Stealing West (2 page)

He didn't speak, either, when Leon finally straightened. Just offered a strained, apologetic smile that made him look as young as his age.

“Be safe,” Leon said, retreating for the end of the car. “And keep my chair warm.”

He didn't wait for a response. Clean break. Besides, it wasn't like he wouldn't see them again in a few days anyway.

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CHAPTER 2

Thomas recognized Leon Stroud as soon as he saw the man. The recent increase of wanted signs littering the Utah territory helped aid his memory, but he double-checked the features against the poster he had liberated from the Salt Lake City depot to be sure. Of course, it would be difficult for Thomas to forget a face like Leon's, since it had drifted into his memory and his dreams more than once in the past few years.

Thomas hadn't followed Leon out of the car. He didn't want to put the other man on the defensive, and he wasn't looking to make trouble. Even though he was sure Leon would take some efforts not to be found on the train—and he certainly didn't cross Thomas's path again—Thomas had no doubt that he would find the other man again. He had once tracked an outlaw from Texas to California with nothing more than a canteen of water, his gun, and his horse. He wasn't in danger of losing Leon Stroud on the train.

He had walked through all the passenger cars a few times, looking for Leon's younger partner. Unfortunately, he only knew of Kenneth Lawson by reputation. He had never gotten a clear look at the other man's face, and the wanted posters for him were vague. He wasn't the best bounty hunter in the region because he brought in the wrong men—he never wasted his time searching for an outlaw unless he was absolutely certain who he was looking for.

His gut told him Kenneth had to be on the train. He had never heard of Leon traveling alone, and all of the coaches robbed were stopped by two men. The reward would be doubled if he found them both, but he could settle for Stroud. Especially since he hadn't expected such a fantastic opportunity to fall right in his lap. This promised to be the easiest job he'd ever had—apprehend Stroud as he disembarked in San Francisco, drag him to the sheriff's office, collect his reward, and be on his way. An hour's worth of work, tops. And if Kenneth Lawson was on the train as well, he'd grab them both.

Thomas wasn't going to count on them taking the train all the way to San Francisco. He resolved to get off at each stop in California to make sure nobody got past him. If he wasn't mistaken, Leon was walking with a noticeable limp. Healthy men couldn't outrun him. An injured man wouldn't have a chance—especially if Thomas was waiting for him.

The train pulled into Verdi just after dawn. Thomas was the only man in his car to step off, and he was the first on the platform. Waiting. Watching. His gun at the ready in case Leon noticed him first.

A few passengers drifted out, from a car here, a car there. In front of him, a lanky young man disembarked and immediately stretched, arching his back as he reached for the sky. Thomas narrowed his eyes as he inspected him, trying to discern if it was Lawson. He couldn't be certain. Youthful, yes. Tall, yes. But another climbed out two cars down, fitting the same vague description.

No, he wasn't going to risk it. If Kenneth Lawson came out, he'd be with Stroud. That would be how he identified him.

Toward the end of the platform, two young boys darted out from the station with shovels and buckets of water. They headed for the livestock cars, situated at the rear of the train. Thomas only tracked them until others emerged. The long ride from Salt Lake City had passengers coming out to stretch their legs, as well as making Verdi their final destination. It made it more difficult to scout for Stroud, but Thomas remained vigilant. He wanted this too badly to let the man slip past him. He simply wouldn't allow it to happen.

In the distance, horses neighed as a few were led down the platform. Thomas only glanced in their direction. Stroud couldn't fetch his horse if he hadn't yet come out. One of the lanky young men he'd spotted headed for the livestock car, but Thomas was distracted by a familiar hat, a hat he could've sworn he'd seen on Leon Stroud's head in the middle of the night. There was only one problem. It sat on the head of a middle-aged man with a handlebar moustache.

Not Stroud's.

Grinding his teeth, Thomas redoubled his scrutiny on his surroundings. Stroud wouldn't get by on such an easy trick. But it meant more than ever that he probably planned on getting off.

Minutes ticked by. Those who'd climbed out for a breath of fresh air returned to the train, and new passengers started to get their luggage loaded. He'd wait as long as he could, but time was running out.

“Hey!”

