Outlaw's Reckoning Read online

  “It wasn’t something I planned,” Gus said.

  “It was the ring. You went wild when you saw that ring. Why is that?”

  Gus pulled in a breath and looked down at the fire. It felt like the darkest part of the night and was growing darker still with every passing minute. He used the stick in his hand to knock away some of the chunks of wood along the side of the fire so the flames would die down a bit. “Those men will kill her and there ain’t no cause for it.”

  “It’ll earn someone a whole lot of money. That’s the cause.”

  “The ransom is so the family can get that lady back. They won’t get nothing for their money but a corpse and that just ain’t right.”

  “Neither is shooting a man or swearing on Sundays,” Doyle said, “but we’ve done our share of both. You just hate kidnappers. I bet we could’ve been rich if you weren’t so fussy in that regard.”

  The stick in Gus’s hand caught on fire because he’d held it in one place for too long. The flames licked up along the crooked wooden line and flickered against his fingers. Sometimes, the calluses on his hands kept him from feeling such things. This time, however, he felt the heat searing right down to his bones and kept his hand near the flames anyway.

  “If they snatched her up and bled her like an animal, they don’t think of her as nothin’ but an animal,” Gus pointed out. “They ripped off her clothes and tore off her jewelry and that ain’t nothin’ that any lady like that would part with easily. All of that was for a start and it’ll only get worse. Men like us know that much for certain.”

  “What sort of men are you talkin’ about?”

  “There ain’t a need for you to ask that question, Doyle. You know what I mean.”

  Doyle nodded slowly. “I suppose I do, but we ain’t never kidnapped anyone. Did you shoot up that train just to put those dandies in their place?”

  Guessing games were never his cup of tea, so Gus cut to the quick. “I want to go after her,” he announced.

  Doyle was still nodding. “You think we can make it before Smythe or any of them other kidnappers get to her first?”

  “Like you said, them law dogs that chased after us are probably an even bigger problem for those kidnappers. I doubt Smythe or those others will just ride straightaway to where they got the lady stashed. Since they don’t have any better way to contact whoever’s watching her, we should be able to get there before word gets out about us.”

  “And when we get there, we’ll have to tussle with whatever’s left of them kidnappers.”

  “That’s right.”

  “There could be a whole lot of ’em. Either that or the ones that are there may be real killers.”

  “Yeah,” Gus said, “I thought of that.”

  “You did, huh? When did you do all that thinking? In the second or two you was looking at that ring?”

  Gus chewed on that for a bit until he decided it was useless to try to paint up his answer too much. Despite all of Doyle’s faults, the man had an eye for certain details and he’d be able to sniff out something that was too far from the truth.

  “Pretty much,” Gus told him.

  “So you saw that ring and you realized that woman was awfully rich and that those fellas in that train were serious about ransoming her.” Letting his head fall forward so he could rub his eyes, Doyle settled into the spot where he was sitting as if his muscles would no longer hold him up. “Were you gonna tell me about this?”

  “That’s what I’m doin’ right now.”

  “No. I mean before you started shooting or before you got a whole town to chase us.”

  “Whole town?” Gus chuckled. “That was hardly a posse and they didn’t even intend on missing supper to come after us.”

  “The men on that train meant business and they were just the messenger boys,” Doyle said quickly. “You can’t think that’s as bad as it’s gonna get. You and I both know that Smythe and those men were just there to collect a few frilly things to be delivered farther down the line. You think goin’ right to where they’re dug in will be as easy as gettin’ off that train?”

  Gus looked up from the fire, stared straight into Doyle’s eyes and said, “I think it’ll be a whole lot tougher than that train and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me like I was some snot-nosed kid who ain’t never touched a gun before.”

  “Then maybe you should stop actin’ like one.”

  The tone in Doyle’s voice was a challenge that brought Gus to his feet. Even before Gus’s legs were locked beneath him, Doyle had jumped up as well.

  “I pulled your foolish hide out of more fires than I can count,” Gus snarled. “You owe me.”

