Bounty Hunter

by Michelle E Lowe

  “All right.” Jaxton took a nervous step back.

  “And I was rescued before the sodomite went at me, so drop it!”

  Jaxton frowned. “Let me make this understood, not all ‘sodomites,’ as you put it, rape men. Myself included. Got that?”

  His anger caught Pierce off-guard, but he refused to let it show. He only shook his head. “Just help me gather this shite and let’s clear out.”

  Wonderful, Pierce thought grimly. Now he was on the outs with Jaxton, who believed him to be some timid victim holding a grudge. First, he pushed Emma away, and now he had just ruined a good friendship. Christ, he only wanted to get this mission over with.

  They packed up everything and followed the compass east to the cemetery. Pierce never thought he’d be so happy to see tombstones.

  “It’s about time you got here,” grumbled Itza-chu as they approached.

  “You walked?” Emma asked Jaxton.

  “Aye, me horse ran off,” the Australian answered, wrapping his arms around her. As they hugged, he whispered, “We camped out in the hills.”

  “We did, too,” Emma explained, standing back. “We arrived here not long before you came.” She was doing her best to ignore Pierce’s presence. “Is everything all right?”

  Pierce half-expected Jaxton to tell them all. Instead, he glared at Pierce and said bitterly, “Aye. Everything’s fine.”

  Tenseness quickly developed in the air and everyone felt it.

  “Let’s get to the post office,” Pierce ordered, walking over to his horse.

  Pierce was delighted to find his rucksack and all his belongings still inside, including his top hat and tinted spectacles. He put them both back on.

  Itza-chu and Emma spoke about their own experiences through the sandstorm and how they’d tried staying in one spot, but the fire shooting up from the ground had spooked their horses, and so, they mounted up just before the animals could run off without them. When the storm had passed, they were a long way from where they had been and had decided to head for the meeting place at the graveyard. They mentioned nothing about ghosts.

  They traveled southeast until the morning passed into noon. They arrived in the small town of El Parral. So small, in fact, Pierce was surprised it was even documented on the map. Lining the main road, which was no more than a widespread dirt trail, stood a general store, a church, and a butcher and barbershop. Not much else resided there, other than a few houses. It took them no time to come across the post office. Emma and Jaxton went in alone. Pierce wanted to stay outside with Itza-chu, the only member of their posse he wasn’t having difficulties with.

  “What is going on between you and them?” Itza-chu asked as they waited.

  Pierce leaned against the wall, tossing small stones at a rusted tin can on the ground, trying to avoid hitting the free-range chickens wandering about. The sun had finally burned away the remainder of the clouds and was now blazing over the land in all its overwhelming radiance. Pierce was thankful he no longer needed to wear his coat.

  “Jaxton and I had a bit of a tiff this morning, is all. It may or may not work itself out.”

  “What about Emma? I’ve noticed a change between you two. She hardly said a word on the way to regrouping.”

  Tossing another stone, Pierce let out an irritated sigh. “That affair is a little more serious, I’m afraid. It’s a situation I’ve never been in before and have no bloody clue how to properly handle.”

  “Of course, you don’t,” his native friend chuckled. “It’s a female problem, and those are always difficult to solve.”

  Pierce snorted. He sure as hell couldn’t disagree.

  “What about you, mate? Got a woman?”

  Itza-chu smirked. “I’ve had my eye on a couple in my village. I haven’t decided which of them I want for my bride yet.”

  “Is that so? And these gals want you in return?”

  “Of course, they do. I am the chief’s son! That, and I’m very pretty to look at.”

  Pierce laughed and threw his last rock, striking the tin can and causing it to tip over onto its side. He was about to retrieve the stones to start again when Emma and Jaxton rounded the corner of the building.

  “Find anything out?” Pierce asked.

  “You ought to have a gander at their telegraph machine,” Jaxton jested, thumbing behind him. “It appears to be some makeshift piece of junk put together with scraps.”

  “Aye,” Pierce said. “I’m rather surprised this speck of a town even has one.”