The young boy's cry came with a horse's whinny, and Thomas snapped his head to the side. A sleek brown stallion fought against its reins, while off to the side, a familiar figure had his fingers in his mouth, whistling.

Even from that distance, he recognized Leon. The hat was different, but that generous mouth wasn't. Neither were the shrewd brown eyes, or the dimples deep in his cheeks.

Across the platform, their eyes met.

Leon winked.

The stallion reared back, pawing the air furiously with his front hooves, and broke free of its restraints. Thomas was already moving before the horse grounded itself again, but so was Leon. Thomas knew what Leon intended to do, but it seemed impossible. A catch in a million. As the bay raced past, Leon caught hold of the trailing ropes and swung himself onto the animal's back. He ducked low against the horse's long neck and let it have its head as it soared over the edge of the platform. Leon should have been jolted from the stallion, but he clung to the beast as it kicked dust up into the early morning air.

Others scattered, at least one woman crying out. Within yards of the tracks, Leon took back control, yanking on the reins to veer the horse in a new direction. He headed away from Verdi, away from the train. Thomas snapped his head around, scanning for any signs of another young man bolting, but everybody else had frozen in place to watch the runaway horse and rider.

His bounty. Now heading toward the ridge in the distance.

He rushed to the livestock cars. “Get me my horse!”

The boys stared at him, like he had shouted in Chinese. He didn't let that slow him down. He hurried up the plank to the car where he knew his sorrel gelding, Max, was kept. A part of him didn't even want to take the time to saddle him, but Thomas knew he'd regret it if he took off like a fool without proper equipment. He didn't want to lose Leon, but the spring ground was soft enough that he was confident he could track the man.

But he had to be smart about it.

He saddled Max in record time, double-checked his supplies, and then led the horse out of the car and off the platform. Thomas surveyed the crowd as he left the train behind, but didn't see anybody else racing after the outlaw.

The train whistled. It was getting ready to leave the station. Thomas didn't even debate his choice. Half a bounty was better than none, and Leon had left a clear trail. Swinging onto Max, he spurred him into a gallop, taking the same path around the corner of the nearby bank that he'd seen Stroud take.

The brisk morning air cut across his cheeks as he skimmed over the earth's surface. Leon and his horse were a small blot on the horizon. As Thomas watched, the other man changed angle again, running parallel to the edge of the ridge. Thomas wasn't familiar with this stretch of land. There had to be a pass that led downward. It couldn't go too far, though. The Sierras loomed all around them.

Leon had been running from the law for a long time. He wasn't a fool. Far from filling him with dread, the thought excited Thomas. It was always more fun when his prey knew what they were doing.

* * * *

Thomas still wasn't discouraged as they neared Soda Springs, a little over a day later. Leon was maintaining a steady pace and staying ahead of him, but not so far ahead that Thomas couldn't keep up—or catch up. And Leon's steady pace was slowing. Perhaps it was because he had bolted from the train with nothing but the clothes and the supplies he carried on his back, and it was still damned cold up in the Sierras. Or perhaps it was because of his mysterious injury. Maybe he just wasn't accustomed to riding without a saddle. Thomas couldn't say for sure, but he recognized fatigue when he saw it.

Far from being tired, Thomas felt rejuvenated. Refreshed, even. Like he was absorbing all of Leon's energy for himself. Max, accustomed to long days of riding, wasn't tiring either. That's why he loved his horse—the gelding was as relentless and tireless as his master. Forty miles in about thirty hours wasn't bad in the impossibly thin air, the cold conditions, or the extremely rocky terrain. The higher they climbed, the more snow they ran into, until it was all too easy to forget that it was spring a few thousand feet below them. But the snow only helped his tracking.

Finally, he saw the figure he looked for through the trees. It was just an outline. Almost a shadow. But it was unmistakable, and Thomas's sharp eyes didn't make a mistake. Despite that, he didn't kick his horse into a faster trot. He kept up his steady pace, confident that he would reach Leon sooner rather than later. And if Leon felt like running, Max would be able to chase him down. Not that Leon could get far in this sort of terrain.