  “I don’t owe you a damn thing. In case you been asleep for all these years, I covered your back more than once myself. I also covered you pretty well when you started frothing at the mouth on that train. I coulda caught a bullet on the way out of town, just like I may catch one on account of this new idea of yours.”

  “You’re the one that wanted to have a word with those men,” Gus pointed out. “If it was up to you, we’d probably do some dirty work and get paid in table scraps or maybe even get shot in the back before we got paid at all.”

  “And I suppose you’d prefer we get shot from the front? That’s the only reason you might decide to draw your gun when we were already surrounded! And then, to top it all off, you want to ride straight into the wolf’s den after you already tipped your hand that we were comin’! Did you even think to finish off them men in the fancy suits before they got a chance to send word to the others?”

  “That’s just what we needed, Doyle! Kill some more so we can tack that onto the list of deaths we already got hanging around our necks. You won’t be happy until a noose is around there as well.”

  “That’s fine talk comin’ from a bloodthirsty son of a—”

  Gus snapped his fist out before Doyle had a chance to think about it. His knuckles cracked against the other man’s jaw, clipping the insult short while also sending him back a few steps. In the space of a heartbeat, Doyle had regained his senses and thrown himself at Gus with both fists leading the charge.

  Although Gus was able to lean away from the first punch, he caught the second against his ear. A powerful ringing echoed through his skull, which wasn’t nearly enough to stop him from retaliating. Gritting his teeth, Gus turned his head so his left side could absorb another punch. As Doyle’s fist bounced off all that scar tissue, Gus took hold of Doyle’s throat and shoved him backward. Even after Doyle tripped on a rock and toppled over, Gus kept his grip and punched his partner in the mouth before Doyle hit the ground.

  The two men landed in a heap. Doyle’s face was bloody, but there was a wild grin under the crimson mask. His eyes were wide and he leaned his head to one side to expertly avoid the next strike. When Gus’s fist impacted against the ground beside his head, Doyle turned toward it and sank his teeth into Gus’s wrist.

  Gus let out a pained growl, but choked it back before he made another sound. Steeling himself for the next batch of agony, Gus ripped his hand out from between Doyle’s teeth and balled it into a fist so he could take another swing at him. This time, Doyle rolled away from the punch with even more time to spare.

  “That’s your problem, Gus. When you get riled up, you don’t think straight. You make mistakes.” With that, Doyle snatched the knife from his boot and swung the blade at Gus’s midsection.

  Hopping back, Gus allowed the knife to pass by with a hiss. He reached out to grab Doyle’s hand but wasn’t able to hold on when Doyle pulled it back again.

  Doyle snapped the knife toward Gus’s chest, but it was a feint. Unfortunately, Gus fell for the ruse out of pure reflex, and before he could correct his mistake, Doyle had already flicked his hand out to slide along the top of Gus’s arm so the blade wound up pressed against his throat.

  The touch of cold steel on his neck froze Gus in his tracks. Beneath the fire of his anger and everything else in his head, Gus figured a new se
t of angles that could get him out of his predicament.

  Leaning in so some more weight was behind his knife, Doyle asked, “See what I mean? You seen me swing this blade plenty of times and you seen me kill folks using them same tricks. Why the hell would those tricks work on you? I’ll tell you why. You ain’t thinkin’ straight. In our line of work, that’s more than enough to get us both killed.”

  The fire in Gus’s belly dwindled away.

  The rush in Gus’s head faded enough for him to think about what had just happened.

  As much as he wanted to think he had the upper hand and could figure out every move before Doyle made it, the touch of that blade against his throat told him different. Gus straightened up and stood there as if the knife being held to his neck no longer mattered. He reached up and calmly pushed away Doyle’s hand.

  “You’re right,” Gus said. “Sorry about that. I should have thought it through, but I didn’t. I just got a notion in my head and carried it out.”

  Despite being the one with the clear advantage, Doyle looked surprised. Allowing his knife to be pushed aside, Doyle slid the weapon back into its scabbard and replied, “That’s the Gus McCord I’m used to seein’.”

