Blaze! Night Riders

by Michael Newton

  They came together with explosive power, each one clinging to the other as if he or she were drowning and the other was a lifesaver bobbing across the surface of a storm-tossed sea. Long minutes later, when they'd both collapsed, Kate sighed, and then it turned into a giggling fit.

  "Hey, now," J.D. cut in. "That doesn't make a man feel great, you know."

  "Well you made me feel great. No worries on that score," she said. Another sigh before she added, "But now I'm absolutely starving. Can we get some breakfast, please?"

  * * *

  They were the first two customers inside The Palace when it opened, greeted by a perky waitress with her red hair all in curls. She led them to a window table, came with coffee, and then took their orders: scrambled eggs and ham for Kate, with mushrooms on the side; pancakes and one fried egg with bacon for J.D. The chef was quick about it, and they had their meals five minutes later, piping hot.

  "So, what's the plan today?" J.D. asked, when he took a break from wolfing down his food and gave the griddlecakes another syrup dousing.

  "Hang around today like we agreed and see what happens," Kate replied. "If it's all quiet when we turn in for the night, we leave tomorrow."

  "That suits me," he said. "I think we've pretty much done Yankton."

  "Haven't been to the saloon," she said.

  "You're right. But it's a little early for my taste."

  "I thought maybe this evening. Try a few quick hands of cards."

  "As if we didn't have enough trouble already," J.D. said.

  Kate seldom lost at cards, which was a good thing, normally. But it could also raise the locals' hackles if they had a grudge against her, going in, and J.D. still had no idea who'd worn the other flour sacks outside of town, when he and Kate had broken up the Hilliards' lynching yesterday.

  "You think somebody's after us?" she asked.

  "Could be. That deputy..."

  "Speak of the devil," Kate said. "There he goes."

  J.D. glanced up and saw Deputy Rice moving along the sidewalk opposite The Palace, peering their way with his eyes narrowed against the morning sun. The lawman frowned and crossed the street, then passed from sight beyond the restaurant.

  "At least he isn't loitering outside to watch us eat," Kate said.

  "Still sets my teeth on edge," J.D. replied.

  When they had cleaned their plates and paid the bill, they stepped outside and found Deputy Rice waiting to greet them, leaning up against a post outside the dry goods store. Before they had a chance to speak, he said, "I reckon you'll be riding out this morning, then?"

  "You'd reckon wrong," J.D. replied. "We plan to stay in town today, rest up and see the sights."

  "Not many sights to hold your kind in Yankton," Rice observed.

  "Our kind?" Kate challenged him. "What kind is that?"

  "Drifters. Fast guns looking for trouble," Rice replied. "Trouble with livin' that way is you always find it."

  "That sounds like a threat, Deputy," J.D. said.

  "Call it a friendly warning, Mister. People hereabouts don't take kindly to strangers meddlin' in their business, gettin' in their way."

  "Business like hanging men and women who've done nothing wrong?" Kate asked. Her voice had taken on a razor's edge that J.D. knew was dangerous.

  "Business of any kind, Ma'am. It's a lesson I'd have thought you'd learned by now."

  "I must've missed that. Anyway, we'll stay as long as we're inclined to, and we don't expect to see you trailing us all over town."

  "Patrol's my job," Rice said, half smirking.

  "That's dangerous work," J.D. advised. "See, Kate and I don't like folks meddling in our business, either. When they do, it seems they don't last long."

  They left Rice standing red-faced by himself, and glaring after them as they moved on.

  * * *

  Sheriff Kersey was rearranging WANTED posters on his notice board, back to the office door when it opened and closed again. He turned to find the bounty hunters eyeing him.

  "Don't tell me you've shot someone else," he said, half joking, but without a smile.

  "Not yet," Kate Blaze replied.

  "We want to speak with you about your deputy," her husband said.

  "Who, Sandy?"

  "Rice, he said his name was."

  "That's my one and only deputy," Kersey agreed. "What's on your mind."

