Rescue

by William W. Johnstone

  Frank laughed at the wistful expression on the lawman’s face. “It would be a waste of time. I whipped him, remember?”

  “And did a damn good job of it too, so I heard. I wish I could have seen it. But Deputy Barnett filled me in.”

  “The sheriff won’t move on Max on his own?”

  “The sheriff ’s in Washington, D. C. He’s getting himself appointed a deputy U. S. marshal. Then, by God, if Max is still around, we’ll do something about him.”

  “If I have anything to say about it, he’ll be six feet under.”

  The deputy smiled. “Send me an invite to the shootin’, will you?”

  Frank laughed at that. “It’s probably going to be real suddenlike.”

  “Ain’t they always?”

  Outside the sheriff’s office, Frank and Dewey watched as Big Max Collins and his men rode slowly out of town.

  “The next time I see you, Morgan,” Max hollered, “I’m gonna kill you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Big Mouth,” Frank told him.

  Max spat on the ground and kept on riding.

  “We gonna hang around this city until Max comes a-lookin’ for you?” Dewey asked.

  “I hadn’t planned on it. That’ll give me time to go sneak around Max’s spread.”

  “That’ll give us time to go sneakin’ around,” Dewey corrected.

  “I just can’t get rid of you, can I?”

  “Nope. Somebody’s got to look after you.”

  Frank rolled his eyes at that. “Come on. Let’s go get the ladies and have dinner.”

  * * *

  For the next several days, the ladies rested and did a bit of shopping while Frank and Dewey prowled around, making several trips out to Max Collins’s spread.

  “The place sure ain’t guarded,” Dewey said. “We ain’t seen nobody.”

  It was the third day of their prowling about.

  “There is nobody to guard,” Frank guessed. “They’ve all been moved.”

  “So now all we’ve got to do is figure out where,” Dewey said. “How do you propose to do that?”

  “I’m thinking on it.”

  “That means you ain’t got a clue.”

  “Right.”

  “I got a plan.”

  “And that is?”

  “We grab one of Max’s hands, heat up a runnin’ iron, and get the information from him. How ’bout that?”

  “Suppose he doesn’t know to begin with?”

  “Then I reckon he’s in for a lot of hurt.”

  “Max does run cattle out there. What if the man we grab is just a cowboy?”

  “You got more what-ifs than a damn dictionary,” Dewey said sourly.

  “I just don’t want to see any more innocents hurt.”

  “Anybody who throws in with the likes of Big Max Collins ain’t innocent, Drifter. You know that as well as me.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe, hell! Well, let’s go grab up this judge that’s in Big Max’s pocket and go to work on him.”

  “And you talk about me having a mean streak. You’re getting plumb ornery in your declining years, you know that?”

  “Declining years! You swing out of that saddle and I’ll whup you right here in the middle of this damn road!”

  “We don’t have time for that right now. Riders heading our way. If you’d stop flapping your gums, you’d a-seen them before I did.”

  “You don’t have a lick of respect for your elders, do you, boy?”

  “So you admit you’re getting long in the tooth?”

  Dewey had a number of words to say in response to that, coloring the hot air with profanity. Frank sat in his saddle and laughed at the old mountain man.

  “Them’s Big Max’s hands,” Dewey finally wound down and said.

  “You want to run away and hide?” Frank asked with a smile.

  Dewey withered him with a look.

  The four hired guns stopped a few yards from Frank and Dewey.

  “This was a right nice ride,” Dewey said. “ ’Fore we run into ugly.”

  “You talkin’ about us, old man?” one of the hands asked.

  “Well, you in the middle of the road and you’re sure as hell ugly,” Dewey said. “You figure it out.”

  “I ought to jerk your old ass outta that saddle and whup you right here and now,” another of the hands said.

  “I don’t see no one stoppin’ you from tryin’ that,” Dewey told him. “And I stress tryin’ that.”

  “Settle down,” a hand said to his friend. He looked at Frank. “What are you doin’ out this way, Morgan?”

  “I don’t figure that’s any of your business.”

  “I just made it my business.”

  “Well, if you insist. We’re out here countin’ horny toads.”

  The hand frowned. “You got a real smart-aleck mouth in your face, Morgan.”

  “Ain’t you got no interest in science and such, boy?” Dewey asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Horny toads,” Dewey said. “Them folks who study nature commissioned us to count horny toads.”

  “You’re full of crap!” the hand stated.

  “The man’s eat up with the dumb ass,” Dewey said.

  “’Member what Big Max told us,” another hired gun said. “No trouble. Let’s go.”

  “I don’t like that old coot.”

  “Too bad. He’ll get his. All in due time.” He looked at Frank. “And you’ll get yours too, Morgan.”

  The four hands rode on after giving Frank and Dewey hard looks.

  Dewey glanced at Frank. “Horny toads?” he questioned.

  “Just popped into my mind.”

  “Well, pop it back out. Let’s head to town. I need a drink.”

  * * *

  Frank and Julie took a walk after dinner. Despite the time of the year, the night air was pleasantly cool.

