Ransom Valley (Wind River Book 7)

by James Reasoner

  "If you know me any better than you do right now, you'll regret it," she snapped.

  "Oh, I don't reckon I will."

  She looked around at the other men, wondering if there was any way she could drive a wedge between them. The man riding at Maguire's side looked even more hardbitten and dangerous with his thin, drooping mustache and cruel face. Maguire had called him Lije, and he seemed to be the gang's second in command. Brenda knew there wouldn't be any help for her there.

  The big man in the suit and the derby, though, he had gazed at her with open appreciation. If she got a chance, she might be able to play up to him. It was doubtful that she could ever turn him against the other outlaws, but maybe, under the right circumstances, he would react in her favor.

  That would take time to bring about, though, and she was pretty sure she wouldn't have that much time. As they rode into the hills, steep bluffs rose around them. A narrow opening appeared up ahead, and to Brenda's frightened eyes the dark, ominous gap might as well have been the mouth of Hell.

  An overpowering urge to get away seized her. She twisted suddenly and tried to bring her elbow up and back into Maguire's throat. If she could loosen his grip on her, even for a second, she might slip free, leap off the horse, and try to run, even though there was really nowhere for her to go . . .

  Maguire moved his head aside, laughed, and used the hand holding the horse's reins to grasp her throat.

  "Don't try anything like that," he warned her. "You don't want to make me mad, Miss Durand."

  His grip tightened. Brenda struggled to breathe as the group of riders entered the narrow passage. Her head was tilted back a little, and even in her distress she noticed sunlight reflecting from rifle barrels on the bluffs above them. So the men who had raided Wind River weren't the only members of the gang. Maguire had posted sharpshooters up there to guard the way into the stronghold.

  Shadows closed in around them. Maguire let go of her neck. "Now," he said, "are you going to behave?"

  "Y-yes," Brenda rasped. "I won't give you . . . any trouble."

  "Good. I knew you were a smart girl."

  A few minutes later they came to the end of the passage and emerged into the sunlight again. The landscape that spread out before them wasn't exactly pretty, Brenda thought, but it wasn't as bleak and ugly as much of this Wyoming Territory was.

  "Welcome to the place that's going to be your home for a while," Maguire said. "Welcome to my valley."

  Chapter 11

  Cole reined Ulysses to a halt when he spotted the hoofprints crossing the railroad tracks in front of him. It was impossible to miss the signs that a dozen or more riders had come through here and headed northwest toward the hills.

  The outlaws hadn't even tried to hide their tracks, he thought. That showed how cocky they were, how confident that the law couldn't reach them in their stronghold.

  And the tracks proved as well that the posse was too late to cut off the fleeing bandits. Cole's jaw tightened as he gazed toward the hills.

  "They're already up there somewhere, aren't they?" Jeremiah asked quietly, although in such a big man, his voice still held a considerable rumble.

  "Yeah," Cole said. "It looks like they are."

  Nathan Smollet edged his horse up and asked nervously, "Are we going to wait for help, Marshal, or go ahead and try to find them?" The banker looked uncomfortable. Even though the posse hadn't really ridden that far, Smollet wasn't used to spending even this much time in the saddle.

  "I don't intend to wait," Cole said. "Every man here, though, is a volunteer. I won't force you to come along if you don't want to."

  "It ain't that we don't want to, Marshal," one of the men spoke up. "But we've all heard about how you sent for Kermit Sawyer and those wild cowboys of his, and it seems like we'd stand a better chance goin' up against those outlaws if we had the Diamond S bunch sidin' us."

  "No doubt about it," Cole said. "But would we be in time to help Miss Durand?"

  Smollet stiffened in the saddle and said, "If we're taking a vote, I say we go on. We can't afford to delay our rescue."

  "You sound mighty certain we'll be doin' the rescuin'," another man muttered. "Could be we'll need some rescuin' ourselves."

  There had been enough talk, Cole thought. He turned Ulysses' head toward the hills and said, "I'm going. Anybody who wants to come with me, I'll be obliged to you."

  Without looking back, he followed the tracks left by the outlaws and rode northwest.

