Vigilante Dawn

by Ralph Compton

  Jarrett’s eyes flicked toward Lem for the briefest of moments before settling back onto the deputy. “He was. Real big.”

  “You ever been to Annie’s, Mr. Pekoe?”

  “Not as a customer,” Jarrett said. “Not recently, I mean.” Even though he was telling the truth and spoke without sounding overly suspicious, he was almost certain that the deputy could just take whatever answers he wanted from what was written upon another man’s soul.

  “How was he killed?” Stan asked.

  “Shot,” the deputy replied. “Up close and personal. Poor gal who found him had to put the fire out that had started in his shirt. Probably came from being so near the gun barrel when it went off.”

  Jarrett didn’t have to impersonate being shocked when he heard that, since he’d turned away from the gruesome sights he’d witnessed before they reached that point. Stan and Jack had lost some of the color in their faces as a testament to what was racing through their heads. Most telling of all, however, was the expression on Lem’s face. It wasn’t quite as dramatic as the surprise shown by the two ranch hands but seemed every bit as genuine.

  “Who shot him?” Lem asked.

  After a slight pause, the deputy replied, “Couldn’t tell you. Any girls working there weren’t about to say. Even if they saw the whole thing spool out in front of them, they were too frightened to be much help.”

  “Do you plan on hunting the killer down?” Stan asked. “Or were you just gonna sit on this porch and twiddle yer thumbs?”

  The deputy’s brow furrowed slightly as his eyes darted between all four of the men in front of him. “Never you mind about that,” he said. “Shouldn’t keep the sheriff waiting.” He then used the same fingertip that had pushed up his hat brim to pull it back down again. With that, his part of the conversation was clearly over.

  Having been dismissed so completely, the four men on horseback had nothing left to do but ride away. Once they were a safe distance from the grizzled deputy, Lem asked, “You think that dead fella was the same man who shot up the hotel?”

  “Could be,” Jarrett replied.

  “Sounds like a hell of a story,” Stan said. “Maybe I should hear it now instead of later.”

  “I’d like the whole story myself,” Jarrett said. “Wish I knew for certain if that dead man really is the one that came after us. It’d make things a whole lot easier.”

  “Sure would,” Lem said. “Too bad there’s no way for us to find out unless we want to hunt down one dead body instead of a whole lot of living ones.”

  “Might as well stay the course,” Stan said. “If that fella you’re worried about is still breathin’, he’ll find us soon enough. Now somebody tell me what happened at that hotel.”

  Chapter 18

  Instead of telling Stan about what had happened the night before while riding out to the ranch and then most likely repeating a good portion of it after meeting up with the lawmen, Jarrett and the others focused on simply getting to the Lazy J as soon as possible. Under normal circumstances, Jarrett would have felt a warm familiarity when seeing the sign bearing the ranch’s brand at the edge of his property line. The sight of that large J leaning skewed to one side like a tired man resting against a wall had always meant he was coming home. Now it burned Jarrett’s eyes just as surely as the irons had burned that symbol into the flanks of his cattle.

  Jarrett was more than a little relieved when he saw three men on horseback waiting less than fifty yards inside the fence line. One of them was Sheriff Rubin, another was Tom, and the third was a man Jarrett didn’t immediately recognize. Since they were right there, Jarrett wouldn’t be forced to ride any closer to the center of his property where he could see the charred remains of his past life while the stench of all that smoke was still fresh in his mind.

  Sheriff Rubin raised a hand in greeting and waited for the other four to come to a stop in front of him. “Glad to see you weren’t going to make us wait for long.”

  “We want to get these men more than you do, Sheriff,” Jarrett said. Looking to the tall, lean young man riding next to Tom, he asked, “Who’s this?”

  “This here is Troy Ackerman,” the sheriff said. “He just came in from Cheyenne a few days ago and I’ve been breaking him in as a new deputy. Figured this’d be a good chance to see how he does when the lead starts to fly.”

  Ackerman had a long, friendly face, olive-colored skin, and a pointed nose. He reminded Jarrett of any number of men in their early twenties who’d come to work for him as a cowhand or just doing odd jobs around the ranch. He smiled easily and even tipped his hat as he said, “Pleased to meet you.” Despite the time it took, Ackerman went over to shake the hand of each man who’d just arrived.

  “Seems like an eager kid,” Stan said. “What’s he doing working for you, Sheriff?”

  “Now, what in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rubin snarled.

  Stan scratched his whisker-covered chin as if he’d just now rolled out of bed. “Nothing. Maybe it’ll do us all some good to have some fresh blood on this ride.”

  “It better.” Still fuming under the collar, Rubin shifted his attention back to Jarrett. “We’ve been doing a bit of scouting before you arrived and you’re right. It won’t be difficult to track that herd. They left a trail deeper than the road into town.”

  “So what are we doing here, then?” Jarrett asked. “Let’s get this posse moving!”

  None of the lawmen even flinched until they got a nod from the sheriff. From there, they cut across Jarrett’s property until they reached the spot where the herd had been gathered and eventually driven to the wide gate at the southwest corner of the fence line. While Rubin and Tom were content to ride in the muddy wake of all that beef, Ackerman took a bit more time to study the numerous tracks that had been left behind. When he snapped his reins to catch up to the other lawmen, he grimaced nervously.

