Death Rides Alone (17 page)

Later, after things had settled down somewhat and the immigrants had gone back to their normal evening activities, Luke told Jonathan Howard that the sentries around the wagon camp should stay as alert as possible that night.

“Do you think there's liable to be trouble?” Howard asked.

“A few of Axtell's deputies got away,” Luke said. “It's possible they might run into some of the other men searching for Judd and me and then try to track us. I don't think they'd attack the wagon train on their own, though. The odds would be too high against them. Hired guns generally like to have all the advantage on their side if they can get it.”

Howard nodded and said, “What about that sheriff? Do you think they'll go back to him and tell him that it was some of our men who helped you and killed the other deputies?”

“They wouldn't have any way of knowing who Nolan and the other scouts were,” Luke pointed out. “So they couldn't warn Axtell to look out for you folks.”

“Well, that's a relief,” Howard said, but then he frowned. “What about when we reach White Fork, though? If the men who got away see Nolan and the others, isn't there a chance they'll recognize them?”

“It could happen,” Luke said with a nod. “But maybe by then things will have changed. When we get close to town, I intend for Judd and I to leave the wagon train. I'm going to try to get Judd into Judge Keller's custody before Axtell or Manfred Douglas even know we're there.”

“Does the judge hold enough sway to protect the two of you?”

Luke smiled and said, “We sort of have to hope so.”

Howard nodded and went to talk to the sentries, leaving Luke to sit on a crate near one of the fires and sip from a cup of coffee a woman had given him. She had smiled and been pleasant enough when she offered him the coffee, and Luke thought it was good that at least some of the pilgrims were giving him and Tyler the benefit of the doubt.

Not all of them, though, by any means. He saw plenty of hostile, sidewise glances directed his way.

The one person who had accepted Tyler's story, beyond a doubt, was Deborah Howard. The pretty young blonde was sitting with him now on the lowered tailgate of the Howard wagon. Tyler had a cup of coffee, too, but he was too busy talking to Deborah to do more than take an occasional sip. She smiled and nodded as she listened to Tyler.

Luke couldn't hear what Tyler was saying, but he knew the young man had the gift of gab. It was natural for him to try to impress a pretty girl.

Luke looked the other way and saw that he wasn't the only one watching Tyler and Deborah. Nolan Howard stood beside one of the other wagons with his arms crossed over his chest and an angry glare on his face. Clearly, he didn't like the attention his sister and Tyler were paying to each other.

Maybe that was just an older brother's protective instincts and he would have felt that way about any young man Deborah showed an interest in. But Luke didn't think so. Nolan had decided Tyler was guilty, and it would take hard evidence to convince him otherwise.

Luke wondered again about the proof Tyler claimed to have, the proof that pointed to Spence Douglas as Rachel's killer. A lot was riding on that, and Luke still would have liked to know what it was.

He would find out, he supposed, at the trial.

If they both lived that long.

* * *

One of the immigrants was a farrier, and the next morning he did a better job of reattaching the loose shoe on the extra horse Luke and Tyler had brought along.

“Shouldn't give you any more trouble,” the broad-shouldered man told Luke when he was finished with the task. “Looks to be a good horse. He deserves a better shoein' next time.”

“I couldn't agree more,” Luke said. “I'm not the one who had him shod. In fact, he doesn't even belong to me. I plan to return him to whoever has a legitimate claim to him, once we settle all our other issues in White Fork.”

“You mean about whether the youngster killed that preacher's girl.” The man scowled. “I'd hate to think I'm maybe helpin' a killer to go free.”

“You're not,” Luke assured him. “We're going to see that justice is done, one way or the other. I believe that in the end, Judd Tyler will be proven to be an innocent man.”

Innocent of murder, anyway,
Luke added to himself. Tyler still had some rustling and stagecoach robberies to answer for. But first things first.

And the first thing on the list was reaching White Fork safely.

The wagons lined up and rolled out before the sun had risen very high in the sky. They stayed close to the river, since the going was easier there. Luke and Tyler rode alongside the Howard wagon. Jonathan Howard had the reins, although he mentioned that Deborah, who sat beside him, was perfectly capable of handling the team of oxen and driving the wagon.

