Luke Jensen, Bounty Hunter (20 page)

Luke said, “Talk like that makes me think I ought to go ahead and let this hammer drop.” He chuckled. “Is that what you want, Dietrich?”

“If you're as intelligent as you seem, that's exactly what you'll do. Do you really want a man like me as your enemy?”

“They say you can judge a man by the sort of enemies he makes,” Luke drawled. “If that's true, I'm pretty well satisfied to be on the opposite side from you, mister.”

Dietrich didn't say anything else as they covered the rest of the distance to the canyon. As they stepped into the thick shadows at its mouth, Hobie said, “Over here, Luke.”

Luke followed the voice to some rocks along the canyon wall. The stagecoach was parked behind them, and the embers of a small fire glowed beyond the coach. By the faint light they cast, Luke saw the vague shapes of Hobie, Jessica, Pierce, and the Langstons as the defenders gathered around them.

“I was hoping I'd never have to see you again,” Jessica said to Dietrich.

“You'll regret this,” he snapped. “All of you will. I'm not accustomed to such treatment.”

“You're not used to bein' on the receivin' end of it,” Hobie said. “You sure can dish out the misery, though.”

Pierce asked, “What did you find back at the way station, Luke?”

Luke's tone was gentle as he said, “I'm sorry, Jim. We were right about what happened there. Your friend and his boys are dead.”

Pierce muttered a heartfelt curse. Then he lifted his shotgun and said, “This hombre here is the one responsible for what happened, even if he never pulled a trigger. Step away from him.”

“No!” Dietrich gasped. “You can't just kill me in cold blood.”

“That's what your men did to poor ol' Banty and his boys,” Pierce said. “Hell, a double load of buckshot is better'n you deserve. It'll kill you quick, and what you've really got comin' is a slow, painful death.”

Dietrich's head jerked around toward Luke. “You . . . you can't allow this lunatic to—”

“I'd mind my tongue if I was you,” Luke said. “Jim, I hate to say it, but right now Dietrich is worth more to us alive.”

“Reckon I know that,” the jehu growled as he slowly lowered the scattergun. “But if I had my druthers, his insides'd be scattered all over this canyon by now.”

“Maybe you'll get your chance later,” Luke said. “I guess it all depends on whether Dietrich's men want to let us out of here in the morning.”

It was only a few hours until dawn. No one had slept much, but Luke figured it would be safe enough for them to take turns grabbing a few winks while Dietrich was their prisoner.

“He only has three or four of those hardcases left,” Luke told the others while he was tying Dietrich's hands behind his back. “The odds are as close to even as they've ever been since this trouble started.”

“Are you willing to bet your life on that?” Dietrich asked coolly. “For all you know, I have more men working for me than you've seen so far.”

Luke knew that was true, but he wasn't going to admit that to Dietrich. Instead, he sat the man down on the ground with his back against one of the stagecoach wheels and said, “I'll take my chances.”

Hobie said, “So will I. You're beat, mister. You just don't know it yet.”

Dietrich glared up at him. He seemed to have a special hatred for the young man. He had seen the protective way Hobie stayed so close to Jessica. Even in bad light, anybody with half an eye could tell how Hobie felt about her.

Luke thought those feelings were beginning to be returned, judging by the way Jessica stood close to Hobie, smiled at him, and rested a hand on his arm from time to time while they were talking.

Taking advantage of the opportunity to get a little rest, he wiped the charcoal streaks off his face, then sat down with his back against a rock, stretched his legs out in front of him, and tipped his black hat down over his eyes, even though he didn't really need the brim's shade at the moment.

In a matter of minutes he had fallen into a light doze, a manhunter's sleep that would allow him to come awake instantly and completely at the first sign of trouble.

Nothing disturbed him, though, until the smell of coffee roused him. When he opened his eyes he saw that the eastern sky was gray with the approach of daylight.

Luke stood up and stretched. He looked around and saw that Dietrich had gone to sleep, too. The man's head hung forward over his chest as he snored. A few yards away, Jim Pierce sat guarding him with the shotgun ready.

“Any problems?” Luke asked.

Pierce shook his head. “Nah, those buzzards out yonder have been quiet. To tell you the truth, I ain't sure they're even still out there.”

“I'd bet a hat they are,” Luke said. “They're not going to give up on the job just yet. It wouldn't surprise me if Dietrich promised them a bonus when he got what he wanted, and they'll still try to collect that if they can.”

