Luke Jensen, Bounty Hunter (11 page)

Two of the Rurales were missing, though, and it was easy to tell who they were by the sizes of the one who had fallen. Captain Almanzar and the giant Lopez were nowhere in sight.

Luke stood up. They could hunt down the missing men later, he thought as he squinted against the clouds of powder smoke that still hung in the air. There were injured people to check on, wounds to patch up, and prisoners to secure along with the one they already had locked up.

La Farva was free again.

Just as Luke suspected, Almanzar and Lopez had fled. A search of the town as night was falling failed to turn up any trace of the two Rurales.

The man who had wielded the pitchfork and skewered one of the Rurales was wounded, but according to the local barber, who doubled as the town's doctor, he was expected to live. The barber did a better job of patching up Thomas Sandoval's wounds, too, and also cleaned and bandaged the bullet graze on Luke's arm. Those were the only casualties among the town's defenders.

By that time, full darkness had settled over the town. Luke asked for volunteers to stand guard until morning. He didn't think it was likely Almanzar and Lopez would come back since they were badly outnumbered, but he didn't want to take a chance on the two renegades causing any more trouble.

La Farva didn't have a hotel, so Thomas Sandoval invited Luke and Hobie to stay at his house overnight. They accepted the offer, putting their horses in a shed behind the blacksmith's shop and spreading their bedrolls in the little cottage next to the shop.

By the next morning, there had still been no sign of Almanzar and Lopez, so Luke thought it was safe to assume the two Rurales were gone for good. “They may have even gone back across the border,” he said over the breakfast that Hobie had prepared. Their host's wounded leg had stiffened up overnight and made it difficult for him to get around.

Luke changed his mind. “But probably not. Since they're deserters, other Rurales may be looking for them. I doubt very seriously that they'll ever come back here.”

“If they do, they'll find that we're a lot more ready for them next time,” Sandoval said. “I think people realize now that you can't just let evil men come in and take over, no matter how scared you are. You have to fight back.”

Luke sipped his coffee and nodded, but actually he was rather pessimistic about the blacksmith's prediction. The citizens understood that they had to stand up for themselves when they and their way of life were threatened, but over time they would forget. They would become complacent again, and when the next evil arose—as it always did—they wouldn't be ready for it. They wouldn't realize how much danger they were in until too late, and then they could only pray that they had awakened in time.

Luke knew better than to think he could change human nature, though. He could only hope that the people of La Farva had learned their lesson. He had to move on. The minor wound on his arm wouldn't stop him from riding. He needed to get back on the trail of Gunner Kelly and Dog Eater.

He wasn't the only one thinking about that. Hobie said, “Are we going on after those outlaws today, Mr. Jensen?”

Luke finished his coffee and set the cup on the table. “Two things, Hobie. I think after all the help you gave me yesterday, you can call me Luke now.”

Hobie looked a little uncomfortable at that idea, but he nodded. “Um, all right, Mr. Jensen . . . I mean, Luke. What was the other thing?”

“Are you sure you still want to ride with me?”

“Yes, sir,” Hobie answered without hesitation. “Of course, I reckon I understand if you don't want me to. I did sort of horn in on this deal. You might not want to give up any of the bounty money.”

“No, I'll split it fairly with you if we bring in Kelly and the Apache. The five thousand I'm owed for Monroe Epps is mine, though.”

“Well, sure,” Hobie said. “I wouldn't try to claim any of it.”

“The reason I asked if you were certain you wanted to come along,” Luke said, “is because you should be starting to understand that this is a hard, dangerous life for a man to follow. Most of the men you'll be tracking down won't hesitate to kill you if they get a chance. You have to be ready to kill them. You can't hesitate once your finger's on the trigger.”

“I won't. I understand. I did all right yesterday, didn't I?”

“You did better than all right,” Luke admitted. “But you also probably had quite a bit of luck on your side. Next time, things might not break so well for you.”