  “If you don’t want to come along with me, I understand. But I’m heading up to that camp and I intend on getting that lady.”

  “Why do you want to do somethin’ like that?”

  “Because the men who got her are damn animals, and if someone were to put them mad dogs out of their misery and bring that lady back to her family in one piece, there’s bound to be a reward.”

  Doyle’s eyebrows flicked upward. “You think there’s a reward?”

  “A rich man’s daughter is taken. He’s about to get proof that she’s hurt and in the hands of some desperate men who mean to do her even more harm. You think there won’t be a reward for her safe return?”

  “You think the reward could be worth more than the ransom?” Doyle asked.

  “Maybe,” Gus replied. “But if it isn’t, what do you think the odds are of those kidnappers having a price on their heads?”

  After a bit of consideration, Doyle said, “This can’t be their first dance, so there must already be a bounty offered for them. A job this big would push that bounty up a bit more.”

  “We know that better than anyone. I also know a few men who might be convinced to collect the bounty money on our behalf. It’ll cost us a percentage, but it beats walking into some lawman’s office where we might get recognized and strung up right alongside anyone else we bring in.”

  “Who you got in mind?”

  “Mike Halpert. He should still be in Tucson and he’s bad enough at cards that he’s always desperate for money. He’s also too stupid to cheat us too badly on the deal. There’s not many ways for him to mess up cashing in a bounty and splitting up the money.”

  “Halpert,” Doyle mused. “I remember him. He’s got the pretty little sister that works in a dress shop, don’t he?”

  “That’s the one.”

  And there was the spark of greed that Gus knew he could depend upon. Doyle may have been a little quicker with a blade, but Gus could always find an angle.

  “All we need to do is send these cases along to that family,” Gus continued. “They’ll get worked up enough to tack a bit more onto the reward so it’s nice and plump by the time we get out of this. Getting that lady away from them kidnappers may not be easy, but after that it’s smooth waters.”

  “Nothing good comes easy.” The smirk on Doyle’s face caused the blood to trickle in different directions along his face. “You came up with all this just by lookin’ at that ring?”

  “More or less.”

  “Yeah,” Doyle said proudly, “that’s the Gus McCord I’m used to.”

  Chapter 9

  Ewell’s Pass was due north from where Gus and Doyle had set up their camp. Doyle offered to ride back to the nearest train station and send those things along to the family so they would be convinced Abigail Swann was truly being held hostage, but Gus convinced him otherwise. It took a bit of talking, since Gus was easily more recognizable than his partner. Finally, however, Gus managed to get Doyle set on the task of scouting out that spot where the woman was being held.

  Doyle was a faster rider, but Gus couldn’t let those stolen possessions out of his sight. More important, he couldn’t let that damaged ring get passed around any more than it already had.

  After Doyle left that morning, Gus stayed behind to cover their tracks and break down the camp. When he was finished with that, he rode for a ways with Smythe’s satchel strapped across his chest. Looking more like a mail courier than an outlaw, Gus sifted through the items to see if there was anything else he could find that might be of any help. All he found was more proof that he was probably too late to do much of anything for Abigail Swann.

  Her blood was all over a few more items of ripped clothing and there was even more soaked into the case itself. Besides the ring, the satchel contained a lock of hair, the comb, a letter and a bracelet made from knotted string. Gus held the bracelet in his hand and knew right away that the simple collection of string would carry the most weight with her family. It was obviously something put together by a child. Either she’d made it several years back or a child had made it for her. Either way, it was invaluable.

  Gus knew all too well to leave such things alone when he was robbing someone. Folks were more likely to bare their teeth and run straight into the barrel of a gun when they thought they might lose something that had been created by their little ones. He’d never had any kids of his own, but he’d seen plenty of parents willing to step through fire to protect their kin. After tucking those things away into his pockets, Gus opened the letter.

