The Bandit Princess (8 page)

“As long as these two are part of her gang,” she pointed out, “and not just two men who were trying to steal your horse.”

He thought of several ways to respond to that, and then just said, “Right.”

 

 

 

Clint and Alice watched as the two men, Tate and Del, walked their horses onto a ferry that would take them across the Canadian River. They had tracked the men as best they could the night before in the dark, and finally came upon them camped for the night, as Clint had predicted. They then backtracked and camped themselves, making it a cold camp and supping—as Clint had warned—on beef jerky and water.

“We could at least make a fire for warmth,” Alice had complained, pulling a blanket around her.

“Just be glad it’s fall, and not winter,” Clint had replied.

Now they watched from safety as the two men took the ferry across.

“We’ll lose them for sure now,” she said.

“No, we won’t,” Clint said. “When the ferry comes back, we’ll take it over. They’ll only get so far ahead of us. We’ll still be able to track them. And the ferryman might overhear something that will be useful to us.”

She shifted impatiently in her saddle. Either that, or her butt was still sore.

“Patience, Alice,” Clint said. “Patience.”

They had to wait almost forty minutes for the ferry to return. They were waiting right on the dock.

“Hello,” the ferryman said. “Waitin’ long?”

“We saw you go across,” Clint said.

“Shoulda shouted,” the man said. “I coulda came back and picked you up.”

The man opened the gate for them to board his wooden ferry. There was room for more than a dozen horses.

“What’s your name?” Clint asked.

“Abner Brassfield,” the sixtyish man said. He had a shock of gray hair on his head, and gray stubble on his face. “Not a lot of people ask me that.”

“My name’s Clint Adams,” Clint said, “and this is Deputy Marshal Eads.”

“You’re a deputy?” Brassfield asked Alice, looking surprised.

Alice showed the man her badge.

“And you’re the Gunsmith?”

“That’s right.”

“Had me Belle Starr on this ferry a time or two, but nobody as famous as you, sir.”

“Can we get started?” Clint asked.

“I gotta wait, see if anybody else—”

“Abner, we’re trailing those two men you just took across, and we can’t afford to let them get too far ahead of us.”

“They lawbreakers?”

“They are,” Clint said.

Brassfield fell silent.

“You’ve taken them across before, haven’t you?” Clint asked.

“Yes.”

“Didn’t know they were lawbreakers?”

“I had an idea.”

“Let’s get started, Abner,” Clint said.

“Yes, sir.”

Abner closed the gate and they pushed off, headed for the other side.

“What’s on the other side?” Clint asked.

“Town called Whitfield.”

“What’s there?”

“It’s where Belle Starr used to go to buy supplies. Lots of other folks, too.”

“What about Pearl Starr?”

Abner shrugged as he steered the rudder.

“Don’t know.”

“She’s never been on here?”

“Mr. Adams,” Abner said, “I ain’t looking for any trouble.”

“I’m not looking to give you any trouble either,” Clint said, “but our job is to find Pearl Starr.”

“Well, all I’ll say,” the man replied, “is that you’re goin’ about it the right way if you’re followin’ them two.”

Clint watched the play of muscles in the man’s arms as he steered the ferry. Abner was well over six feet, and had a lot of upper body strength. Clint couldn’t force him to talk, and if he threatened the ferryman with a gun, what was Clint going to do, shoot him?

“Okay, Abner,” he said, “just get us to the other side as fast as you can.”

“All depends on the current, Mr. Adams,” the older man said. “If I don’t have to fight it much, the trip won’t take too long.”

Clint looked at Alice, who was holding her horse’s head still.

“We’ll catch up to them,” Clint assured her. “Don’t worry.”

 

 

 

When they got to the other side, Abner opened the gate so Clint and Alice could walk their horses off the ferry.

“Abner,” Clint said, “you seen Belle Starr in a while?”

“Not in a long while, Mr. Adams,” he said.

Clint shook the man’s hand.

“Thanks for the ride.”

Abner nodded, then tipped his hat to Alice. They watched as he closed the gate and pushed off for the trip back to the other side.

“Why didn’t you tell him what you told the sheriff?” Alice Eads asked.

“What’s that?”

“That you’d take it personal if word got back to Pearl Starr.”

“I doubt if he gets off his ferry very much, Alice,” Clint said. “He’s got a bedroll on there with him.”

“I didn’t notice.”

“Besides,” Clint said, “I believe him when he says he’s not looking for trouble.”

“You’re probably right.”

They mounted up and Clint found the trail left by Tate and Del. As they followed it, Clint tried to give Alice some tips on reading sign.

“Find something unique about the sign,” he said. “Something about one of the hooves—something identifiable.”

“These look the same to me,” she complained.

“Yes, but there’s something unusual about the gait of one of these horses.”

She went so far as to lean down from the saddle to take a closer look, then sat up straight.

“I don’t see anything,” she said.

“Look at the left front hoof of that horse,” Clint said, pointing to the tracks left by one of the horses. “That horse comes down heavier on its left front hoof than its right.”

“So it’s lame?”

“Not lame,” Clint said. “It’s just an idiosyncrasy of that particular horse. If we happen to lose the trail, just keep an eye out for that horse.”

Alice nodded, continued to study the tracks as they went along.

 

As Tate and Del rode into Whitfield, they were still talking about how lucky they’d been back in Briartown.

“If we had killed the Gunsmith,” Tate said, “we woulda had to explain to Pearl what we were doin’ in Briartown.”