  The fact that Jeremiah came up alongside him a moment later was no surprise. Cole had known he could depend on the big man. And Smollet was there, too; despite being a greenhorn, the banker was starting to show a core of toughness. When Cole finally glanced over his shoulder, he saw that all the posse members were following him. No one had turned back to Wind River.

  That made him feel a little better, but when he thought about the situation they were still facing, the show of loyalty didn't really help all that much.

  The trail led into the hills, twisting and turning among the ridges and bluffs and great humps of rock. They came out onto a narrow bench, and on the far side of it loomed a line of cliff-like bluffs. In the middle of that barrier was a dark gap that marked a passage of some sort.

  Cole reined in and held up his hand in a signal for the others to stop. He reached into his saddlebags and pulled out the telescope he always carried there. He had used the spyglass to help him locate Yankee cavalry patrols during the war. It had saved his life more than once.

  He extended the telescope, put it to his eye, peered through it. The gap in the bluffs came into sharp relief. He couldn't see very far into it, though. Whatever natural forces had carved out that opening had left it zigging and zagging back and forth. Cole could see that boulders cluttered the passage floor, but that was about all.

  Something about the opening reminded him of the jaws of a trap, waiting there to snap shut on the posse. But the outlaws and their prisoner were on the other side of it, so they had no choice but to try to make it through there.

  "Do you see anything?" Jeremiah asked.

  Cole grunted. "Nothing good." He angled the spyglass upward, intending to see if there might be a path they could use to scale those bluffs instead of trying to go through the gap. It didn't look promising. A man might be able to get up those steep slopes to which scrubby pines and a few hardy bushes clung, but horses would never be able to make it up and down.

  Cole's survey had just reached the top of the towering bluff when he saw a sudden flash of light, followed by a puff of smoke. As he hurriedly lowered the telescope, he heard a distant boom.

  "Get back!" he told the posse. "Get – "

  Too late. One of the men let out an explosive "Uh!" and flew backward out of his saddle. Blood spouted from the hole that had appeared abruptly in his chest.

  "Back!" Cole yelled again. "Into those trees!"

  The possemen jerked their horses around and headed for the shelter of a stand of juniper as fast as they could.

  Cole wheeled Ulysses as well, so he didn't see the second muzzle flash, but he heard the dull report as another shot was fired from the top of the bluff. A couple of heartbeats later, dirt geysered into the air as the heavy caliber slug struck the ground next to Nathan Smollet's horse. Smollet's knees banged against the animal's flanks as he tried to get all the speed out of it that he could.

  Cole was going to lean down from the saddle and try to grab the wounded man as he went past, but when he saw the man's sightless eyes he knew there was no point in making the effort. The man lay on his back, and while the hole in the front of his shirt wasn't all that big, Cole knew the hole in his back where the bullet came out would be large enough to put a fist in. Judging by the location of the entry wound, the slug had blown most of the man's heart out with it.

  Instead of pausing, Cole galloped on toward the trees. He reached them without being shot out of the saddle, and he considered himself a little lucky that was the case.

  T
he men had dismounted and taken cover behind the trees. A pale-faced Nathan Smollet said, "Good Lord, Marshal! What happened out there?"

  Cole swung down from the saddle and led Ulysses farther back in the trees. Someone, probably Jeremiah, had detailed a couple of men to hold the horses. Cole handed the reins over to one of them, then pulled his Henry rifle from its sheath and went back to where he could keep an eye on the bluffs as he stood behind the trunk of a juniper.

  "The outlaws have at least two men up there with Sharps rifles," he answered the bank manager's question. "Big Fifties, from the sound of them."

  "But those bluffs are at least half a mile away!"

  "And a good hand with a Sharps can make a shot close to a mile," Cole said.

  Jeremiah asked, "If they were going to ambush us anyway, why didn't they put more men up there and try to wipe us out?"

  Cole's face was bleak as he replied, "Seems to me what they just did was intended more as a warning."

  "A warning?" Smollet repeated. "A man is dead!"

