Bounty Hunter

her in the main room. He sat up and dressed quickly. Pushing the curtain aside, he stepped out of the tiny room and saw Marcy standing at the stove fully dressed with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Even inside the roadhouse, it was cold.

She looked up at him and smiled. “How do you feel?”

“Not bad.” As he walked over to her his gait was a little awkward. His muscles had stiffened up some while he was asleep.

She noticed, and asked, “Something wrong?”

“Just an old injury. Nothing to worry about.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I know all about those old injuries. The world’s got a way of knockin’ folks around, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does,” Luke agreed.

“Well, sit down somewhere. Coffee will be ready soon, and then I’ll whip up some breakfast.”

“You’re the cook here, too?”

“That’s right.” Her smile was wry. “I have lots of different jobs.”

While Luke was sitting there, the two young cowboys came in from outside. They had spent the night at the roadhouse, too, and Luke figured they’d been out to check on the horses, all of which had been put in the shed behind the building along with the body of the gambler.

“Mornin’, Mr. Smith,” one of the youngsters greeted him. “Got something here for you.” He lifted a gun belt with double holsters. The walnut grip of a revolver stuck up from each holster.

“We took ’em off one of those Gammon brothers when we dragged the carcasses outside last night,” the other puncher explained. “Didn’t see any point in armin’ the wolves that were gonna drag ’em off.”

“I see.” Luke took the gun belt from the first cowboy. The holsters were reversed for a cross draw. He slid one of the guns from leather and recognized it as a Remington. Fine weapon, he thought. “What about the other two brothers?”

The cowboys grinned and pulled back their coats to reveal that they had taken the gun belts from those bodies, too.

“Those looked like the best guns, so we figured you deserved to have them, Mr. Smith. And the horses, too, if you want ’em.”

“I’ll take one horse as an extra mount,” Luke said. “You fellows can get some good use out of the other two, I expect.”

The punchers exchanged grins.

“We sure can,” one of them said. “We was just about broke last night, ’cept for our saddles and our hosses. Now we got good guns and extra mounts. Reckon we’re plumb rich!”

Luke wasn’t sure he had ever been as young and carefree as those two Texas cowboys. If he had been, he couldn’t remember it.

Marcy came over with the coffeepot. “You two sit down,” she told the punchers. “Breakfast will be ready in a little bit.”

They were all eating a short time later when the door opened again. Luke glanced up and saw a bulky figure silhouetted against the gray light of the overcast day. The first things he noticed were the rifle in the man’s hand and the tin star pinned to his coat. He recognized it as a United States marshal’s badge.

The man wore a thick sheepskin coat and had a broad-brimmed brown hat pulled down tight on his head so the wind wouldn’t blow it away. His face was red, either from the cold, a close acquaintance with whiskey, or both, and a close-cropped blond beard stuck out on his cheeks and chin.

Luke took a deep breath. He was still wanted on murder charges back in Georgia.

CHAPTER 26

“Good morning,” the man said as he came into the roadhouse and swung the door closed behind him. “Mighty chilly out there to go with the dusting of snow.”

“We have coffee if you want it, Marshal,” Marcy said. “And grub.”

The lawman slapped gloved hands together to warm them and grinned. “That sounds fine, ma’am. Nothing like hot food and drink to warm a man up.”

Marcy stood and motioned with her head toward one of the empty tables. “Have a seat. I’ll get you a cup and a plate.”

“Much obliged.”

The marshal went over to the table, set his rifle on it, pulled off his gloves, and dropped his hat next to them. He smiled at Luke and the two cowboys. “Morning, gents.”

The punchers muttered greetings, but Luke said, “Good morning, Marshal.”

“Deputy Marshal,” the lawman corrected him. “Name’s Jasper Thornapple.”

When a man introduced himself, it was only polite to return the favor, and despite the rough environments in which he spent his life, Luke had come to pride himself on his manners. “I’m Luke Smith.”

Thornapple didn’t seem to recognize the name, but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe he was just good at covering up his reactions.

“Teddy Young,” one of the cowboys said.

“Burt Tuttle,” the other puncher added.

“Pleased to meet you,” Thornapple said.

Marcy set a cup of steaming coffee in front of Thornapple. “What brings you out here in the middle of nowhere, Marshal?”

Thornapple nodded his thanks for the coffee. “Well, I’m trailing some men.”

Luke wasn’t surprised by the answer.

“Cooter, Ben, and Carl Gammon. Reckon you’ve probably heard of them,” the marshal added.

“I sure have.” Marcy went back and sat down next to Luke.

“Or rather, I should say I was trailing them,” Thornapple went on. “Came across a wolf pack about a mile east of here, having themselves a feast in a dry wash. There wasn’t much left of the fellas they’d been after, but I’m pretty sure one of them was Cooter Gammon. He had a streak of white in his hair hard to miss. Since there were two men about the same size with him, I feel confident my boss can close the books on the Gammon brothers.”

“Bad luck for them, being caught by a pack of wolves like that,” Luke commented.

Thornapple took a sip of his coffee and nodded. “Especially when those wolves were carrying guns,” he said with a shrewd smile.

The two cowboys couldn’t stop themselves from flinching guiltily. Luke’s face was like stone, though. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean one of those skulls had a bullet hole smack-dab in the middle of its face. Somebody shot that Gammon brother before the wolves got at him. A well-deserved fate, I might add.” Thornapple took another sip of coffee. “You folks have anything you want to tell me? Bear in mind I’m a federal lawman who doesn’t cotton to being lied to.”

“Mr. Smith didn’t have any choice!” one of the punchers burst out. “He didn’t have any choice at all. Those Gammons were worse ’n hydrophobia skunks. They were gonna kill us all!”

As soon as the words stopped tumbling out of the youngster’s mouth, he turned a stricken face to Luke. “I’m sorry, Mr. Smith. I shouldn’t’ve said nothin’—”

Luke lifted a hand to stop the apology. “That’s all right. I have a feeling Marshal Thornapple already had a pretty good idea what happened. He strikes me as a man who’s been to see the elephant.”

“There and back again,” Thornapple agreed with a smile. “You killed all three of them, Mr. Smith?”

“Two of them, anyway, and I contributed to the third.”

“I cut his throat,” Marcy put in. “He probably would have died anyway, but I didn’t see any harm in hurrying him along to hell.”

“Nor would I, ma’am,” Thornapple said. “In that case, I suppose the two of you will have to come to some sort of equitable arrangement concerning the division of the reward money.”

“Reward money!”