  “They checked their records and found no messages sent to Guaymas,” Emma informed him.

  Pierce pushed himself away from the wall. “You’re joking. Are they certain?”

  “They checked twice,” Jaxton explained. “We must have gone to the wrong town.”

  Pierce rejected that idea on the spot. “Did you ask about other towns with telegraph machines?”

  “Si,” Emma answered. “There aren’t any for many miles.”

  Pierce rubbed his forehead in thought. They had to have come to the right place, unless the operator in Guaymas had given them the wrong address.

  “Our man bought a capacitor,” Pierce remembered. “Emma, do you know what that is?”

  “Si. It stores an electric charge that consists of a pair of conductors separated by an insulator.”

  Pierce had no idea what any of that meant.

  “Sounds like it goes to some electrical contraption.”

  Emma shrugged. “Typically. Why?”

  Pierce thought a moment. “Mr. Javier Saints might be a scientist of some sorts. Could be he has himself his own lab set up somewhere. Most likely someplace vacant and well secluded.”

  “There might be ranches nearby,” Jaxton offered. “You suppose he could be living in one?”

  Pierce shook his head. “This sod isn’t rich enough to be residing in no bloody ranch. Otherwise, why rob a bank? I’m willing to bet he’s close, though.”

  “Then how do you explain the telegraph?” Emma asked, sounding a tad short.

  He ignored it. “I’m just throwing out a guess here, but maybe he’s discovered some way to send the messages himself using his own machine.” He backed away while looking up toward the building’s roof. “The telegraph cables end up there, I take it?”

  In the back, they found a way up to the roof of the one-story post office building. Standing in the bed of a broken wagon, Itza-chu helped Emma clamber up by propping her on his shoulders. After moments of being up there, she peered over the side.

  “There isn’t a machine up here, but I can clearly see where somebody has stripped the line in order to connect a telegraph to it.”

  “Using the same cable would, in turn, link his machine to the same number,” Pierce said, feeling somewhat proud of himself. “And that would keep anyone working in this post office from identifying him. Let’s ask around about any abandoned structures nearby.”

  Not long after asking the locals, the posse learned about an old vacant mission resting on top of a mountain. They checked the chart and located exactly where the mountain was.

  Pierce shrugged. “It’s a place to start.”

  * * *

  Twilight arrived as they reached the base of the mountain.

  “Should we wait until morning?” Jaxton asked.

  “Best to approach now,” Itza-chu suggested, dismounting his horse. “The dark will act as our cover and keep us from being easily spotted. Javier could run before we even reach the mission.”

  “Aye,” Pierce concurred. “And if the bloke is up there and we catch him, we’ll have a place to hunker down for the night. Better than camping out down here, I’d say.”

  “Come,” Itza-chu ordered, “let’s bring the horses up a little ways and leave them behind for now. It’ll be quicker to climb up without them.”

  They headed up while they still had enough light and came across a level spot to leave their mounts. Pierce left his hat behind, happy to be without it for a spell. Afte
rward, they continued, using a single gas-powered lantern to guide them. The mountainside, for the most part, was an easy climb. Its upslope tilted at a far enough angle to allow them to trek upright without having to use their hands too often. And the rocky surface gave them good traction, with only a few patches of slippery loose gravel.

  “Is this a trail?” Pierce wondered as he stood by the edge of a narrow path.

  Itza-chu took the lantern from him and crouched down to it. He rose, walked a few steps up, and crouched again.

  “There are horse tracks over here,” he announced. “Going in both directions.”

  “Let’s go,” Pierce ordered, feeling a surge of excitement.

  He wondered if this was how bounty hunters felt when they closed in on their prey. It was a splendid change from being the hunted.

  The trail was broken in some places where large stones cut off the path. It still proved easier than going up the rugged mountain slope. Before they knew it, they’d reached the top.

  The moon was a perfect giant red orb steadily rising from behind what appeared to be the mission.

  “Fuckin’ hell, that’s bloody eerie,” Pierce whispered as he and everyone else hid behind a cluster of rocks.

