Deadly Road to Yuma (9 page)

“Lot of people in town today,” Matt commented as he and Sam stood on the porch in front of the sheriff’s office, their Winchesters canted over their shoulders.

“You know how it is in these frontier settlements,” Sam said. “Anything that breaks the monotony is a big deal. The trial of the most notorious outlaw in the territory is bound to attract a great deal of attention.”

“And the hangin’ will attract even more, wherever they do it. Everybody in the territory wants to see Joshua Shade get what’s comin’ to him.”

Sam knew that was true. Public hangings were like holidays in most frontier towns. People would come from miles around. Kids would run around and play, shouting and laughing. If Arrowhead had a band, it would probably play a few rousing patriotic songs. There might even be a speech or two before the main event.

Sam had read stories in Eastern newspapers calling such hoopla over a man’s execution barbaric. What those soft-handed Easterners failed to understand was that a hanging was a reminder, however fleeting, that such a thing as law and order actually existed. In a land where swift, brutal death could strike without warning—from outlaws, from Indians, from nature itself—it did folks some good to see that every now and then, justice was served…even if it was a harsh, unforgiving justice.

What else could people expect in a harsh, unforgiving land?

Sam didn’t feel any sympathy for Joshua Shade. The man was a vicious lunatic, and Sam reserved his sympathy for all the people Shade and his gang had hurt along the way.

Now that the feeling had spread through the town that it would be better if Shade
wasn’t
hanged here, the worry that a lynch mob might try to take him out of the jail had eased. Matt and Sam didn’t have to stay barricaded behind the building’s thick walls around the clock except for when Flagg brought in their meals.

Flagg came up to the blood brothers and gave them a friendly nod. “Been down at the town hall makin’ sure there’ll be enough chairs for everybody. Of course, there won’t be, the way folks’ll pack in there. But at least there’ll be places for the judge and the lawyers and the defendant to sit.”

“You actually found a lawyer to represent Shade?” Matt asked.

“Yeah, old Colonel Wilmont said he’d do it. I don’t know how he intends to defend a varmint like Shade, but that’s his problem.” Flagg thumbed back his hat. “My problem is I need somebody to ride out and meet the judge to make sure he gets into town all right. I got to worryin’ that Shade’s bunch might try to stop him.”

“That would just postpone the trial,” Sam pointed out. “It wouldn’t really change anything.”

“Yeah, but who knows how an outlaw thinks?”

“You want us to take care of that chore?” Matt asked.

“I was thinkin’ you might,” Flagg admitted. “Randy and me and my other deputy can hold down the fort here. I got half a dozen other volunteers who’d be glad to pitch in if I needed ’em, too. I don’t reckon we’re gonna have any trouble here, though. Stan Hightower’s passed the word to all the other ranchers in the area to let the trial go on as planned, and Mayor Wiley’s done the same thing here in town. We may have a few hombres gettin’ drunk to celebrate what’s gonna happen to Shade, but I reckon that’ll be about all.”

Matt lowered his rifle so that the barrel smacked into the palm of his left hand. “All right,” he said. “After the last few days, it’ll feel good to get out and move around some, won’t it, Sam?”

“I’m sure our horses will appreciate the opportunity to stretch their legs,” Sam agreed.

Flagg told them which trail the judge would be coming in on. They headed for the livery stable and saddled up their horses. Since they didn’t know exactly how far out of town they would have to ride to meet the judge, they filled their canteens and took some biscuits left over from breakfast to tide them over in the middle of the day if necessary.

The horses were skittish and high-spirited from being cooped up, as Sam had predicted. He and Matt felt pretty much the same way. As soon as they were well clear of town, they put the animals into a hard gallop to ease some of that tension.

After half a mile, the blood brothers reined their mounts back to a slower pace. Matt grinned over at Sam and said, “I don’t know about you, but I feel a mite better.”

Sam returned the grin. “So do I. I’ll feel even better, though, when this is all over.”

“We headin’ on out to California, like we talked about?”

