by JR Roberts
“Every second we waste now, those assholes get farther away from here!”
“I know.”
“And I suppose that suits you just fine,” Clint growled.
“It does.” Before Clint could say anything else or even possibly take a swing at him, Hall added, “Because I know I can track a trout through white water and you can handle anything these fools can throw at us just so long as you’re not falling out of your saddle from exhaustion.”
“I’m not that tired.”
“But you’ll be better after some sleep and you’ll be able to see more than ten feet in front of you.”
Clint sighed. “So your plan is to butter me up to get your way?”
“Hell no! My plan is to track these men down. That’s what I do.”
“I can track them just fine on my own.”
Hall spat out a single laugh. “You might be able to do some tracking but me … I’m magic.”
Chapter Eighteen
It was amazing what a little bit of sleep could do. When he’d first climbed into bed, Clint thought he’d wait for a short while and then strike out on his own after Eclipse and the horse thieves. As soon as his feet were up and his head was down, however, he knew that Hall had been right. Clint wound up getting just a few hours of shut-eye but he felt like a new man when he awoke.
Sven hadn’t moved very much since being tied to a chair and stuck in one corner of the room. It wasn’t until that morning that Clint realized the lanky rustler had been asleep most of the time. He woke up, peeled his eyes open and looked around. “Wh … what happened? Am I in jail yet?”
“Not yet,” Clint replied. “We’ve got some riding to do.”
“But my leg. It’s wounded.”
“Stop your whining. It’s barely more than a scratch.”
“But it hurts!”
Wheeling around and placing his hand upon the Colt at his side, Clint asked, “You want it to hurt a lot more?”
Clint may not have been the sort of man to kick a man when he was down or tied to a chair, but Sven didn’t know that. Shrinking into his seat, Sven said, “No, sir.”
“Good. Now keep your mouth shut while I get everything situated.”
As Clint stuffed his things into his saddlebags, Sven said, “Mind if I ask where we’re headed?”
“Same as before. We’re going to reclaim my horse.”
“He’s probably a long ways from here by now.”
“I know he is,” Clint said. “And you’re going to help take me there.”
“All I did was help steal them horses,” Sven insisted. “Then I delivered them to some other fellas who took them from there. That’s it!”
“I’m sure you picked up something along the way.”
Sven shook his head vigorously. “If I knew anything, I’d tell you, but I don’t know a damn thing. Honest!”
Now that he was done packing his saddlebags, Clint approached Sven’s chair. He didn’t make a move toward his gun or do anything meant as a threat to the other man. Even so, Sven looked ready to wriggle out of his own skin. “I can think of at least one thing you could tell me that would be a help,” Clint said.
“Wh … what?”
“Where you delivered those horses after stealing them.”
“That’s easy. Andy Bennelli has a place in Parker. It’s right next to—”
“A hat shop,” Clint interrupted. “I was already there. In fact, you can see the hat shop from this window.”
“Really? How’d you manage that?”
Clint shrugged. “Lucky, I guess.”
“Oh. Then I suppose you don’t need me.”
“Where did the horses go from there?”
A fresh wave of dread washed over Sven’s face. “Aw, how the hell should I know?”
“That’s why you’re coming with us.”
“Us? You mean, more than just you?”
“That’s right,” Clint said cheerily. “Wouldn’t want you to get lonely. By the way,” he added while untying the ropes that were wrapped around Sven’s torso and the back of the chair, “feel free to make as much noise as you want. There’s no law around here and if anyone comes to your rescue, I imagine they’re someone else I’d like to have a word with.”
Sven had plenty to say after that but he kept most of it down to barely audible grunts and mumbles as he was untied. After allowing Sven to untie his own ankles, Clint loaded him up with the saddlebags and marched him outside. Hall was waiting for him there with the horses. Don had his hands tied behind his back and was already perched on one horse’s back.
“Looks like you got yourself a pack mule,” the bounty hunter chided. “Maybe he should be fitted for a saddle.”
“Real funny,” Sven grunted. “Which of those horses is mine?”
“This beaut right here,” Hall said as he patted the flank of the animal already bearing Don’s weight.
“What about that one?” Sven whined as he nodded to one of the other horses. “Or that one there?”
“This is mine,” Hall replied as he scratched one of the other horses behind its ear. “And we had to leave one horse with the stableman to keep him happy so he wouldn’t mention us to anyone else for a while. Clint’s already staked a claim on that other one.”
“That leaves you with your new friend over there,” Clint said. “Unless you really would rather walk?”
Sven kept on grousing to himself as he climbed onto the horse’s back. Once there, he was tied up with a rope that connected him to Don before being securely knotted to the saddle horn.
“There we go,” Hall said. “If one of them takes a tumble, they both do. And if they do, they’ll be dragged behind this filly for a ways. They’d better be worth the effort.”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Clint said.
