The Wrong Side of the Law

by Robert J. Randisi

“You’re determined to do this?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Yes!”

  And just then Deputy Steve Atlee and another man rode up in front of the store, leading another saddled horse.

  “Who’s that?” she asked.

  Jeff turned and looked.

  “That’s Wade,” he said, surprised, “the bartender from the Palomino. Him and my pa are friends. I guess he’s comin’, too.”

  “A deputy, a bartender, and a kid,” she said. “Why don’t you wait until you can get more men?”

  “A posse? In this town?”

  “Then I’ll come, too,” she said suddenly. “I can shoot.”

  “No!” he said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “If you got hurt, Pa’d never forgive me. We’re gonna go find ’im and bring him back.”

  “Jeff—”

  He turned at the door, but the look on his face told her all she needed to know.

  “Just . . . be careful.”

  “I will,” he said, and went outside.

  “Ready?” Steve Atlee asked.

  “Yeah,” Jeff said. “Thanks for bringin’ me a horse.”

  He mounted up, then looked over at the bartender, who was holding a shotgun.

  “Glad you’re comin’, Wade,” he said.

  “I know Abe can take care of himself,” Wade said, “but I can’t let you go out there and get killed. I’d never hear the end of it from him.”

  Jeff put his hand on the rifle Steve Atlee had apparently picked out for him.

  “I’m ready,” he said.

  “Good,” Atlee said. “Now, where the hell are we goin’?”

  “South,” Jeff said.

  * * *

  * * *

  Deadwood’s up ahead,” Brickhill told Briggs. “Are we stoppin’ there?”

  “No,” Briggs said. “There’s no point. We can bypass it and pick up some supplies in a smaller town.”

  “I ain’t never been to Deadwood,” Chad Green said. “I’d like to see it.”

  “When you get your share of the reward money,” Briggs said, “come back and do it. But for now forget it. We ain’t sightseein’.”

  “Briggs is right,” Brickhill said. “We gotta keep movin’ and get this done.”

  Palmer had the feeling if he could get Brickhill alone, he could talk him out of turning him in for the reward. The problem was getting him alone.

  * * *

  * * *

  Okay, kid,” Wade said after they had cleared the town limits, “what’s goin’ on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” Wade said, “what makes you think your pa’s been taken?”

  “I know he talked to the three strangers in town,” Jeff said.

  “That’s true,” Atlee said. “He told me he ordered them out of town by this mornin’.”

  “Why’d he do that?” Wade asked.

  “Because they looked like trouble.”

  “I’ve never known Abe to do that before, no matter how bad a stranger looked. He always gave them a chance. Why were these three different?”

  Wade looked at Atlee, who in turn looked at Jeff.

  “I don’t know,” Jeff said. “They just were.”

  “All right, then,” Atlee said, “we’re goin’ south.”

  “This snow is days old,” Wade said. “Are you gonna be able to pick up some tracks?”

  “I hope so.”

  “I’ll be able to recognize the tracks left by Pa’s gelding,” Jeff told them.

  “Oh? Why’s that?” Wade asked.

  “Pa always told me to look for identifying marks in tracks,” Jeff said.

  “What’s identifying about Abe’s geldin’?” Wade asked.

  “The size,” Jeff said. “Buddy’s a big horse.”

  Wade looked at Atlee.

  “He’s right,” the deputy said. “It’s a big horse.”

  “There are other big horses,” Wade said.

  “According to the hostler, the strangers’ three horses were all normal size.”

  “You asked?” Atlee said.

  “I did before we left,” Jeff said.

  “That was pretty smart,” Wade said.

  “I’m not just a dumb kid,” Jeff said. “I learned things from the Sioux while I lived with them, and I’ve learned things these last three years bein’ back with . . . with Pa.”

  “And you’re . . . what? Fifteen?” Wade asked.

  “Sixteen in a few months.”

  Wade looked at Atlee.

