Jack walked out into the dirt street and strolled to the stable.The owner came out to meet him.
The man recognized him.“Mr.Randall, what can I do for you?”
“You have one of my horses here,” Jack said.“A bay with a white stripe.”
“The one they brought that murderer in on?”
Jack nodded.“That’s the one.Guess you heard about all the attacks on my place.That horse was taken, hadn’t even had time to brand it.”
The owner looked dubious.“Deputy brought him over here.”
“I know,” Jack said, all his old lying skills returning.“He just said I needed to take care of your bill for boarding him.”He took out some bills from his pocket.“Here’s a couple of extra dollars for your trouble.”
All doubt faded from the man’s face.“Seeing it’s you, Mr.Randall, I guess it’s all right.”
“Can you throw in a saddle?”Randall said.“My cinch is close to tearing, and I don’t want to wait to get it fixed.”
“Sure thing.Don’t guess I’d better give you his.Suppose it’s his property.Until he hangs anyway.”
“Anything you have,” Jack said, feeling impatience mixed with that excitement he’d always felt when pulling a con.
The man disappeared, then returned with a worn saddle.“Don’t look like much, but it’s sound.Only ten dollars,” he added hopefully.
Jack nodded: “It’s fine.Would you mind saddling it for me?”
The livery owner looked at the arm in the sling, then quickly saddled the horse.He took the additional bills offered by Jack, who took the reins of the horse.“Can I give you a hand?”
Jack accepted.He could exchange horses with Tyler later.He needed to get back.He grew more and more anxious about Tyler every second.
Jack was back in front of the sheriff’s office in minutes, ready to bolt any moment he heard an alarm.Tyler slipped out the door, wearing the deputy’s hat slung down on his forehead and boots and gloves.Randall pointed at the black horse tied to the hitching post, and Tyler mounted quickly, despite the cuffs on his wrists.They walked the horses to the end of town and then spurred the animals into a gallop.
Rafe felt exhilarated.If it were not for his nagging fear about Shea, he could almost laugh.He had found a gun in the sheriff’s office, and it was now tucked in the same place the derringer had been.He could take Jack Randall any time he wanted.
He had checked out the office because he wasn’t sure this wasn’t a trap.Many of Randall’s problems would be solved if Rafe were killed trying to escape.But only the deputy was there, lying on the floor.
Then Rafe did his own search, hoping he would find another set of keys to open the handcuffs.He didn’t, but he did find a gun in a desk drawer.And his boots and gloves.
He’d half expected to find a half-dozen men in the office.Hell, it could still be a trap to discover who had been working with him, to get Rafe to lead a posse to the cabin.But it was a chance he had to take; he had to find Shea.
He sure as hell didn’t have to take Randall along with him though.But for the moment, he enjoyed the fresh air, the whiff of freedom.And he savored the idea of pulling the gun on Randall and using the handcuffs on him.
Shea came first, and Rafe knew he could move much faster alone.He would leave Randall handcuffed to a tree someplace between here and Rushton Creek.It was time Randall experienced his first taste of what Rafe had gone through.As for Randall’s promise, Rafe knew that was nothing but chaff in the wind.He wouldn’t trust Jack Randall with a drop of water in the middle of a lake.
Shea finally found what she sought.She had kept thinking of the pictures she had drawn, and now she saw the sun flash on a familiar patch of snow.She was going in the right direction.If only she could find that opening in the canyon wall.
She had dismounted on the last climb upward, and now she wanted to stop at a nearby tree and rest for several minutes.She pulled on the reins, but the horse shied, tugging at the lead to regain its freedom.It was becoming increasingly stubborn, repeatedly trying to turn back toward the valley.
It reared, and she stepped back, stumbling, the reins dropping from her hands.The horse turned and started to head downward.
She went after the horse but soon realized she couldn’t catch up with it.She stopped and looked around.The land had just leveled out after a steep climb.There was a wall of stone in front of her.Rafe’s clearing had to be around here someplace.She walked wearily toward the wall, then followed it.And then she saw the opening.Unless one was searching, it would be nearly impossible to see.She moved through it, remembering the turns when she was blindfolded, and finally she was in a pine forest again.
Satisfaction … expectation flooded through her.She felt as if she were coming home.Her tired legs picked up the pace, and she started running toward where she knew the cabin was.Rafe.Home.Safety.
Sam McClary had been drinking, listening to the talk around him at the saloon.It was hanging talk.And as the drinking accelerated, so did the fever for lynching the murderer being held at the sheriff’s office.
McClary even bought a free round of drinks with his stolen dust.There was only one disquieting factor.Jack Randall wasn’t dead.But McClary was sure that once Rafe Tyler hanged, he could again control Randall, especially now that he had a daughter.
He was betting with himself as to how long it would take the mob to drink up enough courage to storm the jail.The deputy sheriff was said to be in favor of the necktie party himself.But the ringleaders wanted to be sure the good citizens of Casey Springs were off the streets.