The man might be a criminal, but Thomas had to give him credit for his tenacity. He wasn't giving up. He pushed himself and he pushed his horse harder than anyone Thomas had ever known. They wound through the trees, both sparse and dense. Up. Down. At one point, Leon crossed a narrow stream that might have worked to hide his trail if Thomas didn't already have him in his sights.

When Leon stopped, Thomas stopped. When Leon started again, so did Thomas. He could apprehend him sooner if he pressed onward during Stroud's breaks, but Thomas was patient. He'd run the other man down to the point of exhaustion, and there would be less fight as he dragged him back.

Thomas expected Leon to stop in Soda Springs and at least get some food. Unlike Thomas, he was traveling without much in the way of supplies. If not food, then at least for a good, stiff drink. But Leon rode down the center street, ignoring the curious stares he received as he passed through on his heaving stallion. Even the high-spirited horse ignored the animals around him, clearly too exhausted to face a challenger.

Thomas hung back, knowing he could take Leon at any time, and entertaining notions of a nice, warm, soft bed. Thomas didn't kick Max into a faster trot until Leon stopped at the depot. Did he plan to catch another train? It didn't make sense to corner himself on a train again, but he could have been tired and injured. He might believe that his chances were better on a train. Thomas had to admit that even a crowded car would be preferable to the thin, crisp air this close to the summit.

But Leon didn't stop for long at the depot. Certainly not long enough to buy a ticket. When he emerged, he looked both ways, his eyes scanning the road. From Thomas's vantage point, he could see Leon but Leon couldn't see him. He walked very stiffly, clearly sore from his long ride without a saddle, and he favored one foot over the other. Thomas knew by the time he caught up with Leon outside of town, there wouldn't be much of a fight.

Thomas was ready to make his move about a mile outside of Soda Springs when Leon glanced over his shoulder. For the first time, he had a clear view of Thomas. One look was all he needed. He kicked the stallion into a run.

Max was accustomed to sudden bursts of speed. He leapt forward at Thomas's prodding, practically flying over the few patches of snow that remained from the harsh winter. Stroud's horse had responded to the fresh pace with initial energy, but it didn't take long for him to start to flag. At this pace, Thomas knew he'd catch up within minutes.

He set his jaw when Leon broke for a thick copse. The terrain wasn't even, and the trees clustered so tightly that it would be difficult navigating at any kind of speed. But their cover was heavy, and it would be harder to track, which he was sure Leon was counting on. Not impossible, but Thomas didn't need to make this last longer than necessary. He veered at a sharper angle, pushing Max to intercept before Stroud could reach the woods.

He saw the man pull his weapon long before the bullet split the air. Their momentum sent it wide.

A spark of anger went down Thomas's spine. Why did Leon have to start firing? Thomas would make the same amount of money if he hauled in Stroud's corpse. He didn't need to put himself at risk, even if he wasn't a killer and didn't necessarily want to start now. Instead of reaching for his pistol to return fire, he pulled his rifle free and held it high on the stock, steering Max sharply to the left at the same time.

Leon tried to push his horse faster, but the stallion had nothing left to give. Max had just enough energy left to take one final leap, putting Thomas close enough to reach Leon. He pushed the butt of the rifle into Stroud, connecting with his shoulder and sending him flying off his faltering horse. Leon landed in a patch of snow, his head narrowly avoiding a large, jagged rock.

As Thomas pulled Max around, Leon rolled away. His horse shied off as he neared, but it didn't need to worry. Thomas could see that Leon was done. That didn't stop the other man from lurching to his feet, swaying obviously when he attempted to put weight on the same leg he'd been limping on earlier.

His dark eyes flashed as he shot a wide grin at Thomas. “Well, you're a stubborn son of a bitch, I'll give you that.”

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CHAPTER 3

Grady's eyes bored into him. Though he didn't frighten Leon, the bounty hunter commanded attention, and would have even if he didn't have the butt of a rifle resting on his thigh. Leon tried not to look at it. The damn thing had hurt like a bitch slamming into his shoulder. Between that and his sore leg, his whole body screamed at him for rest, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't be getting any, any time soon.

“Didn't you have somewhere you needed to go?” he continued lightly. “I think you've probably missed your train by now.”