  "This morning is the second time he's braced us, warning us to leave Yankton," Kate said. "I'd call it threatening, but he's stopped short of reaching for his gun, so you've still got your deputy. For now."

  Before Kersey could speak, J.D. Blaze told him, "We assume he's acting under orders from his boss, who would be you. We heard your warning yesterday, and sending your lapdog around to yap at us won't make the message any clearer."

  "Now hold on—"

  "No, you hold on," Kate interrupted him. "We have as much right being here in town as any other citizen or traveler. You've got no charge against us, and if someone's been complaining, you're required to spell it out, including who's behind it. If there's been no complaint, you and your deputy have no call prodding us."

  "You want to let me talk now?" Kersey asked her.

  "Go ahead."

  "Before you cut me off, I was about to say I didn't send Sandy to roust you out of town, not yesterday and not this morning. I'll be having words with him, next time I see him."

  "Good," J.D. chimed in. "Because he's getting on our nerves."

  "That said," Kersey pressed on, "I'd hate to think you're hanging around Yankton just to aggravate the law."

  "Thought never crossed my mind," Kate said. "We're resting up after our hunt for Zeno Voightlander, and that's the end of it."

  "In which case, I foresee no further problems," Kersey said.

  Both of them nodded, turned and left the office. As the door clicked shut behind them, Sheriff Kersey wished his parting words had been the truth.

  * * *

  Deputy Rice was lounging on a bench outside the barber's shop when he saw Sheriff Kersey angling toward him, from across the street. The sheriff had a set look on his face, not friendly, and he crossed the thoroughfare with a determined stride.

  "Sandy," he said, when he was close enough, "we need to have a talk."

  "Alrighty. Talk away," Rice said. "And take a load off."

  Kersey eyed the free half of the bench but didn't sit. After a moment of the sheriff looking down on him, Sandy stood up to face him, still the shorter man by half a head.

  "I understand you've been after the bounty hunters," Kersey said.

  Feigning confusion, Sandy said, "I don't know what you mean, Boss."

  "Oh? You don't remember warning them to haul ass out of town? Once yesterday, and then again this morning?"

  Rice could feel his cheeks flushing, but couldn't rightly say if it was anger or embarrassment. "I talked to 'em a couple times, it's true. I mighta mentioned something about how they might feel safer and more welcome somewhere else."

  Kersey reached out to tap the badge on Sandy's vest. "And were you wearing that during these little chats?"

  "Well, sure."

  "Pretending that your warnings came from me?"

  "Hey, Jord, I never said—"

  "It's 'Sheriff Kersey,' Deputy. Can you remember that?"

  "Yes, sir." His cheeks were flaming now.

  "I hope so. If you start to throw your weight around without my say-so, even one more time, I'll cut you loose and give that badge to someone else before you can say, 'I fucked up'."

  "I didn't mean no harm, Jor— ... Sheriff. Hell, I thought you'd be relieved to see the back of them."

  "I would," Kersey replied. "But those two stopped a lynching mob. I won't have any truck with necktie parties or appear in any way to give them my support. That means I don't harass a pair of Good Samaritans who saved two of our locals, nor does anyone who works for me."

  "I hear you, Sheriff."

  "Damn it, I hope so. By all rights, you oughta be
apologizing to them, but I get the feeling that they'd just as soon not see you anymore. So take this as an order, Deputy. You stay away from them as long as they're in town. You see them coming, cross the street to get out of their way. You have no dealings with them whatsoever, unless one or both of them are drunk, disorderly, or otherwise in violation of the law. All right?"

  "Yes, sir. No problem here."

  "Don't let it slip your mind. I'm serious as hell and you won't get another chance."

  "No, sir. We're good."

  Kersey left Rice without another word, moved back across the street and went about his rounds, talking to storekeepers and shoppers on the sidewalk. Everybody he encountered smiled at Kersey, nodded, some laughing at little jokes he told.

  A goddamned politician, Rice thought. Always curries favor when he should be cracking down, making the county seat run like a well-oiled steam engine.

  If Rice were sheriff, there would be some changes made.

