Hired Gun

by Bobbi Smith

  “Well, welcome, Mr. . . .” The clerk turned the register so he could read his signature. “Tucker.” He got a key and handed it to him. “Upstairs, third door on the right.”

  “Thanks.”

  Sykes went to the room to get washed up, and then he left the hotel and headed to the local saloon. He wasn’t going to ask any questions today. He was just going to have a few drinks and listen to the talk. He deliberately took the long way to the saloon, passing by the stage office to get a look at the man who’d paid Marshall to bring in his son. The office was still open, and he could see a man sitting at the desk inside. Sykes knew that when the time came, he’d be paying that fellow a visit, too.

  The Ace High Saloon wasn’t crowded, so he got a drink and settled in at a table to pass the time. One of the saloon girls approached him, but he was in no mood for female companionship, and he let her know it right away. He was glad when she left him alone. He had some serious listening to do at the bar, and he didn’t want anyone interfering.

  Sykes was glad to find out that the saloon served food, so he sat there for a while just eating and drinking, but heard nothing that would help him. Not that he’d expected to hear something about the hired gun right away, but he’d been hoping for a fast break once he got to Coyote Canyon. Sykes didn’t want to risk bringing up Trent Marshall’s name himself, so he continued to bide his time, joining in a poker game to make a few friends and try to win a pot or two. That didn’t help either, because he didn’t win any money and didn’t learn any news about Marshall. Frustrated and tired, he finally called it a night.

  The easy part of getting his revenge was over—he’d reached Coyote Canyon. Now came the hard part—tracking down Trent Marshall. Sykes never even considered that he might be forced to give up. One way or another, he would find the hired gun and make him pay.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “You’re up and moving,” Rose said in surprise as Mason appeared in the kitchen doorway, dressed and looking almost like himself. She was there cooking his breakfast and had fully expected to be taking it to him in his room.

  “I’ve had enough of staying in bed,” Mason told her.

  “Are you sure you’re strong enough to be moving around?” she asked, still worried about him.

  “Yeah, it feels good to be up. I figured if I got outside in the sunshine for a while today that might help, too.”

  “It sure can’t hurt. Sit down here at the table, and I’ll get you your breakfast.”

  “That’s what I like—fast service.”

  They were both smiling, enjoying the normalcy of the moment. Rose watched with satisfaction as Mason ate his usual fare. His appetite was back, she noted, and he truly was getting stronger.

  Larissa and Dottie entered the general store together.

  “How’s Mason doing? Has your father been out to see him again?”

  “Not since the other day. He told Rose to let him know if there were any problems, so not hearing anything is good.”

  “What about Abbie? Has there been any news about her at all?”

  “Nothing that I know of.”

  “Hello, Dottie, Larissa,” called out Alnette Scribner, the town’s biggest gossip, when she saw them come inside. She hurried up the aisle from the back of the store to talk with them.

  Dottie and Larissa knew there was no escaping her, so they girded themselves for the conversation to come as Alnette headed their way.

  “How are you, Alnette?” Dottie asked politely, knowing full well that she was going to find out—and probably in detail.

  “I’m doing just fine,” she answered, and then looked at Larissa. “I was just wondering if your father learned anything new about Abbie Ryan when he was out at the Lazy R?”

  “The last any of us heard was that there had been no word.”

  Alnette shuddered visibly for dramatic effect. “This is all so horrible. Can you imagine what poor Abbie is going through?”

  “I try not to think about it,” Larissa answered.

  “I do too,” Dottie added for emphasis, not wanting the conversation to deteriorate into lurid speculation.

  “Why, being taken hostage by those horrible savages . . .” Alnette went on emotionally. “I’ve heard talk that that tracker the Ryans hired is real good. He just brought in that outlaw named Sykes the stage line was after, and if he can track down someone as elusive and dangerous as Sykes, he should be able to find Abbie.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Dottie said.

  “It’s hard on Mason, though,” Larissa added. “I feel so sorry for him. He wants to be out on the trail helping to search for her.”

  “How is he?”

  “He’s getting better, but he won’t be able to do any regular work for another few weeks, and with Abbie gone, and Hank, too, they’re shorthanded out at the Lazy R.”

  “It’s a difficult time for the family; that’s for sure,” Dottie said sympathetically. “We’ll have to keep them in our prayers.”

  “I’ll do that,” Alnette said, moving on up to the front of the store to pay for her purchases. “You let me know if you hear anything new.”

  Larissa and Dottie just smiled and nodded as they started off to do their shopping.

  None of them noticed the man in the back of the store who’d been listening intently to their every word.

  Sykes couldn’t believe his luck. After his failure to learn anything about Trent Marshall the night before at the saloon, he’d been biding his time. It had been pure luck that he’d decided to come over to the store to get the supplies he’d need when he rode out again. And now he knew where Trent Marshall had gone. He had a hard time keeping from smiling as he finished gathering up what he needed and went up to the counter to pay for it.