  “What’s wrong with you, kid?” Tom asked.

  “I couldn’t get a handle on how many men were driving that herd,” Ackerman replied. “I found several sets of tracks left by horses instead of cows, but they all just blend together after a while.”

  “No need for those kinds of specifics,” Rubin said. “Once we catch up to them, we’ll see how many there are for ourselves.”

  “Yeah,” Tom added. “You saw the mess they left behind. It ain’t like they’re gonna be worried about anyone being left to come after them.”

  Jarrett and the others rode a few yards behind the lawmen. More than anything, he wanted to toss the heaviest thing he could find at the back of Tom’s smug head. Judging by the tone of the deputy’s voice, however, that was precisely the sort of thing he’d wanted. Men like Tom were all too common. The only thing that made them feel content with themselves was being told they were right or knocking around those who knew they were wrong. Instead of giving him an excuse to have his fight for the day, Jarrett bit his tongue.

  “Watch your mouth!” Rubin snapped. “You’re talking about that man’s family! Have some respect.”

  Tom was more surprised than anyone else at being dressed down like that by the sheriff. The expression on his face was almost as satisfying as what followed.

  “Apologize,” Rubin demanded.

  Looking over to the elder lawman as if he didn’t even recognize him, Tom said, “What?”

  “You heard me. Apologize.”

  After waiting a moment for an explanation that didn’t come, Tom shifted in his saddle to look at the men behind him. “My apologies. That was . . . out of line.”

  Not knowing quite what to do, Jarrett simply nodded.

  “There, now,” Rubin said. “Now that we’re all on good terms, why don’t you all tell me what happened back at that hotel? I want the whole story. You’ve had a chance to think it over, so don’t miss anything.”

  Jarrett started at the beginning and went all th
e way through to the point where the gunman bolted from the hotel with bath salts in his wounded face. When he was through, he said, “Now I have a question for you, Sheriff.”

  “Yeah?”

  “What did you find when you came around to check on the hotel after everything had calmed down?”

  “You saying I sat back until the danger passed?” Rubin asked.

  Knowing all too well that at least one of the men near him was capable of taking that bait in any number of ways, Jarrett glared at Lem, Stan, and even Jack. The three of them got his message clearly enough and kept their mouths shut.

  “I’m just asking for your part of the story, is all,” Jarrett said.

  “Ain’t much to tell. Not much that you don’t already know, that is. Me and Tom showed up on account of the shots that were fired, we had a look around, and all there was to see was the mess that was left behind.”

  “Yeah, you sure were right, Sheriff,” Lem said. “It’d be a crying shame to accuse the law in that town of sitting on their haunches.”

  “What would have made you feel better?” Rubin asked. “Have me and my boys magically divine when something bad was about to happen?”

  “I think he’d like it if every lawman in the county stood close to him so they could wipe his nose every time he had a sniffle,” Tom said.

  “That’s enough of this bickering,” Jarrett cut in before any more barbed comments could be tossed in either direction. “We’re not here to squabble like a bunch of women. We’re here to follow these tracks to the men that made them. If we’re still of a mind to fight when this job is done, I’m sure we won’t have any trouble finding a volunteer to throw the first punch.”

  “I agree,” Ackerman said.

  Both of the other lawmen looked over at the younger deputy.

  Ackerman shrugged. “Well,” he said reluctantly, “except for the part about throwing a punch.”

  “We’re wasting daylight,” Tom said as he snapped his reins. “Let’s get a move on.”

  Most of the other men were agreeable to that and they urged their horses to pick up the pace. Sheriff Rubin was the only one to lag behind and he waited for Jarrett to ride past him before calling out, “Mr. Pekoe! A moment of your time?”

  Jarrett slowed Twitch with a tug of leather straps, causing the horse to fret before huffing a few choppy breaths. “What is it, Sheriff?”

  When Tom turned to look back, Rubin motioned for him to carry on. “There was more that happened the other night.”

  “Then why didn’t you mention it before?” Jarrett asked.

  “Actually I thought you might have something say on the matter.”

  “Now, why would you think that?”

  Rubin studied him carefully as their horses fell into a quick trot beside each other. Finally the lawman said, “A man was killed last night. Near as we can tell, it wasn’t much past the time when the bunch of you were ambushed while taking your baths together.”

  “They weren’t taking baths together. They were just in the same room.”

  “That ain’t the point. What’s important is that the man that wound up dead comes awfully close to the description of the big fella who stormed that hotel.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I’d imagine you know it is.”

  Jarrett felt his stomach clench at the certainty in the sheriff’s tone. “What makes you so sure?” he asked.

  “Because one of my men was left behind at my office this morning,” Rubin said. “He would’ve been the one to tell you to meet us at your ranch and he would have also told you about the dead man that was discovered.”

  “Right. So he was. But, short of us turning around to head back into town, there’s no way of me knowing if that dead man was the same one from the hotel or not.”

  “I just have one more question for you, Mr. Pekoe. Did you kill that fella who fired a shot at you and your men?”

