The Jensen Brand

by William W. Johnstone

  “Not without you,” she said. “We’ll make a run for it. I scattered the other horses, so we’ve got a chance.”

  But maybe not much of one, she thought grimly as she heeled the buckskin into a run away from the cliff. All it would take was for a few outlaws to catch horses and head them off. Even if they reached the canyon leading out of there, the guards would be on the alert and would try to stop them. They would have to shoot their way out . . . and the odds of that weren’t good at all.

  Shots boomed behind them.

  Muddy Malone must have had another gun stashed somewhere on him, Denny thought, and he had regained his senses before they were out of range. She felt Brice twist around behind her on the buckskin’s back as he kept one arm around her waist to hang on. The revolver he had taken away from Malone roared a couple times as he returned the fire.

  Then the whole world blew up.

  That’s what it sounded and felt like, anyway. The explosion pounded against Denny’s ears like giant fists. The ground jumped under the buckskin’s flashing hooves. The horse stumbled and started to go down as a wave of heat and flying debris washed over them. Denny hauled up hard on the reins and kept the buckskin plunging forward. Gradually the horse regained its stride.

  “Brice!” Denny called. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his mouth close to her ear as he leaned forward. “Feel like I’ve been in a fight from the pounding those flying rocks gave me, but I don’t think anything’s broken. I’ll be one big bruise tomorrow, though . . . if I live that long!”

  “What happened?”

  “One of those shots I fired must’ve hit the dynamite. Pure luck, but I’ll take it!”

  “Malone?”

  “He’s not there anymore.”

  Denny shuddered in horror. Malone had been so close to the blast it must have engulfed him and blown him into a million little pieces.

  She hoped the explosion had disoriented the rest of the gang. That would give her and Rogers the slimmest of chances to get away. She pointed the buckskin toward the canyon mouth.

  Men ran in front of them, yelling questions. “Back there!” Rogers shouted at them as he waved an arm toward the site of the explosion. “I think it’s the army! Gotta find the boss!”

  That was actually plausible, Denny thought as she leaned forward over the buckskin’s neck. The little knot of outlaws parted to let her and Brice through. She barely slowed down as she galloped past them.

  That might not work a second time . . . but it had gotten them that much closer to the canyon.

  Wild, riderless horses tore past. Some of the outlaws were trying to catch them, without much success. The canyon mouth was only a couple hundred yards away.

  “Stop those two, whoever they are!” The ringing command came from Nick Creighton. He ran awkwardly toward them, guns blazing in both hands.

  Bullets whipped past Denny’s head, but she didn’t slow down. Speed was the best weapon they had.

  Rogers returned Creighton’s fire as they flashed past the gang leader, but Denny couldn’t tell if any of the shots found their target.

  Then the buckskin’s hoofbeats echoed back from the towering stone walls as they galloped into the narrow canyon.

  “When we get to the first bend, don’t slow down any more than you have to,” Rogers told her. “The guard won’t shoot when he doesn’t know what’s going on.”

  Denny hoped he was right about that.

  As they pounded up to the bend, he shouted, “The army’s attacking! Light the signal fire and then go help the boss!”

  The man didn’t try to shoot them, and then a second later the signal fire went up with a whoosh!

  Denny glanced back, saw it blazing brightly, and said, “It worked!”

  “That explosion was enough to throw everybody for a loop, but some of them may have heard Malone yelling that he’d trapped a lawman. It won’t take long for them to figure out we’re gone and decide that one of us is the star packer. They’ll be coming after us as soon as they round up some of the horses.”

  Denny didn’t doubt that for a second.

  Seeing the innermost signal fire lit, the guard at the next bend set his pile of wood ablaze, as well. The explosion must have left the man so shaken he didn’t think about the fact that the fires were supposed to be lit in the other direction in case of trouble. The uproar had everybody spooked and confused.

  Rogers waved at the second guard and told him to go help Creighton, too. The buckskin lunged around the bend and left the signal fire behind.

