“If they think it's as easy as all that, why don'tthey go after the gang?”
Deland laughed quietly. “I guess they figure this is a job for a specialist. And you're the only one around.”
“This is the damnedest thing I ever heard of!” Owen said angrily. He took Deland's arm and pulled him around to the side of the feed store. “Now start at the beginning with this nonsense; I want to hear it all.”
“You know the beginnin' as well as I do,” Arch said, hunkering down with his back to the plank wall. “But maybe you don't know that Will Cushman took some deputies and a pair of freight-company detectives into the hills lookin' for the Brunner hideout.”
“Will Cushman?”
“It surprised me, too, but he did it.” Not that it did any good. They came back last night empty-handed, and Will wired Fort Smith that the gang must have scattered out in their direction.”
Owen snorted. “That gang didn't scatter anywhere. They're right there in those hills.”
Arch nodded. “And that's where they'll stay, too, I guess, if it's left up to Cushman or a few outsiders like those freight detectives to bring them in.”
Owen paced a tight, angry circle. “What's Will going to do now?”
Deland shrugged. “You know Will. I guess he'll sit tight and wait for the Brunners to plan another raid... and maybe kill another couple like the Ransoms.”
“What doyou think ought to be done?” Owen demanded.
“I'm just a deputy and an old man.” Deland smiled sadly. “I don't get paid to think.”
Owen turned abruptly and glared down at his old friend. “Maybe that's what's wrong with this country. People are too busy worrying about their pay to do a job that needs to be done.” Then he saw immediately that he had overstepped the mark. “I'm sorry, Arch. I didn't mean you.”
The old deputy was not angry. “I know you didn't. You were talking about Owen Toller.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I don't know, exactly, but I think this thing is beginning to eat at you. Oh, I don't mean the pressure that McKeever's puttin' on, or the looks people give you here in Reunion: But I think you're beginnin' to have doubts about yourself. You think of the Ransoms and wonder if you could have prevented it if you'd done what McKeever said. You're beginnin' to wonder if these people are right —these people that don't have the least idea what it's like goin' after a killer. I'm afraid you're beginnin' to wonder if you don't have a duty to go after the Brunners.” Deland got slowly to his feet. “Don't let them confuse you, Owen,” he said earnestly. “You have no duty here. There's not a man in this county that's done as much for it as you have. These people...” He raked cold eyes over the faces of passers-by. “They always want somebody else to do the dirty work for them. Well, I figure you've done enough of their dirty work, and so have I.” Owen was silent.
“There's just one more thing,” Deland added after a pause. “The man that goes into those hills meanin' business stands a mighty good chance of not comin' out alive. Think about that, Owen, before you let this thing eat too much at you. A write-up in theReunion Reflex and a good attendance at the funeral would be mighty poor comforts for Elizabeth and the children.”
That afternoon, riding back into the darkening hills toward the farm, Owen thought over the things that Deland had said. He had known all along, of course, that the Brunners were none of his business, but it had been good to hear Deland say it. He was easier in his mind, knowing that he did not stand alone in his beliefs.
Engrossed in his thoughts, Owen did not notice that Elizabeth was unusually quiet. They crossed the south bend of Lazy Creek and Owen let the horses rest for a moment before starting the hard pull into the foothills. Turning his head, he could see the rocky, dark green meadows below, and the orange sun moving sluggishly toward the western horizon.
“We'll just about make it by dark,” he said absently, noticing that the children were asleep in the bed of the wagon. Then he turned to his wife, and saw that she had not heard him. Deep in her own thoughts, Elizabeth had allowed her face to fall into a studied, thoughtful frown.
“A penny for those thoughts.” Owen smiled at her.
She looked up, startled. “Oh,” she said. “I'm afraid I was woolgathering.”
“What kind of wool?”
Her frown deepened as she shook her head slowly. “I don't know. Owen, I had the strangest feeling all the time we were in Reunion today. I can't explain it; it's not the kind of thing that can be put into words very well, but... well, I think it was a feeling that people wereavoiding me.”
Owen scowled. “What do you mean?”
“I told you, I can't explain it. It's nothing anyone said. Perhaps it was in the way they looked at me—women I've known since childhood. Or the way conversation seemed to lag when I came upon a group of women in the stores. I just don't know, but something's wrong.”
“Well,” he said quickly, “it'll straighten itself out, whatever it is.” He cracked the lines over the team and the wagon moved slowly over the deep-rutted road.
Owen was surprised and angered that Elizabeth should become involved in McKeever's efforts to bring him to heel. If they snub my wife, he thought furiously, they're going to have Owen Toller to contend with. I don't care what they think about me, but when they bring Elizabeth into it...
“Now who's woolgathering?” Elizabeth asked.
Owen looked at her and made himself grin. “Not me. I was just admiring the scenery.”
Chapter Five
Dunc Lester was not as pleased with himself as he might have been. Oh, they had got off with a lot of plunder in the Bellefront raid; he'd had Gabe Tanis take his share back to his folks. But he couldn't get over the idea that the price had been too high.
The raid was more than a week old and most of the boys had scattered all over the hills. The wild, ragged peaks that surrounded Ulster's Cave were bleak and silent, and Dunc wished that he could have gone back with the others. This time of year his pa needed him to help work the fields, but here he was stuck in this wilderness, because this was the way Ike Brunner wanted it.
Sometimes he got sick of letting Ike boss him around, but he guessed this fact hadn't really occurred to him until after Bellefront. This was the first time one of the gang had been killed in one of these forays. For Dunc, it had been sort of a lark until now. But not any more. Not after he'd seen a load of buckshot almost take Dove Wakeley's head off his shoulders.
Dunc's stomach shrank toward his throat when he thought about it. Dove Wakeley, a simple, good-natured galoot. Dunc had been right beside him when that warehouse guard opened up on them with a twelve-gauge shotgun. There had been a dull thump, like an October pumpkin splitting on a sharp rock. Dove had run maybe a dozen steps, screaming, with no face at all and not much of anything above the shoulders. Dunc Lester would be just as happy if he never saw another sight like that.
Now, sitting on the ridge near the first outpost, Dunc leaned on his shotgun and wondered what Dove's woman would do now that Dove was dead. How long was that Bellefront plunder going to last without a husband?