Longarm stepped into the doorway and looked around the room. The covers on the bed were rumpled, as if someone had been lying on them earlier, but no one was there now. The room was empty, just as Thayer had said.

  “This is a trick,” Montoya said angrily. “You seek to hide her.”

  “I was just as surprised as you were,” Thayer said. He seemed to be regaining some of his composure now that the other two men saw that he wasn’t lying. “Emily came up here to rest earlier this afternoon, and that’s the last we’ve seen of her, isn’t it, Marshal?”

  “That’s right,” Longarm said. “I give you my word on that, Don Alejandro.”

  “But if this is true ... where could she have gone?”

  “We’d better have a look around the rest of the house,” Longarm decided.

  The three men were turning away from Emily’s door when the next door along the hallway opened. Warren McCabe looked out at them as they stopped. “Hello,” he said. “Is it suppertime yet?”

  “Warren!” exclaimed Thayer. He started toward Warren, and the older man stepped back, surprised and evidently frightened by the lawyer’s intensity.

  “I’m sorry,” Warren said. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Ross.”

  Thayer grabbed hold of Warren’s arms. “Have you seen Emily?”

  “Em-Emily?” Warren repeated, confused and still scared. “Not for a while.”

  “How long ago, Mr. McCabe?” asked Longarm, hoping that a calmer tone would calm down Warren as well.

  “Mr. McCabe.” Warren mustered up a laugh. “Nobody ever calls me that. Tom was Mr. McCabe. I’m just Warren.”

  “When did you see Emily, Warren?” Longarm asked gently. He put a hand on Thayer’s shoulder and squeezed, and Thayer let go of Warren’s arms.

  “Let me think ... it was a while ago, I know ... I asked her if she had any licorice for me—”

  “After that,” Longarm said, knowing that Emily had had that conversation with Warren soon after they returned to the ranch.

  Warren began to nod. “Yes, I saw her. I remember now. She came back upstairs after that. She knocked on my door. I asked her if I could go riding with her. She said I couldn’t, not this time.”

  “How do you know she was going riding?”

  “Well, she had on those clothes she wears when she goes riding. You know, those trousers like a man’s trousers, and that old hat.”

  Longarm asked, “What else did she say after she told you that you couldn’t come with her?”

  Warren scratched his head and frowned in thought. “I remember she hugged me ... I always like it when Emily hugs me, she’s so nice and soft and she always smells really good—” Warren’s face lit up as he recalled something else. “Oh, she said good-bye, that was it. She hugged me and said good-bye and told me she would see me when she got back.”

  “Where was she going?” Thayer grated before Longarm could ask the question.

  Warren frowned. “Now, that’s what I didn’t understand. No, sir, I didn’t understand it at all. She said she was tired of all the trouble and that she was going home. Yes, sir, going home. But this is her home, isn’t it? Hasn’t she always lived here?”

  “She has no other home,” Montoya said. “The girl was born on this ranch.”

  “He has to be telling the truth,” snapped Thayer. “Warren’s too dumb to lie.”

  Longarm saw the hurt expression that appeared in Warren’s eyes, and he thought about how good it would feel to plant a fist in the middle of Thayer’s face. That wouldn’t solve the bigger problem, though, which was Emily McCabe’s disappearance.

  “If Mrs. McCabe sneaked out and rode off right after she came up here, that means she’s got a couple of hours head start,” Longarm said. “And night’s coming on. I’d better get after her.”

  “My men and I will come with you,” said Montoya.

  Longarm looked over at the old man and shook his head. “I don’t reckon that’d be a good idea.”

  Montoya drew himself up rigidly. “I told you, I want peace. I am too old for war.”

  “Maybe you are, but some of your vaqueros might not be. I mean no offense, Don Alejandro, but I want you and your men to go on back to Lariat and stay there. I’ll find Mrs. McCabe and bring her back, and when I do, then maybe the two of you can sit down and talk it all out.” Longarm didn’t think they would be able to reach any sort of agreement unless one of them gave in—which wasn’t likely to happen—but he didn’t say that.