  That scenario repeated itself at the next bend, and then they had only to get past the sentries at the canyon mouth. These two men were more cautious than the others, however. One of them yelled, “Hold it!” When Denny didn’t rein in the horse, the guards began blazing away with their rifles.

  Bad light and the horse’s blinding speed saved the two fugitives. Denny didn’t know how close the guards’ lead came to them, but neither she nor Rogers nor the horse were hit. Six-guns erupted with muzzle flame as they returned the fire and sent the guards leaping back into the shelter of the boulders.

  Then, just like that, they were out of the canyon. Denny jerked the buckskin back and forth in a zigzag course across the open ground in front of the entrance. The guards fired after them, but the buckskin never broke stride.

  They reached the gully and dropped down into it, safe for the moment from any more flying bullets.

  “I can’t believe we got out of there!” Denny cried exultantly.

  “They’ll be after us,” Rogers warned. “We know where the hideout is, so Creighton can’t afford to let us get away.”

  Denny’s brief sense of triumph vanished. “We’ve forced his hand. If he’s ever going to strike at the Sugarloaf and get his revenge on my father, it’s got to be now! If he’s going to have a chance to win, he’s got to hit the ranch before we can warn everyone.”

  “You’re right. As soon as he can get all his men together, he’ll come boiling out of there and head straight for your father’s place. That means we have to get there first and let them know what’s coming.”

  He was right, Denny knew. They were in a race and would be at a disadvantage because the buckskin was carrying double. But even so, it was a race they had to win.

  The stakes might well be life and death for everyone on the Sugarloaf.

  CHAPTER 38

  Nick Creighton had wrenched his leg when he dived aside from Lon Williams’s bullets, which made his limp even worse as he stalked around shouting orders at his men. Fury filled every bit of his being. One of the men had said he heard someone shouting about capturing a lawman. That had to be Williams—the traitor—Creighton thought, which meant the other person on horseback with the son of a bitch was probably Denny West, more than likely also a lawman.

  Although if that was true, why had West saved his life? He could ask West that question once the two fugitives were caught, Creighton told himself. He would torture the answers out of them . . . assuming they weren’t killed before then. If that was the way it turned out, Creighton supposed he could live with it. He had more important things to worry about.

  Turk Sanford trotted up to him and reported, “I can’t find Muddy, boss.”

  “Malone? He should be around somewhere.”

  “He’s not.” Turk shook his head. “Everybody else is accounted for except him, Williams, and West. Some of the boys caught sight of those two riding double on their way out of here. But nobody’s seen Muddy. I’m thinkin’”—he swallowed hard—“maybe he got blown up in that explosion.”

  Creighton didn’t give a damn one way or the other, except that losing Malone meant he had one less gun on his side. But he remembered that the two had been friends, so he said, “I’m sorry, Turk. That’s one more score to settle with those bastards. Luckily, I reckon we can find them where we’re going as soon as all the horses are rounded up.”

  Turk was pretty sharp for a gunman. “We’re gonna
hit the Sugarloaf tonight?”

  “As hard and fast as we can,” Creighton said. “That’s where Williams and West are headed. I’m sure of it. It’s the closest place they can get any help. Now that we’re back up to full strength, it’s time we wiped out Jensen.”

  “Not quite full strength,” Turk muttered.

  Creighton knew he was talking about Muddy Malone. “Get the men mounted and ready to ride. We’re going after those two. We’ll try to catch them before they get to the Sugarloaf. I don’t want them warning Jensen.”

  As Turk hurried off to see to that, Creighton started reloading his guns.

  “Nick,” Molly said as she came up behind him. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m not hurt,” he told her as he continued to reload. “I just don’t like being betrayed. It really stings about West, after what he did earlier this evening—”

  “West is a woman.”

  Creighton frowned as he looked around at her. “What?”

