Longarm 242: Red-light (23 page)

That damned star packer, thought Mallory. Had to be.

“I'm comin' to get you, lawman!” Mallory said with a cackle of laughter. He shook the stolen rifle over his head.

“I'll kill you, you son of a bitch! Then I'll kill those damned whores!”

Viciously, he jabbed the heels of his boots into the flanks of his mount and started east, following the tracks left by Longarm's horse.

 

Longarm rode through the morning, gnawing on a stale biscuit he had stuck in the pocket of his coat before leaving Galena City and wishing he had a cup of hot coffee with a healthy slug of Maryland rye in it. That would go a long way toward making a fella feel human again, he knew. But he would have to wait until he got to a settlement again before he could have any coffee, let alone any laced with Tom Moore.

Now that the sun was up and shining brightly, he could see faint indications that a wagon had passed this way recently: crushed grass, overturned pebbles, even an occasional wheel track. Of course, there was no guarantee it was the right wagon, the one carrying Nola and the other women and the stolen silver, but Longarm's gut told him he was on their trail. He had no idea what the railroad schedule was or when the next eastbound train was due to roll in to Two Mile Station.

But Nola might know. She would have had plenty of time to check that out while he was recuperating from his injuries.

His mouth tightened grimly at that thought.

By mid-morning, he was riding into a huge, mostly barren sink ringed by mountain ranges that almost totally surrounded it. The river turned northward behind him, where the foothills ran out. The hard, rocky ground had a little downward slope to it, but not much, just enough so that he could see several miles to the east. That was why he could see the elevated water tank at Two Mile Station before he spotted any of the buildings themselves.

What made him lean forward in the saddle with interest, though, was the small dark shape moving rapidly in the same direction he was. Dust spiraled into the clear blue sky, kicked up by the wheels of the distant wagon and the hooves of the horses pulling it.

Longarm felt satisfaction but not any joy. The wagon was about halfway between him and Two Mile Station. He would catch up to it not long after it arrived at the flag stop.

That was when he saw something else from the corner of his eye that made him bite off a curse. Angling toward the settlement from the west, which meant it was off to his left as he rode northeast, was a tendril of smoke. The way it was moving, it had to be coming from the stack of a locomotive.

Nola had timed things close, all right. That was an eastbound train, and it would arrive in Two Mile Station right after the women drove up in the wagon.

According to Nola's plan, however, Longarm was still supposed to be back in Galena City, being freed right about now by the bartender for whom she had left a note the night before. She hadn't counted on him being less than a mile and a half behind them.

“Come on, horse,” Longarm urged as he heeled the dun into a faster gait. “If you've got a run in you, now's the time to make it!”

The rangy animal leaped forward, stretching its legs as it broke into a gallop.

Longarm was so intent on what was ahead of him that he never looked back, never saw the rider emerging from the foothills and entering the sink hot on his trail.

 

That was Long up ahead, thought Mallory exultantly. For a moment, he considered reining in and getting off the stolen horse to try a long-distance shot with the rifle.

Then he discarded the idea. For one thing, that was too impersonal. He didn't want to kill the marshal from long range with a bullet that would slam into his back and knock him out of the saddle with no idea of where his fate had come from. Mallory wanted to see the terror in Long's eyes, wanted to witness the exquisite moment when life faded from those eyes forever.

Besides, it was too chancy, and for another thing, the lawman had just kicked his horse into a run. If Long was in a hurry, that could mean he was about to catch up to Nola and the other women. Mallory liked the idea of catching all of them together. Then he could make Long and Nola watch while he killed the other whores, before he moved on to them.

Mallory urged his own mount into a run. He had ridden the stolen horse hard all night and into the morning, but the animal would hold up a little while longer. Mallory was sure of it.

Nothing was going to prevent him from getting his revenge—and his silver.

 

Angie leaned forward and tapped Nola on the shoulder. She and Mickey were riding in the back of the wagon, while Nola and Rafaela were on the seat. Nola was handling the reins. She looked back and asked, “What is it?”

