“Ferguson,” a voice came out of the dark a few feet away from Royce. He resisted the impulse to turn towards the man. The slightest sound would alert them to his presence.
“Sam,” Ferguson replied leading his horse out of the corral and closing the gate. Sam Turner rode into the open space between trees and corral. He was mounted on a dark gray horse. Turner was another one of Ferguson’s cohorts and the man that supposedly killed Laurie’s father.
Turner slouched in the saddle.
“You have anything between your ears,” Ferguson growled. The wind was blowing away from him so Royce did not hear what else was included in the heated exchange that followed.
The man in the shadows rode a dark horse to the corral’s end post. “You two finished squabbling,” he asked. The words were soft spoken the man’s face hidden in shadows. John could be the man’s name or an alias. Royce studied him hoping to pick up something familiar that would giveaway his identity. Was he Barlow or another of the Outlaw’s subordinates. Perhaps he was Hardin.
“Let’s ride,” Ferguson said in clipped tones. The third man was in the lead as the group moved into the shadows cast by trees. The ground was soft under foot. The leaves under the trees were damp so they did not rustle beneath the horses’ hooves.
Royce made his way through the trees where he had tied Get-a-long to a young sapling. Trailing men after dark was never an easy task. Tonight the three men Royce followed were known killers. One misstep could cost him his life.
South of Junction City the men rode onto the southbound road. Before moving out of the shadows Royce stopped and patiently listened. The wind was blowing in the wrong direction carrying any sound he made towards the men ahead of him. Riding across the road Royce cut into the trees before heeling Get-a-long in the ribs.
Royce missed Black Jack, his trusted horse. Get-a-long was an unknown quantity likely to give him away when he least expected it. The outlaws rode at a leisurely pace. Not in any hurry to get wherever they were going.
Get-a-long stepped on a fallen tree branch. The snap was loud. Royce reined the horse to a halt and set quietly waiting and listening. Ferguson and his men did not look in his direction. Animal sounds abounded in the night. It was a time of foraging. A fox stopped at the edge of the road and stood up on his hind legs. His nose was in the air sniffing. Moonlight was shining off his glossy coat. An owl hooted from a concealed location among the trees.
Royce heeled Get-a-long and the horse responded moving silently through the night. He came to the road ahead of Ferguson and sat in the saddle as the three men rode pass. In the moonlight he saw John Layfield riding in the led. Until that moment Royce had hoped the third man was not Layfield. An older man would have better fit Barlow’s description. He had already ruled Layfield was not Barlow. The man was barely out of his teens. What about Layfield’s father. Royce had not thought about this possibility. It could account for John’s earlier gruff attitude.
Royce rode ahead of the outlaws. He was surprised at Get-a-long’s deftness at moving silently through the trees and underbrush. Layers of leaves covering the ground deafened the sound of the horse’s hooves. The rising moon lit their way. The dark bowl overhead was speckled with thousands of tiny lights. Royce breathed deeply of the autumn crisp air. Leaning over Get-a-long’s neck he kept his eyes on the men he was trailing until they disappeared behind him.
At the bend in the road Royce hid in the shadows and listened to the night sounds around him. He should be no more than minutes ahead of Ferguson. Another minute ticked by then another leaving Royce to wonder if he had mistaken Ferguson’s intentions. Royce stepped out of the saddle and leading Get-a-long headed back the way he had come. Four riders sat on their horses in the middle of the moonlit road. Royce knelt, placing one knee against the damp ground his hand holding onto Get-a-long’s bridle. He waited.
A few minutes later Ferguson, Layfield and Turner rode past while the fourth man waited in the middle of the road watching them. Royce had a decision to make. He could continue following the three men he knew or discover the identity of this fourth person. This unknown man headed back towards Junction City and Royce decided his best option was to follow the man home.
It was well after midnight when Royce saw the first buildings of Junction City come into view. The warehouse across the road from the Secondary School was dark shadows. At the bend in the road Royce stepped to the ground and lead Get-a-long through the backstreets and alleys keeping the man ahead of him in view.
The houses on Fifth Street were large and well appointed. Gingerbread trimmed the gables. Shutters were attached to the sides of tall windows. Wide porches kept rain and snow from blowing under front doors. The roofs had multiple chimneys. White painted fences surrounded widely spaced yards. This was the area where the wealthy in Junction City lived.
The rider skirted the tall three story house with its well manicured lawn heading towards the stable and carriage house in the rear. Royce tied Get-a-long to a fence post and silently followed the man keeping in the shadows.
The barn door squeaked open and a man came out carrying a lantern. Royce held his breath a Mayor Pillsdale crossed the yard not more than ten feet away from where he stood.
Mayor Pillsdale!
Royce wondered why he was surprised. He had suspected Pillsdale’s involvement in the Barlow Gang from the beginning.
Chapter Seventeen
Royce
