Matt to suddenly show up behind them.
McCoy and Sullivan both fired. Although Matt was outnumbered, he had the distinct advantage of being a shadow within the shadows, while they were clearly visible. There were four shots fired, but only two found their mark. Both of the scoring shots were fired by Matt Jensen.
With his gun in hand, Matt approached the two men cautiously. Sullivan had been killed outright, but he saw that McCoy was still breathing.
“I’m dyin’, ain’t I?” McCoy asked.
“Yeah, you are,” Matt replied without emotion.
“I’m dyin’ and you’re just standin’ there watchin’.”
“Not much else I can do,” Matt said. “But look at it this way. Getting shot beats getting your neck stretched with a rope.”
“Yeah,” McCoy said. He tried to chuckle, but instead he coughed, and some blood bubbled from his mouth. “Yeah, that’s right, ain’t it?
“You still lookin’ for Plummer? Or have you already found him?” McCoy asked, his voice strained with pain.
“I’m still looking for him.”
“You’ll find him in Cheyenne. He’s the son of a bitch that got us into this. If I’m goin’ down I want him to go down, too.”
“I appreciate the information,” Matt said.
“Are you just goin’ to stand there and watch me die?” McCoy asked. “Aren’t you even going to try and patch me up?”
“There’s nothing I can do for you,” Matt said.
“You son of a bitch! You are enjoyin’ it, ain’t you? You are enjoyin’ watchin’ me die!”
Matt remembered the description the sheriff had given him of Jarvis’s wife and daughter.
“Yeah,” Matt replied. “I am.”
McCoy drew a few more ragged gasps, then stopped breathing. When Matt knew he was dead, he pushed the two bodies out of the cave opening, letting them fall a hundred feet to the rocky ground below. Then he climbed down after them and, finding their horses, threw the two bodies over the saddles. He had no idea whether he had matched the right body with the right horse or not, but he didn’t care.
Looking through the saddlebags, he found a little over six thousand dollars in each bag.
The next day, Matt rode into Livermore with the two bodies draped over their horses. Stopping in front of the sheriff’s office, he was met by Sheriff Garrison and a couple of his deputies. In addition, curiosity had drawn at least a dozen townspeople to the sheriff’s office.
“Who did you get?” Sheriff Garrison asked.
“Sullivan and McCoy,” Matt said. He opened his saddlebag. “And I’ve recovered twelve thousand dollars that was taken from the bank.”
“Twelve thousand?” one of the townspeople replied. “Hell, that’s just a little over half the money that was took. Where is the rest of it? Are you keepin’ it?”
Matt fixed the questioner with a stare that caused him to gasp, then begin to wilt in fear.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said.
“How did you mean it?” Matt asked.
“I meant, that is, I was just wonderin’ where the rest of the money is, is all. I wasn’t actually thinkin’ you kept it or nothin’.”
To the townsman’s relief, Matt turned his attention back to the sheriff.
“Before McCoy died, he told me that Plummer had gone to Cheyenne.”
“I’ll wire the sheriff there,” Sheriff Garrison said.
“You can wire him if you want to,” Matt replied. “But I am personally going after him. I will send what money I find on him back to the bank here.”
“You’re a good man, Matt,” Sheriff Garrison said.
Matt left the bodies with the sheriff, then remounted Spirit. He looked back toward the man who had asked him about the rest of the money, but the man wouldn’t meet his gaze.
Clucking at his horse, Matt rode out of town at a trot. He had a long way to go.
Chapter Four
Paul Graham, Phil Bates, Emmitt Carol, and Cooter Miles were in the Taney Creek line shack. They had come up two weeks ago to make preparations for the spring roundup.
“What do you mean? Are you trying to tell me you’ve never even
