Outlaw's Reckoning

by Ralph Compton

  The sky was taking on a dark orange hue when Jacob pulled back on his reins and signaled for Gus to stop. The sudden halt brought Gus’s hand reflexively toward his holster even though he’d become accustomed to following the bounty hunter’s lead.

  “What is it?” Gus asked.

  Rather than say anything, Jacob gave him a sharp wave that was a none too subtle request for Gus to shut his mouth. Ignoring the deathly glare he got from the older man, Jacob stood up in his stirrups and focused his attention on a spot in the distance. “I think I see a campfire.”

  Gus’s nerves were still jangling when he leaned forward. The pain lancing from his shoulder had spread throughout his entire upper body like daggers being slowly pushed through his neck and shoulder. That, combined with the constant pain from his battered ribs, made it difficult for him to focus his eyes. Following the bounty hunter’s lead, he stood up and squinted in the same general direction. Finally, he grumbled, “I don’t see anything.”

  “Right there,” Jacob said as he pointed. “Can’t you see the smoke?”

  Already shaking his head at the very notion that his eyes might have missed something like that, Gus leaned toward Jacob as though he could sight down the other man’s arm like the barrel of a rifle. After a second or so, Gus spotted a flicker of light. From where he was, it looked more like a spark on the faraway ground. When he spotted the black-and-gray smudge in the sky over that flicker, Gus knew the younger man’s eyes had been correct.

  What irked Gus even more was that Jacob had been quicker to spot the very thing Gus had been looking for all day long.

  “Yeah,” Gus said in a casual voice, “that’s a campfire. I couldn’t see it ’cause you were right in front of me before.”

  “Oh, is that why?”

  “Must have been.” Noticing the wry smirk on Jacob’s face, Gus added, “Either that or it was the damn sun. It’s setting over that way.”

  “I would have gone with that second excuse before the other one. Seems more plausible.”

  “Just ’cause I haven’t shot you yet doesn’t mean I won’t,” Gus warned.

  “And just because we spotted a campfire doesn’t mean Doyle is the one who built it.”

  “It’s Doyle, all right,” Gus said. “It’s placed up high and smoking enough to draw attention.”

  “Well . . . it drew one person’s attention.”

  “You sass an awful lot for someone who’s so out-gunned, boy.”

  When they arrived at the fire, Jacob was obviously disappointed. Seeing the empty space upon the flat rock brought a scowl to his face that was almost as ugly as one of Gus’s. The bounty hunter jumped down from his saddle and started to approach the fire. He stopped a few paces shy, however, as his hand reflexively dropped to the empty holster at his hip. “Where’d they go?” he asked.

  Gus reined his horse to a stop and draped the leather straps over his knee. “You sure this is the right spot?” he chided.

  “Yes! The damn fire is right there!”

  Sure enough, the fire sputtered and crackled less than five yards away. The wood was piled even higher than it had appeared when they’d first spotted it, which caused the flames to stretch up into a column of smoke billowing into the sky. The air was thick with the gritty, smoldering fog and Jacob cleared it away from his face as if he was swatting a swarm of insects.

  Jacob looked at Gus, but only got a slight shrug in return.

  After being shown up in spotting the campfire in the first place, Gus took no small amount of pleasure in watching the bounty hunter fret now. What made it even better was the knowledge that it was about to get a lot more interesting real soon.

  Crouching down on one knee, Jacob ran his fingertips along the ground. “These are the tracks I’ve been following, all right. The horse that put them down was here not long ago. Why the hell would they just set up a fire and leave it burning—”

  “State yer business, kid, or the next thing getting tossed into that fire is your worthless hide.”

  Jacob stood and turned toward the sound of that voice. Every muscle in his body tensed.

  “Jacob Hawes,” Gus announced, “I’d like you to meet Doyle Hill.”

  Doyle stepped forward from a hiding spot that was so good, he might as well have emerged from the ground itself. He carried his Schofield, which was aimed at Jacob despite the friendly introduction. Without taking his eyes from the bounty hunter, Doyle said, “I was about to give up on you, Gus.”

