The Loner: The Bounty Killers (12 page)

“Leaving me on foot in the middle of nowhere is the same as killing me, isn’t it?”

“Not hardly, to use your words,” The Kid said. “I’ll leave your guns where you can find them. It’s not more than ten miles to Flagstaff. That’s a long walk, but it won’t kill you.” It was the best solution he could come up with.

“I’ll track you down,” she vowed. “You won’t be able to hide your trail from me. And when I catch up to you again, I won’t sic Max on you. I’ll just go ahead and put a bullet in your dirty hide.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. Take off that poncho.”

Her face hardened. “Try to mess with me, Morgan, and I’ll kill you, I swear it. But not until I’ve taken a knife to you and made you wish you were already dead.”

He spat out a curse. She was no lady, so he didn’t worry about watching his language. “That’s not what I want,” he told her. “I just want to make sure you don’t have any other guns or knives hidden under that thing.”

Glaring at him, she took hold of the bottom of the poncho and pulled it up and over her head, revealing that she wore a butternut-colored man’s shirt under the voluminous garment. Her breasts weren’t overly large, but they were big enough they could be spotted easily if she weren’t wearing the poncho.

“Turn around.”

She did as he told her. He stepped forward and plucked a knife from a sheath on her left hip. The shirt and the buckskin trousers were tight enough for him to see she didn’t appear to be carrying any other guns.

“All right, go hug that tree over there.”

She cursed him in a low, monotonous voice as she followed the order.

He circled wide around the dog, which continued to stare at him with open hostility. He had some cord in his saddlebags and paused to crouch and fumble it out by feel while he kept his Colt leveled at the woman.

Approaching the tree as McCall put her arms around it, he angled in so he could still cover her. “Put your hands out as far as they’ll go.”

“Why should I cooperate with you?” she wanted to know.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll rap you on the head with the barrel of this gun, knock you out, and tie you up anyway. Do what I tell you and you’ll avoid another headache.”

“You are one gold-plated son of a bitch, you know that, Morgan?”

The Kid chuckled. “So I’ve been told.”

“Anyway, you can’t knock me out. If Max sees you hurt me, he’ll come after you. There won’t be any stopping him. He’s barely controlling himself now.”

The Kid knew she was telling the truth. He had seen the way the dog’s muscles trembled a little with the need to attack.

“Then do what I tell you, and there won’t be any need for me to shoot him.”

She sighed and muttered another curse, then thrust her hands out as The Kid had told her to.

Moving fast so she couldn’t pull back, he whipped the cord around her wrists, then yanked it tight.

She let out a yelp of pain. “Careful, you bastard.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Oddly enough, the words were true. Despite the threat she represented, he couldn’t work up any hatred for her, or any desire to cause her pain.

He holstered his gun and finished binding her wrists together, tying the knots so she would be able to work them loose, but would take her a while to do so.

“Keep the dog here with you,” he warned her. “I will shoot him if I have to.”

She glared at him around the tree trunk and didn’t say anything.

He gathered up his gear, well aware of the hostile stares directed at him by both McCall and the dog. When he saddled the black, she broke her silence by saying, “You’re stealing my horse again.”

“I don’t have any choice in the matter,” The Kid told her. He smiled. “Anyway, it’s a fine horse.”

“You’re going to wind up at the end of a hang rope.”

“I’ve been worse places,” The Kid said.

He mounted up and looked for her horse. It took him a while to find it. She had left it several hundred yards away and approached the camp on foot.

When he rode back up to the camp leading the chestnut gelding, he stiffened in the saddle as he looked at the tree where he had left her.

She was gone.

He thought for a second he must be looking at the wrong tree. The fire had died down and wasn’t giving off much light anymore.

As he reined the black to a halt, he realized it was the right tree. McCall just wasn’t tied to it anymore. There was no sign of her or the dog in the clearing.

The slight rustle of pine boughs was the only warning he had.

He twisted in the saddle and looked up as his hand flashed to his gun. The Colt hadn’t cleared leather yet when McCall plunged down from a branch above and slammed into him. The diving tackle knocked him off the horse with barely enough time to kick his feet free of the stirrups.

When he hit the ground with her weight driving down on top of him, the impact knocked the breath out of his lungs and left him gasping for air as his head spun. He lashed out with a fist but didn’t connect.

A second later something rough struck his head with stunning force. As he fought to hold on to consciousness, he caught a glimpse of her raising the broken branch she was using as a club. He threw a hand up in time to catch it as it descended in another blow.

McCall was like a wildcat, punching, writhing, digging her knee into his belly. She wrenched the branch out of his hand and hit him again with it. The Kid felt his awareness slipping away.

A terrible growl sounded in his ear. He felt the hot animal breath against his face.

“Give up, damn you!” McCall said. “Give up or he’ll rip your throat out, and I won’t stop him!”

Under the circumstances, The Kid knew he had no choice except to surrender. But he didn’t get a chance to give up.

He passed out first.

It was an utterly revolting development, he thought when he regained consciousness. For the second time in only a week, he had been knocked out . . . by a woman! The memory of being tackled and then pounded into oblivion by McCall came flooding back to him, along with the pain in his head.

His arms and shoulders hurt, too, and it took him a moment to figure out the reason why. He was sitting on the ground at the base of a tree, and his arms had been wrenched back behind the trunk so his wrists could be lashed together.

His head hung forward on his chest. His eyes were closed. But he could see a shifting red glare against his eyelids that came from a campfire larger than the one he had built earlier. He felt the warmth of the flames against his face.

He hauled his head upright. It seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. His eyelids were equally heavy, but he forced them up, then winced as the glare from the fire struck his eyes. A groan welled up his throat and escaped from his mouth.