  “You would go after her alone?”

  “I’m used to tracking folks,” said Longarm. “That’s a big part of my job.” He glanced at Thayer. “Unless you want to come along, counselor.”

  Thayer looked torn. “I’m not much good on a horse,” he finally said. “And I’m no good at tracking at all.”

  Longarm nodded. “That’s all right.” He hadn’t much wanted Thayer’s company to start with. “Maybe one of the hands saw her leaving and can point me in the right direction.”

  “What if they didn’t?” Thayer asked. “How will you know where to look for her?”

  Longarm scraped a thumbnail along the line of his jaw. “I’ve been thinking about that,” he said, “and I’ve got an idea of another place that Emily just might consider home.”

  There were back stairs in the house; that was how Emily had gotten down from her room without Longarm and Thayer seeing her, Longarm quickly discovered when he took a look around the place. From the kitchen it would have been simple for Emily to dash across to the barn without calling attention to herself.

  The chestnut mare she had been riding when Longarm met her on the ridge where Tom McCabe had been bushwhacked was gone. The mare had been in the corral behind the barn, but neither of the men who had been posted there had heard anything unusual. Longarm figured all their attention had been focused on the threat that might be coming up the valley toward the ranch, and so they hadn’t noticed when Emily slipped into the corral, saddled the mare, and led the horse out. She probably hadn’t mounted up until she was well away from the house.

  But then, if she was determined to get away from all the trouble that was plaguing the valley, she would have put the mare into a ground-eating gallop. She could be miles away by now, Longarm knew.

  He found tracks that he thought belonged to the mare leading west away from the ranch headquarters. It was difficult to tell how old the hoofprints were, but his instincts told him they were the ones he needed to follow. He headed the steeldust west, too. His saddlebags were stuffed with enough supplies to last him almost a week, and he had a box of .44 cartridges that was almost full. There was plenty of water in this part of the country, but that might not be true elsewhere, so he also took along a couple of canteens.

  As he rode toward the western mountains, he worried about what might happen in the valley while he was gone. Sheriff Walcott would do his best to keep the peace, Longarm knew, but if the local lawman had been confident in his ability to keep the lid on, he never would have wired Billy Vail for help in the first place. Montoya had given Longarm his word that he would keep his vaqueros under control, so Longarm wasn’t too concerned about trouble coming from that direction.

  Sam Kingston was still sitting over there on the Diamond K, however, just waiting for the chance to make a grab for the McCabe ranch, and with Emily missing, he might think this was a prime opportunity. Not only that, but Longarm knew word would get around quickly about Emily being gone. If anything were to happen to her—if she wound up dead and never came back to the Box MCC—then Warren would inherit the ranch. Talk about a lamb lying down with lions, thought Longarm.

  And Nash Lundy was a cold-blooded killer. He wouldn’t think twice about gunning down a woman. If he somehow got to Emily first ...

  This was a race, Longarm realized, and the stakes were Emily McCabe’s life. He had the advantage over Lundy right now, but that lead might not hold up. Longarm had to see to it that it did.

  After he had followed the tracks west for a few miles, the trail began to swing to the south. That fit in with the hunch Longarm had about where Emily might be going. She had tried to throw off any pursuit by heading west at first, but now she was headed toward her true destination. Before long, Longarm was riding due south, toward the Mexican border.

  He pushed the steeldust as hard as he dared. With the suddenness common to Western twilights, night closed down around him. Longarm rode on a short distance, then reined in and started looking around for a place to camp. Even though stopping chafed at him, he didn’t want to risk losing Emily’s trail in the darkness. She would probably stop for the night, too, so at least she wouldn’t be gaining on him. He hoped.

  He unsaddled the steeldust and let it graze on a hillside under some trees. At the bottom of the hill was a tiny creek, little more than a trickle. Longarm made his camp there. He saw a faint glow on the horizon some miles to the east and figured it came from the lights of Palmerton. Out here, though, darkness lay all around him.

