Faithful Heart (23 page)

“I just speak the truth, Miss Baylor.”

Tears moistened her eyes. “I’m going to miss you so much when we part in San Francisco.”

“Well, maybe I’ll be heading east with you.”

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking. Unless the Lord directs me differently, I’ll just buy a train ticket for Ebony, put him in the stock car, and ride back to Denver with you. I’m sure Marshal Duvall can use my services. He always has some kind of problem to solve or an elusive outlaw to track down because he’s short-handed.”

“Oh, John, that would be wonderful! Just think of it … riding the train together all the way from San Francisco to Denver!”

“It’d be all right with me,” he said. “I’ll just have to wait and see if the Lord directs differently by the time we reach the coast.”

They returned to the camp arm in arm. John walked Breanna to the wagon where she slept, kissed her goodnight, and climbed into his bedroll under a towering pine a few feet away.

Three days had passed since Les Pate awakened Judy Charley in the middle of the night. It was now ten minutes past noon in the
high Sierras. The normal stiff wind was blowing over the top of Luther Pass.

The old woman had just sent a Nevada-bound stagecoach on its run down the east side of Luther Pass. She was sweeping the porch when she saw the wagon train top the crest of the pass, led by two men on horseback. The train formed a circle in a wide space among the trees across the road.

Judy stepped to the edge of the porch and said under her breath, “Whoopee! Oughtta sell a whole lotta stuff to that bunch!”

Curly Wesson left the rest of the travelers and crossed the road. He was getting low on beef jerky and wanted to buy some more before the others swarmed the store. As he drew near, he was jolted a bit by the sight of Judy Charley. Her back was slightly humped, and she stood no more than five feet tall. She had coarse gray hair that stuck out in strands of varying lengths. Her homely face was deeply lined, and she had a jutting, tobacco-stained chin. Her large eyes seemed to look right and left at the same time, and the man’s shirt and overalls she wore looked as if they were hanging on a scarecrow. On her feet were a pair of men’s work shoes, and on her narrow hips hung a Colt .45 in a black leather gunbelt.

Judy grinned at Curly as he drew up. All of her teeth were missing except one that protruded from her upper gum at the front of her mouth. Her wrinkled lips were sunken in around the hollow place where her teeth used to be. She had a large wart on the lobe of her left ear, and one that matched it between her eyes at the top of her thin, humped nose. Under her left cheek was a telltale lump of tobacco.

“Howdy, good-lookin’,” Judy said. “Don’t recollect layin’ eyes on you afore.”

“Well, I been over this here pass a few times, ma’am, but never took time to stop. You carry beef jerky, I assume.”

“I shore do,” she nodded, then spit with the wind. “C’mon inside.”

The store was quite spacious and stocked with a good supply of everything a general store was known to carry. There were shelves built into every wall, and the floor was well-covered with more shelves and glass cases. The twenty-foot counter where items were paid for was stacked with merchandise of every description.

Judy led the old man to the end of the counter and pointed to a large box full of beef jerky strips wrapped in paper. “Right there, honey,” she said. “Just pick out all ya want.”

Curly grabbed sack after sack and stuffed them under his arm. Judy went behind the counter, picked up an empty coffee can, and spit into it. She set the can back down and said, “There’s a special price on jerky fer the man what knows how to talk right.”

“Is that right?”

“Shore ’nuff. What’s your name, handsome?”

“Curly Wesson, ma’am.” He set the jerky on the counter and asked, “What’s the damage?”

“Well, ord’narily them sacks is twenty-five cents apiece. But since you’re such a sweet-talker, they’s fifteen cents apiece.”

“Well, thankee, ma’am. That’s mighty nice of ya. I seen your name on the sign. You’re Judy Charley, right?”

“You got it, Curly,” she said.

The wagon train crowd poured through the door, and Judy Charley happily had her hands full, collecting money from her customers. John and Breanna browsed until everyone had been
taken care of, then they approached the counter. Judy used the coffee can, then grinned at the couple and asked, “What kin I do fer you folks?”

“I assume you’re Mrs. Charley?” John said.

“Yep.”

John was trying to look her in the eye, but he couldn’t tell which one was focused on him. “Mrs. Charley, in the past three days have you seen three rough-looking men come through? One of them has a gunshot wound in his shoulder.”

“What do ya wanna know fer?”

Stranger quickly explained what had happened on the trail and told Judy they were taking the gang’s leader to the law in Placerville. He made sure she understood that the three men he was looking for were killers and needed to be apprehended.