  “I’m going to tell you again, Julie,” Frank said. “You and the kids need to get on a train and get out of here.”

  “Frank, the kids have had a terrible experience. They’ve lost their parents.”

  “I know that, Julie. But—”

  “Let me finish, please.”

  Frank waited.

  “We’re all they have, Frank. I’m sure there is a medical term for it, but it boils down to this: We are the parents in their lives now. You and I. They need us.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until the need passes.”

  “That doesn’t tell me much.”

  “I’m not a doctor, Frank. And I’m sure not one of those fancy medical people who study the workings of a person’s mind.”

  “One of those what?”

  “I forget what they’re called. But I read an article about them once.”

  “How can anyone study a person’s mind? You can’t see a person’s mind.”

  “I don’t know, Frank. I just know I’m not one of those people.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  She laughed, took his arm, and they continued walking in silence for a time.

  “Frank?”

  “I’m right here.”

  “If you insist upon us leaving, I’ll take the kids and we’ll go away . . . someplace.”

  “I’m not going to insist, Julie. I enjoy your company.”

  “I’m happy about that.”

  “Julie, when this hunt is over, and we get Becky back, what are your plans?”

  “You mean if we get Becky back, don’t you?”

  “I guess so.”

  “I don’t know, Frank. I try just to live one day at a time.”

  “I do know that feeling.”

  “What are your plans? Are you still thinking about buying that land in New Mexico?”

  “I’m thinking about buying that valley, yes. Beyond that, I don’t know.”

  “The whole valley?”

  “Yes.”

  “How big is it?”

  “The valley is just part of it. There are gra
ssy meadows and a couple of creeks, and there’s a stone house that someone built many, many years ago.”

  “It sounds lovely.”

  “It is.”

  “I’d like to see it.”

  “Then you shall, Julie. When the hunt is over. If you still want to see it.”

  “What would change my mind?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t women change their minds often?”

  She laughed softly. “That is our prerogative, Frank.”

  “Whatever that means.”

  “You know exactly what that means, Frank Morgan. Don’t you try to play dumb with me. I know you too well for that.”

  “You don’t know me at all, Julie.”

  She stopped, forcing Frank to stop, and looked up at him. “Now what in the world do you mean by that?”

  “Just that, Julie. You know only what I’ve told you.”

  “And what I’ve observed.”

  “Maybe I’ve been on my best behavior?” he said with a quick smile.

  “Oh, sure.” She nudged him with an elbow, and they resumed their evening stroll through a quiet section of Tucson.

  “I’m going to lose Susan when this hunt is over,” Julie said softly.

  “You’ll be gaining a son when she marries Danny.”

  “Well, yes. But I’m certain they’ll be going to Iowa. That’s what I meant.”

  “You have any desire to go to Iowa?”

  “No. Besides, I would never dream of interfering with their marriage. They’ve got their own lives to live.”

  “Good for you.”

  “What about Max Collins?” she said, abruptly changing the subject.

  “He’s a dead man,” Frank said, his voice cold. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “Killing him won’t bring Becky back any sooner.”

  “No. But it will stop him from being a part in any more kidnappings and rapes.”

  “He might try to grab Susan and Tess and Sarah, or even Jerry, while we’re in town . . . or walking around out here.”

  “He’s going to run up against a very tough old mountain man if he does. And a very determined young man who is very much in love with your daughter. You’re all reasonably safe here in town. Max wasn’t that bad hurt during the fight. A few more days and he’ll come to town looking for me.”

  “And then?”

  “Then we’ll continue the hunt for Becky.”

  Twenty-three

  “Big Max just rode into town,” Dewey informed Frank. “Lookin’ fit as a fiddle and mean as a bear.”

  It had been five days since the fight between Frank and Big Max.

  “It’s about time,” Frank said. “I was beginning to have my doubts about his showing up at all.”

  “He’s got some of his hired guns with him, Drifter.”

  “They’ll stay out of it until Max goes down,” Frank replied. “Then they’ll either start shooting or pull out.”

  “You don’t look like you’re worried at all, Mr. Morgan,” Tess said. “You look like you’re really relaxed.”

  “No point in worrying about it, Tess. Worrying tenses a man all up.” Frank stood and slipped his Peacemaker in and out of leather a couple of times. “Time to go and see which one of us sees the elephant today.”

  “Is there a circus in town?” Sarah asked.

  “No, child,” Dewey told her. “That’s just an old expression.”

  Frank stepped out of the hotel lobby onto the boardwalk and looked around. Big Max had dismounted and tied up at a hitch rail in front of a saloon across the street and a couple of doors down. The man was standing on the boardwalk, glaring at him.

  “Big ugly bastard, ain’t he?” Dewey said.

  Frank did not reply, knowing Dewey was not expecting one. Frank continued to stare across the street at Big Max.

  Dewey stepped back to stand beside Julie and the young people.

  “What are they doing?” Julie asked in a whisper.

  “Stare-down,” Dewey told her. “Seeing who will blink first.”

  “And that will mean what, sir?” Sarah asked.

  “Means someone’s nerve ain’t as strong as it should be.”