  Since he didn’t want to advertise his location, he made a cold camp and gnawed on a biscuit and some ham he had brought from the McCabe ranch. It was possible Sam Kingston had heard about Emily’s disappearance by now, and he could have sent Lundy out on her trail. The last thing Longarm wanted to do was to lead the gunman right to her.

  Using his saddle for a pillow, he stretched out and fought the urge to smoke a cheroot. Nearby, the horse cropped contentedly on the grass. Longarm looked up at the stars sprawled across the black velvet sky above him and wondered why folks had to fight over land when it seemed to him like there was plenty of room for everybody. The frontier was a hell of a big place, after all.

  He knew he wasn’t going to be able to puzzle it out. Human nature was just too blasted complex for there to be any simple answers. So he rolled over and went to sleep instead.

  Chapter 19

  Longarm was mounted and on the trail at sunup the next morning. By the time a couple of hours had passed, he had reached the southern end of the valley and ridden past it into a more arid landscape dotted with scrubby mesquite and cactus. The openness of the terrain made it easier for him to keep an eye on his back trail, but on the other hand it made him easier to follow from a distance, too.

  It was a little before noon when he noticed the rider behind him.

  Longarm kept moving, not wanting the pursuer to realize that he had been spotted. The rider wasn’t taking any great pains not to be noticed; in fact, he was pushing his horse hard enough so that a tendril of dust climbed into the air to mark his location. Longarm eased up on the pace, willing to sacrifice a little of the ground he hoped he had gained on Emily in order to deal with whoever was back there behind him. He started watching for a good spot to lay a trap.

  A half-hour later he came to a gully that slashed across the ground from west to east. The banks on both sides were gentle enough so that he could have crossed it easily, but instead after riding down into the cut, he turned to the right. The gully twisted and turned every few yards, so he rode around the nearest bend and then reined the steeldust to a halt. Swinging down from the saddle, he tied the horse’s reins to the roots of a bush that protruded from the side of the arroyo. He slid the Winchester from its saddle sheath and waited.

  He was rewarded by the sound of rapid hoofbeats a short time later. Whoever was chasing him was coming on quickly. Longarm stood silently at the bend until he heard the sliding of rocks and dirt that meant the rider was coming down the bank into the gully. Then he stepped around the comer, brought the Winchester to his shoulder, and yelled, “Hold it right there, old son!”

  He expected to see Nash Lundy, expected as well that the gunman would try to throw down on him. Longarm was ready to fire, his finger tense on the trigger. He saw the horse, a big black, come sliding to a halt at the bottom of the bank, and the rider turned a startled face toward him.

  Mercedes Montoya.

  Longarm had just enough time to recognize her before her horse, startled by his shout, reared up on its hind legs and pawed the air. Mercedes was just as startled as the horse was, and with a panicked cry she fell from the saddle. Longarm heard the hard thump as she landed on the ground.

  At least neither of her feet had tangled in the stirrups, he thought as he lowered the rifle and sprang forward. The black was dancing around skittishly, and he was afraid the horse would stomp on Mercedes if he didn’t get it away from her. He grabbed the dangling reins and tugged the horse down the arroyo.

  When he had some distance between Mercedes and the horse, he dropped the reins and hoped the black would stay ground-hitched. He swung back around toward Mercedes and stopped abruptly as he saw that she was sitting up and pointing a pistol at him.

  “Better be a mite careful with that, ma’am,” he said, trying to keep his voice cool and calm. “They tend to go off.”

  The revolver was a Colt .45 Peacemaker, a good-sized gun for a woman to handle, but the barrel didn’t waver as she kept it lined on him. “Don’t worry, Marshal, I know how to use a gun. It won’t go off—unless I want it to.”

  Longarm believed her. He said, “No need for shooting. I’m sorry I spooked your horse. I figured you were somebody else.”

  “Who?” Mercedes demanded.