  “So we’re gonna let a kid lead us?” the bartender said.

  “I guess we are,” Deputy Atlee said. “Okay, Jeff, which way?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  When they reached the outskirts of a small town called Little River, south of Deadwood, Briggs called for them to camp. Briggs had decided they would cross into Wyoming and then head straight south. The price on Palmer was higher in Arizona and New Mexico, but Briggs wanted to check on it when they reached Colorado. He wanted to get rid of Palmer as soon as possible.

  “Chad, build a fire and get some coffee goin’,” he said. “Then I want you to ride into town and pick up a few supplies. Johnny, take care of the horses.”

  “And what do you want me to do, Rusty?” Palmer asked.

  “Sit down and shut the hell up!” Briggs snapped.

  “I can do that,” Palmer said, “as long as I know you’re going to feed me when Chad there gets back from town.”

  “When he gets back, we’ll all eat,” Briggs said.

  He walked Palmer to one side, made him sit with his hands tied behind his back, and then tied his feet.

  “Remember,” Briggs said, “keep quiet, or you don’t eat.”

  “Got it,” Palmer said.

  Brickhill finished with the horses, except for Chad Green’s, then went to the fire and got the coffee going.

  While Palmer watched, Briggs and Brickhill had a conversation at the fire. Then Brickhill brought a cup of coffee over to Palmer and cut his hands loose. Briggs remained by the fire, which gave Palmer a chance.

  “Brick,” he said, “you can still stop this before we leave the territory.”

  “Are you wanted in Wyoming?” Brickhill asked. “Is that why you don’t wanna leave South Dakota?”

  “It doesn’t matter where I’m wanted,” Palmer said. “You don’t want to do this. I know you don’t.”

  “You don’t know me, Tom,” Brickhill said. “You never did. We just pulled some jobs together.”

  “You’ve always been a good man, Brick.”

  “Horseshit!” Brickhill said. “We’re both outlaws and have been for most of our lives. Maybe you tried to change yours, but I haven’t.”

  “I have changed my life, Brick,” Palmer said, “and you could, too.”

  “Not a chance,” Brickhill said. “Now drink your coffee and do like Briggs said and keep your mouth shut.”

  The thing that kept Palmer from talking further was the hunger he felt. He hoped Briggs was being honest about feeding him when Chad Green got back. Once he had something to soothe the hunger pangs, maybe he’d start talking again.

  * * *

  * * *

  Why head toward Deadwood?” Deputy Atlee asked Jeff.

  “Why not?” Jeff asked. “It’s the town everybody knows in this territory.”

  “They could’ve just headed straight south to Nebraska,” Wade said.

  Jeff couldn’t tell them that Palmer wasn’t wanted in Nebraska, so why would anybody take him that way? On the other hand, Palmer himself had told Jeff that though he was definitely wanted in New Mexico, Texas, and Arizona, he wasn’t sure about Wyoming and Colorado. But he knew he wasn’t wanted in Nebraska or an
ywhere north of that.

  If the three men were taking Palmer in for the reward, they wouldn’t be going to Nebraska.

  As they approached Deadwood, Jeff reined in his horse and dismounted.

  “What is it?” Atlee asked.

  Jeff raised a hand to the two men, bidding them wait. He walked around, studying the ground, and then suddenly turned.

  “Right here,” he said, pointing.

  Atlee and Wade both dismounted and walked over to where Jeff was standing.

  “See?” Jeff said, still pointing. “That track was left by Pa’s geldin’. I’m sure of it.”

  “It’s pretty big, all right,” Atlee said. “And there are tracks here for three other horses.”

  “So where the hell are they takin’ him?” Wade asked. “And why?”

  Both men looked at the boy.

  “I guess we’d just better follow these tracks and find out,” Jeff said.

  Wade and Atlee looked at each other and shrugged. So far, the boy had apparently been right.