“I'm willing to run that risk.” Hobie paused, frowned, and went on. “Anyway, I may decide I don't want to keep on being a bounty hunter the rest of my life. I just want to do
something
to show the folks back in Rio Rojo that I'm more than just the orphan kid who mucks out the stalls at Mr. Dunbar's stable. Nobody's ever thought I was gonna amount to much, and I'd like to show 'em that they're wrong.”

Hobie wanted glory as much as he did money, Luke mused. That was all too common. If young men never felt like that, there wouldn't be anybody to fight the world's wars.

He knew there had been some of that hunger for glory in his own decision to join the Confederate Army back in '61. Sure, he didn't think it was right for the Yankees to invade the Southern states the way they had, and he still didn't. But in the back of his mind, at least, had been the desire to hear the stirring music as he marched to battle under the flag of his homeland.

In the end, that hadn't gotten him any glory, only blood and mud and the closest brush with death he'd ever had. War, like bounty hunting, was an ugly, dangerous business.

He could explain that to Hobie McCullough until he was blue in the face, and it wouldn't do a damned bit of good. Men, especially young men, had to learn the hard lessons of life on their own.

So he nodded and said, “All right, Hobie, we'll ride together after those outlaws.”

And God help us both, Luke added silently.

 

 

They rode out of La Farva with the shouted thanks and farewells of the townspeople ringing in their ears. They had stocked up on supplies, provided at no charge by a grateful Lloyd Halligan, and filled all six of their canteens at the public well.

Luke would have felt a little better about their mission if Kelly and Dog Eater had passed through there. It would have been nice to know that he and Hobie were still on the right trail, but all they could do was keep moving in the direction the fugitives had been traveling. He was confident they would pick up a lead to the outlaws' current whereabouts sooner or later.

Hobie talked a lot as they rode, and the incessant chatter reminded Luke of why he had never taken on a partner in his bounty hunting endeavors. Most of the past fifteen years he had spent alone, making few friends, and nearly all the female companionship he'd had was of the professional variety. Simpler that way. He enjoyed his own company, especially when he had a good book to read.

Months before, he had been reunited with his brother Smoke, who had told him he was welcome on the Sugarloaf ranch near Big Rock, Colorado, any time. Smoke wanted to introduce him to their adopted brother Matt and to the old mountain man called Preacher. For years, Smoke had considered them family, and now that he'd found his blood relative—Luke—again, he wanted him to be part of that circle.

So now
he
had a family, too, Luke mused, and Hobie was probably the closest thing he'd had to a friend in several years. Things were changing in his life, and Luke wasn't sure he liked that. The life he had led was rather bleak in many respects, true enough, but he was accustomed to it.

He didn't have the heart to tell Hobie to shut up, though, so he let him rattle on and didn't pay much attention to what was said.

If Hobie noticed, he didn't let it slow him down.

 

 

Several days after leaving La Farva, they came to another small settlement. It appeared normal, with people moving around on the street.

Luke reined to a halt in front of the Golden Buzzard Saloon. A carved wooden buzzard with a coat of gilt paint on it was mounted on top of its sign. Luke thought the figure was ugly, but at the same time it was certainly striking.

“Are we gonna get a drink?” Hobie asked.

“Among other things,” Luke told him. “Let me do the talking.”

They dismounted, tied their horses at the hitch rack, and went inside. The saloon was about half full. Unlike the cantina in La Farva, a couple women were working, both of them hard-faced veterans of the frontier who showed every year of their drab existence.

One of them perked up considerably at the sight of Luke and Hobie. She brushed a hand over her graying blond hair and smiled as she approached them. “Hello, boys. Can I get you a drink? You can sit down and I'll bring it right to your table.”

Luke returned the smile. “Only if you'll agree to join us.”

“Well, I'm really not supposed to”—she glanced at the bartender—“but I don't think Glenn will mind.”

Luke was sure Glenn wouldn't mind, since it was the woman's job to sell drinks. She would try to keep them coming as long as she sat with her customers.

“My name is Doris, by the way,” she added.

“I'm Luke and my young friend here is Hobie.” Luke didn't see any point in giving her their last names.

