“Of course he doesn’t. I just met the loco hombre an hour ago!”
“No, I mean he can’t have heard all that much about us, or he’d never think that Matt Bodine would go along with a bad idea so easily.” Sam paused. “Or me either, for that matter.”
Matt frowned. “You mean…”
“I mean that we’re going to make sure Joshua Shade reaches Yuma so that the sentence of hanging can be carried out.”
“Whether that varmint Thorpe likes it or not?”
“Exactly,” Sam said. “Whether Marshal Thorpe likes it or not.”
Chapter 19
Ike Winslow’s heart pounded heavily in his chest as he approached the place where he had left the outlaws. Dusk hung over the landscape now. He had waited until it started to get dark before leaving Arrowhead, thinking that his departure might more easily escape notice that way.
Not that anyone had paid much attention to him anyway. He had drifted around the town for hours, nursing beers in several different saloons and talking to anybody who’d pass the time of day with him.
There had been no shortage of people who wanted to talk either. Everyone seemed excited about the trial, the verdict, and the sentence that had been handed down. More than one person had gone on at length about how that son of a bitch outlaw Joshua Shade was finally gonna get what he had coming to him.
Ike had no fondness for owlhoots, so it would have been just fine with him, too, if Shade wound up on the end of a rope…if not for the fact that Maggie’s and Caleb’s continued survival depended on Shade staying healthy.
Ike knew quite well that if anything happened to Shade, the gang would have no reason to keep his wife and son alive.
For that reason, he would do anything in his power to help them, even though in the back of his mind he had already realized that once Shade was free, the outlaws would have no further need of him and his family.
He would deal with that ominous prospect when he came to it, he told himself. For now, he had to concentrate on following orders.
Two shadowy forms suddenly materialized out of the twilight. “Hold it right there,” one of them rasped. Ike saw guns pointed at him. “Is that you, pilgrim?”
Ike recognized the voice of the outlaw called Garth. “It’s me,” he said. “I found out what you wanted to know.”
“That’s good, pilgrim, mighty good,” Garth said. “Get down off that horse and tell us all about it.”
An unaccustomed surge of defiance that took him as much by surprise as it must have the outlaws prompted Ike to say, “I’m not telling you anything until I know that my wife and son are all right.”
The other man stepped forward. Ike had already recognized the big sombrero, even in this dim light, so he wasn’t surprised when he heard Gonzalez’s sinister purr.
“Let me teach this foolish gringo a lesson about how he ought to talk to us, Garth,” Gonzalez said. “I’ll make him tell us everything he knows.”
“Back off,” Garth growled. “If you cut him up, he won’t be any good to us anymore if we still need him. I’ve learned my lesson.” He motioned with the gun in his hand. “Come on, Winslow. Your wife and kid are fine. I’ll take you to them.”
Ike dismounted then and followed Garth, leading his horse. Gonzalez fell in behind them, and Ike could hear the Mexican muttering in Spanish. Ike didn’t speak the language, but he was willing to bet that whatever Gonzalez was saying, it wasn’t anything good.
Garth led the way to a depression ringed by trees where the rest of the gang had gathered. Ike’s wagon was parked there as well. His eyes searched desperately in the fading light for Maggie and Caleb, but he didn’t see them.
“Where are they?” he asked, unable to keep the fear from making his voice tremble.
“In the wagon, pilgrim,” Garth told him. “Nobody’s bothered them. Here, gimme that horse and go take a look for yourself.”
Ike handed over the reins and ran to the wagon. When he’d seen the vehicle, he’d hoped that Maggie and Caleb would be in there, but now he had to see them with his own eyes before he would believe it.
“Maggie!” he called when he was still twenty feet from the wagon. “Maggie!”
“Ike!” She scrambled from the wagon bed over the back of the driver’s seat. Her fair hair shone under her bonnet, even in this bad light. “Oh, Ike!”
By the time he reached the vehicle, she had scrambled down to the ground. She threw herself into his arms, and he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, so tightly that it seemed nothing could ever pry them apart.
The leering drawl of the owlhoot called Jeffries managed to do that, though. “Well, ain’t that touching?” He lounged next to the wagon with one shoulder leaned against the sideboards. He held his gun casually in his hand.
Ike stepped back and rested his hands on Maggie’s shoulders. “Did they hurt you or Caleb?” he asked. “Did they lay a hand on you?”
She shook her head. Tears ran down her cheeks. “We’re all right,” she told him. “Caleb’s sound asleep in the wagon. He’s fine, Ike.” She clutched him closer for a second. “Oh, when can we get out of here?”