  “Douse that torch,” he commanded Itza-chu, who still held the lantern. “The moonlight will give us plenty of light when it’s not looking so bleedin’ evil.”

  Itza-chu extinguished the light and the group gave themselves time for their eyes to adjust to the dark.

  “Do you think he’ll be alone?” Emma asked at length.

  Pierce had no idea whether she was speaking to him or not, but said anyway, “I reckon. But be on your toes, just in case.”

  “I wonder what it is he does in there?” Jaxton asked.

  “Could be anything,” Emma whispered.

  “That’s if he’s in there at all,” Pierce interjected. “If not, then we’re just bloody well standing about, whispering in front of an empty building.”

  “What’s the plan?” Itza-chu chimed in.

  Pierce turned to him. The moon was just slipping out of her red veil. “Right. Jaxton, Emma, you two go around back. Try to find a way in. Itza-chu and I will infiltrate through the front. Don’t be heroes in there, eh? If anybody, Javier included, attacks you, shoot to kill, understand?”

  “What about the sheriff?” Jaxton asked. “He wants every outlaw alive.”

  “I’ll deal with that bloke, no worries.”

  He meant what he’d told them, but selfishly he hoped his little “I’ll take responsibility” speech would help heal some wounds.

  “Got it?” Pierce asked.

  “We got it,” Jaxton acknowledged.

  The group split up. Unholstering his Oak Leaf pistol, Pierce tried the latch on the front gate. The hinges squealed loudly like knives scratching down a sheet of steel.

  “Are you making sure that he knows we’re here?” Itza-chu scoffed.

  “Shut it,” Pierce grumbled from over his shoulder.

  The hinges squealed more, but it couldn’t be helped. Pierce sidestepped in.

  “At least the bloody gate wasn’t locked,” he remarked, scanning the moonlit courtyard. “Maybe this scientist isn’t so smart, after all.”

  When they spied a horse and mule in the courtyard, they knew for certain the place was occupied. That still did not answer whether or not it was their mark. Both animals regarded them mildly, but to keep from spooking them and making noise, the men kept their distance and continued straight across the courtyard to an open archway leading into a long, dark outer corridor. Other large archways lined the walls, letting in the ghostly light of the full moon.

  “I think there are doors on either side,” Pierce whispered. “You take one and I’ll take the other. Cover more ground.”

  “That’s unwise, Landcross,” Itza-chu argued. “We ought to stay together.”

  “We have the element of surprise,” Pierce explained, trying to persuade him.

  “We also don’t know what’s in there. It isn’t safe to separate.”

  Pierce was in no mood to debate. Granted, Itza-chu had a promise to uphold to his sister in keeping him alive, and it did ease his mind to have someone watching his back, but he really wanted to speed this hunt along. The golden rule was safety in numbers, a rule Pierce was too impatient to follow.

  “I don’t need a bloody babysitter, mate,” Pierce seethed, straining to keep his voice down. He’d had it with this conversation, which was delaying him. “Just go the other way.”

  He didn’t wait for a response before he sprinted toward an entrance. There were no footsteps behind him, so he reckoned the man had listened. Pierce reached the door without making a sound and placed his ear to it. He heard nothing. He took hold of the rusty old latch. He held his gun up, sucked in a breath, and pushed his way inward.

  * * *

  The bright moonlight illuminated everything for miles like a pale sun. It helped Jaxton and Emma considerably as they rounded the corner of the mission.

  “Bloody hell,” Jaxton complained while leading the way. “I’m not sure if there is a rear entrance. I half suspect Pierce sent you and me off on a wild goose chase to get rid of us.”

  “You read my mind,” Emma replied bitterly.

  “Things not turning out in your favor, pretty Shelia?”

  “You’ve seen how he’s been acting lately. You’ve heard him gushing over that wife of his. I . . . I suppose I am only fooling myself.”

  Jaxton knew a broken heart when he heard it. During his travels, he’d listened to plenty of drunken saps moaning about the girl that got away. Sometimes, he’d have some desperate sod asking if any of his snake oil was a love potion.