“She's a fine shot with a rifle, too,” Howard added.

Deborah blushed and said, “Pa, you don't have to go around singing my praises.”

“I'm just proud of you, that's all. Any father would be.”

Tyler looked like he was about to make some glib comment. Luke silenced him with a stern look. Jonathan Howard was a reluctant ally at best. There was no need to risk angering him by throwing a budding romance between his daughter and a wanted fugitive in his face.

Even though the miles rolled steadily behind the wagons over the course of that long day, it didn't seem like they were making much progress toward the mountains. Luke knew that was an illusion. Judging how far away something was could be difficult out here in this big, lonely country. Landmarks seemed like they were as distant as ever, and then suddenly, there they were, right in front of you.

By the time they made camp that evening, some of the members of the wagon train seemed to have gotten used to having Luke and Tyler around. There weren't as many dark, ominous looks directed at them.

Nolan and the other scouts had been out all day, ranging ahead of the wagons as usual. When they came back in, Luke was close enough to overhear the conversation when the young man reported to his father.

“There's a creek up ahead we'll get to about midday tomorrow,” Nolan said. “It runs into the Powder from the west, so we'll have to cross it.”

“Is there a good ford?” Jonathan Howard asked.

“That's just it. There's not, at least not one that we were able to find. And the creek is flowing pretty good, probably from snow melt up in those mountains to the west.”

“We've crossed plenty of streams during the journey,” Howard said. “Is this one deep enough to float the wagons?”

Nolan thought about it for a second and then nodded.

“I reckon it is.”

“Then we'll do it that way, just as we have before. As long as the current's not too strong, we shouldn't have much trouble.”

“I just wanted to let you know what we'll be facing tomorrow,” Nolan said.

Howard nodded.

“One more obstacle,” he said, “and then our way should be clear all the way to White Fork, right?”

“As far as I know, Pa. This route's as new to me as it is to you. There hasn't been any homesteading in these parts until now, so our train is the first one over this trail.”

Howard smiled and said, “We're pioneers. I like that.”

Luke hoped he felt the same way after this group of immigrants had dealt with the harsh Montana winters, cattlemen who didn't particularly want them there, the chance of hostile Indians, and all the other hardships that were a farmer's lot in life. As a young man, Luke had seen his father trying to scratch a living out of the hardscrabble hills in the Missouri Ozarks and had experienced that for himself before he went off to war.

Even if things had happened differently, he never would have returned to that sort of life. He had already been thinking about heading west when the war was over . . .

All that was years in the past, Luke thought with a shake of his head. His trail had been much different from those of his father Emmett and his brother Kirby, now called Smoke, but all three of them had wound up on the frontier, their farming days over and done with.

When it came time to turn in, Luke went to look for Judd Tyler. He hadn't seen the young man for a while, but he wasn't particularly worried that Tyler had run off again. Tyler knew his only chance for a real future lay in a trial and an acquittal. Luke was convinced he wasn't going to risk that.

As Luke walked around the camp, however, he didn't see any sign of Tyler. Suspicion started to nag at the back of his mind. He didn't think he had misjudged the young man, but anything was possible, he supposed.

Then he heard a faint noise from nearby and stepped around the back of one of the wagons to peer into the thick shadows on the side away from the campfires. He spotted movement there from a dark, oddly shaped figure that turned into two as Luke watched, then one again. He heard a soft gasp, then a whispered, “Oh, Judd ... !”

Luke said, “Don't you think you ought to wait until you're not a fugitive from the law before you start sparking the young woman, Tyler?”

The harsh words made both people on the other side of the wagon exclaim in surprise and spring apart.

“Damn it, Luke!” Tyler said. “You shouldn't ought to sneak up on a fella like that, especially when he's ... when he's ...”

“Kissing a pretty girl?” Luke asked. “You'd better hope that's all you were doing.”

