Echoes of a Dead Man

by James, Terry

  She nodded despite her apprehension. ‘I remember who you are now,’ she said through a jaw swollen and tight with pain.

  Tears welled in his eyes. ‘Then you remember, when you were a very little girl, how your ma used to sing and you’d stand on your daddy’s toes and dance?’

  It was a vague image that had been buried deep for a long time. She couldn’t remember any of the faces, but she recalled how happy she had been, how safe the hands holding hers had made her feel as she swirled around a room filled with warmth and laughter.

  She managed to nod.

  ‘You’re pretty like your mother,’ he said, between raspy breaths, ‘but you need my strength now.’ He looked past her, towards the sound of footfalls thundering towards them. ‘Don’t give up, Jessica-Rose. Whatever happens, I’ll find you. I owe Marianne that much.’

  Just then, Stone’s boot caught Jethro in the chest and, as he rolled onto his back, he grabbed Stone’s boot and twisted, throwing him off balance. Jessie didn’t wait around to see the outcome. As Stone careered away, she scrambled to her hands and knees, coming to her feet and breaking into a stilted run with the grunts and thuds of the fight behind spurring her on despite the crippling pain of a potentially cracked rib. By the time she reached the barred door, she was doubled-over and holding her breath, the strength already draining from her quicker than beer from a holed barrel.

  Glancing back, she saw Jethro down on his knees, his arm crippled at his side, his head hanging low and bloody. As she clawed weakly at the bar securing the door, she saw Stone’s knee deal Jethro a vicious blow to the head that snapped him backwards and left him unconscious, probably dead, on the ground.

  A smile split Stone’s face as he turned on her. ‘Come here you.’ He crossed the distance between them in a few quick strides, grabbing her by the hair and ramming the half-lifted bar back onto its supports while he listened to the pounding coming from the other side. ‘Sounds like the cavalry have arrived. I’m leaving now, like I promised I would, but the plan’s changed. Oh, don’t you worry, we’re not finished yet. You’re going with me.’

  Somehow she found the energy to fight him, to scream and scratch and kick, but it was a token struggle. With the ease of a man lifting a sack of grain, Stone hauled her up and over his shoulder breaking into a run to God only knew where. And then they were climbing, and smoky air filled her lungs and a light rain cooled her skin. Colour and sound blended in a sickening mix as the world began to spin and each jolt pushed her closer to the edge of insanity. And then she was falling, clinging to Stone’s shirt, her nails digging deep into his skin until they climbed again. Only this time, he dragged her off his shoulder, throwing her face down across his thighs, and she closed her eyes against the stamp of hoofs.

  ‘Now the fun really starts,’ he said, kicking his heels.

  CHAPTER 12

  ‘Just what do you boys think you’re doing?’ the sheriff asked, barging uninvited into Matt’s room. ‘Neither of you is in any shape for a manhunt and I’m forming a posse as we speak, so you just simmer down and let me do my job.’

  Shoving his pants leg down inside his boot, Matt glanced at the sheriff, but clamped down on the accusation that lingered on his tongue like a bad taste. If it wasn’t for the lawman, Stone might not have gotten away so cleanly as he had done. As it happened, the sheriff had insisted that all able hands stay on the bucket line, leaving only a couple of old-timers to check out the warehouse. By the time Matt came to, they were dragging Jethro out, and Stone had made an unhindered escape up over the rooftops and stolen a saddled horse that just happened to be tied out back of the jail.

  That had been a couple of hours ago, during which time the doc had fixed up Jethro’s busted arm and cleaned his wound. Matt had watched with interest as the red-haired Scot peeled away Jethro’s shirt. The bullet had ripped through the flesh beneath his armpit, messy but not serious. Jethro hadn’t said much, but Matt couldn’t help thinking it was strange that a back shooter like Stone should near as damnit miss such a broad target. Pretty convenient. And now, despite having his broken arm trussed up in a sling and a swathe of bandages bulging under his shirt, he was leading the search to rescue Jessie and bring in his nephew to face a rope.