  Sykes headed back to the hotel to drop off the supplies. Once he was in his room, he tried to decide what action to take. He knew now where Trent Marshall had gone. He was off tracking down a renegade raiding party that had taken a local girl hostage. Sykes knew he could try to go after Marshall, but decided right away against that. It would be far easier to sit tight in Coyote Canyon and wait for Marshall’s return. Then he had an even better idea. The woman had said the rancher who’d hired Marshall was shorthanded. He decided to go down to the saloon again and check in with the bartender to find out exactly where the Lazy R was and to see what his odds of getting hired on there would be.

  It was certainly worth a try. If it all worked out the way he hoped, he’d be right there at the Lazy R, ready and waiting, when Trent Marshall rode back in.

  Sykes was smiling as he entered the saloon. Some days were better than others.

  “You’re looking mighty happy today,” the barkeep told him.

  “Gimme a whiskey,” Sykes ordered.

  “You got it.” The barkeep quickly poured him a shot and pushed it across the bar. “So you’re enjoying your stay in our fine little town?”

  “The longer I’m here, the better I like it. Trouble is, I need to find some work. I was just over at the general store and heard some ladies talking. They said a ranch called the Lazy R was shorthanded right now. Do you think I could get hired on out there?”

  The barkeep frowned slightly, thinking of all the trouble the Ryans had had lately. “The way things have been going for them, they probably could use another able-bodied man or two out there for a while.”

  “The women said something about a raiding party kidnapping someone?”

  The barkeep told him the story of what had happened, including how the Ryans had hired a tracker to go after the renegades.

  “They are having some rough times. Do you think it’s worth my while to ride out and talk to them?”

  “Couldn’t hurt. Mason Ryan’s the man you need to talk to—if he’s able. I heard he was doing better, but I don’t think he’s back to work yet. Tom Jackson’s the foreman. He’s a good man.”

  “Where is the place?”

  The barkeep gave him directions. “Just tell them you tal
ked to me. My name’s Max. Tell them I told you to ride out.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “Let’s just hope they find the girl soon.”

  “Real soon,” Sykes said, nodding in agreement. The sooner, the better.

  Mason went out and sat on the small bench on the front porch in the sunshine. He’d pushed himself a little too hard that day, and he needed to take it easy for a while. He hadn’t been there long when he noticed a rider coming in. He didn’t recognize the man and wondered who he was and what he wanted.

  Out by the stable, Tom saw the stranger, too. He left what he was doing and walked up to the house so he could be with Mason when the man arrived.

  “What do you think?” Tom asked as he joined Mason on the porch.

  “I don’t know, but I think we’re going to find out real soon,” Mason responded.

  The stranger reined in before them.

  “Afternoon,” Sykes said, tipping his hat to them.

  “What can we do for you?” Mason asked.

  “Is this the Lazy R?”

  “It is,” Mason answered, not offering any more. Something about the man troubled him, but he had no idea why.

  “You must be Mason Ryan, then. My name’s Tucker, Charley Tucker.”

  “I am Ryan, and this is my foreman Tom Johnson. What brings you to the Lazy R?”

  “I was in town, and I heard some talk at the saloon that you might be running a little shorthanded right now. Max, the bartender, told me to tell you he sent me out to see if you wanted to hire on an extra hand.”

  “Where are you from?” Mason asked.

  “No place in particular. I like to keep moving.”

  “If you like to keep moving, what makes you think you’d want to work here?”

  “I’ve been down on my luck for a while and could sure use a few paydays right now.”

  Tom had a feeling Mason didn’t like the man, but they were shorthanded and could definitely use the help. He spoke up. “We could use an extra man until Hank gets back.”

  “The barkeep told me about your trouble with the raiding party. I’ll work hard for you.”

  Mason had his doubts, but realized Tom did need help. “All right. We’ll give you a try, but I’m hoping it’ll only be for a short time.”

  “For your sake, I hope so, too. I’ll take whatever work you can give me,” Sykes told him, playing humble.

  “Come on out to the bunkhouse,” Tom said, taking charge. “I’ll show you around.”

  “Thanks.”

  Mason remained where he was, watching the two men walk away. He didn’t know why Tucker put him on edge, but he did. For now, he’d trust Tom’s judgment, but if he noticed anything strange—anything at all—he would call Tucker on it.

  Trent had been keeping an eye on the clouds gathering in the distance, and knew harsh weather was headed their way.

  “We need to ride for higher ground,” he told them. “There’s a bad storm coming in, and it’s coming fast.”

  Faith had seen the threatening clouds, too, and feared the tracks they were following might be washed out.

  “But we need to keep on the trail for as long as we can,” she argued. “It might get washed out.”

  “Staying on the trail won’t do us any good if we end up dead,” Trent countered.

  “Trent’s right, Faith,” Hank concurred, studying the sky. “The storm’s moving quick.”

  “But if we lose the trail . . .” She stared off in the direction they’d been traveling, knowing Abbie was out there somewhere.

  “If it gets washed out, we’ll just have to find it again,” Trent told her, meeting her gaze.

  Faith saw the calm determination in his eyes. She had learned to trust him during their time together, and she put her trust in him now. “All right. Let’s ride.”

  They started off toward higher ground, looking for a place to seek shelter from the coming storm.