“I suppose so. It’s been a while since we were there.”

“Lots of pretty girls in California,” Matt said. “I’m not sure any of ’em are any prettier than Miss Amelia, though.”

“I haven’t even
seen
Amelia in almost a week,” Sam pointed out. “We’ve been too busy guarding Shade.”

“Well, there’s a good reason to pay a visit to the Ten Grand tonight, don’t you think?”

“We’ll see,” Sam said with a shrug.

They were headed south by southwest, following the main trail from Arrowhead to Tucson. The judge would be traveling by buggy, Flagg had told them, so they were on the lookout for such a vehicle as the mountains fell into the distance behind them and they rode through rolling hills dotted with scrub brush and sparsely grassed.

Around mid-morning, they spotted some dust rising in the distance ahead of them. “You reckon that’s him?” Matt asked. “Whoever it is, looks like they’re movin’ along at a good clip.”

“Could be,” Sam replied. He was about to say something else, but then both young men reined sharply to a halt as they heard faint popping sounds.

“Gunshots!” Matt said.

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Sam said. He dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and sent the animal leaping ahead again. Matt was right beside him.

The dust came closer, and so did the gunshots. As Matt and Sam leaned forward in their saddles, they spotted a buggy bouncing and careening along the trail toward them, being drawn by a pair of black horses.

About fifty yards behind the buggy and rapidly closing the gap were four men on horseback. Smoke plumed from the guns in their hands as they fired after the fleeing vehicle.

“That must be the judge!” Sam called over to Matt above the rolling drum of hoofbeats.

“And I’ll bet those are some of Shade’s men after him!” Matt replied.

They shucked their Winchesters as they raced closer. Splitting up, Matt galloped down the left side of the road, Sam the right. As soon as they had swung out far enough so that they could fire past the buggy without any danger of hitting its occupant, they brought the rifles to their shoulders and opened up.

The pursuers tried to peel off from the chase, but they were too late. One man went backward out of his saddle as if punched by a giant hand as a slug from Matt’s rifle slammed into his chest. Another slewed around under the impact of one of Sam’s slugs, but he managed to stay mounted. The other two kept coming, firing frenziedly.

Matt and Sam flashed past the buggy, which hadn’t slowed down. They caught glimpses of the man at the reins, who wore a black suit and hat and had a jutting gray beard.

Then all their attention was on the two men still trying to kill them. Guiding their horses with their knees, they angled toward the middle of the trail again. Bullets whipped past their heads.

One of the gunmen suddenly rose in his stirrups and bent over at the middle, hunched against the burning pain of a bullet in his guts. He fell sideways. His right foot hung in the stirrup, and even after he slammed into the ground, the running horse continued to drag him.

The last of the would-be killers wheeled his horse around and tried to flee, giving up the fight. The turn was too sharp, though, and the horse lost its footing. With a shrill whinny of fright, the horse fell and rolled, and both man and animal disappeared in the cloud of dust that was kicked up by the fall.

Matt and Sam slowed their mounts and approached cautiously. As the dust settled, they saw the horse that had fallen struggle upright. The animal appeared to be a little shaken up but not seriously hurt.

The same couldn’t be said of its former rider, who’d had a couple thousand pounds of horse roll over on him.

“He’s gotta be busted to pieces inside,” Matt said. “We’d better check on the other varmints first.”

“Yeah, one of them got away,” Sam said.

“No, he didn’t.” Matt pointed, and Sam saw that the wounded man had ridden only a couple of hundred yards before finally toppling out of the saddle. He now lay motionless next to the trail while his horse cropped grass nearby.

It didn’t take long to confirm that three of the men were dead. The only one still alive was the unlucky gent whose horse had rolled over on him…and he probably wouldn’t be among the living for very long, Sam saw as he dismounted and knelt beside the man.

Crimson worms of blood had crawled from the man’s nose and mouth, and the grotesque, misshapen look of his body testified to how many bones were broken. His internal organs were probably crushed, too.

