” Buckhorn took a deep breath and told himself to stop being so combative, since it wasn't going to do any good. “Look, boss, the way it worked out, I probably couldn't have killed the Jensens without killing Emily Corcoran, too. You told me to bring her back here to you.”

“You should've gone ahead and killed her, too,” Eagleton snapped. “Shown some initiative.”

Buckhorn kept a tight rein on his temper. “That would have meant going against your direct order. I didn't want to do that.”

Eagleton waved a pudgy hand dismissively, turned toward the sideboard in his sitting room, and reached for the brandy decanter “Well, it's over and done with now. Maybe Wheeler and Kaiser will get lucky and catch them. As for you, you're no good to me now with that busted wing—” He stopped short and his breath hissed between his teeth.

Buckhorn's left hand had dropped to the gun holstered on that hip and swept back up with the Colt in it, hammer cocked and ready to fall. The draw was fast, mighty fast, if not performed at quite the same blinding speed as he would have managed with an uninjured right arm. It was still slick enough to have beaten most men. “I wouldn't say I'm exactly useless,” Buckhorn intoned flatly. “I'm pretty good with my left hand, too.”

With the decanter in one hand, Eagleton picked up a glass and splashed brandy into it. “Fine. You've made your point. Now put that gun away.” Even though the revolver wasn't pointed in his direction, he looked a little nervous until Buckhorn pouched the iron.

Instead of sipping the brandy, Eagleton tossed it back.

It would have been easy just then, thought Buckhorn. He had the gun in his hand and Eagleton right there. All he had to do was squeeze the trigger. Rose would never have to submit to the man's brutish caresses again. She would be free, free to . . .

To do what, exactly? To take up with a half-breed gunfighter who would be a wanted murderer? He figured nobody in Palisade could stop him if he killed Eagleton, but the law would be after him from then on if he did. Rose wouldn't want to have anything to do with him in that case.

Or in any other case, he thought bitterly. He was just chasing a dream where she was concerned, a dream that would never come true.

“So you don't know where they are now?” Eagleton asked as if the momentary friction between the two men hadn't taken place.

“Still up on the mountain someplace would be my guess,” Buckhorn said. “The posse hasn't come back as far as I know. They're still up there searching for the Jensens.”

“Maybe luck will be with them,” Eagleton said. “Maybe by morning, those two troublemakers will be dead.”

Buckhorn didn't say anything. He didn't know what to hope for. He wanted to see Ace and Chance Jensen dead just as much as Eagleton did.

He just wanted to do the killing himself.

Night fell like a gate crashing down, dropping darkness across the mountain with breathtaking speed. One minute Ace could see where he was going, the next he was practically blind.

He reined his chestnut to a halt and sat in the saddle for a long moment, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. Once he had gotten used to the dark, the millions of stars in the sable sky arching over the mountains cast enough light for him to see his way.

He also used the pause to listen for any sounds of the posse searching the mountain for the fugitives. He didn't think Marshal Kaiser would give up just because night had fallen.

Not hearing anything, and confident that he could see where he was going again, Ace nudged the horse into motion. He kept the chestnut moving at a deliberate walk because of the thick shadows cloaking the trail and because he wanted to make as little noise as possible.

He had ridden another couple hundred yards when he heard something in front of him. He thought it was the rattle of bit chains, caused by a horse shaking its head. Definitely not any hoofbeats. The rider, whoever he was, was sitting still.

More than one of them, Ace realized a moment later when he heard a soft whisper. It was answered by an equally low-toned voice. He couldn't make out the words, but he knew the men were up ahead of him.

Moving as quietly as possible, he dismounted and left the chestnut's reins dangling so it would stay. He suspected the searchers had heard him coming and were waiting to ambush him. His best chance was to turn that around against them.

He slipped into the rocks, taking it slow. Being careful not to make any more noise than he had to, he hoped the night wind sighing around the mountain's flanks would help cover up any sounds he made. He'd been lucky to hear the ones that had warned him of the other men's presence.

He circled to the left, thinking the lurkers were on that side of the trail. The odds were bad if he encountered only two men. If half a dozen men were waiting to jump him, he'd have to back off and find another trail to take him down the mountain. He gave a shudder at that thought. It would be dangerous. He could wind up lost and wander around in circles.

Every couple steps, he stopped to listen. After several pauses, he heard another whisper and could understand what was being said.

“I thought he was fixin' to ride right past us. I'd have sworn I heard a horse comin'.”

“So did I. He's out there, all right. Could be he stopped to rest his horse.”

“You reckon it might not be one of the Jensens at all? Maybe it's one of the other fellas from the posse and he's lookin' for us. Maybe they already caught both those varmints.”

“Don't you think we'd have heard the shootin'?”

“Maybe they didn't have to kill 'em.”

The second man laughed quietly. “Jed Kaiser's so mad he's gonna grab any chance he can to fill those young fellas full of lead. If they show even the least sign of fight, they're dead if it's the marshal and the men with him who catch 'em.”