  ‘Forget it, Sheriff,’ Jethro said, fastening the thong on the left-handed holster someone had found for him. ‘By the time you get that posse together, Stone will be long gone. If they do happen to come across him, he’ll kill Jess just to get you off his trail. Her best hope is for Matt and me to catch up with him.’

  ‘But I’m the law in these parts,’ the lawman argued, puffing his narrow chest out to comical effect. ‘If I let every man Jack take the law into his own hands, I’ll—’

  ‘Look, Sheriff, you do what you have to do …’ Matt shrugged into a slicker, moving stiffly to help Jethro do likewise. ‘Just don’t expect us to sit around doing nothing in the meantime.’

  Together, Matt and Jethro faced the lawman like an impenetrable wall. Daring him to argue.

  He looked them up and down. ‘Well, I think you’re making a mistake going after him alone, but …’ His eyes narrowed on Jethro for just an instant, mirroring the uncertainty that twisted Matt’s guts, then he shrugged and stepped aside. ‘I guess you know what you’re doing, Lomew. The posse’ll follow along in any case. Lou Manners was an important man in this town and I aim to catch the scum that killed him.’

  ‘Understood,’ Jethro mumbled. ‘Just don’t get in the way.’

  Matt enjoyed the look of indignation that burned on the sheriff’s cheeks. Somehow, it helped to ease the stiffness that was gradually bending him over and he found himself walking taller, matching Jethro stride for stride. But, for all his show of alliance, Matt couldn’t fool himself. When all this was over, maybe even before, he would have to face Jethro along the barrel of a gun. Until then, he would tread carefully only because deep down in his gut he had the feeling that Jethro was more concerned than he cared to admit.

  ‘So, have you got any idea where Stone’s headed?’ Matt asked, as they reached the street and started checking the gear on a couple of waiting horses.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Care to tell me?’

  ‘Nope.’

  With his patience suddenly worn thin, Matt grabbed Jethro’s collar, pulling him down as he tried to step up into the saddle. He earned himself a piercing stare but with his injuries there was little Jethro could do, except mock him with a grin.

  ‘I’m not playing games anymore, Jethro. If you lead me on a wild chase to nowhere, I’ll shoot you dead and leave you for the buzzards. Are we clear about that?’

  Jethro grinned. ‘I wouldn’t expect anything less. Now, are you finished? We’ve got a good three-hour ride ahead of us.’

  Matt held on a while longer, wondering why he was placing trust in a man who had sworn to kill him. He still didn’t trust Jethro, but when you stripped away his reputation there was something likeable about him. Still, his motives for finding Stone and Jessie before the posse could, weren’t clear cut and that made him dangerous.

  They rode out of town just as the sun cleared the horizon. Matt kept behind Jethro, content to let him lead, and make himself less of a target in the event of an ambush. Whatever other crazy notions Matt might have, one thing he was sure of: this trail could only lead to trouble.

  Jessie woke with a start, groaning as she bounced painfully against a saddle horn. Still face down across Stone’s thighs, all she could see was the horse’s belly and the rocky ground that shifted crazily as all her senses kicked in. Feeling dizzy, she closed her eyes again, willing herself not to throw up as the scent of horseflesh mingled with the rancid odour of male sweat and God only knew what other bodily odours emanating from Stone. She tried to swallow, instead choking as her mouth filled with vomit that exploded against the horse’s belly, splattering back into her hair and face and leaving a trail on the rocky ground.

  ‘You’re awake at last. Good.’ Stone smacked her backside. ‘I
was starting to get lonely.’

  He raked his spurs against the horse’s flanks, causing the animal to pick up speed, thereby kicking up dust and tiny rocks. Jessie blinked rapidly, fighting back tears of despair and pain as tiny specks of dirt worked their way through her lashes and lodged painfully behind her already sore eyelids. Stone slapped her rump again, laughing loudly as she struggled to keep one hand over her face while struggling feebly to stop him with the other.