Deborah Howard moved close enough for him to see her in the light that came through the gaps between the wagons. She looked a little disheveled and embarrassed, but all her buttons appeared to be buttoned and her hair wasn't
too
tangled.

“That's all we were doing, Mr. Jensen, I swear it,” she said. The words tumbled out of her mouth. “Please don't tell my pa or Nolan. And don't blame Judd. It was my idea—”

Tyler stepped up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Now that's just not true,” he said. “I'm the one who talked Deborah into comin' around here with me, and I'm the one who started the kissin'.”

“But I didn't try to stop you,” she said. “I didn't even tell you to stop.”

“Well . . . as good as I am at kissing, it would have taken a heap of willpower for you to do that,” Tyler said. He smirked a little, which caused Luke to roll his eyes.

“It's late,” he said. “Miss Howard, you'd better get back to your wagon before your father starts wondering where you are. And Tyler, you need to get some sleep. We both do.”

“All right, I reckon.” Tyler's hand was still resting on Deborah's shoulder. He used it to turn her slightly toward him as he added, “I didn't mean to do anything to offend you—”

“Oh, you didn't,” she assured him, her voice a little breathless now.

“I'll see you in the morning—”

Luke was about to tell Tyler to quit stalling, when Nolan Howard stepped around the front end of the wagon. He said, “Deborah, I thought I heard you talking to somebody around here. Pa sent me to look for—What the hell! Get your hand off my sister, you son of a bitch!”

He lunged toward Tyler and swung his right fist in a roundhouse punch.

“Nolan, no!” Deborah cried as she tried to throw herself between Tyler and her brother.

Since Tyler already had his hand on her shoulder, he was able to push her out of the way. But that left him wide open for Nolan's punch, which crashed into his jaw and sent him flying back toward Luke.

Luke caught Tyler under the arms and kept him from falling. Nolan was so angry he would have rushed in and tried to hit Tyler again, but Deborah was able to grab him this time.

“Nolan, stop it!” she said as she hung on to his arm. “What do you think you're doing?”

“What any good brother would,” Nolan said. “I'm trying to keep my sister from gettin' mixed up with a no-good murderer and outlaw!”

Tyler straightened up and pulled loose from Luke's grip. He raised a hand to his jaw where Nolan had hit him and rubbed it for a second, then said, “I never denied that I've broken the law a few times, but I didn't murder Rachel Montgomery or anybody else! What's it gonna take to convince you of that, Howard?”

“A hell of a lot more than I've seen so far.”

Deborah said, “Nolan, you don't have any right to interfere in my life—”

“Like blazes I don't! I'm your big brother. It's my job to protect you, especially when it looks like Pa won't—”

Jonathan Howard's voice, taut with anger, came from the front of the wagon.

“Won't what, Nolan? Won't jump to conclusions and refuse to give a man the benefit of the doubt? Because it seems like that's what you're doing when you accuse Mr. Tyler that way.”

Nolan turned to his father and said, “He's an outlaw! You saw the wanted poster with your own eyes, Pa. Why should I give him the benefit of any doubt?”

“Because you've heard his story, just like the rest of us. A wanted poster isn't enough, Nolan. A man should be considered innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, remember?”

“Yeah, but he was pawing Deborah!”

Howard looked at his daughter, but before he could ask the question, she said, “Judd and I were back here talking, Pa. And we . . . we kissed a little, I reckon. But he didn't do anything improper, I swear it.”

Jonathan Howard didn't look pleased by what Deborah had just told him, but Luke could tell he was making an effort to keep his temper under control.

“There was a time when that would have been enough to demand a proposal of marriage and a wedding,” Howard said after a moment. “I suppose that people are more . . . enlightened . . . now.” He frowned at Tyler. “Mr. Tyler, we've extended our protection and our hospitality to you and Mr. Jensen, in return for all the assistance you've given us. But it would be wise of you not to try to take advantage of the gratitude this company feels toward you.”

“Yes, sir,” Tyler said. “I mean, no, sir. I won't. I give you my word on that.”

Howard looked like he wasn't sure just how much Tyler's word actually meant, but he nodded and said, “We understand each other, then.” He turned to his children. “Nolan, Deborah, get on back to the wagon.”