  Swinging down from his saddle, Gus stepped forward to clap his partner on the shoulder. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “So is this one with you or was he just attracted by the signal fire?” Doyle asked as he looked over to Jacob.

  “He’s with me.”

  “He’s got the look of a lawman about him. Should I bother showing him back to my camp or just bury him here?”

  Gus fixed his eyes upon Jacob to find the bounty hunter staring back at him expectantly. Both of them knew this was a crucial moment in Jacob’s life. If a few of the wrong words were spoken here, it would most likely be the final moment of that life.

  “Jacob’s a tracker,” Gus said.

  “How do you know him?”

  “He was looking for work in Fort Verde and managed to help me out of there when some folks were too lazy to bother.”

  For the first time since he’d made his presence known, Doyle looked away from Jacob. “After you left me with that blasted woman for this long, serving some time in a stockade would suit you well. So what happened to your face, Gus?”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “I was gonna say it’s an improvement,” Doyle replied. “It’s good to see it anyway, I suppose. Come on with me. The camp’s tucked away not too far from here.”

  Gus gave Jacob a reassuring pat on the back, which turned into a gentle shove to get him moving after Doyle. “Watch your step from now on,” he warned under his breath. “Step out of line with Doyle and you’ll be deader than a goose on Christmas morning.”

  For the time being, Jacob kept his mouth shut and followed the other two.

  “I see you brought some company with you,” Doyle said as he navigated down a gravel-covered slope that led along the back side of the hill where the fire had been built. “I take it them horses ain’t yours?”

  “They are now,” Gus replied. “I found them back at the fort.”

  Being accustomed to evaluating horseflesh on the run, Doyle quickly nodded and turned his attention back to the path ahead of him. “Anyone lookin’ for them?”

  “By now, more than likely. Might even be soldiers.”

  Doyle let out a sharp, quick laugh. “All the better. Sows in uniforms always keep the best for themselves, don’t they?”

  Gus nodded and Jacob chuckled uncomfortably. Fortunately, the matter was allowed to rest and the group made their way to Doyle’s camp without much more conversation.

  The spot Doyle picked was perfect. It was surrounded on all sides by just enough rocks, bushes and trees to keep the camp from being spotted from a distance and provide enough cover to allow them to build a small cooking fire. By the time the three of them had dismounted to walk their horses toward the campfire, Gus could smell the bacon that was being cooked over it.

  Doyle approached the camp first. He pushed aside a couple of sickly trees and kept his hands held up in front of him. “It’s all right,” he said. “I brought company for supper.”

  Jacob stepped through the trees and Gus followed. The moment his face cleared the dry leaves that hung like a tattered curtain around that section of the camp, Gus was treated to the sight of a blond woman pointing a gun at him. Oddly enough, the sight brought a smile to his face.

  “Gus!” Abigail shouted as she rushed toward him without bothering to lower the gun she was holding. “Where have you been? We were so worried! This one might not say so, but he was and I was too and it’s so good to see you!” She may have said a few more things, but all the words b
lended into a mush once she’d wrapped her arms around Gus and squeezed him.

  After disentangling himself from Abigail’s embrace, Gus took the gun away from her before someone got hurt. “Good to see you too, Abigail. It truly is.” Although he spoke to her, Gus looked over at Doyle.

  Gus didn’t need to ask if she’d been hard to handle. Doyle knew what was drifting through his partner’s mind and grumbled, “You don’t know how close I came.”

  “And who’s this?” Abigail asked.

  Gus waited for Jacob to introduce himself, but the bounty hunter was silent. In fact, he was utterly speechless. “This is Jacob Hawes,” he said. “Jacob, this is Abigail Swann.”

  Abigail smiled and daintily extended a hand as if she was arriving at a cotillion. Jacob shook her hand and let out what sounded like a breath he’d been holding for days.

  “Very nice to meet you, Abigail,” Jacob said.

  While it wasn’t hard to figure out why Jacob was so happy, Gus hadn’t been expecting Abigail to respond in kind. In fact, she was positively beaming.