  If pigs could fly, a small voice in his head replied, and Sandy spat into the dusty thoroughfare.

  Chapter 8

  "You think the sheriff will do anything about his deputy, J.D.?"

  He shrugged and said, "I'd call it even money. It's no secret that he wants us out of town, but hearing that a flunky went behind his back didn't exactly please him, either."

  "If it's true the flunky actually went behind his back," Kate said.

  "My little skeptic."

  "Would you trust them? Either one of them?"

  "About as far as I could throw the courthouse," J.D. answered. "But I won't be hounded out of town for no good reason."

  "So, they've got your back up," Kate said, smiling.

  "You could say that, more or less."

  "It looks bad, coming in to claim a bounty, then we wind up fighting with the law."

  "No reason it should go that far. If Kersey settles matters with his deputy, we're good. And if we don't have any other problems by tomorrow..."

  "You still want to leave?" she asked.

  "Why not?"

  "I'm still thinking about the Hilliards, and the rest."

  He frowned at that. "Except for Moses Dyer, we haven't even met the rest."

  "But we know what they're going through, J.D. Lives being threatened so they never get a minute's peace."

  "And your solution is...?"

  "I don't have one, exactly," she admitted. "I was thinking we should visit them again."

  "The Hilliards."

  "And the others, if they'll make the introductions."

  "To what end?"

  "To find out if there's something we can do for them, before we go."

  He frown deepened as J.D. said, "As long as you remember that we're going. Going soon. I have no plans for settling down in Yankton, fighting for a cause that isn't ours."

  "But if we just find out the truth—"

  "Then what?" he interrupted her. "File a report of what's been going on? The sheriff runs this county, and this county runs the Dakota Territory. I believe you would agree that he already knows what's going on."

  "There's bound to be a governor," Kate said.

  "There is. John Burbank," J.D. said, surprising her. "Appointed by the president himself."

  "Well, there you are! If need be, we can speak to him, and—"

  "And?"

  "Express our point of view. As citizens."

  "Except, we're not."

  "Not what, J.D.?"

  "Not citizens of the Dakota Territory."

  "So? If he won't listen to us, we can go over his head."

  "You mean the president?"

  "Why not? If you recall it, Mr. Grant owes us his life."

  Kate had him there. By fate or pure dumb luck, they'd saved Ulysses Grant from Rebel killers during his campaign for reelection, where he'd beaten Horace Greeley by some seven hundred thousand votes, followed by a landslide in the Electoral College of 286 votes against Greeley's three.

  Still, J.D. didn't like the thought of calling in a favor from the White House. Stopping on the sidewalk, he faced Kate and said, "I think we might agree that Mr. Grant has more important matters on his mind."

  "Call it a last resort, then," she replied. "But in the meantime, can we go and see the Hilliards? Maybe meet their other friends? I'd like to satisfy myself they're still alive."

  "I guess that wouldn't hurt," said J.D., giving in. "You want to race me to the livery?"

  Kate took his hand and squeezed it as she said, "An easy walk should do just fine."

  * * *

  "They're still in Yankton, then?" asked Ellis Fields.

  "I tried to warn 'em off, sir," Sandy Rice replied, seated across from Fields, inside the rancher's study at the Circle F. "Instead of lighting out, they went to Sheriff Kersey and he told me off for goin' after them."

  "What's that about?" asked Brent Bodine.

  "He's weak," Rice said. "Reckon he's got his eye on runnin' for some kind of office in due time, when statehood rolls around."

  "That could be years from now," Fields said. "What worries me is hanging onto what I've got today, not losing it to squatters, even if the Congress calls them homesteaders."

  "I'm pretty sure the Blazes should be leaving Yankton in another day or two," said Rice. "If you can keep a lid on it until then—"

  "Blazes?" Bodine blinked dully, like a groundhog forced out of its hole. "Who in hell are the Blazes?"

  "Jesus, Brent." Fields glared at his foreman. "They're just the ones who shot your lynch mob all to hell."