  Still she refused to cry, forcing herself to think beyond the breathtaking pain in her side, the indignity of being face down across a man’s thighs, and what would happen when they reached their destination. Instead, she tried to focus on Matt, remembering how he had saved her from Ethan Davies. How he would save her from that man’s son. The only problem was, the last time she had seen him he was plummeting from a burning building. And Jethro had told Stone that Matt was crippled. Despite her tough intentions, she started to sob, and again she felt the weight of Stone’s hand on her backside.

  Don’t touch me! she tried to scream, but it was a silent revolt. The swelling around her jaw wouldn’t allow anything more than a pitiful whimper to escape. Suddenly, the injustice hit her with a stunning blow. She hadn’t done anything to deserve this. Why should she give in to Stone and the despair his ill treatment had rained down on her? What was it Jethro had told her? That she looked like her mother but she had to have his strength; that he would find her. She almost laughed at the absurdity of pinning her hopes on a man with a reputation far worse than Stone’s. But he had also told her he was her father, and however much she wanted to disbelieve him, she knew it was true.

  It all came back to her now. She had been about four years old the last time she’d seen him. Just before her mother died. He had sat at her mother’s bedside, holding her hand until her time got small. Jessie remembered climbing into his lap as her beloved mother slipped away, how his low voice had soothed her as he told her of the beautiful place where her mother would wait for her. She had cried herself to sleep against his shoulder, feeling a double loss when she woke up and he was gone.

  Now with the horse slowing, and Stone chuntering his plans to himself, she felt her strength returning.

  Stone shoved her to the ground, laughing when her head cracked against a small boulder and wrenched a cry from her before she could contain it. She closed her lashes on the tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. When she opened them again, he was mounting a ladder that led to a platform and some sort of mine about thirty feet above the ground. A sign strung across the entrance warned any would-be claim jumpers to Keep Out. It didn’t seem to bother Stone as he wrenched it down and slung it across the clearing.

  For a minute, Jessie didn’t register her opportunity as she held her breath waiting for him to emerge. Then like a flame to a fuse, the idea that she could escape, became a reality. Looking around she noted a rocky incline to the right and a thin stand of cottonwoods to the left. The horse stood a few paces away, chewing on a clump of dry grass. There was only one way in and out of the clearing, and she intended to take it.

  Holding on tight to the pain in her side, she dragged herself across to the horse and pulled herself up using the fallen reins. With her gaze pinned firmly on the entrance, she circled slowly, putting the animal between herself and the mine. Still Stone failed to appear. Struggling against fatigue, but driven on by the need to escape, she tried unsuccessfully to scramble on board the docile animal.

  Coming from inside the mineshaft, she heard the crunch of boots on loose dirt. ‘Look what I found,’ Stone said, holding up a filthy bottle of amber liquid as he emerged onto the platform.

  She saw a look of surprise cross his face as he struggled to adjust from the darkness to the light. If she was going to escape, she had to try now. Startling the horse with a slap to the rump as hard as she could, she scurried backwards more quickly than she had thought possible, disappearing into the shadows of the cottonwoods.

  Finding her feet, she faltered when the ground shifted unevenly, every lurch tearing a sob from her as she ran blindly away from the sound of running footsteps closing in behind her. She tasted blood as she bit down on her lip, warning herself to be quiet, but the sound of her laboured breathing seemed loud as the chug of a train.

  And then she fell. Hard. The skin tearing from her hands and knees as she skidded through the undergrowth. Desperate and disorientated, she picked herself up, unsure which way to go in the semi-darkness. Before she could decide, a dark mass smashed into her, knocking the wind out of her as she landed flat on her back.

  In a split second, Stone straddled her stomach, further cutting off her air as she tried to draw breath. ‘Thought you could run from me, did you?’ he shouted, spittle flecking her cheek. ‘Well. …’

  He raised his fist. Suddenly the pain and fear were too much for her to handle. He might kill her, but she wasn’t going to die without a fight. Feeling around with her hand, she found a rock about the size of a big potato. With one final burst of energy, she swung it, hoping to hit him in the temple but only succeeding in striking him across his already bloody nose. Stone roared with pain, lashing out and adding to the beatings he had already inflicted on her.