Ace didn't doubt the truth of what he had just heard. Kaiser wanted them dead, and that prospect wouldn't disturb Claude Wheeler, either. A couple dead Jensens would work out well all around.

The two men fell silent as they continued to wait for Ace to show up.

He suspected they were volunteer members of the posse. Judging from their voices, they were on the other side of the massive rock next to him.

His eyes were fully adjusted to the darkness, and he could make out quite a bit by the starlight that filtered down from above. As he rounded the boulder, he spotted the two men standing and watching the trail, their horses behind them.

Scenting Ace, one of the horses spooked and tossed its head.

Its owner turned to quiet it, and the man spotted Ace sneaking up on them. He yelled, “Hey!” and clawed at the gun on his hip.

Ace lunged at the man, reaching out with his left hand to grab his wrist and keep him from drawing the gun. A shot could ruin everything. At the same time, Ace threw a punch with his right fist, putting as much power behind it as he could. The blow landed squarely on the man's nose, crushing it and sending blood spurting across Ace's knuckles. The man reeled back.

Since he was already going in that direction, Ace bulled into him and forced him to fall back against the other man. Their legs tangled and both went down. Despite that, the second man was able to get his gun out.

Ace saw starlight reflect from the barrel and lashed out with his right foot. The toe of his boot caught the man on the wrist and knocked the gun out of his hand. It went spinning away into the darkness. He aimed a second kick at the man's head, hoping to knock him unconscious, but the man reacted quickly, grabbing Ace's foot and heaving.

Ace couldn't catch himself. He went over backwards, rocks digging painfully into his back when he landed.

The man scrambled up and jumped on top of him. He locked his hands around Ace's throat and growled, “Damn you.” It was obvious the man intended to choke the life out of him.

A good-sized young man, Ace bucked up from the ground but couldn't dislodge his attacker. The posse man was bigger.

Ace clubbed both hands together and shot them straight up between the man's arms and under his chin. The powerful blow rocked the man's head back and knocked his grip loose. Ace surged up from the ground and rolled the man to the side.

The man got a hand down and caught himself, but Ace swung his clubbed hands again, catching him on the jaw. The man sprawled to the side.

The first man let out a bubbling moan and tried to get up as blood leaked darkly from his flattened nose. Ace hit him on the jaw and stretched him out, as well.

On his knees and breathing hard, Ace waited to see if either man had any fight left in him.

It appeared they didn't.

Without even waiting to catch his breath, Ace moved quickly, using their belts to tie their hands behind their backs. He stuffed their bandannas in their mouths to keep them quiet when they woke up. He hoped the fella whose nose he had busted was still able to breathe well enough through it that he wouldn't suffocate, but he couldn't wait around to make sure of that.

He hurried around the boulder to get his horse, hoping that Kaiser and Wheeler had spread their men out across the mountain to watch all the trails. If he knew that for sure, he wouldn't have to be quite as careful as he descended. Unfortunately, he couldn't assume that, so he still proceeded cautiously.

Farther down the mountain, he looked to his left and saw lights on the same level about a mile away. That would be the Golden Dome mine, he thought, where men were working around the clock as usual to gouge riches out of the earth. If Ace's theory was right, Eagleton wouldn't need three shifts much longer. The payoff would be coming to an end.

Ace's only real interest in the mine was that it meant he had made it halfway down the mountain without getting killed or captured. He angled in the direction he thought the main trail lay. Once he reached it, he could make a dash for Palisade.

He had just ridden between two boulders and onto the larger trail when shots blasted out. Ace stiffened in the saddle, then realized the gunfire wasn't close by. The sound was drifting down from higher on the mountain. He reined in and turned to look up, seeing tiny flashes of light near the top of the peak, like deadly fireflies. Those were muzzle flashes, he knew, and they were in the area of the hideout where Chance and Emily had taken shelter.

A sick feeling filled Ace. There wasn't a damn thing he could do to help if his brother was up there fighting for his life. His mission was to deliver the telegraph message to Bess in the hope of keeping Chance and Emily safe, but that decision might have backfired. He might be the one who had somehow dodged trouble.

As Ace was sitting there feeling heartsick over what
might be
happening up above, four horsemen rode around a bend in the trail below him.

“Hey!” one of them shouted. “There's somebody up ahead by himself. We're all supposed to be in pairs or more!”

That was a good way of identifying somebody who wasn't a member of the posse, Ace thought as he jerked around toward the new threat. The only riders on the mountain were the posse men and the fugitives they sought.

“Get him!” another man shouted.

Ace hadn't recognized either of the voices as belonging to Kaiser or Wheeler, but that didn't matter. All were the enemy, no matter who they were. As the riders charged toward him, he bent over in the saddle, kicked the chestnut into a run, and drew his gun. Colt flame bloomed like crimson flowers in the darkness as the men opened fire on him.

Ace returned that fire, aiming a little high as he squeezed off several rounds. He didn't necessarily want to kill the men who believed they were hunting genuine lawbreakers, but he did want to scatter them so he could get through.