“This is all Nolan's fault—” Deborah began.

“I won't have the two of you squabbling like you're little children again. You're adults. Try acting like it.”

Howard stalked off, past the small group of immigrants who had been drawn by the commotion. Deborah and Nolan followed him, although they hesitated and eyed each other suspiciously before they started after their father. Each of them probably thought the other might try to linger, Luke supposed, and they weren't going to allow that.

After the Howards were gone and the crowd, such as it was, had scattered, Tyler picked up his hat and slapped it against his leg a couple of times in a frustrated gesture. He took hold of his jaw with his other hand and moved it back and forth.

“Checking to see if it's broken?” Luke said.

“I don't think it is.”

“Not for lack of trying on young Mr. Howard's part, though.”

“I don't know why the hell he had to do that. I'd never do anything to hurt Deborah. She's about the sweetest girl I've ever known.”

“Sweeter than Rachel Montgomery?”

“Well . . . Hell, it's different, Luke! Rachel was like . . . a dream. Something you always know you're never gonna have in real life, no matter how much you might believe you want it. But Deborah . . . she's the sort of gal you can think about maybe settling down with one day, and it could really happen. I'm not sure I could ever deserve somebody like that, though. Not after some of the things I've done.”

“Like stealing cattle and holding up stagecoaches.”

“Yeah.” Tyler sighed. “I probably ought to just forget about her and stop thinking about how things might be one of these days.”

“We have to deal with that murder charge first, and keep Axtell and the Douglases from killing you while we're at it. I think that's a full enough plate for anybody, don't you?”

“Yeah, it sure is,” Tyler said.

Luke had a hunch that no matter what the young man said, though, thoughts of Deborah Howard and the life they might have together would still be lurking in the back of his head.

* * *

Nolan Howard was right in his estimation of when the wagon train would reach the stream that had to be crossed. The sun was almost directly overhead when the lead wagon rolled up to the edge of the creek bank and stopped.

The other scouts had gone on ahead, but Nolan was riding with the train today. Luke didn't know if that was because the young man wanted to be on hand for the crossing, or because Nolan was keeping an eye on his sister and Tyler to make sure they stayed apart.

There had certainly been plenty of unfriendly frowns passing back and forth between Tyler and Nolan today, but they had kept their distance, not even saying anything to each other.

The wagon in the lead today belonged to a rawboned man in late middle age named Clint Haskins. He was a bachelor, so he hadn't objected to having company when Luke suggested that he and Tyler ride with him.

The wagon train was close enough to White Fork now that there was a good chance they might encounter some of Axtell's deputies or Manfred Douglas's gun-wolves scouring the countryside for the men they wanted to kill. Luke figured it would be a good idea for him and Tyler to ride inside one of the wagons, out of sight, so that anyone who studied the wagon train through field glasses wouldn't spot them.

Haskins was the garrulous sort. He had been talking all morning, giving Luke and Tyler his life history as the wagon jolted along.

The Howard wagon was fourth in line. Instead of having the wagons in the same order every day, one of Jonathan Howard's ideas had been to let them switch around, so that no one had to take the lead or bring up the rear all the time. That seemed to have been good for morale, because the company was in decent spirits despite the recent troubles.

Jonathan Howard climbed down from his wagon and walked forward to look out over the creek. Nolan sat on horseback nearby. Luke and Tyler watched from inside Clint Haskins's wagon.

As Nolan had said, the stream was flowing swiftly, with a strong current. It was only about twenty yards wide, though, so the wagons would be able to cross without being pushed too far downstream. The banks were fairly steep, but the oxen were sturdy enough to haul the wagons down and then up again.

Jonathan Howard turned toward the lead wagon and asked, “Do you want to lead the way, Clint, or would you rather swing aside so someone else can do it?”

“You're joshin', ain't you?” Haskins said. “I never turned aside from nothin' in my life, and I ain't figurin' on startin' now.”