  Chapter 23

  Jacob didn’t regain his ability to talk for some time. He tried to mumble a few times when questions were directed right at him, but was grateful when Gus stepped in to speak on his behalf. All the while, the bounty hunter couldn’t take his eyes away from Abigail. Although she wasn’t inclined to stare back at him, she was clearly intrigued by the new arrival.

  “So you said his name’s Jake?” Abigail asked as she scooped some more bacon onto one of the dented tin platters Doyle carried with him.

  Since he was the one who insisted on carrying more bacon than any other kind of food, Doyle took the plate from her and stuffed some of the food into his mouth as he spoke. “Jacob Hawes,” he said. “He helped Gus get back to us. Ain’t that right?”

  Finding himself under Doyle’s scrutiny didn’t rattle the bounty hunter nearly as much as being studied by Abigail. Jacob nodded quickly and replied, “That’s right.”

  “Is he a friend of yours, Gus?” Abigail asked.

  “After getting me out of Fort Verde, he’s a friend now,” Gus said.

  Her eyes lit up and she turned toward Jacob. “I want to hear all about it!”

  “Yeah,” Doyle said as he shifted so he could sit, eat and watch Jacob at the same time. “I want to hear it too.”

  Gus leaned forward to take the next plate Abigail filled. “We don’t got time to swap stories,” he said gruffly. “We still got a ways to go before Prescott and there’s plenty of men that’ll be looking for us.”

  “But I like stories,” Doyle said with a snarl. “And I bet this one’s a beaut.”

  “All right,” Gus said, “you want to hear a story? Why don’t I tell you about the beating I took while I was waiting for my partner to come and get me after I was shot?”

  “You were shot?” Abigail gasped.

  Doyle hunkered down to focus upon his supper and snarled, “You’re still walkin’, so it couldn’t have been too bad.”

  “Didn’t you wonder where I went?” Gus asked. “Didn’t it strike you as somewhat peculiar when I didn’t come back?”

  “What did you want me to do?” Doyle snapped. “I rode along the route you were scouting and found your horse grazing all by his lonesome. Farther up a ways, there were more tracks, but they was a damn mess and I ain’t some Injun who can just put my ear to the ground and figure out where you got off to.”

  “He tried, Gus,” Abigail said. “Doyle really did try.”

  More than anything, what caught Gus’s ear was the fact that Abigail actually used Doyle’s proper name instead of just referring to him as “that other one.” The sound of that particular word coming from her seemed to have caught Doyle by surprise as well, because both partners merely glared at each other without taking the fight any further.

  A cold wind ripped through the camp that made the fire sputter and the trees rustle.

  “This bacon is really good,” Jacob said timidly. “Is there anything else to go with it?”

  Abigail let out a sigh and told him, “That one there doesn’t carry much, but there were a few cans at the bottom of a saddlebag he didn’t want me to see. Why don’t I dig them up for you?”

  Doyle set his plate down and stomped across the camp, but it wasn’t to keep Abigail from rooting through his things. Instead, he motioned for Gus to follow him away from the feeble glow of the fire.

  Standing up, Gus walked over to Abigail and asked, “Where’s that gun of yours?”

  “Actually, it’s not mine.”

  “Where is it?”

  Abigail blinked and took the pistol from a pocket in her skirt. The gun was one of Doyle’s holdout weapons, which was usually kept in his boot. In her hands, the pistol looked twice as large. “Here,” she said. “Go on and take it. He just let me carry it in case someone came along while he was gone.”

  Gus snatched the gun away from her and checked the cylinder. It was loaded, so Doyle must have been somewhat concerned for her safety.

  “I mean what I said,” she told him. “He really did try to find you. After he brought back your horse, he was worried sick. He didn’t say as much, but I could tell. He barely got a wink of sleep this whole time and I’ve been so concerned that I barely know what day it is.” Gus was still tucking the gun away when she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m glad you’re alive. How did you get hurt?”

  “Never mind that. Do you have any other weapons?”

  “No.”

  “If Jacob asks for a gun, you let me know all right?”