  Although he’d been expecting to be asked that question at some time or other, Jarrett wasn’t thinking this would be that time. For once, he was grateful for Twitch’s nervous tendencies because putting the gelding back on a straight course gave Jarrett an excuse to divert his attention for a few moments. Although he wouldn’t have minded stretching that time out a lot longer, Jarrett didn’t want to do anything to make the sheriff even more suspicious. “I would have been well within my rights to shoot him,” Jarrett said. “Especially since he was the one who came in with guns blazing.”

  “And that’s what the witnesses at the hotel told me,” Rubin said. “What I’m asking is if you tracked that gunman down to Annie’s, got him to step outside, and then shot him several times in the chest.”

  “No. I certainly did not.”

  “Do you know who would do such a thing?”

  “Considering what little I saw of that man, I’d guess there are plenty in this world who wouldn’t mind doing such a thing to him.”

  The sheriff looked over to him. “You’re deliberately trying to make this more difficult.”

  “Am I?”

  “The phrase ‘pulling teeth’ is what comes to mind.”

  “Look, Sheriff. If you’re expecting me to be surprised that someone killed that man the other night, I am. If you’re expecting me to be sorry that he’s dead, then you’re gonna be mighty disappointed, because that just won’t happen.”

  “So you didn’t shoot him?”

  “No,” Jarrett replied.

  “And you don’t know who did?”

  “No.”

  After studying him for a few seconds more, the sheriff gave him a single, curt nod. “All right, then. I suppose I’ve got my answer. These tracks here are easy enough to follow, so you and your men try to gain as much ground as you can while I send one or two scouts ahead to see if any of these rustlers split off from the main group.”

  “I can scout ahead also,” Jarrett offered. “I’ve had some experience in that regard.”

  “I’m sure you have, but you’ve got more experience with cattle. Let us see what there is to see, and if we find anything, we can discuss options on breaking off into even smaller groups.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “That’s right. What I say goes out here,” Rubin said. “Best you don’t forget it.”

  Keeping his face as calm as possible as the lawman flicked his reins to gallop ahead and catch up with his deputies, Jarrett held his breath until the other man was safely away. As soon as there was a comfortable amount of distance between them, he exhaled and allowed himself to slump for a second or two. Jack, Lem, and Stan remained clustered together and turned around to get a look at him after Sheriff Rubin had thundered by.

  Jarrett straightened up and steeled himself for his own sake as well as to keep up appearances for his men. After coming up alongside the group, he pulled back on Twitch’s reins to keep from leaving them behind.

  “Problem?” Stan asked.

  “Not at all,” Jarrett said. “Let’s fan out and watch them tracks to see if any of the rustlers driving this herd split off from the rest.”

  Jack nodded and led Stan away.

  Before Lem could follow suit, Jarrett leaned over to him and said, “Watch your back.”

  Lem nodded as if he knew everything that Sheriff Rubin had said. “Always do.”

  Chapter 19

  The rest of that day consisted in hard riding and constant vigilance. If Jarrett wasn’t watching the ground for signs that he was still on the trail of his herd, he was moving along the edge of those deep imprints to see if he could find a hint that some of the rustlers had veered off in another direction. Jarrett found no indication that any of the men who’d taken his cattle left the herd. That didn’t mean it hadn’t happened, but the lawmen couldn’t find any additional tracks either, so he just had to figure the outlaws had remained in one large group. Co
nsidering the fact that everyone at the Lazy J had been left for dead, that wasn’t too surprising. Clay and his murderous partners must have thought they had all the time in the world to do as they pleased. That notion stuck like a cold dagger in Jarrett’s chest.

  When the sun dipped below the western horizon, Jarrett was fully prepared to spur that posse on until the last possible second. That wasn’t necessary, however, since the men in the posse continued to ride until they couldn’t take another step. A small campfire was put together, a simple dinner was prepared, and they all went to sleep. A short while before sunup, Jarrett woke up first and roused the others from their uncomfortable slumber. The men gnawed on some jerked beef for breakfast, washed it down with gritty coffee, and got right back to work.

  Jarrett’s herd might not have been as big as some, but it left behind plenty of tracks to follow. Jarrett and the men followed it so easily that they joked about seeing patterns in the dirt whenever they closed their eyes. Late that morning, before it got too close to noon, Jarrett approached the sheriff while Rubin slowed to speak to Tom.

  “Me and the others have been talking,” Jarrett said.

  “Oh, have you?” Tom sneered.

  “Give it a rest,” Rubin grunted to his deputy. “What is it, Mr. Pekoe?”

  “It doesn’t take much to follow these tracks,” Jarrett said. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I know where the herd is being taken.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “There’s a town less than a day’s ride from here. Little speck of a place called Muriel.”

  Rubin nodded. “I’ve heard of it.”

  “It’s due south of here, with maybe a slight jog to the west,” Jarrett continued. “I think that’s where my herd is headed.”

  “Why that spot and not another?”

  “If he was looking to sell cattle, the main routes would have taken them either southeast into Kansas or on a straighter southerly path toward Texas. There are plenty of ranches and buyers along the way, but most of them would be along that same route.”