  “Then let’s mount up and get goin’,” Atlee said. “Maybe we can catch them before they leave the territory, and I still have some authority.”

  Wade didn’t bother to point out to Atlee that once they’d left Integrity and the county, he’d already had no standing.

  * * *

  * * *

  Chad Green returned from Little River with supplies, and before long Brickhill brought Palmer a plate of bacon and beans. Palmer was so hungry, it was as good as a bloody steak.

  Briggs, Brickhill, and Chad Green all ate seated around the fire.

  “Hey!” Palmer shouted. “It’s cold over here. Can’t I come by the fire?”

  “Shut up!” Briggs shouted back. “Wrap yourself in your blanket.”

  “Then at least give me another cup of coffee,” Palmer said.

  “I’ll do it,” Chad Green said.

  He poured a cup and carried it over to Palmer.

  “Thanks, kid,” Palmer said.

  Green squatted in front of Palmer.

  “I’m sorry, Marshal,” he said. “I’m not in favor of this, but there’s nothin’ I can do.”

  “I know, Chad,” Palmer said. “I won’t hold it against you.”

  Green stood up and walked back to the fire. Palmer was starting to think maybe it was Green he could use to get out of this, not Brickhill.

  He didn’t have much hope that anyone from Integrity was coming to help him. The only one there who knew his history was Jeff, and there wasn’t much a fifteen-year-old kid could do. Atlee was Palmer’s deputy, but why would he suspect that anyone had snatched Palmer to turn him in for a reward?

  No, Palmer figured he was on his own if he was going to get out of this. But now that small display of sympathy from the youngest of the three gave him a glimmer of hope that he might escape.

  * * *

  * * *

  We have to stop and camp,” Atlee told Jeff. “We can’t ride at night.”

  “I know, I know,” Jeff said. “It’s just that—”

  “We’ll catch up to them, Jeff,” Wade said. “Now that you’ve found their trail, they can’t get away.”

  “I just— We just have to get to them while he’s still . . . alive,” Jeff said. What he really meant was, before they found a place to turn Palmer in.

  After Jeff, Atlee, and Wade had camped and built a fire, they supped on beef jerky and coffee since they were light on supplies. All the while Jeff wondered if he was right. Had his “pa” actually been taken by someone who knew him and wanted to collect the reward, or was it something else? What if they were simply taking him someplace to kill him? What if the past of Tom Palmer had nothing to do with this? What if it was all about Marshal Abe Cassidy?

  But whichever way this was going, Jeff had managed to find their trail, and he had done it quickly enough that they might actually catch up the next day. Then it was just a matter of getting Palmer away from whoever had him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Jeff woke at first light, wanting to move along, but both Wade and Atlee were in favor of coffee first.

  “It’s cold, Jeff,” Atlee said, “and the tracks ain’t goin’ anywhere. Let’s just have some coffee first, and then we’ll go.”

  Jeff wasn’t happy, but he sat at the fire with them and drank the coffee.

  “You know,” Atlee said, “if Jeff’s right about this, I can’t help wonderin’ what the marshal hasn’t told us about himself.”

  “Whatever he wants to keep private is all right with me,” Wade said. “He’s my friend—that’s all I care about. I wanna get him back alive.”

  “So do I,” Jeff said. “He gave you a badge, Deputy. Why do you have to wonder about anythin’?”

  “Whoa, back up, both of you,” Atlee said. “I appreciate he gave me a badge. I’m just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on.”

  “We’ll find out when we catch up to them,” Jeff said. “Now can we go?”

  Wade dumped the remnants of the coffeepot onto the fire and stood up.

  “All right. Let’s move.”

  * * *

  * * *

  When they entered Wyoming, crossing the border north of Rapid City, South Dakota, Briggs reined in, stopping the others behind him.

  “Okay, listen,” he said. “I can’t go into town with you. I know I’m wanted hereabouts, but we need to find out if Palmer is. The only way to do that is to go to the law and ask. You two have to do that.”