But somehow he managed to open his eyes, gaze imploringly up at Sam, and gasp, “H-help me!”

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do for you,” Sam said.

“I…I’m dyin’!”

“More than likely,” Matt said from horseback. “But if you want to blame somebody, blame the son of a bitch who got you into this mess—Joshua Shade.”

The injured man blinked. “Sh-Shade?” he husked.

Sam frowned and leaned forward. “Aren’t you part of Shade’s gang? Weren’t you trying to stop the judge from reaching Arrowhead?”

“Didn’t know he was…a judge…and I heard of Shade…but never met him. My pards and I…we thought the old fella looked like…like he might have money…we figured to rob him…”

Sam’s frown deepened as he studied the dying man’s face. This hombre wasn’t much more than twenty years old, if that. The other three had been young, too. And the ragged trail clothes they wore made them look more like down-on-their-luck cowboys than hardened desperadoes.

“Matt, I don’t think they’re part of Shade’s bunch,” Sam said as he glanced up at his blood brother. “This was just a holdup we came along and interrupted.”

The young man struggled to say, “We never meant to…hurt anybody…just tryin’ to…scare the old man and make him stop…”

“Well, what do you know about that?” Matt said. “Just some would-be owlhoots with the bad luck to pick the judge as their first victim.”

“
If
that was the judge in the buggy,” Sam said.

Matt nodded toward the trail. “We can ask him. Here he comes.”

Sam turned to look, and saw the buggy rolling toward them. His attention was drawn back to the man beside him by a gasped plea.

“W-water! Can I have…some water?”

“Sure,” Sam said. It wouldn’t do any good, but at this point, it wouldn’t hurt anything either. He straightened and stepped over to his horse to untie the canteen from the saddle horn.

“Don’t bother,” Matt said.

“It won’t hurt anything to give him a drink—” Sam began.

“No, I mean, don’t bother. It’s too late.”

Sam looked again and saw the injured man’s eyes glazing over in death. He shrugged and left the canteen where it was.

A moment later the buggy rolled to a stop at the edge of the trail. The distinguished-looking gent at the reins asked in a deep voice, “Are all the brigands dead?”

“Yes, sir, they are,” Sam replied. “Would you be the judge who’s going to Arrowhead to preside over the trial of Joshua Shade?”

“I am. Judge Julius Stanfield, at your service, young man. I’m very fortunate that you and your friend came along just as those highwaymen jumped me.”

“Nothin’ lucky about it, Your Honor,” Matt said as he thumbed back his hat. “The sheriff in Arrowhead sent us out to meet you and escort you to the settlement. My name’s Matt Bodine. This other fella is Sam Two Wolves.”

Judge Stanfield’s rather bushy eyebrows rose in surprise. “Bodine and Two Wolves, eh?” he said. “I’ve heard of you. Always wondered if you two young hellions might appear before me in court someday.”

“Not us, Judge,” Sam said.

“We’re peaceable men,” Matt added dryly.

“Hmmph. Yes, I can see that,” Stanfield said. “Again, my thanks.” He pointed a gnarled finger at the dead hombre. “Did that man and his companions have any connection to Joshua Shade?”

“That’s what we figured at first, too,” Sam said. “But he claimed they were just trying to rob you, and since he knew he was dying, I don’t see what reason he would have had to lie about it.”

“Indeed. What are we going to do with the bodies?”

“Round up their horses and tie them over the saddles so we can take them back to Arrowhead, I reckon,” Matt said. “Either that or leave them for the buzzards and the wolves.”

“I think not,” Stanfield said. “Even miscreants such as these deserve proper burials.”

“Yeah. Let’s get busy, Sam.”

Within ten minutes, they had the four dead men strapped onto their saddles. Matt and Sam each led two of the horses with their grisly burdens as they followed the buggy toward Arrowhead.

“Miscreants,” Matt said under his breath. “You and the judge ought to get along fine, Sam. You talk the same language.”