The gunfire had awakened Brackett. A small crowd had gathered about a block south of the jail. A torch burned brightly, showing the faces of a curious crowd, probably drawn out of the nearest saloon.
The shooting had stopped, though it remained to be seen if this was a good thing or not. There hadn’t been a shot fired in the last five minutes.
Josiah eased away from Juan Carlos, over to the column where one of the men from the sheriff’s office had perched.
“I need to get help for Juan Carlos,” Josiah said.
Sweat was running down the man’s face. It was hard to make out many of his features in the dark, but there was a glint of light reflecting off the star on his chest.
“Doc’s got a place a half block over. Once it’s safe, I’ll send word to get him down here. How bad is Juan Carlos?”
“Gut-shot and took another to the shoulder,” Josiah answered.
“Damn.”
“I don’t know how much longer he’s going to last.”
“Your partner over there is a keen shot,” the man said.
“Elliot’s pretty good. You think he got the shooter?”
“Hard to say.” The man looked away from Josiah, up to the top of the courthouse. He wasn’t wearing a hat, and it was easy to see wisps of thin, white hair, balding on top. “I’m Bill Gamit, Kinney County sheriff, by the way. I’ve known Juan Carlos for as long as I can remember. He’s a good man to have on your side.”
“Good to meet you, Sheriff.”
“Call me Bill.”
Josiah nodded. The man had a gentle but firm voice and a twinkle in his eye. He immediately put Josiah at ease.
“Luke, take yourself up to the roof up there. It’s been quiet for a little too long. Take Ranger Wolfe’s partner with you,” Bill Gamit said to the other man, behind the opposite column.
The man, obviously a deputy since he wore a silver star on his chest, too, nodded, then disappeared into the shadows, off in Scrap’s direction.
Josiah wanted to protest that Scrap wasn’t his partner, just a fellow Ranger, but he let it go. For all intents and purposes, Scrap was his partner on this mission, whether he liked it or not.
“You got any idea who might be shooting at Juan Carlos?” Gamit asked.
“My guess is O’Reilly’s in on it. I questioned whether Juan Carlos was making a mistake coming into town so boldly,” Josiah said. “But if you’ve known him for a long time, then you know how he is.”
Gamit nodded. “O’Reilly? That’s odd. I heard scuttlebutt about some Irish outlaw hookin’ up with Cortina, but if that’s the case, you’re in the wrong place, mister.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, if Cortina was close by, I would know it. Last I heard he was about two hundred miles from here, holed up in a little spot outside of Nuevo Laredo.”
“Then why did Juan Carlos bring us here?” Josiah said, suddenly exasperated.
“Beats me,” Sheriff Gamit said. “You’ll have to ask him. If you can.”
CHAPTER 38
“We didn’t see anything,” Scrap said as he came inside the sheriff’s office. “Nothin’ up there but roof and some empty cartridges.”
Juan Carlos was lying on a cot in a cell, unconscious. Sheriff Gamit and the doctor were inside looking after him. Josiah had been standing at the door of the jail, anxiously awaiting Scrap’s return.
“How’s the Mexican doin’?” Scrap asked.
“Not good,” Josiah said.
“What’re we gonna do?”
Josiah shrugged. He didn’t have a clue at the moment. “Depends on what happens to Juan Carlos I ’spect.”
The deputy who had joined Scrap eased by him, then made his way into the cell where Juan Carlos was, to speak to the sheriff. The deputy was a young man, probably no more than twenty years old, skinny as a nail and tall as a pine tree. His gun hung low on his hip, and it looked like the weight of it could tip him over. He murmured something unintelligible in Gamit’s ear, then stood back from the cot respectfully, standing with his arms behind his back.
“That there is Luke. Sheriff Gamit is his granddaddy,” Scrap said.
Josiah nodded. That made sense.
The sheriff walked out of the cell, a grim look on his face. “You fellas can stay here tonight if you’d like. Doc says it’s touch and go for ole Juan Carlos. Might make it through the night, might not. He’s got to get those bullets out of him if he can. Not sure he can survive that. He ain’t goin’ to Laredo anytime soon, though, so you best be thinkin’ of a plan for yourself.”
“Damn,” Josiah said. “Thanks, Sheriff, I think staying here is a good idea. We don’t know our way around town, and hard telling who’s got a lookout for us. Seems to me we might end up worse off than our friend here if we leave now.”
“That’s what I was thinkin’,” the sheriff said. “I’ll send Luke out to get you some grub. There’s an empty cell in the back with a double bunk and a pump just outside the back door. Can’t offer you a place to take a bath, but you can clean up a little bit and rest assured you’re safe for the night.”
Josiah took his hat off. “We sure do appreciate that, Sheriff Gamit.”
“Bill.”
“All right, Bill,” Josiah said, allowing himself to smile for the first time since they’d arrived in Brackett.
The lights were out, and the doctor had long since gone, his task of taking the bullets out of Juan Carlos successfully completed. There was nothing to do but wait and see how things turned out for the Mexican. The doctor gave him a fifty-fifty chance of surviving the night. Not the best odds in the world, but not the worst either.
Josiah was lying on the top bunk, on his back, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, listening to every little sound inside the jail and beyond. His trigger finger lay inches away from the Colt Frontier.
It didn’t matter that they were in the jail, he didn’t feel a bit safe. Somebody knew they were in town. Somebody wanted Juan Carlos dead. And that somebody certainly knew they were still inside the jail. They’d gotten away without leaving a trace of who they were, or who had sent them.
“You awake up there, Wolfe?” Scrap asked, his voice low.
“Yeah, I’m awake. Can’t sleep a wink, I don’t think.”
“Me either. What do you think the Mexican was up to bringing us here?”
“Don’t know, really. The sheriff said Juan Carlos stopped in just as a courtesy, letting him know we were in town. Nothing more than that.”
“That don’t make a lot of sense to me,” Scrap said.
“Me, either, but you’ve been around Juan Carlos enough. He rarely tells you anything, and he never tells you everything.”
“Surprises me you trust him.”
“He saved my life once.”
“Guess you’re even, and I’m one up on him.”
“If he lives.”
Both men grew quiet then, the thought of losing Juan Carlos troubling—at least to Josiah.
“What are we gonna do now?” Scrap finally asked. It didn’t take a loud voice to carry inside the limestone cell, and it was cool, too. Just about right for a thin blanket.
“Juan Carlos told me to look up a man named Dixie Jim. He’s a scout at the fort. It’s the only reason I can think of why we’re here. Maybe this Dixie Jim fella knows the spots around Laredo better than Juan Carlos and can take us in so we can find O’Reilly and do what needs doing.”
“I ain’t real comfortable bein’ around half-breeds.”
“You can always stay here,” Josiah said, his voice firm as was befitting the sergeant he was. Scrap didn’t answer, so Josiah assumed the message had come across loud and clear. “Good, that’s the last I expect to hear about that subject.”