“Somebody on our back trail!” Angie said over the rumble of the iron-rimmed wheels on the hard ground.

Nola twisted her head more and stared back over the ground they had just covered. Less than a mile behind them, a rider was moving, the dark form fairly visible against the light-colored earth.

“Damn it, Custis!” exclaimed Nola. “Why couldn't you have stayed in Galena City?”

“How do you know that's Marshal Long following us?” asked Rafaela.

“Who else could it be? Who else is stubborn enough?”

“But how did he get loose so quick?” asked Angie, lifting a hand to shade her eyes as she tried to get a better look at their pursuer.

Nola shook her head and said, “I don't know. But after the past couple of weeks, I wouldn't put anything past that man.” She slapped the reins against the backs of the horses pulling the wagon and shouted at them, urging them on to greater speed.

“We'll still get to Two Mile Station ahead of him,” said Rafaela. “If the train isn't stopped for too long, it might pull out before he gets there.”

“He can wire the next town,” Nola said bitterly. “He can have the law waiting for us. Blast it, things weren't supposed to happen like this!”

“We can still get away,” Angie said, a note of desperation edging into her voice. “Can't we?”

Abruptly, without any warning, Nola hauled on the reins and turned the horses due east. The sudden lurch made Angie and Mickey grab on to the sideboards of the wagon. “What are you doing?” screamed Rafaela, who had come close to being unseated by the move.

“We can't get away by boarding the train here,” replied Nola as she prodded the team into a faster run. “We have to shake Custis off our trail first.”

“But you're heading right into the middle of the sink!” protested Rafaela. “There's nothing out there—no settlements, no roads, nothing!”

“We can lose Custis and make it to Rock Creek,” Nola insisted. “A spur line runs through there. We'll catch a train and be in Chicago before you know it!”

“Rock Creek is over a hundred miles away!”

“We can make it,” said Nola. “We can make it!”

 

They weren't going to make it, Longarm thought. He had been surprised when the wagon turned away from Two Mile Station, but once he thought about it, he realized why Nola had made that decision. He was confident that it was Nola herself handling the reins; she wasn't the sort to turn the responsibility for their getaway over to any of the other women.

They must have spotted him, and Nola was trying to shake the pursuit before they boarded the train. The same thought had surely occurred to her that had come to him: even if they got away from him now, he could just wire ahead to the sheriff in Winnemucca and have the law waiting for them there.

What Nola ought to do was stop the wagon and surrender, Longarm told himself. She was heading now into some of the most desolate country on God's green earth. Only there was no green out there, just the brown and gray of sand and rock and mountains. He doubted very seriously if those women were prepared for the hardships that would face them on a trek through that barren wilderness. They would have to have a wagon full of food and water instead of silver if they were going to have any hope of making it alive.

Well, it wasn't going to come to that. He would catch up to them before they got very far. There was no way they could outrun him in the wagon. He had already closed the distance to a little under a mile, and the dun's long-legged, easy stride was closing the gap even more with every minute that passed.

Three-quarters of a mile... half a mile... less than a quarter of a mile separated them now. Longarm could see the women plainly. Their hats had come off, and their hair was streaming in the wind. He leaned forward in the saddle. When he rode alongside the wagon, he would try to catch the harness of one of the leaders and bring the team to a halt...

Smoke puffed from the back of the wagon, and he saw the faint flare of fire from the muzzle of a rifle, the flash washed out by the bright sunlight. They were shooting at him!

 

Angie worked the lever of the Winchester and blinked away the tears that welled up in her eyes. “I don't want to kill him!” she cried over the pounding of hooves.

“Just shoot over his head, I told you!” shouted Nola. “Scare him off!”

“Custis ain't going to scare off that easy,” Angie muttered as she settled her cheek against the stock of the rifle and rested the butt of the weapon against her shoulder. She tilted the barrel skyward and pulled the trigger again.

 

The bullets weren't coming anywhere close to him, Longarm realized. The women were just trying to spook him and make him give up the chase. That wasn't going to happen.