“You're probably right. Hombres like that are mighty stubborn when it comes to their money.”

Luke looked around some more and asked, “Where is everyone else?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Langston are inside the coach. Far as I'm concerned, the ground's just about as comfortable as them seats, but I reckon folks like them are used to havin' a roof of some sort over their head when they sleep. Miss Wheeler's over there behind them rocks. Hobie made her a bedroll there so's she'd have some privacy. As for the young fella hisself, he's taken a
pasear
out to the canyon mouth to have a look around.”

“I hope he's being careful not to show himself,” Luke said as he picked up his rifle. “I wouldn't put it past those men to try sniping at him.”

“Neither would I. If you want to go get him, I got Arbuckle's boilin'. Stuff's a real eye-opener, the way I make it.”

“I'll fetch him,” Luke said with a smile.

He walked the fifty yards or so to the canyon mouth, staying close to the wall so he wouldn't present much of a target in the pre-dawn gloom. When he had nearly reached the opening, he called softly, “Hobie?”

“Right here,” the young man replied from a thick patch of shadow behind a jutting rock.

“Everything quiet out there?”

“Too dang quiet, if you ask me. I think those varmints are up to something.”

“They might try to sneak up on us, all right,” Luke agreed. “But I think they're more likely to wait until we're out of here to make their move.”

“We're leaving the canyon?”

“We can't stay here indefinitely. We don't have enough food, water, and ammunition for a long siege. We're less than half a day's journey from Moss City, so I think we ought to make a run for it.”

“Taking Dietrich with us as a hostage,” Hobie said.

Luke nodded. “That's right.”

“They'll try to stop us,” Hobie warned. “If there's any law in Moss City, they can't afford to let us get there or they'll have murder charges hangin' over their heads. They'd probably rather see Dietrich dead than let that happen.”

“On the other hand,” Luke said, “they probably don't have the advantage in numbers anymore. There's a chance they'll decide to cut their losses and light a shuck.”

“If they do, that'll be just fine with me,” Hobie declared fervently.

The two men went back to camp. Stephen and Edna Langston were standing beside the fire, and Jessica came out from behind the rocks a few minutes later, carrying the bedroll Hobie had put together for her.

“Were you able to get any sleep?” he asked her.

Jessica smiled. “Some. The bedroll was actually pretty comfortable, Hobie.”

“Aw, you don't have to say that. I know it wasn't.”

“No, really, I mean it,” she insisted.

“Maybe you can spend tonight in an actual bed. I sure wouldn't mind if I did, too.” Hobie started to get red in the face. “I mean . . . not the same bed. A different bed. In a different building. I never meant—”

“That's all right, Hobie,” she told him with a smile. “You don't have to explain.”

“That's good. My tongue seems to get all tangled up mighty easy these days.”

And everyone knew the reason for that, Luke thought with a smile as he bent to pick up the coffeepot.

The bleeding edge of the sun had just peeked over the eastern horizon by the time everyone had eaten and the team was hitched to the stagecoach again. The horses still weren't exactly fresh, according to Pierce, but they had rested enough overnight that they could make the rest of the trip to Moss City.

“We better hope we don't have to run 'em too hard, though,” the jehu said. “I don't know how much they got in 'em at top speed. A mile or so, at most.”

“Maybe it won't come to that.” Luke swung up into his saddle. “I'll scout ahead a ways. Everyone's guns are fully loaded?”

A chorus of assent came from the travelers.

Hobie added with a worried frown, “We're running a mite low on cartridges, though, Luke.”

“I figured as much. If there's trouble, make every shot count.”

From the top of the coach, where he sat with his wrists bound in front of him and his ankles tied together, Milton Dietrich said, “It's not too late to make a deal, Jensen. Leave Jessica and me here so my men can pick us up, and the rest of you can leave. You won't be harmed and no one will try to stop you. I give you my word on that.”

“Your word doesn't mean a damned thing to me, Dietrich,” Luke said. “Putting you up there in plain sight, where a stray bullet is just as likely to hit you as any of us, is just about the only value you've got right now.”

Dietrich glared at him, but didn't say anything else. The man's gray hair was askew, and his face had grown haggard. Fear still lurked in his eyes, but hatred and arrogance had the upper hand at the moment.