  “Denny West is a woman,” Molly repeated. “Her hair’s cut off short and I’d be willing to bet her breasts are bound, but she’s as female as I am.”

  “You’re loco!”

  Molly shook her head. “I’ve never lied to you, Nick, and you can take my word for this. I knew it while she was eating supper with us.”

  Creighton’s frown deepened. “And you didn’t tell me about it?”

  “I didn’t see any reason to at the time. I figured whatever reason she had for pretending to be a man, it couldn’t have anything to do with you. Maybe I was wrong about that. I just thought she and Williams were probably lovers.”

  “One of them is a damned undercover lawman,” Creighton bit off. “Maybe both.” For a moment his rage was directed toward Molly. He felt like backhanding her across the face. But that wouldn’t solve anything, he realized, so he controlled the angry impulse.

  “I’m sorry, Nick,” she said. “I see now I should have told you.”

  “Yeah, you should have. No more secrets from now on, right?”

  “No more secrets. Right. What are you going to do?”

  Creighton leathered both irons. “We’re riding for the Sugarloaf and putting an end to this.”

  Having caught the horses, the rest of the gang were mounted and clattered up. Turk led Creighton’s horse. Creighton took the reins and swung up into the saddle, too caught up in his hate to pay attention to Molly as she said his name plaintively and held up a hand. He jerked the horse around and led the charge out of the basin, leaving her standing there staring after him and the other outlaws.

  * * *

  The buckskin had traveled far enough in the past week and a half that it didn’t have the reserves of strength it might have had otherwise. Denny felt the horse beginning to flag a bit after she and Brice had covered less than two miles from the hideout.

  The buckskin was valiant, and pride and a strong heart kept it going.

  Pride and a strong heart could only go so far, Denny thought.

  Rogers realized the same thing. “This horse can’t carry both of us, Denny. Not as far and as fast as we have to go.”

  “We get away together or not at all,” she snapped.

  “If neither of us get away, there’s nobody to warn your folks. I don’t see that wild bunch behind us now, but you know they’re going to be after us as quickly as they can. They’re probably on the trail already, closing in on us. If you drop me off, you’ll have a chance to get away and alert everybody at the ranch.”

  “And let them kill you!” She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

  “It’s dark,” he argued. “I’ll find a place to get out of sight, and they’ll charge right on past me without ever slowing down. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

  “If that’s true, then let me do that while you go on to the ranch.”

  “I’m not sure that would work,” Rogers said. “Your pa barely knows who I am. He might not take my word for what’s about to happen. If you show up and tell him about Creighton’s bunch, he’ll believe you. You know he will.”

  Denny couldn’t deny that. It was true she stood a better chance of warning everyone at the Sugarloaf headquarters. Not only that, but looking at the situation logically, she weighed less than Brice, and the buckskin would have an easier time of it with her aboard, rather than him. The horse would make better time that way.

  But the thought of leaving him behind was unexpectedly difficult for her. They had spent enough time together and gotten to know each well enough that she felt something for him. Not affection, she wasn’t going to admit to that, but respect, maybe. Friendship. Yeah, that was what it was.

  “The trail goes by a ridge up ahead with some rocks on top of it,” she said. “You get up there among those boulders, Creighton and his men will never see you.”

  “That’s exactly what I was talking about.”

  “I guess we can give it a try.”

  “Good,” he said, “because the moon’s fixing to rise, and they’ll be able to spot us pretty soon.”

  Denny slowed the buckskin as they reached the stretch of trail that curved around the rugged upthrust of rock.

  Still holding on with his left arm around her midsection, Rogers squeezed lightly and told her, “This’ll do.”

  She reined to a halt and turned her head to say, “Damn you. Be careful.”

  “That’s a mighty tender sentiment.”

  “Just get out of sight and stay there.”

  Rogers leaned forward, pressed his lips to the line of her jaw, and murmured, “Yes, ma’am.” He slid off the buckskin and landed lightly on the trail, gun in hand.