They would have to kill him to stop him now.

 

Mallory was close enough that he could have risked a shot, but he was too caught up in the thrill of the chase. He had been surprised when the wagon turned away from the flag stop, but he recognized desperation when he saw it. He had felt it enough in himself when all the bastards in the world, the men with the money and power, conspired to keep him down, to deny him his due.

Sometimes desperation worked. Driven by it, he had reached out and seized power for himself, and along with it a fortune in silver. He had only been taking what was rightfully his, though.

The fear he had inspired in the mine superintendents, the sons of bitches who had made life so miserable for him, was just a sweet bonus.

Mallory kept riding, drawing ever closer to those he was pursuing.

 

They would have gotten away if not for bad luck. That was the thought that flashed through Nola's mind as the wagon lurched over a large rock she hadn't seen until it was too late, and a sharp cracking sound came to her ears.

The front axle had snapped.

An instant later, the right front corner of the wagon dipped violently as the wheel on that side came spinning off. Rafaela, Angie, and Mickey all screamed. Nola's mouth was clamped tightly shut as she sawed at the reins and tried to pull off a miracle through sheer force of will.

The wagon tipped and went over in a grinding, rolling crash.

Nola felt herself flying through the air for a second that seemed much longer than it actually was, then she slammed into the hard ground with breathtaking force. She had forced her body to go limp, so her momentum sent her rolling over and over in a loose sprawl. She came to a stop on her belly. She was more numb than hurting. With a shake of her head to try to clear away some of the cobwebs from her stunned brain, she pushed herself up and looked around for the other women.

The wagon was smashed almost to kindling, but the heavy bags of silver still lay amidst the rubble. The horses had broken loose, snapping their harness, and were galloping away seemingly unhurt. Nola spotted Mickey lying motionless, not far from the wagon, her long black hair spread out like a fan around her head. She couldn't see Rafaela or Angie.

Nola lurched to her feet and staggered a couple of steps to the side as the rattle of hoofbeats made her turn her head. Longarm galloped up to the wreckage, his face grim as he brought his horse to a skidding halt. He was out of the saddle in the blink of an eye and hurrying toward her.

“Nola!” he called. “Are you all right?”

She didn't say anything, but she knew she would never be all right again.

Longarm caught hold of her arms. She was so shaken she didn't even think to check and see if the pistol was still in its holster on her hip. Anyway, she couldn't fight him now. It was all over. Her plan was ruined, and even worse than that, she had been responsible for the deaths of her three friends...

Mickey groaned and sat up, shaking her head. Nola felt relief throb through her. At least one of them wasn't dead. She looked up into the face of the big lawman who held her and said raggedly, “R-Rafaela? Angie?”

“I saw 'em on the other side of the wagon as I rode up,” said Longarm. “They were thrown clear just like you and Mickey. Didn't look like they were hurt too bad. Leastways, they were both moving around.”

Nola closed her eyes for a second. They were all alive. Her plan had failed, but at least she hadn't killed anybody—

More hoofbeats made her eyes snap open, and she looked past Longarm to see the man racing toward them on horseback. He threw a rifle to his shoulder and started blazing away as he guided the horse with his knees.

Longarm was already twisting and reaching for his gun as Mallory swept in on them, screaming insanely, “I'll kill you all! Gimme my silver!” Longarm was already off balance and didn't expect the hard shove that Nola suddenly gave him. He fell.

Even as he was falling, he heard the ugly thud of a bullet striking flesh and the grunt of pain that came from Nola. Longarm rolled and came up on one knee, letting instinct control his muscles as he palmed out his Colt from the cross-draw rig and lifted it. Mallory was suddenly there in front of him, filling his vision, and he pulled the trigger smoothly, once, twice, three times. The Colt bucked against his palm as the shots rolled out like thunder. Mallory screeched as the slugs drove into his body and lifted him out of the saddle. Arms outflung, he landed on his back. Blood bubbled from the holes in his chest.