Danger in the Canyon, page 4
Jacob fished his nearly empty canteen from the strap on his back and bent to refill it from the flash flood still rushing over his ankles. The added weight on his own back instead of a horse’s might slow him down, but having enough water for his journey back was worth it.
Jacob took one last drink of water before he went on. He pulled his rope from the tree stump, still knotted, and coiled it in a loop to drape over his shoulder.
His gaze scanned the surface of the water as the flood receded. The storm had likely washed away all of Corker’s trail, so he would have to start all over again. But that wouldn’t be any trouble. If Corker moved, if Corker even breathed, Jacob would know it, and he would find him. There was only one direction he could be.
Jacob secured his canteen over his shoulder again and jumped down from his ledge into the ankle-deep water. It splashed around his boots as he took the first few tentative steps in the muddy path.
Jacob began running up the canyon. Now that he was past the boulders the ground had only a slight incline, and he made quick progress. He would catch up with Corker and surprise the man before he had even realized the storm had passed.
The ravine curved again around to the left a few yards ahead. As he ran around the bend, Jacob spotted movement—something dark gray and out of place—to the far right up ahead. He paused, hand reflexively on his gun. The thing was bobbing slightly, and as he crept closer Jacob realized what it was—a Stetson.
Corker had lost his hat, the idiot.
Jacob left it where it was; he might let the outlaw retrieve it once he’d been subdued, but for now it simply served as a confirmation that Jacob was close. He was on the murderer’s trail and would soon bring this chase to a close.
He may have thrown all manner of obstacles at the bounty hunter, but like many outlaws, Corker had underestimated him to his downfall.
Chapter Eleven
After he passed the outlaw’s hat sinking in the mud, Jacob slowed his advance. Corker would be close, and he didn’t want to come upon the murderer unawares. The man had already tried to shake his trail several times and had attempted to kill him several more. There was every reason to suspect he’d be waiting for the bounty hunter in ambush. He was dangerous and unstable, and Jacob would need every advantage to take him in to meet justice.
The canyon narrowed ahead of him and Jacob couldn’t see beyond the tight passageway. He paused and took a deep breath, readying himself for battle. The floodwaters had completely abated, leaving just mud underfoot. He lowered his coil of rope and pack of supplies to the ground, lightening his load and making himself more limber for whatever Corker had waiting for him.
Jacob needed to know what waited for him beyond the bend. He doubled back to pick up Corker’s hat and sidled flat along the side of the canyon. At the turn in the passageway, he decided on a quick experiment: he held out Corker’s hat into view.
One revealing crack after another sounded, echoing around the stone, as three rapid gunshots pierced the brim of the dark gray Stetson. Jacob pulled the prop back before his hand got blown off.
It was an ambush, just as he suspected. Corker was just the sort of man who would get the jump on another, murdering innocent bank tellers and now shooting at what he thought was Jacob without warning.
Jacob always preferred to take in his targets alive, but if Corker wanted a fight, he would get one.
Jacob thought back, counting. That was three shots at the hat, and another at Paint at the start of the canyon. If he hadn’t reloaded, Corker only had a couple shots left. Jacob would have to press his advantage quickly, before the other man rearmed himself. He stayed completely still, not making a sound to give away his presence. For all the outlaw knew, he had hit and killed the lawman trailing him.
Jacob listened as hard as he could around the turn in the canyon. The shuffle of footsteps told him Corker was only a few yards away. He reached down to arm himself with the Bowie knife from his boot. He was not a man to kill if he didn’t have to. Whatever he found around the bend, Jacob wouldn’t be shooting the other man in the back.
More sounds of feet moving back and forth, and Jacob thought Corker sounded anxious, unsteady. That meant he’d probably be on alert and waiting for Jacob. He’d have to wait it out and give the outlaw time to let down his guard.
Jacob pressed his back to the stone wall and breathed as shallowly as he could. He’d wait forever if need be. He waited so long his pants had begun to dry from the flood. If there was one advantage Jacob had over most outlaws, it was patience. These wild men with their need for immediate gratification—robbing a bank instead of earning an honest living—could never out-wait the bounty hunter.
After an untold period of time, Corker had been quiet long enough that Jacob felt that the other man had the advantage. Whatever sounds Jacob’s first movement made would give him away, so he’d have to take Corker in one swift movement.
In one long step, Jacob was around the bend in the canyon and facing Jed Corker. The outlaw, lanky with stringy blond hair hanging limply around his face, was leaning against the canyon wall, gun in hand, but stood up straight when he saw the bounty hunter.
“Hands up, Corker,” Jacob cried.
The outlaw chuckled and shot. Jacob saw the movement and ducked back behind the cover of rock just in time. One more shot down. He was close to being able to overpower Corker.