  Denny looked back at him. He waved her on.

  She went, and soon the swift rataplan of the buckskin’s hoofbeats faded.

  Rogers heard a growing rumble in the other direction and turned to look toward the inevitable pursuit. As the pounding grew louder, he recognized it as the sound of many horses, moving fast. He shoved the gun he held behind his belt and started to climb the ridge toward the boulders that loomed at its crest.

  It didn’t take long for the outlaws to show up. Denny had less of a lead on them than he had hoped. Now that the buckskin wasn’t carrying double, she might be able to maintain that lead. Some of the gang’s horses were fresher, which was worrisome.

  Crouched in the thick shadow behind a slab of rock, Rogers leaned out to watch the killers approach. Creighton was mounted on one of those fresh horses and was a short distance out in front of the others, who strung out in a line behind him along the trail.

  An idea sprang to life as Rogers saw the way they were scattered. Carefully, sticking to the shadows to avoid being spotted, he slid down the slope until he reached a boulder that thrust out almost over the trail.

  Spread-eagled atop that massive rock, he waited, judging the progress of the gang by listening to the rapid hoofbeats. He crawled forward, risked a look, and saw three of the outlaws still to his left, galloping along the trail. Two of them were ahead of the other man, who lagged about ten yards behind.

  The moon was up, peeking over the lower ranges to the east and casting silvery light. He would have only one chance, so whatever he did had to be perfect. The two outlaws riding together raced past him. He raised himself slightly. The man bringing up the rear was almost there, almost . . .

  Rogers leaped, sailing off the top of the rock and flying through the air until he came down on the horse’s back, right behind the outlaw in the saddle. Rogers grabbed the startled owlhoot with his left hand while his right jerked out the revolver behind his belt. He struck with blinding speed, slamming the barrel against the man’s head. The man sagged, knocked senseless by the blow.

  The two riders up ahead had no idea what had happened. Rogers kicked the man’s feet free of the stirrups and gave him a hard shove that toppled him off the horse. He crashed to the trail. Rogers looked back as he levered himself into the saddle. The unconscious outlaw was a motionless heap in the middle of the trail.

&n
bsp; It had worked out better than he’d dared to hope. He rode hard, keeping up with the other men, ready to strike at them unexpectedly from behind when the time was right.

  CHAPTER 39

  Denny swayed in the saddle and clutched the horn to keep from falling. The buckskin was stumbling with exhaustion but somehow managed to keep going. With the moon fairly high in the sky and the position of the stars, she could tell that the time was long after midnight.

  She had been riding for hours, and both she and her mount were exhausted. She reined in, knowing the buckskin had to rest for a few minutes. Otherwise the horse would collapse and she would be left afoot.

  At first Denny thought it was just the frenzied pounding of her heart she heard. Then she knew better. She lifted her head and listened.

  Hoofbeats. They were less than half a mile behind her, she estimated. She had heard them before during this long night, whenever she stopped to let the buckskin blow, and gradually they had come closer and closer.

  Creighton and the other outlaws had almost closed up the gap, she thought. She groaned, unable to hold it in. “I’m sorry,” she said to the buckskin, who stood with head down and foam-covered sides heaving. “I know you’ve given me everything you have, but I have to ask for a little more.” She lifted the reins. “We have to go.”

  A gentle prod of her heels against the horse’s flanks started the buckskin moving again. It tried to break into a run, couldn’t do it, and settled down to a lope. That wasn’t enough, Denny thought bleakly, but any more would likely burst the animal’s gallant heart.

  Maybe it would be enough, she thought. The range around her was familiar. The ranch house was less than a mile away. She patted the buckskin’s shoulder and muttered, “Just a little while longer. Just a little while . . .”

  She had ridden just a couple hundred more yards when riders surged around a bend in the trail behind her. They must have spotted her in the moonlight. She heard shouts and looked back, saw them charging ahead and gaining on her.