“I'm very pleased to meet you. Just sit anywhere. I'll be back with a bottle and some glasses.”

“Be sure to bring one for yourself,” Luke told her.

“Oh, I don't know. I'm not used to drinking.” Doris laughed. “You might try to take advantage of me.”

“I swear on my honor as a gentleman that I wouldn't even think of it.”

That brought another laugh from her.

She must have been considering the idea of a gentleman drinking in a place called the Golden Buzzard, Luke thought.

“She's kind of a nice-looking lady, isn't she?” Hobie said quietly as they sat down at one of the tables.

“Yes, and she's twice your age,” Luke pointed out.

“That would make her just about right for you, then.”

Luke chuckled in spite of himself at that gibe. Hobie's constant chatter out on the trail could be annoying, but Luke couldn't help but like the young man.

“Don't get any ideas about playing Cupid. I can handle that part of my life just fine, thank you.”

“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. I won't.”

Doris came back with a bottle and two empty glasses. She had a third glass for herself that already contained a couple inches of amber liquid. Luke and Hobie stood up politely when she reached the table.

“My tastes run more toward brandy,” she said. “I hope that's all right.”

“Whatever you like,” Luke told her, knowing full well that was weak tea in the glass, not brandy.

They sat down and Doris poured shots of whiskey for the two men.

Luke lifted his glass and said, “To making new friends.”

“How sweet,” Doris said. “I think maybe you really are a gentleman.”

“I always endeavor to be.”

Luke tossed back his drink. Hobie did likewise, then immediately got red in the face and started sputtering. He thumped a hand against the table a couple times.

“A little too strong for you?” Luke asked dryly.

“N-no,” Hobie choked out in a hoarse whisper. “Smooth. J-just the way I like it.”

Luke tried not to grin. He wasn't going to come right out and ask if that was the first drink Hobie had ever taken, but it wouldn't surprise him if that were the case.

“Speaking of friends,” Luke went on, “a couple of ours may have ridden through here in the past few days. Wonder if you've seen 'em. A redheaded fella, sort of slender, traveling with an Indian.”

Doris instantly stiffened at that description. “Those two are friends of yours?” The friendly tone she had displayed a moment earlier had vanished completely.

“Friends might be too strong a word,” Luke said, instantly switching tacks when he saw her reaction. “More like acquaintances whose trail crossed ours, really.”

“Well, those
acquaintances
of yours caused a lot of trouble when they were here,” Doris said acidly. “That Indian, especially. He got in a fight over a woman and cut a man pretty badly. Almost killed him. And he smacked the woman around, too. Then when the marshal tried to step in, the redhead shot him!”

“Good Lord!” Luke exclaimed, trying to sound surprised even though what Doris had told them didn't shock him at all. “Did he kill the lawman?”

“No, but not for lack of trying. It was just luck that poor Marshal Bendix survived. As if that wasn't enough trouble they'd caused, those two robbed the general store! I hope they never come back here.” Doris folded her arms across her chest and frowned coldly at Luke and Hobie. “ If they're friends of yours, I don't think you're welcome here, either.”

Luke frowned. “I assure you, we spent less than one evening in their company, and going by what you've just told us, I'm thankful they didn't try to rob and murder us! Isn't that right, Hobie?”

“Yes, sir. They sound like really bad hombres.”

Doris sniffed. “That's putting it mildly.”

“Did you happen to notice which way they went when they rode out?” Luke asked.

“Why?” Doris shot back at him, instantly suspicious again. “Do you want to follow them?”

“Just the opposite. I thought we'd try to avoid them.”

Her attitude eased a little. “Well, that would probably be the smart thing to do, all right. As a matter of fact, I did see them ride out. They were headed southwest.”

“We'll go a different way, then. We sure don't want to run into them.”

“Sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusion about you,” Doris said. “I just don't want to have anything to do with anybody like those two.”

“How long ago did you say they came through here?”

“Three days, was it? No, four. Four days ago. That's right.”