  "And you came pretty close to that yourself, Mr. Smollet," Cole said with a humorless smile. "Made us all pay attention real good, didn't they?"

  "If they wanted to warn us and not just kill us," Jeremiah said, "there must be something they want from us."

  Cole thought about it and nodded. "I reckon you're right." Movement at the base of the bluff caught his attention. His eyes narrowed. He had stuffed his spyglass back in his saddlebags when the shooting started. Now he needed it again. "Everybody find the best cover you can and stay put."

  He hurried back to the spot where the men were holding the horses and retrieved the telescope. When he returned to the spot near the edge of the trees and peered through the glass, he wasn't surprised by what he saw. Lije Beaumont sat on horseback at the mouth of the gap, holding a branch with a big piece of white cloth tied to it. The chilly wind that funneled through the passage made the cloth flap lazily.

  "One of 'em's waiting with a flag of truce," Cole said as he lowered the telescope. "I guess I'd better go see what he wants."

  "Marshal, you can't," Smollet said. "You'll be a perfect target while you're riding across that open ground. They can kill you any time they want."

  "That means I have to hope they don't want me dead."

  As Cole started back to the horses, Jeremiah moved over to intercept him. Putting a hand on Cole's arm, the blacksmith said, "Are you sure this is the right thing to do, Brother Cole?"

  "I've got a hunch that Maguire has a message for us," Cole said. "He's sent his segundo to deliver it. Nobody will try to shoot me until I've heard what Beaumont has to say."

  "What about after you hear what he has to say?"

  Cole had to laugh. "Well, I reckon coming back across that open stretch might be a little harder on the nerves. But I really feel like they want something more than just a kill-or-be-killed showdown."

  "I'll be praying that you're right," Jeremiah said solemnly.

  "I appreciate that. I'll take all the prayers you've got."

  Cole put the telescope away again, snugged the Henry in the saddle boot, and mounted up. He rode through the trees, pausing at their edge long enough to raise his voice and say, "Remember, if I don't come back, Jeremiah's in charge."

  Then he heeled Ulysses into a lope that carried them out into the open. His skin crawled a little. At this range, if a man who was good with a Sharps was drawing a bead on him, he might as well have a big red target painted on his chest.

  No shots roared from the bluffs, though, as Cole drew steadily closer. Beaumont stayed where he was in the mouth of the gap, waiting.

  That half-mile ride didn't take long, but the seconds seemed to creep past. Finally, Cole was close enough that he and Beaumont could talk without having to shout. He brought the golden sorrel to a stop and rested both hands on the saddlehorn.

  "All right, I'm here, Beaumont," Cole called. "What do you want?"

  Beaumont had a stubby black cigar clenched between his teeth. Smoke drifted up from the glowing coal at the tip of it. Speaking around the cigar, the outlaw said, "Maguire sent me out here to talk to you."

  "I figured as much. The two of you are old friends, aren't you?"

  Beaumont's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?" he demanded. "By God, is one of those men we left behind still alive? Did somebody talk? Which one was it? Lanigan? Steeves? Russell? I'll kill the son of a – "

  "It doesn't really matter, does it?" Cole broke in to ask. "What's important is that I know the sort of men you are. I know you mean business."

  "Damn right we do."

  "So what is it you want?"

  Beaumont said, "We've got the Durand girl."

  "I know that. Is she all right?"

  "She ain't been hurt . . . yet. But Maguire knows she's rich. He says that her grandma's got until dawn, the day after tomorrow, to raise fifty thousand dollars. If he doesn't get it . . ." A leer stretched across Beaumont's rawboned face. "Well, I ain't sayin that she'll die right away, but I reckon there's a really good chance she'll wish she was dead."

  Almost every fiber of Cole's being wanted to yank out his .44 and blast that leer right off Beaumont's face. He could do it, too, before anyone could stop him. But if he did, he wouldn't be able to make it back to the posse, and he knew he couldn't hope to invade the outlaw stronghold by himself. More than likely, giving in to the impulse would just get him and Brenda killed sooner rather than later.

  "I can't speak for Mrs. Palmer," he said harshly.

