The Family Jensen (13 page)

Before Thorn could fire, one of the men covering Sandy suddenly gave a choked scream, staggered to the side, and dropped his gun so he could use both hands to paw at the shaft of the arrow that seemed to have sprouted like magic from his throat. The man with him whirled around, and as he did so, another arrow drove deep into his side.

Thorn’s head jerked in their direction, and as it did, Smoke rolled the other way as fast as he could. He could have drawn his Colts with blinding swiftness and plugged Thorn, but the man might have been able to jerk the Greener’s triggers, even as he was dying. At such close range, it would prove fatal to Smoke.

At the same time, Calhoun threw himself in a diving tackle at the legs of the man guarding him. The man’s gun roared as Calhoun knocked him down, but the shot went wild into the trees.

Smoke came up on his feet and leaped out of the way as Thorn jerked the sawed-off’s triggers. The explosion was like a huge clap of thunder. Smoke felt a fiery sting on his leg and knew one of the pellets had creased him, but the rest of the buckshot missed.

His guns—in his hands without him even having to think about it—bucked against his palms as he fired at Thorn who had ducked away and was running for his life.

He might have gotten away if he hadn’t strayed too close to Sandy. The young man lunged forward as Thorn passed him. His arms went around the outlaw’s legs and brought him down. The empty scattergun flew out of Thorn’s hand as he crashed to the ground.

“You son of a bitch!” The yell came from Smoke’s left.

He whirled in that direction, but not in time to avoid Gus Harley’s rush. Harley’s weight barreled into Smoke and knocked him backward. Smoke landed on the rock where Calhoun had been sitting earlier. The rough stone dug painfully into his back, and as Harley bent him over it, Smoke felt like his spine was about to crack.

Before he could wallop Harley with a Colt, the man’s weight suddenly vanished. Harley let out a startled yell. Smoke looked on in amazement as the biggest Indian he had ever seen in his life lifted Harley into the air. Harley was no lightweight, but with one hand clamped around his neck and the other around a thigh, the Indian handled him like a child’s doll.

Smoke knew he was looking at the legendary Crazy Bear, Sandy’s father, chief of the Crow…and the man Smoke had spotted sneaking up on the camp a few moments earlier, prompting his comment to Thorn about it being a good day to die.

With the sound of numerous bones breaking, Crazy Bear hurled Harley to the ground with incredible force. Harley didn’t even moan. He just lay there, limp.

Smoke straightened, whipped up his left-hand gun, and fired. The outlaw standing behind Crazy Bear and drawing a bead on the Crow chief doubled over as Smoke’s lead punched into his gut. Crazy Bear glanced over his shoulder, then nodded at Smoke in gratitude.

Calhoun had gotten the upper hand over the man he was wrestling with. The marshal was on top of his opponent, hammering his left fist into the man’s face again and again. That fight seemed to be well under control, Smoke saw.

When he looked toward the spot where Sandy and Thorn had been struggling, he realized that Thorn was gone. Sandy lay curled up on the ground, gasping.

“He…he got away from me,” Sandy said as Smoke leaped to his side. “He’ll go after…Robin!”

Smoke glanced around. There was one other outlaw unaccounted for, as well as the man Thorn had left guarding Robin. That made three of the enemy still on the loose.

“Don’t worry,” he told Sandy. “I’ll find her and bring her back.”

A huge hand closed on Smoke’s shoulder, and a voice like an avalanche said, “My son…he is all right?”

Smoke didn’t see any blood on the bandage around Sandy’s head. “Yeah, he’s not hurt any worse than he was before. He was just too weak to stop Thorn from getting away.”

“Then come. You and I will follow those men.”

Smoke glanced around and saw that Calhoun had knocked his man out and staggered to his feet. “Marshal! Keep an eye on Sandy!”

“Yeah,” Calhoun said. “Go get Thorn!”

Crazy Bear pointed. “This way.”

They ran up the wooded slope. Smoke figured the man guarding Robin had the horses with him. If Thorn and the others got away with her, Smoke would have to chase them down again. He didn’t want that.

He wanted to end it, on that beautiful crisp morning.

As he had told Thorn, it was indeed a good day to die.

Smoke had to hurry to keep up with Crazy Bear’s swift, long-legged strides. He heard crashing in the brush up ahead and knew they were closing in on their quarry.

