Their gear was still in their hotel rooms, even though they hadn’t used those rooms since their first night in Arrowhead. It didn’t take long for them to gather up those few things and head for the livery barn where their horses were stabled.
Sheriff Flagg had told them that Thorpe had the wagon parked behind the jail and would be taking Shade out the rear door, then swinging wide around town to intersect the main trail southwest of the settlement. It was a decent enough plan and stood a chance of fooling the outlaws…assuming that Thorpe wasn’t right about the rest of the gang deserting Shade.
Matt and Sam weren’t going to believe that unless and until the journey to Yuma went off without a hitch.
The elderly hostler was surprised to see them. “You boys leavin’ town in the middle of the night?” he asked as Matt and Sam began saddling their mounts. The old man had come out of the office, which doubled as his living quarters, wearing a nightshirt and scratching his head.
“Thought we’d get a good start while the weather’s cooler,” Matt explained.
“Well, I’m sorry to see you go,” the old-timer said. “You been good customers. Ain’t caused me a lick o’ trouble.” He cackled with laughter. “And things been right excitin’ since you boys rode into town. You draw trouble like honey draws flies.”
“So we’ve been told,” Sam said.
“Too many times,” Matt added.
They drew the cinches tight, secured their saddlebags, and snugged their Winchesters down in the saddle boots. Then they swung up onto the horses. Matt ticked a finger against the brim of his hat and said, “So long, old- timer.”
“Y’all come back any time now, hear?” the man called after them as they rode out.
They went around the barn, through some back alleys, and left town heading south, not following any trail. Once they were well clear of the settlement, they would cut west and pick up the wagon, hanging back so that Thorpe wouldn’t realize he was being followed, but still close enough so that they could catch up in a hurry if any shooting started.
According to what Flagg had told them before they bade the portly sheriff farewell, Thorpe didn’t intend to follow the main road all the way to Tucson and board the train there. The biggest danger would come while he was transporting the prisoner in the wagon, so the sooner they made it to the railroad, the better. Once they were clear of the hills that ranged around Arrowhead, Thorpe could turn due south and reach the Southern Pacific sooner by heading for a little whistle-stop village near the Dragoon Mountains called Pancake Flats.
“You’ll know why when you see the place, too,” Flagg had said. “It’s as flat as a pancake thereabouts.”
Now, as they rode at an easy lope through the night, trusting on their keen sense of direction and their knowledge of the stars to keep them on the right track, Sam said, “Do you think Shade’s gang will actually try to rescue him?”
“I’d bet a hat on it,” Matt said.
“They haven’t shown any signs of it so far.”
“That’s because they’re waiting for the right time. They knew they’d be in for a hard, bloody fight if they tried to bust him out of jail. It’s a hell of a lot easier to waylay a wagon out on the trail, even with guards around it.”
“Yeah, things have worked out pretty well so far for Shade, haven’t they?” Sam mused. “We keep those lynch mobs from getting him, and then instead of being strung up there in Arrowhead as soon as the trial was over, Thorpe shows up to take him all the way to Yuma, giving his gang an even better chance to bust him loose.”
Matt frowned as he looked over at Sam. “You think there’s somethin’ fishy about Thorpe?” he asked. “Like maybe he isn’t a real marshal?”
“Oh, I think he’s real enough. I got a pretty good look at his badge—”
“Anybody can pin on a badge,” Matt pointed out.
“And I took a gander at that court order, too, while Judge Stanfield had it spread out on the table. It was genuine.”
“So if Thorpe’s really a marshal and that court order was the real thing, then what are you sayin’?”
“Just that it’s a mite suspicious, him showing up right when he did,” Sam said. “I’d like to know what prompted the Justice Department to come up with this business of taking Shade to Yuma.”
“Well, when we get done here, I reckon you can just ride on up to Washington and ask,” Matt said.
“I wouldn’t mind going to Washington one of these days. There are a lot of things there that could use some straightening out.”
“Amen, brother,” Matt said.
They rode on into the night, angling southwest when they came to the main trail that led to Tucson. Flagg had told them the landmarks to look for where the smaller trail to Pancake Flats turned off.
“There’ll be a big rock to the left o’ the trail that looks like the head of one o’ them Mexican dogs. You know, the ones with the pointy ears. About fifty yards past it is a lone pine tree. The Pancake Flats trail is just past that pine.”
Now, as they approached a dark, bulky shape beside the trail, Sam pointed at it and said, “That must be the rock Sheriff Flagg was talking about.”
“Yeah, you can see the ears stickin’ up and the snout stickin’ out in front of ’em,” Matt agreed. “Looks like a dog’s head to me.”
Sure enough, just past the big rock, a single pine tree stood solitary watch beside the trail. The blood brothers drew rein beside it and studied the ground in the light of a rising half-moon.
A couple of narrow ruts branched off from the main trail. Sam dismounted and hunkered on his heels next to