“Well, mister,” Judy said, “the one ya shot is in a back room right now, layin’ on a bunk. I took the bullet outta his shoulder when they come in here in the middle of the night. They told me they was hit on by robbers, an’ Brad got shot in the fracas.”

“Do you know Brad’s last name, ma’am?” Stranger asked.

“Nope. Just Brad. Others is K. D. an’ Les.”

“Are K. D. and Les back there, too?”

“Nope. They left here a li’l while ago, sayin’ they’d be back soon. Come to think of it, I did notice they been awful nervous the last day or so. They was wantin’ to git on the move, but Brad’s been so sick and weak, he couldn’t travel. He ain’t doin’ good atall. I done the best I could, but I ain’t no doctor.”

“Well, ma’am, this young lady right here is a nurse. Could we go back and see him?”

“A nurse, eh? What’s your name, honey?”

“Breanna Baylor, Mrs. Charley.”

“And this is
Mister
Baylor?”

“No,” John said. “We’re not married. My name is John Stranger.”

“Stranger?
Your name’s John
Stranger?
Never heard of such a name.”

“Well, now you have, ma’am. Could we see Brad?”

“Shore, c’mon. I’ll take ya back.”

John told Breanna to go on back with Judy. He would tell Rip Clayson that the wounded outlaw was here and that the other two could show up at any time. He would also bring Breanna her medical bag.

Judy took Breanna into the room where Brad Cahill lay. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was pallid. When he saw Breanna’s face, he recognized her as the woman he held in the sights of his high-powered rifle from atop the rocks. His eyes showed it.

Breanna pulled up a chair and sat down. “I see you recognize me, Brad.”

He said nothing.

“I’m a nurse. I want to see what kind of job Mrs. Charley did on you.”

Judy left Breanna, saying she needed to get back to the store. Breanna removed Judy’s bandage and examined the sutured wound.

“Am I … gonna be all right, ma’am?” Cahill asked.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Breanna said. “Has Mrs. Charley been giving you lots of water?”

“Yes.”

Breanna looked up as John Stranger came through the door and stood by the bunk. “How’s he doing?” he asked.

“Mrs. Charley did a good job taking the bullet out and sewing him up. He’s lost a lot of blood, but I believe he’ll make it.”

“Can he ride in a wagon?”

“It won’t be easy for him, but he should be able to.”

“Did you tell him about Feaster?”

“No.”

Cahill’s eyes widened. “Is … is Wayne still alive?”

“Yes. Banged up, but alive. He’s in one of the wagons. We’re taking him to the marshal in Placerville, and we’d love to have you join us. You’re both going to prison for a long time.”

Cahill swallowed hard.

Stranger leaned down and lanced him with his steely eyes. “You put a gun on this lady, mister. You can be real thankful you’re wounded. If you weren’t, I’d take you out behind the barn, and I don’t think you’d like what I’d do to you.”

Stranger stood straight again, handed Breanna her medical bag, and said to the outlaw, “I want to know where your pals went.”

“I have no idea,” Cahill said. “I didn’t know they’d gone anywhere.”

“Well, as soon as Miss Baylor gets some laudanum into you, we’ll be pulling out. I’ll be back to get you in about half an hour.”

K. D. Wilhite and Les Pate were listening outside the window of Brad Cahill’s room. They had saddled up to ride down the eastern slope of the pass and see how close the wagon train
might be. Brad’s condition had kept them from moving on, but they wanted to be gone by the time the wagon train arrived. They had barely ridden away from the store when they saw Clayson and Stranger leading the train to the crest of the pass. They had galloped into the forest to avoid being seen.

The outlaws hunkered beneath the window and eyed each other.

“We ain’t lettin’ ’em take Wayne or Brad to the law in Placerville!” Wilhite said in a low whisper.

Pate nodded. “Best bet is for us to grab the nurse and put a gun to her head. We’ll hold ’er hostage and tell ’em to get their wagon train outta these mountains. Once they’re gone, and Wayne and Brad can travel, we’ll leave the nurse here and head for parts unknown.”

“Sounds good to me,” Wilhite said. “Let’s move.”

John Stranger passed through the store and saw Curly Wesson talking with Judy Charley. He caught Curly’s eye and wiggled his eyebrows. Curly got the message. His face crimsoned. Stranger grinned and walked out the door.