  Trent had been right. It wasn’t long before the wind picked up and the rain began. It had been storming for some time in the mountains, and the water was already washing down and surging through the arroyos. Fierce lightning split the sky as the deluge gained strength.

  Trent saw there was another arroyo ahead that they had to cross to reach safety. The water was rising, but he thought they could make it in time. He led the way, urging his reluctant horse on.

  “We have to hurry before the current gets any stronger!” he shouted as he forded the rushing waters.

  His horse balked and came close to losing its footing, but finally made it up the other side.

  Faith followed next. True fear gripped her as lightning struck nearby and the deafening crack of thunder exploded around them. Her horse shied and stumbled as it struggled against the power of the onrushing water.

  “Come on, Faith! You can make it!” Trent shouted to her over the roar that surrounded around them.

  Faith held on tight as her horse braved the fast-moving water and finally managed to pull itself up to safety.

  Hank and Jake were ready to follow behind her. Just as Hank reached the water’s edge, though, lightning erupted again and his horse reared wildly, backing away in complete and total terror, refusing to cross the flooding arroyo. Hank tried to regain control, to force his horse across the raging waters, but it was no use. The lightning and the deadly current made it impossible.

  “We’re not going to make it!” Jake shouted to Trent and Faith over the roar of the storm. “The water’s too deep and it’s moving too fast!”

  Trent knew they were right.

  “Find shelter!” he called back. “We’ll meet up when it’s over!”

  Hank and Jake didn’t need to be told twice. They quickly rode away, looking for a safe place to wait out the storm.

  “Come on!” Trent called to Faith.

  She followed him as he rode up the rocky hillside, searching for a haven from the rain.

  Trent couldn’t be certain, but he thought he saw what looked like a small cave about half a mile ahead of them.

  “Up there, Faith!” He pointed it out to her and then led the way toward the place he hoped would offer them shelter from the fierce weather.

  It was hard riding, but they finally managed to reach the spot. They wasted no time dismounting and, after tethering the horses and grabbing their bedrolls, they sought what safety they could find inside the shallow cave.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Faith and Trent were drenched as they took shelter in the small cave. Tossing their gear aside, they turned back to stare out at the torrential downpour scouring the land.

  “I wonder if Jake and Hank are all right?” Faith worried.

  “They’re smart men. They’ll find someplace to wait it out, just like we did.”

  “I hope so.”

  “It looks like we’re going to be here for a while,” Trent said, taking a look at the sky.

  “I know,” she said in disgust as she turned away from watching the storm to try to figure out how to find any comfort in their cramped surroundings. At least the cave was deep enough to protect them from the bad weather. She was even more glad to discover that there were no snakes curled up anywhere. “I guess we might as well try to get comfortable.”

  Trent joined her and unrolled his bedroll so they’d have something to sit on while they bided their time. Lightning continued to split the sky with ferocious intensity, and the deafening roar of the thunder that followed echoed around them as they sat down on the bedroll. It was damp, but it was still better than sitting on the rocky ground.

  “Do you think we’ll be stuck here all night?” she asked. It was late in the afternoon already.

  “It looks like it,” he answered.

  “We were closing in on them,” she said sadly.

  “We were. The only good thing about this is that it’s a big storm.”

  “And you think that’s good?” Faith asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, it means the raiding party will have to
hole up somewhere, too. We’ll find them.”

  She heard the confidence in his tone and looked over at Trent, studying his lean, darkly handsome profile as he sat beside her. His very nearness sent a shiver of sensual awareness through her. She was attracted to him as she’d never been to any other man. There was a quiet inner strength about him that drew her to him. From the first moment they’d met, she’d known he was special, and she found herself wondering how he’d come to be a hired gun—a man who worked alone to bring in wanted killers.

  “Trent?”

  He glanced her way.

  “How did you get started doing this? Tracking people down?”

  “About ten years ago down in Dry Gulch, two outlaws—Charlie Hunt and Will Anderson—killed my brother, Brett. Brett was the sheriff there in town, and they set him up and shot him in the back. The people from town were so afraid of them, they wouldn’t even form a posse to go after them, so I did it myself.”

  “Did you have any other family to help you?”

  “No. Our folks had died some years before.”

  “But you did it. You found them.” Her respect for him grew even greater as she realized all he’d been through, and at such a young age.

  “Yes. Old Jim, one of our ranch hands, was a real good tracker. He rode with me. It took us a while, but we caught up with them. Their days of killing are over.”

  She didn’t ask for details. His emotionless tone told her all she needed to know. Gently, she reached out and touched his arm. “Good.”

  “It didn’t bring Brett back, but it did feel good turning them in.”

  Faith could see the steely look in his eyes as he remembered that time in his life, and she understood, now, how he’d come to be the man he was.

  “That’s why I stayed at it,” Trent went on. “Old Jim worked with me. He taught me everything he knew about tracking.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He died a few years back.”

  “So you’ve been working by yourself ever since?”

  “I’ve come to like working alone.”

  Faith couldn’t resist teasing him. Trying hard not to crack a smile, she said, “I’ve heard that about you.”