“See anything suspicious?” Brian hissed from behind me.
“Nope,” I said.
“Good ol’ Maggie. I knew she wouldn’t let us down.”
“Your confidence never wavered,” I said wryly, and then we stepped outside.
Chapter sixteen
I halfway expected to be shot in the back as we hurried over to the horses. But no such shot came, and we untied the horses and stepped into our saddles.
My horse was an older, broke horse, and I could tell right off that he had a decent handle and would travel well. However, Brian’s horse was a bit green, and he grabbed himself and humped up.
We took out in a brisk trot, and Brian’s horse swallowed his head and started bucking. The jumps were high and big, and Brian was having a hard time staying on.
I came up behind Brian’s horse, and, using my reins, I slapped the horse on his rump.
Sometimes, this technique will make the horse stop bucking. Or, it occasionally makes him buck harder. This time, it worked. The horse snorted in surprise, and Brian was able to pull his head up.
“Will you quit trying to show off?” I hissed at Brian. “We ain’t got the time!”
“You want to switch horses?” Brian glared at me.
“We ain’t got time for that neither,” I replied. “Let’s go!”
We took out again, and this time Brian’s horse behaved. We trotted briskly, and soon the town had disappeared behind us.
It wasn’t until then that I breathed a big sigh of relief.
“I can’t believe we made it,” I said.
“You doubted Maggie?”
I decided it would be best if I didn’t answer that, so I just kept quiet.
“So, what’s the plan?” Brian asked. “Should we just keep going?”
“We could,” I said. “But, we ain’t.”
“Why not?”
“The mirror. It’s ours, and I want it. Besides, we’re innocent.”
“That won’t keep us from hanging,” Brian pointed out.
“All we’ve got to do is catch Old Chisel Whiskers and The Silent One,” I replied.
“Then what?”
“We’ll ride back to town, clear our name, and pick up our wagon.”
“They’ll probably shoot us on sight,” Brian warned.
“You just don’t want to face your wife,” I said bluntly.
“Ex-wife.”
“Whatever.”
Brian started to deny it, but then he stopped.
“You might be right,” he admitted.
“She hurt you that bad?”
“See these scars on my face?” Brian asked.
I nodded.
“They ain’t nothing compared to the scars on the inside.”
I sighed, and it fell silent as we trotted on.
Chapter seventeen
We rode back to the spot where we had camped. From there, we went north a ways and spread out.
It didn’t take us long to find their tracks. They were a bit faded, but still easy to see.
“Right where I said they’d be,” I gestured.
Brian nodded, and we fell into our usual routine. I followed the tracks, and Brian trailed behind me, his eyes on the surrounding landscape, looking for anything suspicious.
The country was mainly open, with a few rolling hills and some trees scattered about. There weren’t many places to hide, and that suited us just fine.
It was an uneventful morning, and we kept our horses in a brisk trot.
It was early in the afternoon when we found where they had camped the night before.
It was a good spot. It was well sheltered, and there was water close by.
We dismounted and looked around. From their tracks, I came to the conclusion that they had stayed here for a while.
We climbed back on our horses and pressed on. Another hour passed, and I cleared my throat.
“We’re gaining on them faster than I figured,” I announced. “They ain’t in any hurry, that’s for sure.”
“They probably aren’t worried about being followed,” Brian figured. “Especially after what they did to us.”
“Probably so,” I agreed.
“Just how fresh are the tracks?”
“We’ll catch them tonight,” I replied. “That, or in the morning.”
“They are traveling slow.”
“Mebbe their horses are tired from carrying all that loot,” I suggested.
Brian chuckled, and it fell silent as we traveled on.
Chapter eighteen
Hour after hour passed, and we rode several more miles.
In front of us loomed a steep mesa, and we had to ride back and forth as we climbed it.
It was late in the day by the time we reached the top. We could see for miles in all directions, so we stopped and studied the country.
Below us was a valley, and it went as far as we could see. There was also a creek, and it followed the valley.
“Nice,” Brian commented.
“It is,” I agreed.
We sat there a while longer, and I suddenly spotted some movement. I leaned forward in the saddle and squinted.
“What is it?” Brian asked.
“Thought I saw something.”
Brian looked down below, but then shook his head.
“Your eyes are better than mine,” he said.
I turned in my saddle, rummaged through my saddlebags, pulled out my spyglass, turned back around, and squinted through it.
Several seconds passed, and I said softly, “I see them. They’re following the creek.”
Brian grunted his approval.
“It’ll take us a while to get down there,” I said as I lowered the eyeglass and glanced at the sun. “Be dark soon. They’ll probably camp beside the creek.”
“Sounds right,” Brian agreed.
“If we were quiet enough, we could probably sneak up to their camp on foot.”
“Then what?”
“Then we’ll see,” I said.
Brian frowned as he thought it over.