“So, you’re awake, are you?”

He recognized McCall’s voice, and she sounded smugly satisfied with herself. The Kid turned his head a little and saw her sitting beside the fire. She wore her hat and poncho again, and she had a Winchester cradled across her knees.

“I was starting to think maybe I’d walloped you too hard with that branch.”

He tried to talk, couldn’t do it, then tried again and rasped out, “Yeah, I’m sure you’d have been brokenhearted if I was dead.”

She grinned at him. “You’d have been easier to handle, no doubt about that, but you sure would have started to stink before we got to Santa Fe. I probably would’ve wound up cutting off your head and just taking it with me. I hate doing that.”

The Kid thought she looked and sounded serious.

He heard a soft panting sound and looked toward it. The big ugly dog sat a few feet away. He would have sworn that the beast was
grinning
at him. “You two are proud of yourselves, aren’t you?”

“I’ll admit, we usually get what we go after,” McCall said. “Don’t we, Max?”

The dog let out a loud bark.

“Keep your opinions to yourself,” The Kid muttered. He looked at McCall. “What happens now?”

“I take you to Santa Fe and collect that ten grand reward.”

“Flagstaff is a lot closer. You could turn me over to the authorities there and put in your claim.”

She shook her head. “And have to trust that some crooked lawman wouldn’t try to cheat me? No, thanks. It’s the Territory of New Mexico that wants you, and I intend to go as high up the ladder as I can. I’d dump you right in the governor’s lap if I could. That way everybody will know I’ve got the whole ten thousand coming to me. I captured the notorious Kid Morgan all by myself.”

The Kid glanced at Max. “You had a little help,” he pointed out.

“He’ll get his share, don’t worry. Max and I have been partners for a long time. We work well together.”

The Kid couldn’t dispute that. He said, “I figured I killed him when I threw him over the edge of that rock.”

“You could have,” McCall snapped, her eyes flaring with anger. “It was just pure luck he landed on Charley Hobart. Charley’s a good-sized man. He broke Max’s fall.”

“So I came close to killing him and close to killing you on the same night.”

“Yeah. You shouldn’t be surprised that I don’t like you, Morgan.”

“I don’t care if you like me,” The Kid said. “I just wish you’d believe me when I tell you that this is all wrong.”

“You mean that loco story about those wanted posters being a mistake?” She shook her head. “If you want to sell me a bill of goods, mister, you’d be better off trying something else. But if by some miracle you
are
telling the truth, you can straighten it out with the law in New Mexico . . .
after
I’ve collected that bounty.”

He stopped arguing. It wasn’t doing any good.

“What’s your name besides McCall?”

She frowned at him and asked, “Why do you want to know?”

He shrugged as best he could with his arms tied to the tree like they were.

“Just curious, I guess.”

“Well, it’s none of your business.”

“What’s the story on that little girl in the picture?”

Her frown darkened. “That’s
really
none of your business.”

“Hey, I’m just making conversation here. If you’re going to take me to Santa Fe, we’ll be on the trail together for at least a week, probably more. It’ll be a long, boring ride if we can’t even talk.” He paused. “I’m guessing that she’s your niece.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” McCall said. “You’re so damned sure of yourself . . . sure you’ve got me pegged . . .” Emotions warred on her face. “She’s my daughter, all right?”

The Kid looked at her, saw the pain in her eyes, and murmured, “Sorry.”

“You should be,” McCall said in a sullen voice. “Her name is Linda Sue, not that it’s any affair of yours. She lives in Kansas City with my mother. I send money back to ’em, whenever I can.”

“So I did the right thing by sending that roll of greenbacks to them.”

“Yeah, you did. Although my mother’s going to be worried when she gets the picture of Linda Sue with the money. She’s liable to think I’m dead.”

“At the time, I thought you
were
dead. I thought the picture ought to go back where it came from.”

McCall looked away and shook her head. “I reckon that was . . . a thoughtful thing for you to do. As soon as we get to somewhere I can post a letter, I’ll write to my mother and let her know I’m still alive.”

“Sorry if I’ve caused any trouble.”

“Hell, you didn’t know. No way you could know my life story.” A bitter laugh came from her. “You wouldn’t want to, even if you could.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” The Kid told her. “I’d be glad to listen to anything you want to tell me.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. Then her face twisted in a scowl and she jerked the rifle up toward him.

“What the hell are you trying to do?” she demanded. “Sweet-talk me? Is that what you think you’re gonna do, Morgan? Pretend that you like the homely old gal so you can wrap her around your little finger and get her to do whatever you want?” Her finger tightened on the rifle’s trigger. “Cutting the head off your corpse is starting to sound better all the time.”

The Kid forced himself to stay calm, knowing he was looking death in the face. When he spoke, he told the truth. “You’re not homely, and you’re not old, McCall. I doubt if you’re much more than twenty-five. I was just making conversation, not trying to seduce you.”

“Yeah, well, you’d damned well better not try.” She took a deep breath and lowered the rifle. “I don’t put up with any of that stuff. Not since Pronto.”

The Kid caught his breath as he recognized the name. “Pronto?” he said.

“Yeah. Pronto Pike. Used to be my partner. You must’ve seen him, that night we tangled before. It was his bunch I was traveling with. I knew it was a mistake. We came damn near to shooting each other when we split up a year ago, but when he asked me to give him a hand tracking you down, I said I would. Then when I was wounded—when
you
wounded me—he went off and left me, the bastard. All he was interested in was that reward.”

The Kid struggled to make sense of all she had told him. He had figured that group of bounty hunters he’d encountered had continued on west in search of Kid Morgan. They hadn’t gotten a good look at him that night, hadn’t known he was actually the man they were after.