Pierce whipped up the team and got them moving. Luke rode ahead of the coach. His eyes scanned the landscape outside the canyon.

He didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but that didn't mean much. The terrain might look pretty flat from a distance, but close up that wasn't exactly the case. There were plenty of places where a group of horsemen could hide, ranging from arroyos to small mesas.

Luke waved Pierce ahead, and the stagecoach rolled into the open. Pierce kept the horses moving at a brisk pace, although not at an actual run.

Luke slid his Winchester from its sheath and rode with the rifle across the saddle in front of him. His eyes never stopped moving as he swept his gaze over the landscape, searching for any sign of impending trouble.

Nothing. He spotted some buzzards wheeling around in the pale blue sky in the distance, but that was all.

Pierce had left the trail between Harkerville and Moss City to reach the canyon the night before. He drove back to the stagecoach's usual route and swung the vehicle to the west, toward the Arizona border.

Hobie turned to look at Dietrich. “Looks like your hired killers don't think highly enough of you to come to your rescue after all.”

Dietrich sneered at him. “You want Jessica for yourself, but I can promise you, you'll never have her. Never.”

“Go to hell,” Hobie grumbled.

“You'll be there before me,” Dietrich said.

Luke heard that exchange and didn't care for the confidence he heard in Dietrich's voice. The man was mighty sure of himself, considering the situation he was in, and that confidence seemed to grow with every turn of the stagecoach's wheels.

Luke wasn't sure what Dietrich expected to happen. It seemed to him that if the surviving gunnies were going to try anything, it would have been an ambush at the mouth of the canyon or at least somewhere close to there.

That uneasy feeling stuck with Luke, even after Pierce announced that they were getting close to the Arizona border. “We'll be outta New Mexico Territory soon. He pointed. “See those hills up ahead? They're across the line in Arizona. Of course, it don't really matter all that much. One flat, dry, dusty stretch of ground is pretty much like any other flat, dry, dusty stretch of ground, I reckon.”

He was right about that. A stone marker beside the trail indicated the spot where they entered Arizona, but to Luke the surrounding countryside all looked the same, at least right along the boundary.

A short time later, though, they entered the low, rocky hills Pierce had pointed out. The trail followed a fairly deep cut between two of those hills.

Luke's instincts kicked in. The location was perfect for an ambush. He was about to ask Pierce if there was another way around the hills when Hobie called out an alarm. “Luke! Behind us!”

Luke twisted in the saddle and looked back the way they had come. Seven or eight riders had appeared seemingly from nowhere, although Luke knew they must have been hidden in a gully. The horsemen thundered after them.

Pierce looked back and saw the pursuers, too. He ripped out a curse and slashed at the horses with his whip. They surged ahead in a gallop.

And that was the wrong thing to do, Luke realized. He shouted, “Jim, no!” but it was too late. The stagecoach careened into the cut between the hills at high speed, tossing the passengers around inside.

Puffs of powder smoke appeared on the slopes on both sides as hidden riflemen opened fire on the racing coach. Luke's worry about Dietrich having more men had just come true.

It was too late to turn back or go around. Luke knew all they could do was fight their way through. He flung the rifle to his shoulder and started raking the near hillside with lead, hoping to distract the bushwhackers at the very least.

Hobie twisted back and forth on the seat next to Pierce and fired his rifle at both slopes, squeezing off rounds as fast as he could work the Winchester's lever. Pistol shots cracked from inside the coach as Jessica and Langston put up a fight, too. Pierce had his hands full just keeping the team under control. Puffs of dust kicked up from the trail as bullets struck around the flashing hooves of the team.

If one of those horses went down, the others probably would, too, and then the coach would pile up. When Luke saw the way the gunmen were shooting at the team, he knew they didn't really care about saving Dietrich's life anymore. They just wanted to stop the coach from getting to Moss City.

Dietrich yelled in alarm as he was thrown back and forth on top of the stage. He twisted to his side and grabbed the brass rail around the edge of the roof to keep from being thrown off.

From the corner of his eye, Luke saw Dietrich raise his legs and lash out with them. He slammed his feet into Hobie's back.

The unexpected blow sent Hobie flying forward off the seat and his rifle crashing to the ground. The young man seemed to hang in mid-air above the team, a split second away from falling under the slashing steel-shod hooves of the galloping horses.