  "Oh. Them."

  "Yes, them. Try keeping up, will you?"

  "Aw, Boss..."

  "How's Gus McOwen getting on?" Fields interrupted him.

  "He's slow to mend, but gettin' there, I guess. Another week or so and he could do some light work. After that—"

  "All right, spare me. Another useless mouth to feed."

  Rice tried pressing what he saw as his advantage. "Anyway, if it was me, I'd plan on layin' off the niggers until the bounty hunters take their leave. No point in pullin' something that'll make them change their minds and stick around."

  "Or we could just take care of them," Bodine replied. "How mad would Kersey be if somethin' happened to 'em, anyway?"

  Rice could only shrug at that. "Depends on what it was, I guess, and how it happened."

  Fields was laid back in his deep chair, boots up on a hassock. "If something did happen," he said, in a speculative voice, "we couldn't have a finger pointing back at us."

  "No, sir!" Bodine was quick to answer.

  Rice was still trying to work it out. "Something like...?"

  "Suppose they made some kinda trouble and the sheriff's office had to take them down?" Bodine suggested.

  "That's a tough one," Sandy said. "Jordan don't like 'em, but he took their side against me, all the same."

  "Or if they joined up with the niggers," said Bodine. "That puts a different color on it, so to speak."

  "Some kind of agitators," Fields suggested. "And if they were killed away from town, no living witnesses...well, who's to say what finally became of them or who's responsible?"

  "Think it'll work?" asked Rice, suddenly nervous.

  "I believe," Fields said, "we'd better make it work."

  * * *

  The hostler brought their horses out and helped them saddle up, part of the service he explained, although J.D. and Kate were both quite capable of doing it themselves. After the Yankton House, it felt good to be riding, even if it put J.D. in mind that they had nowhere special to be going when they left Dakota Territory's capital.

  No problem, there. With ample money in their pockets, they could take some time prospecting for another fugitive whose bounty made it worth their while. They likely wouldn't even have to leave Dakota, but the more he thought about it, J.D. felt that he would like a change of scene.

  Right now, their target was the Hilliards' humble farm, and J.D. hoped they could approach it without getting shot. Two white people ar
riving without invitation might be less suspicious than a mob of hooded thugs, but with the couple's nerves on edge, it still might be a risky proposition.

  Putting thought to words, he said, "I hope Amos can recognize us from a distance, so he doesn't try to pick us off."

  "I'm not afraid of him," Kate said.

  "Me, neither. But I'm still allergic to lead poisoning."

  In fact, they found their unsuspecting host working his field, behind a horse and plow. Hilliard looked up and saw them coming from the best part of a quarter mile, and was already turning toward his house when Kate called out to put his mind at ease. That stopped him, and he waited for them, smiling nervously, then walked them to the house. Calliope seemed slightly more relaxed when Amos called her out onto the porch.

  Kate started off with an apology. "Sorry if we surprised you. We just thought it might be good to check on you once more, before we left."

  "You're leaving Yankton now?" Calliope had lost her fleeting smile.

  "Not right this minute," J.D. said. "Likely tomorrow morning, though."

  "We wish you well, o' course," Amos chimed in. "Wherever you might go, we're always in your debt."

  "Don't give that any thought," Kate said. "We just hope you'll be safe out here."

  "Funny you'd mention that," Amos replied. "We've got some other freedmen comin' over here tonight, for supper. We're having a meeting, like, to talk about how we should handle...you know."

  Right on cue, Calliope jumped in to say, "We wish you'd stay and meet them. Have a home-cooked meal before you set out on the road and all."

  J.D. felt they would be intruding, glanced at Kate, and said, "Well..."

  "It would be our honor," Amos cut him off. "We told our other friends about you, what you did for us. They'd all be proud to meet you once, before you go away."

  "We've got fried chicken, peas, biscuits, and mashed potatoes with my mama's red-eye gravy. Please say yes."

  Kate beamed at both of them and said, "Sounds better than whatever's cooking at The Palace. Count us in, and thanks."