“Well, it sounds good in theory,” he finally said.
I nodded, and it was silent for a moment.
I’m not sure why, but I turned in the saddle and looked behind us. Looking through my eyeglass, I swept the countryside.
Suddenly, I sat up straight in the saddle and grunted.
“What is it?” Brian asked, concern in his voice.
“The sheriff, your son,” I said. “He’s got five men with him.”
“What? Where?”
I pointed and handed Brian the eyeglass. It was silent while he looked, and afterwards he looked thoughtful.
“They’re following us,” he said.
“Glad to know he can,” I said.
“They’re riding hard too,” Brian warned.
“I noticed that.”
“Must be embarrassing, a sheriff losing his prisoners.”
“I wonder if he knows his own mother let the prisoners loose?” I asked.
Brian’s eyes grew wide.
“I hope not,” he said, and asked, “You don’t suppose he’d arrest his own mother?”
“He’s your son. You tell me.”
“Surely not.”
“All I know,” I said, “is we need to catch them before they catch us.”
“Then let’s be going,” Brian suggested.
I returned my spyglass to my saddlebags, and we kicked up our horses.
Chapter nineteen
Darkness overtook us as we rode down the mesa. The night air was cool, and we shivered slightly.
We followed the creek. We went several miles, and I pulled up my horse and pointed.
“Look,” I said. “There’s the glow of their campfire.”
Brian nodded, and we nudged our horses forward.
We rode in as close as we dared, and we pulled up a few hundred yards from their camp.
We dismounted and tied our horses to some nearby trees. Next, we chec
ked our weapons. We both wore Colts, but Brian also carried his shotgun.
“You ready?” I asked softly.
“Not really.”
“Let’s go then,” I said.
Moving softly, we walked toward the glow. Brian was beside me, and his face was somber.
My gun hand hovered naturally over my gun handle, and Brian held his shotgun with the barrel pointed down. I heard a soft click as he pulled the hammer back.
They heard us as we got close. I saw them stand, and they spread out and waited for us.
“I’ll take the one with snow on the roof,” I said softly. “You take the other one.”
“Snow?” Brian hissed, confused.
“Old Chisel Whiskers,” I explained. “White hair.”
“Oh,” Brian said, and then we were there.
Chapter twenty
“Who’s out there?” Old Chisel Whiskers called out.
“Us,” I replied sarcastically, and said, “We’re afoot, and we’re coming in.”
“Go ahead,” was the reply.
We walked slow and deliberate, and we stopped when we were on the outskirts on their camp. We faced up to them and waited.
Old Chisel Whiskers chuckled when he recognized us.
“Well, if it ain’t Lee Mattingly and Brian Clark,” he said in his normal, husky voice.
“And you’re both nobodies,” I reminded.
He smiled at that.
“Where’s your horses and wagon?” He asked gruffly.
Every time he spoke, I wanted to clear my throat.
“Here and there,” I replied.
“Got scattered out, eh?”
“You could say that,” I said. A few seconds passed, and I added, “You left something in our wagon.”
“You found it?”
“Actually, someone else did. He was with the sheriff.”
Old Chisel Whiskers looked interested.
“What happened?”
“A lot,” I glared at him. “You set us up perfectly, and we almost got hung on account of you. You even acted afraid when you found out who we were.”
“Did you come all this way for an apology?” Old Chisel Whiskers asked with a touch of sarcasm.
“A feller can hope,” I said. “But actually, we’re here to take you in.”
I expected Old Chisel Whiskers to be worried, but he wasn’t. Instead, he grunted his amusement.
“If you knew who we were, you might change your mind,” he said.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said.
“Why not?” He shot me an odd look.
“Because I’m faster than you,” I declared. I let that sink in, and then continued, “You’ve got two choices.”
“Only two?”
“Either you ride back with us, or we’ll shoot you,” I said as I ignored his comment.
“What about choice number three?”
“There isn’t one.”
“Yes,” he corrected. “There is.”
“And what’s that?” I narrowed my eyes.
“We shoot you.”
“You can try,” I offered.
A deep rumble came from his throat, and they faced up to us.
Nobody said a word. Every second seemed like a minute, and the tension was so thick I could have cut it with a knife.
Chapter twenty-one
I watched Old Chisel Whisker’s eyes, and they were cold and unmerciful as he stared at me. But then he blinked, and we both grabbed for our six-shooters.
With an easy movement, I palmed my Colt. The pistol bucked in my hand, and there was a loud thump as my bullet hit flesh.
The impact propelled him backwards. He had his Colt in hand, and he managed to fire as he hit the ground. But, the bullet went harmlessly up into the air.
Gunshots erupted around me, but I kept my eyes on Old Chisel Whiskers.
He lifted up and tried to fire, but I pulled the trigger again before he could. My bullet caught him below the throat, and his body flipped over backwards. He kicked out a few times, and then was still.
