Gentry nodded toward Scratch.
“By getting this old-timer to help you?”
“That’s right.”
“You had to know that I was coming after you,” Gentry said. “You knew I would never let you hang.”
“I knew that.”
“So why did you come after the loot that was hidden here?” Gentry asked.
“I figured I’d retrieve it so we’d have it when you caught up to me,” Cara answered without hesitation. “Indian Territory’s too hot for us now, Hank, just like Texas was. I was thinkin’ we ought to head west. To Arizona, maybe, or California.”
“Speaking of hot,” the fox-faced man said, “that fire’s getting closer while we’re sitting here jawing.”
“Bouchard’s right,” Gentry agreed with a nod. “We’ll hash out everything later, Cara. Right now I’m just damned glad to see you again.” He looked at Scratch. “The question is, what do we do with you, mister?”
“Morton,” Scratch said.
“What?”
“That’s my name, Scratch Morton.” Figuring that they were likely to shoot him anyway, Scratch spoke bluntly. “Listen here, you owe me for gettin’ Miss LaChance loose from the law and bringin’ her here. She’d have been locked up by now in Tyler if it wasn’t for me. If you want to be fair about it, you’ll take me with you.”
“Make you part of the gang, you mean?” Gentry asked harshly.
“I’ve turned my back on my old pard and the law,” Scratch said. “I got nothin’ to go back to. I’ve skirted pretty close to the shady side plenty of times in my life. Might as well go all the way.”
Gentry grinned. “You’ve got gall, I’ll give you that.”
Scratch shrugged and said, “At my age, why the hell not?”
Gentry looked at Cara and asked, “What do you think? Take him along ... or kill him?”
A couple of tense seconds ticked past before she said, “Oh, hell, we might as well take him, at least for now. He’s pretty good in a fight.”
Gentry nodded and looked at Scratch.
“Do I need to ask you to turn your guns over, Morton?”
“You don’t think I’m loco enough to slap leather against all six of you boys, do you?” Scratch asked.
“I guess not. But I’ll be keeping my eye on you, and if you try anything even a little funny, I’ll blow a hole in you.”
“Fair enough.” Scratch cast a glance at the billowing clouds of smoke filling the sky to the west. “Right now I just want to get out of here before that fire catches up to us.”
“I don’t blame you for that. We’ll ride south until we’re clear of it and then swing to the west.”
Gentry pulled Cara against him for another quick kiss, then they both mounted their horses. The other men holstered their guns, but they watched Scratch closely as he swung up into his saddle.
Somehow he was still alive, and he was more than a little surprised by that. If he could stay that way, he thought, maybe Bo and Brubaker would catch up to them and be able to pull his fat out of the fire.
Of course, with the smell of hell itself thick in the air, that might not be the best way of thinking about it, he told himself. But no matter how you put it, he knew that his life was now in the hands of his old friend and the deputy marshal from Arkansas.
And whatever fate guided the wildfire that was now racing across the Texas countryside toward them.
CHAPTER 30
Brubaker uttered an emphatic, heartfelt curse as he lowered the field glasses from his eyes.
“That’s Gentry, all right,” he told Bo, who had been watching the men through field glasses of his own. “The big fella with the shaggy gray hair is his second-in-command, Chet Ryan. The redheaded hombre is named Bouchard. He’s been with Gentry for quite a while, too. The other three are just run-of-the-mill hard cases. I’ve probably got reward dodgers on ’em somewhere, but I can’t recall their names.”
“I thought Gentry had more than a dozen men riding with him,” Bo said.
“He did. I reckon the others must’ve split off on their own up in Indian Territory.”
“I thought he was going to try to rescue those prisoners, too, and yet he’s here in Texas. From the looks of the loads on those packhorses they’ve got with them, they’ve already been to the hideout and recovered the loot.”
“Don’t ask me how some damn outlaw thinks,” Brubaker snapped. “But if I had to guess, I’d say he was plannin’ on leavin’ Cara and the other two to the hangman and takin’ off for parts unknown with the money. Once Cara figures that out, I’d sleep with one eye open, if I was Gentry.”
“We can’t give them enough time for that to happen,” Bo said. “They’re taking Scratch with them. We have to go after them and help him.”
Brubaker nodded and said, “That’s the plan. And if we can kill or capture the whole bunch while we’re doin’ it, that’s even better.”
The deputy didn’t fool Bo. He knew that if it came down to the nub, Brubaker would sacrifice Scratch’s life in order to kill Hank Gentry and the other outlaws.
And Bo would let them escape if it meant saving Scratch’s life, so he supposed things sort of evened out.
Had it not been for the glint of sunlight on metal as they topped the rise where they sat their horses now, they might not have noticed the men on the other side of the valley. But Bo’s keen eyes had spotted that reflection, and he and Brubaker had reined in while they were still in the shadow of some live oaks. The trees were clinging to life with a few green leaves still on their branches, but the drought had caused most of the leaves to turn brown and drop off.
If the wildfire reached this spot, the dry, dying trees would go up like torches.
Bo and Brubaker didn’t have time to worry about that. They had to figure out a way to get the drop on those outlaws and hope that the fire gave them time to do so.
That might be a forlorn hope. The huge clouds of smoke filled fully half the western sky now, and they towered so high they were starting to block the sun. It was like a biblical apocalypse, Bo thought as they put away the field glasses and started riding southwest, angling across the valley toward the ridge on the opposite side so that their course would intersect that of the outlaws.
They stuck to whatever cover they could, not wanting Gentry’s men to spot them as they closed in. The smoke grew thicker, causing both Bo and Brubaker to cough from time to time. Bo kept a wary eye on the gray clouds, and after a while he said, “It looks like Gentry intends to skirt the southern edge of the fire, but I’m not sure they can get around it.”
“Yeah, I was thinkin’ the same thing,” Brubaker said. “If they’d headed east, they would’ve come right to us. We could have set up an ambush.”
“They’re abandoning Lowe and Elam, like you said,” Bo speculated. “Taking that loot and heading west for greener pastures.”
Brubaker snorted. “No honor among thieves, that’s for damned sure,” he said. He let out a curse and pointed. “Look yonder.”
Bo looked to the south. Like a giant gray finger pointing to the heavens, another column of smoke had sprung up.
“This wind can carry sparks a long way,” he said. “Looks like another fire has broken out.”
“And it won’t take long at all for that bigger one to join up with it,” Brubaker predicted. “They’ll never get around the fires goin’ that direction now. They’re gonna have to turn back.” He reached for the butt of his Winchester and drew the rifle from the saddle boot. “And when they do, we’re gonna be ready for them.”
Hank Gentry and Cara LaChance were riding in front of the group, and they both slowed their horses as gray smoke began to climb into the sky ahead of them.