  “Love is a cruel competitor,” he said, watching out for rocks threatening to steal his footing. “It fights against our better judgment.”

  “Do you believe in things like true love and soulmates?”

  “True love? Aye. Love is a real and true thing, indeed. Otherwise, it wouldn’t affect us so. Soulmates, on the other hand, not so much. I don’t believe there’s a single person custom made for another.”

  “No?”

  “Nope. Considering how many bloody people there are in this world, I can see how some find love that actually last, but to think there is only one person for someone is bollocks, in my opinion.”

  “So, you’re saying that there could be several people out there for a person. It just depends on who they find first?”

  “Exactly. Sometimes, they meet them simultaneously. I’ve seen that once or twice. Others, sadly, meet none of them at all. Plenty of unhappy folks out there living alone—or worse, living with somebody that makes them wish they were alone.”

  “Oh,” Emma said mournfully.

  Jaxton sighed and halted to turn to her. Her ghostly appearance under the moonlight gave him a slight shudder, mainly due to the ghouls he’d encountered the day before.

  “I’d forget about Pierce. He doesn’t deserve you no matter how much you think you care for him.”

  “But, I . . . I think I love him, Jaxton,” she admitted in what sounded similar to a plea, as if he had any sort of power to change people’s emotions. “What if I’m supposed to be, like you said, one of his loves?”

  It was that damn desperation he’d become familiar with. Emma was in love with a man she could never have, and she was grasping at any weapon she could find to fight off the truth. Jaxton hated himself for what he’d told her back in Guaymas. At the time, Jaxton had no idea of the kind of bond Pierce had with his wife, and so, he had carelessly provoked Emma to try winning him over. He should have just stayed the bloody hell out of it.

  Jaxton loathed the day he’d met Pierce Landcross.

  “Let’s discuss this later, eh?” he suggested. “We’ll chat over a drink or two—or a dozen!”

  She snorted. “All right.”

  They headed on, eventually finding a rear gate.

  * * *

  “Stupid white man,�
�� Itza-chu angrily muttered as he approached the door on the other end of the corridor. “He doesn’t know when to listen.”

  Itza-chu was more upset with himself than with Landcross, for the man had a point about the element of surprise, and fanning out might prove useful if Saints became alerted to their presence and tried to flee. If that happened, the chance that Saints would run into one of them was greater now that they were covering more ground. But, if Saints wasn’t alone, it could prove bad for the one who encountered him first. If Landcross found Saints and the other bank robber, Itza-chu wouldn’t put it past Landcross to try apprehending them both by himself, which would be very foolish. Then again, Landcross didn’t strike Itza-chu as a person incapable of taking care of himself. Waves of Strength had told him Landcross was some sort of famous outlaw thief in Europe who had racked up quite a reputation over the years. The fact that he had remained alive proved he had a keen sense of survival. Regardless, it was unwise to separate when they had no idea what they were up against.

  Washing his hands of it, Itza-chu tried the latch. It fell under the weight of his hand and the door moved inward. The squeal of the hinges echoed throughout a hollow space. There was only darkness. Itza-chu had the lantern, and when he suspected no one was looming about, he lit it. He panned the light around. Emptiness, just as he’d thought. The room was small, with absolutely nothing inside except stairs that followed the wall all the way up. Itza-chu went over and looked up to see how far they went. The light could not reach the top before melting into the darkness above.

  The bell tower, he assumed.

  He turned to leave when a slight noise stopped him. It came from upstairs. He listened a moment and heard it again. A faint whine. It echoed in waves throughout the tower. Was someone being held up there? A hostage? A louder whimper prompted him to climb the steps. The whimpering continued, sounding less human and more dog-like. He entered the tower where a signal bell hung from the rafter.

  What he discovered, though, was no dog.

  “What is this?”

  Three coyotes growled, snarled, and clawed at the bars of their cages. But, they weren’t like any coyote he’d ever seen in his life. They were unnatural. Hybrids. That was how Landcross had described the machine they’d encountered on the day he guided him to Guaymas. But, these beasts were living creatures!