  “Nash Lundy.”

  She grimaced. “That cabron. Do you think to insult me?”

  Longarm couldn’t help but grin. “No, ma’am. Once I got a look at you, I knew you weren’t Lundy. You’re a whole heap prettier.”

  That was certainly true. Mercedes wore a black vest over a white shirt, and her black riding skirt had hiked up when she fell so that her calves and knees were exposed over the boots she wore. Her hat had fallen off, and her blonde hair fell freely around her shoulders.

  The compliment made the Peacemaker’s barrel droop a little. “I’m lucky I didn’t break a leg when I fell off Apache, you know.”

  “Apache would be that horse of yours?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Nice-looking animal, but he spooks pretty easy.”

  “He’s not accustomed to having a man point a rifle at him and shout at him. Neither am I.”

  Longarm grunted. “Said I was sorry. Don’t know what else I can do, so if you’re planning on shooting me, you might as well go ahead.”

  Now Mercedes lowered the Colt all the way to her lap. “You can come over here and help me up,” she suggested.

  Longarm walked across the sandy floor of the arroyo and extended a hand. Mercedes reached up to take it, and he hauled her to her feet. She slipped the Colt back into the black leather holster on her hip and then used both hands to dust off the bottom of her skirt. She winced as she did so, and Longarm knew her rear end would be sore and bruised after she’d landed on it so hard.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “My own fault, I suppose. I should have known that I couldn’t just ride up behind a man such as yourself. You’re too watchful, and too ready for violence.”

  “Handy habits to have in my line of work,” Longarm pointed out.

  “I am sure they are.”

  “Just what is it you’re doing here?” he asked her. “You’re a long way from home.”

  “I was trying to catch up to you, of course.”

  “Why in blazes would you want to do that?”

  “You’re looking for Emily McCabe, aren’t you?”

  Longarm nodded. “That’s right. I suppose your father told you she’s run off?”

  “Yes,” Mercedes said with a nod of her own. “I came to help you find her.”

  “What makes you think you can do that?”

  “She is going to see Rosaria Canales, is she not?”

  Longarm was a little surprised Mercedes had come to the same conclusion as he had about Emily’s destination. The only place other than the Box MCC he could think of that Emily might consider home was the Mexican village where she could find the woman she regarded as her second mother. But how had Mercedes known that?

  When he asked as much, she shrugged. “As I told you, Emily and I have known each other since we were girls. We were never close friends, of course, but I know how she felt about Rosaria.”

  “Maybe you were closer than you realized,” said Longarm. “After all, both of you were raised pretty much without your real mama.”

  “This is true,” murmured Mercedes. “I can understand how Emily must feel, being in the middle of all this trouble that is not of her own making. She needed someone to turn to, someone who could comfort her. Who better than Rosaria?”

  “All right,” Longarm said. “We’ve hashed that out. Now we have to figure out what to do with you, so I can get back on the trail.”

  Mercedes said, “You take me with you, of course. That was my intention from the start.” She moved her hand to her rear end again for a second. “I had not counted on being so rudely welcomed, though.”

  Longarm tried not to grin. He said, “You can’t go with me. You’d better head on back to Lariat.”

  Mercedes gave a stubborn shake of her head. “I can help you,” she insisted. “I know how to find the village where Rosaria Canales now lives.”

  Now that was interesting, thought Longarm. “How do you know that?” he asked.

  “I have relatives in Mexico, remember? I have traveled to see them many times. Rosaria’s village is not far from one of the main roads. I can show you.”

  “I could just follow Emily’s trail,” Longarm pointed out.

  “I can take you there more quickly.”

  “What if that’s not where she’s going?”

  “Where else could it be?”

  Longarm didn’t have an answer for that. He knew logically that Mercedes was right. He also knew that he didn’t want to be saddled with taking care of her while he was trying to retrieve Emily. He wasn’t going to be satisfied that they were out of danger until they were back on the McCabe ranch, and even then things still wouldn’t be settled.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18