  “Talk to the law?” Chad Green asked.

  “Why don’t you keep Chad here, Rusty?” Brickhill said. “I’ll go in and find out. But I think we’re gonna hafta go farther south.”

  “There ain’t no harm in askin’,” Briggs said. “Casper is that way. I’ve been there, and they have a sheriff’s office. Just make like you’re a bounty hunter. Ask if he’s heard of Palmer and if you can look at his posters.”

  “I’ll get it done,” Brickhill said. He looked at Palmer. “You wanna tell us if you’re wanted in Wyomin’ and save me the trip?”

  “Sorry,” Palmer said. “It’s been a while and I can’t remember.”

  “Yeah, right,” Briggs said. “I know every reward that’s out on me.”

  “You have a better memory than me, then.”

  “Brick, we’re gonna continue to ride south. You’ll have to catch up with us with whatever you find out. We’ll be headin’ for Laramie.”

  “Got it,” Brickhill said. “I’ll be seein’ you both.”

  He turned his horse and rode off toward Casper.

  “Chad,” Briggs said, “I want you to ride behind Palmer. If he tries to make a break for it, we shoot ’im. Got that?”

  “Yeah, Rusty,” Green said, “I got it.”

  Palmer had thought that Brickhill would be his best way out, but now he was thinking he might get away while the man was in Casper. He was pretty sure the youngster Chad would hesitate before he fired. But there was no telling how much time he would have to make it happen.

  * * *

  * * *

  They’re not goin’ to Deadwood,” Atlee said. “They veered off here.”

  “Headin’ for Rapid City?” Wade wondered aloud.

  “Or Wyoming,” Jeff said.

  “Only one way to find out,” the deputy said. “As long as we have these big gelding’s tracks to follow.”

  “How fresh are these?” Wade asked. “Can you tell?”

  “Not really,” Atlee said. “It’s just not what I’m good at.” He looked over at the young man. “Jeff? Can you tell?”

  “From what my pa’s taught me,” Jeff said, “I’d say at least half a day.”

  “Well,” Wade said, “they did have almost a day’s head start, but they had to camp overnight like we did.”

  “We didn�
�t find a campfire,” Atlee pointed out.

  “That doesn’t mean they didn’t make one,” Wade said. “We just didn’t come across it. Let’s keep on movin’ and see where we end up.”

  “Agreed,” Atlee said. “Let’s keep movin’.”

  * * *

  * * *

  The sheriff of Casper had never heard of Tom Palmer.

  “What makes you think he’s wanted in Wyoming?” Sheriff Holliday asked Johnny Brickhill.

  “I don’t think he is,” Brickhill said, “I was just checking.”

  “Why?” the lawman asked. “Is he in the area?”

  “I heard somethin’ about him while I was in Deadwood. He wasn’t wanted there, so I thought when I crossed the border, I’d check.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to look at my posters,” the sheriff said.

  “I don’t think I need to do that, Sheriff,” Brickhill said. “Thanks for your time.”

  He left the office and mounted his horse. He didn’t want to spend any more time in the lawman’s office than he had to, and looking at posters would have been tedious. So he just headed out of town, riding hard to catch up with the others. He was pretty sure they would end up turning Palmer over to the law in either New Mexico or Texas.

  * * *

  * * *

  They split up here,” Atlee said. “I may not be an expert tracker, but I can see that.”

  “He’s right,” Jeff said, pointing. “One went that way, and the other three kept goin’ south.”

  “And the marshal’s geldin’?” Wade asked.

  “South,” Atlee said.

  “So then I guess we keep goin’ south,” the bartender said.

  “Why would one of them split off from the others?” Jeff asked.

  “There’s a town called Casper that way,” Atlee said. “Maybe they sent one man for supplies.”

  “Sounds right to me,” Wade said. “We still have a few hours of daylight. Let’s not waste them.”

  “Right,” Atlee said, and they headed south.