Suddenly, a gun roared. Smoke heard the wind-rip of the bullet as it sizzled through the air past his ear. Instinctively, he fired back, blasting out shots from both .44s. The man who had fled with Thorn reeled from the bushes where he had hidden to ambush them and collapsed as blood welled from the bullet holes in his chest. The outlaw had hurried his first shot…and with Smoke Jensen facing him, he’d never gotten a second one.

Crazy Bear bounded ahead, his great bulk clearing a path through the brush. He didn’t seem to feel the briars and branches clawing at him.

Smoke couldn’t keep up. He ran past the man he’d killed and hurried along as best he could. Through a gap in the growth that the massive warrior had left behind him, Smoke caught a glimpse of horses moving around in a clearing and knew they had reached the spot where Thorn had left Robin.

Another gun boomed, but Crazy Bear never slowed down. Smoke ran into the clearing in time to see him lift the outlaw guarding Robin into the air by his neck. Crazy Bear shook the guard like a dog shaking a rat. The man’s arms and legs flopped around like a rag doll’s limbs. Smoke knew that his neck was surely broken—he was probably already dead.

Robin screamed, and Smoke twisted to see Thorn standing over her aiming the sawed-off shotgun one-handed at Crazy Bear’s back. Instantly, Smoke thumbed off two rounds, one from each Colt. The slugs drove into Thorn’s chest and knocked him back a step. The scattergun drooped in his hand.

Then he steeled himself with a visible effort and swung the barrels toward Robin. From the expression of pure evil on the man’s face, Smoke knew that Thorn realized he was done for. He was going to kill Robin before he died. With his finger already on the trigger, Smoke couldn’t stop him.

A figure rushed out of the brush, and lunged forward to grab Thorn’s wrist. The white bandage around the man’s head told Smoke that Sandy had caught his breath and come after them. The young man might not have been able to stop Thorn earlier, but now, seeing the woman he loved being threatened, he summoned up from somewhere deep inside, the speed and strength needed to twist the barrels of the Greener up, just as Thorn’s finger closed spasmodically on both triggers.

Again the thunderclap sounded. The double charge of buckshot caught Thorn in the chest and face and under the chin, and the devastating impact flipped him over backward and literally blew his head off. When his body thudded to the ground among the spooked horses, there was nothing left above his shoulders but a bloody stump of neck.

Sandy bent and grabbed hold of Robin, lifting her from the ground and pulling her into a desperately tight embrace. “Robin, Robin!” he panted. “Are you all right?”

“I-I’m fine,” she told him. “Sandy! You’re alive! That’s impossible! I-I saw Harley shoot you!”

“He just grazed me.” Sandy kissed her, hard, then said, “We’re alive, Robin! We’re both alive!”

Calhoun came up behind Smoke, breathless. “Couldn’t…keep the kid from chasin’ after you,” he said. “Looks like…it’s all over.”

“Yeah,” Smoke said, thinking of Jason Garrard. “Until we get back to Buffalo Flat, anyway.”

As they were riding toward the settlement later, having left the bodies of Thorn and his men for the buzzards and the wolves, Calhoun brought his horse alongside Smoke’s and nodded toward Crazy Bear, who was riding well ahead of the others.

“I saw you talkin’ to that big ol’ Injun earlier,” the marshal said. “Did you ask him how he managed to find us and show up like he did?”

“He followed Sandy,” Smoke said.

“The kid?”

“Yeah. One of the men from the Crow village was in town yesterday morning when all the ruckus happened.”

“Is that right?” Calhoun shrugged. “They come into town ever’ now and then to pick up shells for their rifles at Hammond’s store. Folks don’t like havin’ ’em around much—they’re naturally a mite scared of redskins, after all—but the Crows and the whites get along pretty good most of the time. Some of ’em even scout for the army.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know,” Smoke said. “Anyway, this fella heard that Sandy had been hurt and hustled back up to the Crow village to tell Crazy Bear, who headed for town to see about his son. On the way there he spotted Sandy trailing us and decided to tag along after him. He figured that Sandy was going after Thorn to try to rescue Robin, so he came along to lend a hand if he needed to. And of course, he wound up saving our bacon, or helping to, anyway.”

Calhoun shook his head and looked back over his shoulder at Sandy and Robin, who were riding side by side about twenty yards behind them. “Mr. Garrard’s gonna be damn glad to get his daughter back safe and sound, but he ain’t gonna like the gal bein’ sweet on that boy.”