Chapter Nineteen
Tracking any man or beast was always easier if the hunter knew exactly where to pick up the trail. In this case, all Clint and Hall had to do was go around to the back of the dry goods store to find the spot where Howlett and the rest had started the previous night’s ride. It also helped that they had light to guide them but Hall was already smug enough without Clint letting him know he’d made the right call in waiting for morning.
“Looks like they were driving a buckboard as well,” Hall said.
Clint sat on his horse, keeping watch over the prisoners and anyone who might happen along. “I did hear wagon wheels when they left,” he said. “They were heading West. I was told they’re bound for New Mexico.”
“So you said last night. Let’s get going, then.”
“You’ve already seen everything you need?” Clint asked. “But we haven’t even been here for ten minutes.”
“Didn’t I tell you I was the best tracker in this part of the country?”
“What you said was that you’re magic.”
Hall smiled broadly. “And how very nice that you remembered.”
“I remember plenty of things,” Clint said. “Doesn’t mean I believe them. I don’t intend on coming back to this mud hole of a town if I can help it, so I want to make sure we get what we need the first time around.”
“Hey Don. Refresh Mr. Adams’ memory about how often horses were taken from here.”
Grudgingly, the prisoner replied, “Few times a month.”
“I’d wager it was more often than that,” Hall said. “Either that, or they’d been running this particular route for a good long time because these here tracks are piled so high on top of one another I’m surprised they ain’t made a hill just yet.”
“Wouldn’t it be a rut?” Sven asked.
“Either way, there’s so many tracks left by the same wagon and so many horses leading in one direction that we could very well have followed them at night.” Seeing the scowl on Clint’s face, Hall quickly added, “That was just a joke, Adams. We can follow them just fine now, so let’s get a move on.”
Clint had done plenty of tracking in his time. Even on his worst da
y, he couldn’t have missed the ones left behind by the countless times those horse thieves had headed west from that lot. Allowing Hall to take the lead, Clint kept hold of the third horse’s reins and followed the bounty hunter through town.
The tracks were easy to read along the side streets and narrow paths that cut through Parker’s mercantile district. That was a fancy name for a motley assortment of feed and supply stores peppered in among a tailor and tannery. After going down an alley and joining up with one of the larger streets, the tracks led them to the edge of town and toward the trail heading to open country. The horizon stretched out in front of them, giving a clear view of West Texas and the rockier terrain beyond. Even though Clint could still see the tracks they’d been using as a guide, the task was becoming harder with every passing minute.
About four miles outside of Parker, Hall pulled back on his reins just enough to let Clint catch up to him. “You keep along this trail. I’m circling around that way.”
Clint looked in the direction Hall had pointed without seeing much of anything. “Why?”
“Because that’s where the tracks lead.”
“Only tracks I see are from the wagon and they stick to this path.”
“And that,” Hall said, “is why I’m the one following these other tracks.” Seeing that his smart-mouth response wasn’t going over too well with its audience, Hall added, “There’s a break in the trail and some tracks left behind by a pair of horses. These look fresh but there are other older ones beneath them.”
Clint leaned forward in his saddle and squinted down at the ground. Although he did see a spot where the brush and weeds just off the trail had been trampled, he didn’t see enough to come to the same conclusion as Hall.
“Look,” the bounty hunter said. “They’re there. If you’re gonna second-guess everything I do, then we might as well go our separate ways right now.”
“I’m not second-guessing you. I was just looking to see those tracks you mentioned.”
“You want me to climb down from my saddle and point them out to you? Maybe a free lesson in tracking to go along with it?”
“Just get moving,” Clint said. “Or I can give you a free lesson in dropping a man from his saddle before he knows what hit him.”
“You’re an amusing man, Adams. That’s why I think I’m gonna like riding with you.”
“I wasn’t joking about dropping you from your saddle, you know.”
“I know,” Hall said while riding away. “Most men are full of hot wind. You ain’t. That keeps things interesting.”
After Hall rode away, Don grumbled, “Amusing ain’t the same as interesting.”
“Shut up,” Clint snapped.
Chapter Twenty
Hall snapped his reins and kept his eyes on the ground directly in front of him. He trusted his horse well enough to let the animal worry about navigating the terrain while he concerned himself with following the tracks he’d discovered. For a man of his experience, the imprints leading away from the main trail stood out like a lump of coal on a field of snow. Considering that those tracks had been left by horse thieves on the move, it seemed most likely that at least one or two scouts had separated from the rest to look for lawmen or anything else that might get in their way.
He was confident in his assessment when the tracks led him toward some rocks and grew even more confident when those rocks formed a rise that would allow the riders to get a better look at the surrounding land. When the tracks led down the rise and even further away from the trail, he started to have some doubts. Hall wasn’t about to doubt what his instinct and senses had been telling him. Instead, he doubted the conclusions he’d drawn.