“What was that all about?” Judy asked.

“Aw, that young whippersnapper was just givin’ me a hard time. Anyway, Miss Judy, as I was sayin’, I used to have that terbaccy-chewin’ habit meself.”

“Ya say
used to
. What happent?”

“Well, I got saved.”

“Ya got
what?”

“I met Jesus Christ, God’s Son. He changed a whole lotta
things in my life. But the best is, I know I’m goin’ to heaven when I leave this ol’ world.”

Judy grinned. “I’ve heard about this gittin’ saved stuff, Curly, an’ I’ve often wondered where ol’ Judy was gonna go when she kicked the bucket. But I didn’t know if there was a way to really know where ya was goin’ when your time come. Ya mean a person can really
know
they’s goin’ to heaven?”

“Shore can. I’ll go git my Bible. You’ll believe it if’n it’s in the Bible, won’t ya?”

“Well, of course.”

“All right, then. Be back in a jiffy.”

John Stranger had been talking with Rip Clayson and several other men at the wagon train when he saw Curly Wesson leave the store and head toward his wagon. Curly grinned at John as he moved past him. He was about to climb over his tailgate when a sharp voice cut the air.

“Hey, you there in the black! Your name John Stranger?”

Every eye swung to the man who stood at the front corner of the store, his gun drawn and aimed at John Stranger. Stranger recognized the face immediately. It was the gunman who had aimed the rifle at him from the rocks back on the trail!

John took a couple of steps in the outlaw’s direction but halted when the man blared, “Hold it right there!”

“How’d you know my name?” John asked.

“Your little girlfriend told me,” Les Pate said, grinning. “My partner’s got her in Brad’s room … and he’s got a gun to her head.”

“You harm a hair of her head, and I’ll—”

“Shut up and listen to me!” snapped Pate. “I want you to bring Feaster into the station, then move the wagon train out. We’ll keep the little nurse and your two saddle horses here. When we know the train’s long gone, and Wayne and Brad can ride, we’ll be on our way. Do as I’m tellin’ you, and the little nurse won’t get hurt. Cross me, and she’ll get her head blowed off.”

Inside the store, Judy Charley had heard Pate yelling at John Stranger. She peered through a side window and saw the outlaw standing near the corner of the building with his gun drawn. She hurried toward the back of the store, picked up a heavy cast-iron skillet that was on display, and headed out the back way.

“So, what’s the word, tall man?” Pate said. “You gonna bring Wayne in and get the wagon train movin’ down the mountain? If I don’t show up at that back room in another coupla minutes, my partner’s gonna blow your girlfriend away.”

More than once on this wild frontier, John had faced a man holding a gun on him, drawn, and shot him before he could pull the trigger. It crossed his mind to try that now, but he was afraid the sound of a gunshot could get Breanna killed.

Stranger’s mind was racing for a solution when he saw the old woman creeping up behind Pate. He hoped none of the people looking on would give Judy away.

“I’m not producing Feaster till I know Breanna’s all right, mister,” John said.

“You can take my word for it, Stranger. She’s okay at the moment, but she won’t be okay much longer if you don’t bring Wayne out.”

Judy Charley was almost there. Curly watched from beside
his wagon, urging her under his breath to swing hard. Judy tiptoed up behind Pate and drew the skillet back.

“I don’t like your terms!” Stranger said.

“Well, you ain’t got no choice! It’s gonna be the way we say, or—”

The skillet met the side of Pate’s head with a meaty, sodden sound, making a dull ring. He went down like a brain-shot steer. The crowd started to cheer, but John hushed them, not wanting to alarm the outlaw holding Breanna.

John, Rip, and Curly hurried to the old woman, who stood over the unconscious outlaw, ready to hit him again if he needed it.

“Good job, ma’am!” Stranger said with a smile. “Thank you.”

“Tweren’t nothin’ to it,” Judy said.

Stranger looked at Clayson and said, “Tie him up, Rip. I’ll be back shortly.”

As the tall man hurried away, Clayson called, “Don’t you want some help?”

Stranger was rounding the building, heading for the rear. “No! I’ll take care of it!”

When he reached the rear of the building, John flattened himself against the back wall and edged up to the window of Brad Cahill’s room. He removed his hat and stole a peek inside. K. D. Wilhite stood over Breanna, who was still seated beside the cot, his revolver pressed against her head. Stranger slipped inside, moved down the hallway to the room, and tapped lightly.