  “Men!” Julie said, stamping a foot. “I never heard of such a thing!”

  “I’ve seen two bull buffar do it,” Dewey said. “Right ’fore they went after it, fightin’ over a cow or territory.”

  Julie muttered something under her breath. Susan was the only one who heard, and she giggled.

  “But them buffar rarely fought to the death,” Dewey said. “When the two yonder get done, one of them is gonna be dead.”

  Julie fell silent.

  “This time there ain’t gonna be no talk, Morgan,” Max called.

  “Suits me, Big Mouth.”

  “So step out into the street,” Big Max said.

  “After you, Max. You’re the one who wanted this.”

  Max stepped out into the hot dusty street. Frank stepped down from the boardwalk and faced him, the street’s width between them.

  “You gonna pull, Morgan?” Max said.

  “After you, Max.”

  “You yellow bastard!”

  Frank did not reply. He waited patiently.

  “I’m better than you, Morgan.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Everybody says I am!”

  “There was a time when most everybody thought the earth was flat. They were wrong.”

  “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you, Morgan?”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to put me to sleep with all your yakking.”

  “This one’s gonna be for my son, Ted. He’s still sick after all that sun.”

  “You have my most insincere condolences.”

  “Damn you, Morgan!”

  “You’re boring me, Big Mouth. Are you trying to talk me to death?”

  “Now, Morgan!” Big Max hollered.

  Max cleared leather, but Frank was an instant faster. Max’s bullet slammed into the building behind Frank. Frank’s bullet tore into Max’s lower right side.

  Max grunted and lifted his pistol, cocking it. Frank’s second shot ripped into Max’s guts, and put the big man down on his knees in the street.

  But Max was a tough man and wasn’t going to go out of this world easily. He struggled to his feet and stood swaying, blood leaking from his wounds. He laughed insanely and lifted his pistol. “Die, you son of a bitch!” he yelled at Frank.

  Frank drilled him in the center of his big chest and Max went down again. This time he did not get up.

  The deputy Frank had spoken with about Max and about the local judge stepped out of the crowd. “That’s it, Frank. It’s over. He’s done.”

  “You saw it all?” Frank questioned.

  “I seen it all. He drew first. He come into town lookin’ for a killin’. And I reckon he damn sure found one.”

  The doctor Frank had talked with after the fistfight walked over to Max Collins and knelt down, quickly examining him. He stood up and shook his head. “He’s alive, but fading fast. Somebody go get the undertaker. No point in trying to move this man.”

  “Damn you to hell!” Max said.

  “You’re on your way out of this world, Collins,” the doctor said. “You best be asking the Good Lord for forgiveness.”

  “I ain’t scared of Him either,” Max gasped.

  “Then you are a fool,” the doctor replied.

  Frank had walked over to stand a few yards away from Big Max Collins. Max cut his eyes to Frank and spat at him, the bloody spittle plopping into the dirt in front of Frank’s boots.

  “You missed again, Max,” Frank told him.

  “Damn you to the hellfires, Morgan!” Max said.

  “Where are the kidnapped children, Max?” Frank asked. “Where were they taken?”

  Max grinned at him. “A long ways from here, Morgan.”

  “Either you tell me, or I’ll beat it out of your son.”

  “You leave Ted out of it. H
e don’t know nothin’.”

  “I’ll see about that, Max. I don’t figure it’ll take me long once I heat up a runnin’ iron.”

  “Don’t do that to my boy, Morgan. He can’t stand pain.”

  “Then it won’t take me long, will it?”

  “Up in Northern New Mexico, Morgan. Val’s got ’em. Now leave my boy alone.”

  Frank knelt down beside the dying man. “Where in Northern New Mexico, Max?”

  “North and east of Santa Fe, Morgan. In the mountains. That’s all I know. I swear to you it is.”

  “What’s this about kidnapped children?” the doctor asked.

  “Are there any kids left at your ranch?”

  “No. They was moved out long before you got here. I can’t see too good, Doc. But the pain is gone. What’s happenin’ to me?”

  “You’re dying, Max,” the doctor told him.

  Max closed his eyes and shivered.

  “Correction on that, Doc,” Frank said.

  “What do you mean, Frank? Correction on what?”

  “He isn’t dying. He’s dead.”

  * * *

  Frank waited one more day before taking his group and pulling out of Tucson, giving the sheriff’s deputies time to search Max Collins’s ranch.

  “There was kids there, all right, Mr. Morgan,” one of the deputies told Frank. “We found plenty of evidence of that. But they’re long gone.”

  “Max’s son?”

  “We got him in jail. He’s singin’ like a little birdie. He was involved in this up to his eyebrows.”

  “I thought he might be. He’s admitted his guilt?”

  “Oh, Lord, yes. The more he talks, the more charges we’re filing against him. And the judge I told you about?”

  Frank nodded.

  “He’s left town. Nobody knows where he went.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Clay. Vernon Clay.”

  “I’ll remember that in case I ever run into him.”

  The deputy smiled and took out a photograph and handed it to Frank. “You can have this. That’s Vernon Clay. You going after those kidnapped kids, Mr. Morgan?”