  “Sure, but why? Can’t you trust him?”

  “I’m just not taking any chances is all,” Gus assured her. “We made it this far by being careful, so I’m not about to let up now. Just keep your eye on that other one and let me know if he does or says anything that strikes you as peculiar.”

  “You mean Doyle?”

  Half a grin drifted across Gus’s face as he said, “No. The other other one.”

  Abigail nodded and then leaned to one side, which was all she needed to do to get a look at Jacob. The bounty hunter had been eating the whole time and was about to lick his plate clean. “He’s handsome.”

  “I’ll just take your word on that one.” After saying that, Gus walked around the perimeter of the little camp to where Doyle was waiting. As soon as he got close enough to Doyle, Gus thought his partner was going to take a swing at him.

  Doyle’s fist stopped just short of knocking against Gus’s jaw, but not before Gus’s hand snapped up to block it. Doyle grinned and said, “Nothin’ wrong with your speed, Gus. Looks like that hurt, though.”

  “I was shot in the shoulder.”

  “Bad?”

  “Just a cut.” Wincing as he worked out some of the pain that had flared up, Gus added, “A deep cut.”

  “So what the hell happened to you anyway? You got shot and then what?”

  Gus swiped at his head and pushed back the hair that had become a matted, tangled mess. So much dust and grit fell out that he felt as if he’d been dragged from the back of a horse rather than ridden one. He gave Doyle a quick account of what happened after he was shot, including everything right up to the moment when he caught sight of Jacob.

  “So he just happened to be there when you escaped?” Doyle asked.

  “Yeah. What’s bothering you now?”

  Dropping his voice to a harsh whisper, Doyle said, “Whoever that fella is over there, I don’t trust him. He’s got a bad look about him.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means he still smells like he’s got a star pinned to his chest. He ain’t comin’ with us any farther. I ain’t about to risk getting caught with that woman. Unless we do this the right way, we’ll be gunned down and planted in a shallow hole before anyone stops to ask why we brought her back. I doubt that woman would even speak on our account.”

  “She won’t let anyone shoot us without trying to explain things,” Gus said.

&n
bsp; “You sure about that?”

  “Has she tried to run away?”

  Doyle clenched his jaw, even though he obviously didn’t have to think about his answer. Finally, he grumbled, “No, but—”

  “And has she tried to knock you in the head to get away? Seems like she had plenty of opportunities while you were riding. Speaking of that, why’d you let her sit behind you if you were so worried?”

  “I was testin’ her.”

  “And?” Gus asked.

  “She didn’t try anything, but that only means she doesn’t want to be left out here all on her lonesome.”

  “You figured that out all for yourself, huh?” Gus draped an arm around Doyle’s shoulder and guided him a bit farther from the camp. He spoke even softer on the off chance that Jacob’s ears were as good as his eyes. “I put him through a test or two of my own and he did just fine. He had plenty of chances to double-cross me and he didn’t.”

  “I thought you trusted him so much,” Doyle growled. When he saw the stern glare on Gus’s face, he shrugged. “Fine, so maybe I ain’t one to talk about being suspicious. But tell me, if you trust him so much and he passed all them tests, why’d you take his gun?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “A pretty reasonable one,” Doyle replied, “especially since you got a gun that you didn’t have before and your friend is wearin’ an empty holster.”

  At that moment, Gus realized just how tired he was. Everything over the past day or so weighed down upon him like a set of lead weights. Under normal circumstances, he would have been able to whip up a lie to fit any occasion and tell it in a way that would have convinced his own mother he was quoting the Gospel. Now Gus could barely keep his eyes open and could hardly think straight, thanks to the pain that had soaked into every last one of his joints as well as the wound in his shoulder that had still hardly been tended.

  “I was tryin’ to keep my head down until Smythe and his men either rode off to try to find me or were stuck trying to explain all that shooting,” Gus said. “The last thing I needed was for someone like Jacob to mention my name in the wrong company or even attract a bit of attention at the wrong time. I pulled him aside and that’s when I found out he was a bounty hunter.”