Dead Before Sundown

He and Frank took their rifles up the slope and used the Winchesters to pry loose some of the rocks. Salty and Meg stayed on the canyon floor. Once the rocks began to move, they picked up speed and dislodged more stones and dirt. Almost immediately, Frank and Russell had a small-scale avalanche going that swept down and raised a cloud of dust as it covered the bodies of the dead men.

They slid back down to the ground and joined Salty and Meg. The old-timer took his hat off, and the others followed suit.

“Lord, I ain’t much for speechifyin’,” Salty said, “and I reckon it’s more’n likely these fellas went the other way instead of up yonder to your homestead, but wherever they wind up, we’re puttin’ that in your hands. It ain’t for us to judge. Amen.”

“Amen,” Frank repeated.

Salty clapped his hat back on his head. “Now that’s done, let’s get after them skunks. I sure don’t take it kindly when somebody shoots at me.”

“You’re going after them?” Russell asked.

“Dang right we are. I got a suspicion there’s a fella with ‘em who owes me money.”

“Do you even know why they tried to kill you?”

“We’ve got some ideas,” Frank said without going into what those ideas were.

“Well, if you don’t mind the company, I’d be glad to come along with you,” Russell said. “I’ve got my horse right outside the canyon, and I left my pack animal with my supplies not far from here when all the shooting started. I won’t be a burden to you.”

“You don’t have any business of your own to tend to?” Frank asked, trying not to sound too suspicious.

“Yeah, but those fellows headed east when they left here, didn’t they? That’s the way I was going anyway. I’m bound for Calgary.”

Frank decided to be blunt. “What for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Russell grinned. “Sure, it’s no secret. There’s talk that some of the cattlemen in those parts are fixin’ to put on a big rodeo there. I plan to take part in it.”

“A ro-day-o?” Salty said. “I been to the one down in Pecos a bunch o’ times. You mean to say they have such things up here in Canada?”

“They have rodeos anywhere there’s a bunch of cowboys gettin’ together,” Russell said. “There are ranches here in Canada just like there are down in the States. Say, Mr. Stevens, if you’ve been to the rodeo in Pecos, you might’ve seen me. I won the saddle-bronc ridin’ there, three years runnin’.”

Salty’s eyes widened in recognition. “Why, fry me for a gopher!” he exclaimed. “I knowed there was somethin’ familiar about you. You rode that dang Razor horse four or five years ago, the one ever’ body said was a killer and couldn’t ever be rode!”

Russell nodded. “That’s right. The purse was a mighty good one that year.”

Salty turned to Frank. “I know this boy now, Frank. He’ll do to ride the river with.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Frank said. He had long since stopped being surprised when people ran into folks they knew out here on the frontier. The West, and that included this part of Canada, too, he supposed, was a vast place, but at the same time it was possible to encounter someone you might not have seen for years. The network of mutual acquaintances stretched over hundreds, even thousands, of miles.

Frank went on, “You’re welcome to ride with us, Russell, but I warn you … we’re liable to run into more trouble.”

“That’s fine. Nothin’ I like better than a good scrape, Mr. Morgan. And call me Reb.”

Frank nodded. “All right, Reb. Just as long as you know what you’re getting into.”

He wished he could say the same thing for himself.

And despite the opinion of Reb Russell that Salty had expressed, Frank didn’t fully trust the young man. There was something about him that still didn’t ring true.

As they headed back to the fire, Salty said, “They let you wear that kind of getup to the ro-day-o these days?”

Chapter 21

“What are you talking about?” Joseph asked as he stared at Anton Mirabeau in surprise.

“Those men have no right to that gold,” Mirabeau replied with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. He thumped a fist against his buckskin-clad chest. “It belongs to the Metis!”

Joseph waved a hand toward the crated weapons. “We gave it to them in return for those Gatling guns. You know that, Anton.”

“And you know how hard we worked for it. You know the price that was paid.”

Joseph scowled. He knew, all right. Shooting had broken out during several of those robberies. Friends of his had died, gunned down by the law. Almost as bad, he had to live with the fact that innocent people also had been killed.

But such tragedies had happened before and no doubt would happen again before his people finally achieved their freedom, he reminded himself. There was always a price to be paid for everything in this world.

“What are you suggesting?” he asked coldly. “That we go after them and steal the gold back from them?”

An eager grin stretched across Mirabeau’s bearded face. “Exactly!”