Getting away from the trail and onto higher ground made perfect sense to scout ahead or take a look behind. From there, the tracks should have circled back around to the trail or at least headed in a similar direction so the riders could catch up again in a short amount of time. But the tracks continued to move down the rise and into the rocks. If they were headed toward some sort of hiding spot or a place to hole up for a while, then the wagon should have gone as well. Not only were there no fresh wheel tracks to be found but there weren’t even any ruts to tell him that a wagon had gone that way before.
Hall slowed his pace a bit but kept moving forward. He didn’t like it when his instincts were wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing happened, but whenever it did, he got a feeling at the bottom of his gut that a man got when just starting to fall after taking a wrong step at the top of a staircase. What usually followed that feeling wasn’t very good. That’s why a man who felt it had to prepare himself for the worst.
Reaching to his holster, Hall drew his Remington and rested it upon his knee. If someone was going to take a shot at him, they wouldn’t do it without having to dodge a few bullets themselves.
The tracks he followed weren’t as pronounced as the ones that had led him away from Parker. At first, he’d figured that the men who rode this way were more careful. There were certainly fewer of them than what had beaten the main path out of town. But now that he’d followed them for a while longer, Hall could tell that the horses that had gone this way had done so at a slow, plodding pace.
Soon, he caught sight of a different set of tracks overlapping the first ones. Those were sharper and cleaner. They’d been left by animals moving with purpose. They were also heading back in the opposite direction. Hall pulled back on his reins and stood in his stirrups. He could see no hint of an ambush. Apart from a general nervousness caused by the unknown, his gut wasn’t telling him much of anything.
Something was up ahead. It might not have been an immediate threat to him but it was definitely something. Hall was a thorough man but he was also curious. Both of those reasons drove him onward with a healthy sense of caution keeping the gun in his hand.
Now it was Hall who started riding at a slower pace. When he spotted the dark opening situated between what looked like two piles of broken rocks, he climbed down from his saddle and stalked forward on foot. He kept his reins in one hand, the Remington in the other, and his eyes fixed on a point directly ahead.
Less than twenty paces later, his horse started getting anxious.
“What’s the matter, girl?” Hall whispered. “If you’re thinking there’s something peculiar in those rocks, I’m beginning to agree with you.”
Before long, Hall decided to tie his horse off and continue alone. His animal wasn’t about to disagree with that decision and waited anxiously for him to return.
The path leading to that opening looked like it had once been a stream. A smooth stone bed was colored by old silt and mud that was caked on like so many layers of paint. The opening Hall had spotted at first was actually an archway formed by boulders and a couple of old tree trunks. He tightened his grip on the Remington, even though his senses gave him no reason to fret. After taking another step, a smell reached his nose that put a grimace onto his face.
Hall kept walking. When he reached the arch, he stood in the shade until his eyes became accustomed to the shadows. There was a cave further back in the darkness. Now that he was closer to it, the smell became a stench that clung to his nose and wouldn’t let him go. It was the stench of death and he knew it would be with him for a long time once he’d put that cave behind him.
As far as Hall was concerned, that moment couldn’t come fast enough.
Chapter Twenty-One
Clint didn’t see Hall for several hours, which didn’t bother him in the slightest. It did, however, make his two reluctant companions more than a little nervous.
“Where’d he go?” Don asked.
“You heard what he said just as well as I did,” Clint replied. “He’s scouting.”
“Shouldn’t he be back by now?”
“Depends on what he found.”
Don let the matter rest for all of three seconds before asking, “Aren’t you curious or maybe a little concerned?”
“What’s the matter? Did you two form
some kind of close bond during the time you spent in Parker?”
“Don’t be a damn fool!” The moment those words left his mouth, Don obviously regretted them. Actually, he regretted them the moment Clint turned in his saddle to lock a harsh glare directly on him.
“What I mean,” Don amended, “is that you’re obviously not a fool. Something might have happened, is all.”
“He can handle himself,” Clint said as he turned his attention back to the trail ahead of him. “If there was shooting, we would have heard it. If there was anyone out to kill him, they would have come after us by now as well. Right now, we just need to keep heading west.”
“I don’t see what you expect from us,” Sven grunted. “So you lost a damn horse. Plenty of men lost their horses and they don’t feel the need to ride all the way out to hell and back for them. Why don’t you just get another one?”
“You really don’t think stealing a horse is a serious offense?” Clint scoffed. “I suppose folks just fly off the handle by making laws against it and such. And when it comes to folks in Texas, well they must all just be out of their minds for stringing up horse thieves the first chance they get.”
“Texas isn’t the only place that does that,” Sven said.
“True,” Clint replied.
Don let out a tired breath. “Texans are out of their damn minds for plenty of reasons.”
“As someone who’s spent a good amount of time here, I can tell you that’s also true,” Clint said. “But punishing horse thieves isn’t one of those reasons and both of you know it. All this talk is just a bunch of foolishness from a couple of outlaws trying to justify their actions.”
“That’s not what Jarred said.”