  "Oh, I reckon she'll do what we want. She loves the girl, don't she?"

  That was true. And there was a good chance Margaret would be able to raise that much money, but getting it to Wind River in such a short period of time would be difficult.

  "You've got to give us more time than that," Cole said, figuring it wouldn't hurt to try to stall. For one thing, Kermit Sawyer and the Diamond S crew ought to be here before too much longer.

  Although for the life of him, he couldn't see right now how the extra guns would help. The gang had picked a good place for the hide-out. That valley on the other side of those bluffs seemed to be almost impregnable.

  "Forget it," Beaumont snapped in response to the suggestion. "Maguire said dawn, day after tomorrow, and that's what it is. Now, you've got the message, lawdog. Go deliver it."

  "If any of you hurt that girl – "

  "Don't waste your breath and my time with threats. There's not a blasted thing you can do, and you know it. We hold all the cards here."

  At the moment that was true, Cole thought as he started backing Ulysses away from the gap. But more cards might be dealt before the game was over. He turned the sorrel and rode toward the trees where the posse waited.

  The imaginary target on his back seemed even bigger and more tempting than the one he had worn on the way over here.

  Chapter 12

  Lon never looked back as he raced toward Wind River, so he didn't know how close the rest of the boys were behind him. He didn't care, either. All that mattered to him was finding out what happened to Brenda and figuring out some way to help her.

  Sure, she was never going to care about him or even pay that much attention to him, but that wasn't important to Lon. He was going to save her, one way or another.

  People hurried to get off the boardwalks as he pounded into the settlement, even though he meant them no harm. He supposed they were all spooked by what had happened earlier in the day. He rode straight to the marshal's office. Maybe somebody there could tell him what he needed to know, he thought.

  The place was empty, though, except for a prisoner in the cell block. Lon had never seen the man before, but it made sense the stranger was one of the gang that had raided the town. The man's shirt was off, and he had bandages wrapped tightly around his torso. His eyes widened in fear as Lon rushed into the cell block.

  "Where's the marshal?" Lon demanded. "Has he already gone after the rest of your bunch? You dirty coyote, I oughta – "

  L
on put his hand on the butt of his gun.

  "Is everybody in this town loco?" the prisoner wailed. "None of this is my fault! I just went along with Maguire's plan!"

  "Maguire's the boss of the gang? It was his idea to kidnap Miss Durand?"

  "I told the marshal, I don't know anything about the girl – "

  A new voice called from the front door of the office, "Lon! Young Rogers! Are you in there?"

  Lon recognized Dr. Judson Kent's voice. He started to turn away from the cell where the prisoner was locked up, but then he paused and told the outlaw, "I swear, if anything happens to Miss Durand, you won't get a chance to hang, mister. I'll put a bullet in your head myself!"

  Struggling to control his emotions, he stepped into the office and found Dr. Judson Kent standing there looking tired, harassed, and worried.

  "I thought I caught a glimpse of you galloping past a few moments ago," Kent said. "Where are Mr. Sawyer and the rest of his men?"

  "Behind me somewhere," Lon said. "I came galloping on right away when I heard that Brenda – I mean Miss Durand – had been kidnapped."

  "Yes, she was in the bank when the outlaws struck, and evidently their leader decided to take her with them. I'm sorry, Lon. I know you're fond of the young lady."

  Lon wondered fleetingly how Kent knew that. Maybe he hadn't been as discreet with his longing looks when Brenda was around as he thought he was.

  He shoved that aside and asked, "Has Marshal Tyler already gone after them?"

  "Yes, the marshal rode out about an hour ago with a posse. He said for me to tell Mr. Sawyer that the gang's hide-out is in isolated valley in the hills north of the railroad tracks, approximately five miles west of town. He said not to follow the trail that the outlaws left when they rode out, because that was just a ruse to make everyone think they were headed south and delay pursuit. It'll be quicker and more efficient to follow the railroad tracks. I trust that you can pass along this information to your employer?"

  "You'll have to tell him yourself when he gets here," Lon snapped as he started toward the door. "I'm not waiting for anybody."