Howard smiled and said, “That's exactly the answer I expected from you, my friend. Go ahead whenever you're ready. Once all the wagons are on the other side, we'll stop for a meal and to let the teams rest.”

“I'll ride on across,” Nolan said. He nudged his horse into motion.

The horse entered the creek with some reluctance but didn't take long to start swimming. Nolan slipped off the saddle but held tight to the horn so his mount wouldn't have to carry his weight. He let the horse pull him along. In a matter of minutes, both of them were standing on the opposite bank with creek water running off of them.

Nolan took his hat off and waved Haskins on.

“Come ahead, Clint!” he called. “Just stay as straight as you can!”

Haskins popped his whip, yelled at the oxen, and slapped the reins against their rumps until the huge, stolid beasts lurched forward. The wagon started to roll.

Inside the wagon bed, as they sat on crates of supplies under the arching canvas cover, Tyler looked uneasy as he said to Luke, “I've never been on a boat in my life. This is as close as I've ever come. I don't think I'm gonna like it.”

“You'll be fine,” Luke told him. “These wagons float, and the seams between the boards are sealed with pitch so they're not supposed to leak.”

“Yeah, well, all sorts of things in life wind up doing what they're not supposed to.”

Luke couldn't argue with that statement, so he didn't say anything. The oxen plodded out into the water, and a few moments later he could tell from the slight bobbing motion that the wagon was floating.

Instinct kept the oxen swimming forward. There wasn't much Haskins could do now to control anything. He, Luke, and Tyler were at the mercy of the stream and the heavy-shouldered beasts of burden churning through the water.

Then, sooner really than Luke expected, he felt the crunch of gravel as the wagon wheels hit bottom again and sought purchase. Finding it with no trouble, the wagon rolled out of the creek and up the bank, drawn on inexorably by the team hitched to it.

“Well, shoot, that was easy!” Haskins said.

“I hope it'll be like that for all the others,” Luke said.

The other wagons had to have room to pull up out of the creek as they crossed. Haskins drove ahead until Nolan rode alongside and told him he had gone far enough. Luke and Tyler moved to the back of the vehicle so they could watch over the tailgate while the rest of the wagon train crossed the creek.

The next two wagons made it without any problems, each driver waiting until the one in front was completely across before starting into the stream. That brought the Howard wagon to the edge of the bank, where Jonathan Howard started his team forward as soon as the third wagon was clear.

At first it appeared that this crossing would go as smoothly as the others had. The current pushed the wagon a little farther downstream than the others, but that didn't seem to be a problem.

Then, with no warning, the wagon stopped. The oxen continued swimming, but they couldn't pull the wagon free from whatever obstruction had brought it to a halt.

“We hit some sort of snag!” Jonathan Howard shouted.

Nolan was sitting on his horse beside Clint Haskins's wagon. He said, “Hell!” and urged the animal into a run, heading back toward the creek.

“Maybe we'd better go and help,” Tyler suggested as he leaned forward with an anxious expression on his face.

“We need to stay out of sight if we can,” Luke said. He knew what Tyler was worried about. Deborah Howard was perched on the wagon seat beside her father, and for the moment they seemed to be stranded in the middle of the stream. The situation wasn't all that dangerous right now, Luke thought . . . but it could turn that way.

They watched as Nolan rode out into the creek. He stayed in the saddle this time, even though his horse had to struggle more. Luke and Tyler were close enough to hear him call to his father and sister, “Must be a rock or an old log or something sticking up from the creek bed! The team can pull you loose! Just keep them going!”

Howard nodded, then popped his whip and shouted at the oxen. Nolan leaned over from his saddle and caught hold of the harness. He tugged on it, urging the team to keep pulling.

Whatever the obstruction was, it gave way suddenly, with no warning. The wagon lurched forward, and the extra force made it slew sideways a little. Deborah cried out in alarm as she started to topple off the seat. Her father made a grab for her arm.

At the same time, the lead ox where Nolan had been crowding in on the team slammed into the young scout's horse. The collision drove the horse over at an angle, and as water splashed in its face, the animal panicked. Horse and rider both disappeared under the swift water in a welter of flailing hooves.