  CHAPTER 13

  Doubts continued to nag at Matt. He was taking a chance throwing his lot in with Jethro but what choice did he have? Maybe if the sheriff had been more willing, Matt would have ridden with the posse, but he doubted any of them would work as hard to find Jessie and Stone as he and Jethro would. He only wished he knew what Jethro’s motives were, aside from killing him sometime before it was all over.

  Matt looked around at the terrain. They had left the town behind them more than two hours ago and now they were entering a narrow pass. Its steep jutting sides made it an ideal place for an ambush. In places it was barely wide enough for one man to ride through and fallen rocks made it treacherous underfoot for the horses to move at more than a walk. Again he wondered if Jethro had chosen this route for a reason other than as a short cut to wherever they were headed.

  ‘You seem to be getting a mite nervous back there, Matt,’ Jethro said over his shoulder. ‘There’s no need.’

  ‘Easy for you to say.’

  Jethro chuckled. ‘I’m riding point. First shot’s bound to get me. The best a shooter could hope for would be a ricochet taking you or your horse down in the confusion.’

  ‘I’m glad you cleared that up for me. Considering those odds, you don’t seem too concerned.’

  ‘I ain’t. Even if Stone was up there, he couldn’t hit us. Outside the saloon, didn’t you see how he squinted at you? Kid can’t see more than thirty feet in front of him. Why else do you think he always shoots men in the back?’

  Well, that answered at least one question, but Matt didn’t know whether the news comforted him or added an extra chill to the shivers running down his spine. Or maybe his discomfort was more to do with the stiffness that had settled into his battered limbs which made every movement feel as though he was being wrenched apart at the seams.

  ‘How much further?’ he asked.

  Silence greeted him, but, as the pass widened out, Jethro reined in his horse and stared off into the distance. Pulling up alongside, Matt sat in awe of the sudden contrast between the white-capped mountains offering a picturesque backdrop to the lush green valley below. Smoke drifted on the air from the chimneys of several buildings that constituted a small town nestled alongside a fast flowing creek.

  ‘Beautiful, ain’t it?’ Jethro mumbled. ‘I thought once maybe I’d settle here and raise a family.’ He ended on a chuckle. ‘Do you ever think that way, Matt?’

  The usual denial sprang to mind but it didn’t pass his lips. If Jethro was looking for a weakness, he wasn’t going to give him one. Instead, he asked, ‘What happened to change your mind?’

  ‘My brother Ethan.’

  Matt stiffened. He hadn’t expected the showdown to come so soon.

  Jethro sighed. ‘He forced me t
o choose between the life I wanted and the life I thought I deserved.’

  It was uncanny the way Jethro seemed to be able to read him, and Matt shifted uneasily in the saddle. Somehow, it sat oddly with Matt that a man like Jethro could ever have had dreams of a decent life. And not for the reasons he might have wanted to believe. But because in twenty years, if he lived through today, he could be just like Jethro.

  ‘Tell me, Matt,’ he said, slowing his horse to a near standstill, ‘how do you come to know Jessica-Rose – I mean, Jessie?’

  Matt felt the canyon walls press in on him. The question was one that would only reignite the tension between him and Jethro and Matt hesitated over his answer. Even if he was destined to die, he hoped to at least make sure Jessie was all right before he abandoned her to a life on her own.

  ‘Your silence tells me you’re still worried you’ll give something away and let me have the advantage,’ Jethro concluded. ‘So let me tell you what I think, and maybe you’ll tell me something I don’t know.’

  Matt doubted it would be much of a trade-off, but at least while Jethro was talking he wasn’t shooting. ‘Go ahead,’ he said, with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

  ‘Well … I’m guessing you were a troubled youngster. George Weekes liked to take miscreants under his wing, try and convert them to the right side of the law before it was too late. He must have liked you though, to have invited you into his home. That’ll be where you met Jessie. How am I doing?’

  ‘Not bad,’ Matt conceded grudgingly, ‘but it was Jessie who invited me in. Mr Weekes didn’t have much say in it once I was through the door. Even though she was only ten years old, she could wind him around her little finger.’ The memory made him smile. ‘But this is your story.’