“Yeah,” Del said, “that’s the reason you didn’t wanna throw down on Adams.”

“Were you afraid of him?” Tate asked.

“No.”

“Well, neither was I,” Tate said, “but I don’t want Pearl to kick us outta the gang. Now I wish Adams would follow us here.”

“Yeah,” Del said, “if he follows us here, we can kill ’im and we won’t have nothin’ to explain to Pearl.”

“That’s right.”

They rode down Whitfield’s main street, reined in their horses in front of the general store.

“We’re gonna need a packhorse for these supplies,” Tate said. “Go over to the livery and rent one.”

They’d rent the horse for an unspecified period of time, and whoever was next to ride into Whitfield would bring it back.

“Yeah, okay,” Del said.

“And stay outta trouble,” Tate said.

“Hey,” Del said, “you’re the one who wanted to steal the Gunsmith’s horse.”

“And I still want it,” Tate said. “He follows us here, I’m gonna kill him and take that horse.”

“Yeah, okay,” Del said, “we’ll use it as a packhorse.”

“Idiot,” Tate said as Del walked away. “You don’t use an animal like that as a packhorse.”

Shaking his head, Tate went into the general store.

 

Clint and Alice stopped to read the road sign that said: WHITFIELD, 5 MI.

“They’re probably there already,” Alice said.

“No problem,” Clint said. “If they’re going there, it’s probably for supplies. Once they’re leading a packhorse, they’ll be even easier to trail.”

“So why are we even going to Whitfield?” Alice asked. “Why don’t we just camp here on the road and wait for them?”

“I want to make sure that’s where they went,” Clint said. “We could be sitting here and they’d never come back. Could be they’re supposed to meet Pearl Starr and the rest of the gang somewhere they don’t have to cross the river to get to.”

“A lot more thought goes into this business than I imagined,” Alice said.

“You’re a smart woman,” he said. “You’re well educated.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think I’d have to use my brain so much when I wore a badge.”

“You mean you wanted to wear a badge because you thought the job would be easy?”

“Well, not easy . . . I thought it would be mostly physical.”

Clint looked at her and shook his head.

“You thought you’d have an advantage because you think you’re smarter than everybody else,” Clint said. “On either side of the badge.”

Alice blushed, caught in her arrogance.

“That ego could get you killed, Deputy,” Clint warned.

“I know it,” she said. “I know I was wrong, Clint. That’s why I’m saying this job takes more smarts than I thought it did. But I’m smart enough to know I have a lot to learn, and I think I’m smart enough to learn it.”

“Well, that’s good, Alice,” Clint said. “Lose the ego and you will learn more—a lot more.”

 

 

 

Del walked the two horses—his saddle mount and the packhorse—back to the general store, found Tate standing out front, smoking a quirley.

“You done?” he asked.

“Yeah, we just got to load.”

“How about a drink first?”

“That’s just what I was thinkin’,” Tate said. “Tie both horses off here and we’ll go across the street to the saloon.”

Tate went back inside to the tell the clerk they’d return for the supplies.

“I’ll have ’em ready, Tate,” the man said.

They knew each other from other trips to Whitfield, although Tate did not remember the clerk’s name.

Outside Tate put his arm around Del’s shoulder and said, “Come on, partner. Let’s get some whiskey.”

“And maybe another girl before we leave?” Del said.

“Why not?” his friend replied.

 

Clint and Deputy Alice Eads entered the town of Whitfield, but did not ride down the main street. They stopped just inside the city limits, dismounted, and secured their mounts.

“Let’s take a walk,” Clint said. “If they’re here, we should see their horses either on the street, or in the livery.”

“Should we split up?” she asked.

“No,” Clint said, “let’s stay together.”

“You still don’t trust me?” she asked.

“It’s got nothing to do with trust,” Clint said. “I don’t think you’re ready to run into these two men without me . . . do you?”

She made a face and said, “Fine, we’ll stay together.”

 

They stopped at the livery, did not find Tate and Del’s horses, which Clint would have recognized from Briartown. The liveryman told them nobody had ridden in all day, except for a man who had bought an extra horse.

They walked down the street carefully, not wanting to run into the two men. Clint stopped when he saw the two horses and pointed.

“There’s their horses, in front of the general store.”

“They got the third horse as a pack animal, right?” she said.

“That’s right,” Clint said, “so they’re buying supplies to take back to their camp.”

“Which may or may not be Pearl Starr’s camp.”

“Right again.”

“So what if we follow them and it’s not?” she asked. “Then we’ve wasted all this time.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but do you have another idea?”

“We could keep looking for Pearl Starr.”

“Just riding around, looking?”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” she asked.

“Yes, but we’ve come across these two men who I’m sure are part of a gang. They’re obviously not smart enough to be doing anything on their own. I could tell that from my encounter in the livery.”

She stared across the street at the horses, then said, “So where are they, then? In the general store?”

“Maybe,” Clint said. “That’s for you to find out.”

“Me?”

“You’ve been wanting something to do, right?” he asked. “Well, they know me, and they’ve never seen you. So take off your badge and gun, leave them with me, and go do some shopping.”

“Why do I always have to take off my badge?” she muttered, but she took it off and unstrapped the gun. As she handed it to him, she asked, “Why the gun?”

“It’ll make them curious, a woman wearing a gun.”

“And what if they’re not in there?”

“Talk to the clerk,” Clint said. “See what you can find out. Maybe they went off to a saloon, or another whorehouse. But they left their horses there, and not in the livery. Chance are they’re going to leave today.”