  It was a simple ransom note that was filled with the proper mix of threats and promises to put the right amount of fear into any family. There was an address written upon the envelope, which Gus committed to memory. He then dumped the empty satchel like the garbage it was. If Doyle was right and he’d acted a bit too quickly, it was too late to fix that now. No matter how big of a mistake he could be making, Gus rode on.

  Rather than go back to Benson, he followed the train tracks to a station that was too small to have a proper platform. It was a little shack propped up by several posts that had been driven into the ground on all sides. It didn’t look pretty, but the place was just sturdy enough to withstand the wind. The station was manned by a single young man in a black vest and sweat-stained white shirt who was too busy frying an egg over a little burner to look up when Gus walked in.

  “Schedule’s on the wall to your right,” the clerk recited.

  Stepping up to the rickety counter, Gus said, “I need a letter sent on to Prescott.”

  The clerk glanced up and then looked back down so he could flip his egg. “It needs to be wrapped up and labeled properly and once you do that—”

  “I’ll need a pencil and paper first,” Gus interrupted. “This should cover the expense.”

  When the clerk looked up again, he found Gus holding out a handful of money. While Gus’s face took the younger man aback, the money cushioned the blow. He took the cash and gave him the writing implements in return. “That’s plenty to cover shipping. The next delivery bound for Prescott isn’t due until tomorrow.”

  “Fine. I’ll have it to you in a second.” With that, Gus scribbled out a few words meant for Thomas Swann.

  ZZ I KNOW WHERE YOUR DAUGHTER IS AND I MEAN TO BRING HER BACK TO YOU. DON’T TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS, AS THAT WOULD ONLY MAKE MY JOB HARDER.

  He’d thought of more comforting things to say during his ride, but Gus figured it was best to keep things short and sweet. As a way to prove he wasn’t just someone with a bad sense of humor, Gus stuck the pearl comb into the envelope with the letter. He thought for a moment before sealing it all up, weighing the different outcomes that could be caused by sending it. His intention was to ease the family’s minds a bit, while laying some early groundwork with wha
t had to be a very flustered and powerful man. On the off chance that he found himself in another fight at the end of this whole thing, Gus could tell Mr. Swann about the letter and item he’d sent as proof that he could be trusted, instead of shot on sight.

  Setting down the pan as though the egg in it hadn’t already been cracked, the clerk wiped his hands on the front of his shirt and reached for the letter. Despite Gus’s attempts to fold the paper quickly, the clerk chuckled and asked, “What is that? A ransom letter?”

  Gus scowled, but thought once more about what he’d written. Rather than tell the clerk to shut his trap and do his job, Gus conceded the point. “You’re right,” he said with an uncomfortable grin. He took another piece of paper and wrote something that was just as short, but not as unintentionally sinister as his first go-round. As soon as he was done, Gus lowered his head so the brim of his hat covered most of his ax scar.

  “Will that do it?” the clerk asked.

  “Yeah. Make sure this gets to Prescott real quick. Otherwise, there’s gonna be a problem.”

  The clerk looked down at the money in his hand and shook his head. “There shouldn’t be any problems, sir. I’ll even wrap this up some more to make sure everything stays together. This money covers more than the price of shipping and then some.” Reluctantly, he asked, “You sure you want to pay so much?”

  Oddly enough, Gus felt more than a little peculiar in getting something done so easily. He’d fallen out of the habit of asking for services and paying to get them done. Without any threats or guns in the mix, something just didn’t seem right. Even so, Gus nodded and told the clerk to keep all the money. It didn’t concern him much, since the money had been stolen, anyhow.

  The clerk was pleased with the deal and agreed to see it through.

  After that, Gus rode north. When the day neared its end, he steered toward the east. He and Doyle had crossed every trail and ridden every path in the Arizona Territories. That held true for New Mexico, the Dakotas, the Rockies and a good portion of Texas. Between the two of them, they probably even knew dozens of good spots that weren’t on any map. Their lives frequently relied on being able to cover a lot of ground in a little amount of time. When they were on their own, Gus and Doyle could move even faster.