I looked sideways.
Brian was standing there, holding his shotgun, and The Silent One was on the ground on his back. The shotgun blast had hit him in his torso, and he was dead.
It was over.
There was a haze of gunpowder smoke around us. As it lifted, I opened the cylinder of my Colt, took out two spent shells, inserted new ones, closed the cylinder, and holstered it.
“You all right?” I looked at Brian.
“Better than them,” he said, his face somber.
“Yeah,” I said softly.
Chapter twenty-two
I always felt a little nauseous after a gunfight, and it took a bit for my nerves to settle. I could tell Brian felt it too, but we didn’t talk about it.
We walked back and fetched our horses, and then we unsaddled and picketed them next to their horses.
Brian and I dug our coffee cups out of our saddlebags and walked over to their campfire. Their coffee pot was full, and there was also some salt pork in a frying pan.
“Might as well eat it,” I suggested. “They won’t be needing it.”
Brian nodded his agreement, and we filled our cups. I split up the pork, and we got comfortable by the fire and ate.
“I wonder who they were?” Brian asked as he glanced at their lifeless bodies.
“Too late to find out,” I said, and added, “We’ll probably never know.”
“Probably not,” Brian agreed. He thought on that, and said, “Well, I reckon it doesn’t really matter.”
“Reckon not.”
“So, now what?”
“We’ll find the sheriff in the morning,” I said.
Brian nodded, and he looked thoughtful.
“There’s something we should discuss first,” he said.
“All right,” I replied. “Discuss.”
“We’re escaped prisoners,” Brian reminded. “Bullets might start flying before we get the chance to explain ourselves.”
“That’s a possibility,” I agreed.
“The sheriff is my son.”
“Yes, we already established that.”
“I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“What are you saying?” I narrowed my eyes.
“If they shoot at us, we don’t shoot back,” Brian declared.
“A man is entitled to defend himself,” I retorted.
“Not us,” Brian replied. “Not this time.”
I scowled at him, but Brian’s look of determination never wavered.
“Fine,” I finally muttered. “But understand this. You get me killed, and I’m gonna resent it.”
“I have faith in my son.”
I grunted in response and took a swig of coffee.
Chapter twenty-three
I felt better the next morning. We rebuilt the fire, made some coffee, and drank the whole pot. Next, we packed up their camp and saddled our horses.
“What about the loot?” Brian asked me. “Is it in their saddlebags?”
I rummaged through them and nodded.
“It’s here,” I said.
“That’s a good thing,” Brian replied.
“Might come in handy,” I agreed.
We turned our attention to the dead. Their horses were skittish, and we had a hard time getting them laid across the saddles.
“What’s wrong with these horses?” Brian complained.
“I reckon they’re used to folks riding them head up instead of head down,” I explained.
Brian grunted, and we finally managed to get them tied down to their saddles.
After that, we mounted up and took out. I led Old Chisel Whisker’s horse, and Brian led the other one.
We followed the creek back to the mesa, and we had some difficulty climbing it.
Old Chisel Whiskers was about to slide off his horse when we finally reached the top. We stopped and readjusted everything, and then we mounted back up.
It was then that the she
riff and his men showed up. They were about a hundred yards from us, and they had just climbed the mesa from the other side.
We spotted each other at the same time. They all drew their Colts and formed a line while we just sat there.
“Remember what I said,” Brian said, his voice stern.
“Oh, I remember,” I said.
They rode towards us, and I swallowed hard as I eyed their Colts. Their faces were stern and grim, and they stopped when they were about thirty feet from us.
Chapter twenty-four
Nobody said a word while we stared back and forth. Finally, the sheriff cleared his throat.
“What happened?”
“These fellers tried to kill us, and we got a little mad,” I explained.
“I see that.”
“These are the men you were after,” I announced. “The money is in their saddlebags.”
He nodded at that. He studied their lifeless forms, and then he looked back at us.
“Maggie explained a few things before we left,” he said. “She said Brian was an old friend.”
“You know we’re innocent?” I asked.
“I know.”
A wave of relief passed over me as they holstered their Colts and rode over to us.
“Is that all Maggie said?” Brian spoke up. “An old friend?”
“She doesn’t like to talk much,” the sheriff said, and Brian frowned thoughtfully.
The thin man rode up beside me and took Old Chisel Whisker’s horse, and another deputy rode up beside Brian and took The Silent One’s horse.
“How’s your head?” I asked the thin man.
He thrust out his jaw, glared at me, and rode away.
I looked at Brian and grinned.
“I guess he doesn’t want to talk about it,” I said.
“Guess not,” Brian said.
“We’ll ride back to town now,” the sheriff spoke back up. “You can pick up your wagon and be on your way.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
Wanted: A Western Story Collection Page 8