“He may have to get used to it,” Smoke said. “Some things a man can’t do much about.” But he agreed with Calhoun, that there might be trouble when they got back to Buffalo Flat. If there was, he would deal with it when the time came.

It was late afternoon when they rode into the settlement. The first man to see Robin was with them let out a cheer and took off at a run toward the stage line office, obviously intending to convey the good news to Garrard. Other citizens fell in alongside the riders and called questions to them, which were ignored. Smoke led the way to Garrard’s office, and by the time they got there, quite a crowd had gathered around them.

Jason Garrard was waiting in the doorway, a huge smile on his face. As Robin reined in, he rushed forward to help her dismount. Then he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a voice choked with emotion.

“I’m fine,” she told him, “thanks to Sandy and his father.”

Garrard’s face darkened. “The Indians?”

“And Mr. West and Marshal Calhoun, too, of course,” Robin went on. “They all risked their lives to save me.”

“That ain’t all we saved, Mr. Garrard,” Calhoun said. “Mitch Thorn was playin’ us all for fools. He was gonna marry your daughter, murder you, and take over the whole town.”

Garrard stared at the marshal in obvious disbelief. “How in the world do you know that?”

“Thorn admitted the whole thing when he thought he was about to kill us,” Calhoun said.

Robin nodded. “The marshal’s right,” she told her father. “He said the same things to me when he was gloating about his plans. Of course, they were all ruined as soon as he lost his head and kidnapped me.”

“I don’t believe it,” Garrard said as he rubbed his heavy jaw. “I knew Thorn was a pretty shady character, but I never figured he’d try to double-cross me.”

Robin stepped over to Sandy’s side and linked her arm with his. “It’s true. So you see, you owe Sandy and Crazy Bear quite a lot. Not just my life, but maybe even your own.”

Garrard’s mouth twisted. “Get away from that—”

Crazy Bear straightened to his full height and squared his massive shoulders.

Wisely, Garrard stopped before he finished his sentence.

Smoke spoke up, saying, “Listen to me, Garrard. This is none of my business, but I reckon you’d be better off if you’d open your eyes and accept what’s goin’ on here.”

“I don’t have to accept anything I don’t want to,” Garrard snapped.

“Is that so? How do you figure to change it? You can’t bully or buy off love.”

“I can kill that young buck,” Garrard said, so angry not even Crazy Bear’s murderous glare made him hold back his words.

“And if you did, Robin would still love him. She’d just hate you, to boot.”

Garrard maintained his stubborn stance for a long, tense moment. Then, slowly, he drew in a deep breath. His shoulders slumped a little in acceptance.

“I don’t like it,” he said to Robin, “and I’m going to do everything in my power to talk you out of it, but I suppose West is right. I can’t
force
you to feel differently than you do.”

“That’s right,” she said quietly. “I’ll always love Sandy.”

“You’re picking a mighty tough row to hoe, girl.”

Her chin came up in defiance. “It’s my decision to make.”

And it was their problem to work out, Smoke thought as he tightened his grip on Seven’s reins and led the Appaloosa toward the livery stable. Robin and Sandy were safe, and that was all he cared about in Buffalo Flat. He had his own tough row to hoe still ahead of him.

Calhoun came up alongside him. “Where are you headed, West?”

“The livery stable, right now. I’m going to see to it that this horse of mine gets a good rubdown, plenty of hay and water, and a night’s rest. I’ll be riding out in the morning.”

“You sure about that?”

Smoke glanced over at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I was thinkin’…I could use a deputy here, the way the town’s growin’ and all.”

Smoke managed not to laugh. “You want me to work for a crook like you?”

“Maybe I ain’t quite as big a crook as you think I am,” Calhoun said, bristling. “Maybe I see some things a mite differently now.”

“I hope you do, Marshal, but it’s none of my business, one way or the other. I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”

“You sound like a man in a hurry to get somewhere.”

“Maybe I am,” Smoke said.

He had lingered long enough. The spirits of his wife and son and the old man who had been almost like a father to him called out their need for vengeance. Smoke had been sidetracked for a couple days in Buffalo Flat, but it was time he settled the score for Nicole, Arthur, and Preacher.

Come sunup, he was heading for Idaho.

Lord help his enemies when he got there.