A Town Called Fury

Agony’s men, you’ve signed your own death warrant.”

Despite the perilousness of their situation, Conrad couldn’t help but laugh. “Father Agony?” he repeated. “That’s a pretty melodramatic name, don’t you think?”

Selena smiled, but there was no real humor in the expression. “That’s what some of his wives call him. His name is Agonistes Hissop.”

“The man’s parents had odd taste in nomenclature,” Arturo said.

“Or else they were readers and admirers of Milton’s Samson Agonistes,” Conrad said. “Agonistes being from the Latin for ‘one who struggles for a worthy cause.’”

Selena gave him an odd look. He didn’t bother explaining that he had taken a number of courses in the classics during his university days.

“The man’s parents raised a monster,” Selena said after a moment. “His name is hardly the worst thing about him.”

“He’s the elder that Leatherwood and the others work for?” Conrad guessed.

Selena nodded. “He has a ranch about twenty miles northwest of here in a place called Juniper Canyon. It’s more like his own little town, because a lot of his followers live there as well. He’s a very rich, important man, and he doesn’t let anyone forget it.”

“You mentioned his . . . wives,” Conrad said. “I seem to remember reading in the newspaper that the Mormon Church outlawed polygamy almost ten years ago.”

That brought a laugh from Selena. “Just because Father Agony is a saint doesn’t mean that he agrees with everything the church leadership does. He believes that he’s a prophet, like Joseph Smith, and that God has granted him the wisdom and right to make his own laws. He’s always had multiple wives, and he doesn’t want to give them up.”

Conrad nodded. “And let me guess . . . he wants to add you to the number?”

The grimace that momentarily twisted Selena’s face was answer enough to that question. She said, “I’ll never marry him. He can kill me first, or more likely have Leatherwood and the rest of his avenging angels do it for him, but I don’t care. That would be better than . . . than . . .”

“Maybe it won’t come to that,” Conrad said so that she wouldn’t have to go on. “I don’t like to brag, but Arturo and I are pretty good at handling trouble.”

“Have you ever had an army of triggerites after you? Because that’s what you’ll be facing if you try to help me. I appreciate what you did, but you’d be better off if we went our separate ways. If Leatherwood and the others see that I’m not traveling with you, maybe he’ll spare your lives. Maybe.”

Conrad shook his head. “We’re not going to abandon you. Once I take cards in a game, I like to play it out.” He glanced toward the sun. “It’s past the middle of the afternoon. We’ll let the horses rest for a while longer, then we can start looking for a place to hole up for the night.”

“Why don’t you sit in the buggy, Miss Webster?” Arturo suggested. “The canopy provides a bit of shade from that brutal sun.”

Selena smiled. “Thank you. You’re very nice.”

“Not really. I just know that having you suffer a sunstroke would only make our situation worse.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, in that case, I appreciate it anyway.” She climbed onto the buggy seat and heaved a weary sigh.

Conrad kept an eye not only on the area where they had left Jackson Leatherwood and the other avenging angels but also the rest of the landscape around them. He wouldn’t put it past Leatherwood and the others to circle and come at them from a different direction. This vast expanse of Utah seemed as open and empty as if it had been on the moon, however.

Selena’s exhaustion must have caught up to her. She dozed off with her head sagging forward. While she was sleeping, Arturo asked Conrad, “Are you sure that getting involved in this young woman’s problems is a good idea, sir?”

“No,” Conrad said, “it’s a terrible idea. We need to get on about our own business. I know that. But . . . look at her. She’s not much more than a girl.”

“A very attractive girl.”

Conrad shrugged. “Yes, but that doesn’t have anything to do with it. She’s in trouble, and if we don’t help her, who will? Maybe we can take her someplace where she’ll be safe from those men.”

He didn’t explain to Arturo how his dreams—and sometimes even his waking moments—had been haunted by Rebel for months after her death. Whenever he’d been faced by the decision of whether to help someone or just ride on, her sweet voice had seemed to whisper in his ear that he had to help . . . because that’s what she would have done. Rebel wasn’t here anymore, but Conrad could honor the life she had led and the legacy she left behind by not turning his back on people who needed a hand.

Or in his case, a gunhand.

After half an hour, Conrad tied Selena’s horse at the back of the buggy. She could stay where she was and ride in the vehicle. She stirred when Arturo climbed onto the seat beside her.

Suddenly her head snapped up and she looked around, wide-eyed with terror. “It’s all right, Miss Webster,” Arturo told her. “You’re among friends.”

She looked like she wanted to bolt out of the buggy and take off running blindly. After a moment, though, her fear seemed to subside, and she sank back onto the seat.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “At first I . . . I didn’t remember what happened. I thought I’d passed out somewhere and that Leatherwood and his men were still after me.” A laugh edged with bitterness came from her. “Which they still are, of course. They’ll never give up. Not as long as they’re alive.” She looked back and forth between Conrad and Arturo. “Are you sure you want to take on my troubles?”