“You don’t have a chance, boy,” he said, coming back around the rock. He stalked toward Corker, a weapon in each hand.
Corker aimed again, but Jacob didn’t have time to take cover. The gun jammed and the outlaw cursed his luck while frantically trying shake something lose. Jacob grinned. He had seen it before. Men like this who thought they were invincible never took the time on basic things like gun cleaning.
He took several steps forward, aiming to take down Corker while he was distracted, but the other man looked up at the last second. He raised his revolver above his head, bringing it down toward Jacob’s temple.
Bowie knife in his left hand, Jacob swiped at Corker, slicing the man across the wrist and deep into the meaty flesh of his thumb. The outlaw cried out in pain, dropping his gun in the process. Jacob wasted no time in kicking the weapon across the canyon floor and thrusting his own revolver at Corker.
“Hands in the air, you devil,” Jacob said in a low, threatening tone.
The outlaw glowered at Jacob as he raised his hands in surrender, blood dripping down and staining his sleeve.
Chapter Twelve
“That’s right, Corker,” Jacob said, pointing his revolver at the outlaw’s chest. “Nice and slow, and maybe you’ll live to see another day.”
Once he was sure there would be no sudden moves, Jacob sheathed his Bowie knife and picked up Corker’s pistol from the dirt at his feet. The knife went back in his boot and the gun went in his holster, while his own revolver stayed in his hand.
“Move. Now.”
He gestured with the gun, and Corker shuffled forward a couple steps back up the ravine toward the narrow passageway. His hat lay in the mud where Jacob had left it.
“Pick it up,” Jacob commanded.
He didn’t take his eyes off the outlaw, tense and ready for any attempt at escape, while he bent down to retrieve his Stetson. Sitting just a few feet farther was the coil of rope and supplies Jacob had left behind. With the gun trained on the outlaw, Jacob used one foot, stuck it under the coil, and lifted his leg just high enough to be able to grab the rope without bending down and leaving himself vulnerable to the other man.
Corker glared at him.
“Hands in the air, I said.”
Corker spat at Jacob; the glob of phlegm landed only inches from Jacob’s feet, but he raised his hands again, high above his head.
“Now,” Jacob said calmly. “Pick up this pack.”
Corker glared but complied.
Jacob continued, “I’m gonna come over there and I’m gonna tie this rope around your wrists. You best not do anything stupid, now.”
Corker didn’t respond, but slowly lowered his hands. The two men eyed each other as the armed bounty hunter slowly, cautiously made his way across the several feet between them.
The look in the bank robber’s eye made Jacob wary. He didn’t trust this man as far as he could spit. Sure enough, as soon as Jacob got close enough, Corker kicked up his leg, aiming to disarm him. In a flash, Jacob fired the revolver. At this close range he hit exactly where he was aiming. Corker’s left sleeve darkened in a bloom of blood where the bullet hit its mark.
“You—” Corker’s litany of cursing was lost among his groans of pain.
“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
With Corker so distracted, Jacob easily subdued him and bound his wrists together, further wrapping the rope tightly around the other man’s arms. Corker yelped as Jacob pulled the knot tight.
“That’ll have to do you for a bandage till we get somewhere,” Jacob said. “I suggest you don’t delay our travelin’ any more than you have to.”
With the tail end of the rope in one hand and his revolver in the other, Jacob had successfully protected the citizens of neighboring towns from this godless outlaw.
“Move,” Jacob said, gesturing toward the mouth of the canyon with his gun.
Corker glared at him. For several breathless seconds, Jacob wasn’t sure the captive would obey.
“I really prefer to take you alive,” Jacob said casually. “But I don’t particularly have to.”
Corker heaved a giant sigh and turned to lead the way out of the canyon. He had a bit of trouble climbing over the high boulders with his wrists tied, but Jacob let him take as long as he needed.
When they reached the outlaw’s horse, Corker sidled on up to the animal’s side as if to make it known it was his property.
Jacob tied the end of the rope to the saddle, securing the knot and tugging experimentally.
“You ain’t riding my horse,” Corker griped.
“I sure as shootin’ am,” Jacob replied. “You shouldn’ta killt my horse if you didn’t want me to take yours. Besides, the way I hear it, you stole this horse and it ain’t yours anyway.”
Using the barrel of his revolver, he gestured again at where he wanted Corker to go.
“You walk on ahead, now. I’ll not be turning my back to you or untying you at any point. I know your tricks now, Corker, and you’ll not be slipping away from me this time.”
Corker called him all manner of names under his breath as he shuffled on ahead.
Jacob watched him carefully as he mounted the dapple gray and began the walk back to the mouth of the canyon. Corker dragged his feet, but a periodic poke in the back with the toe of his boot and Jacob had him moving again.
Valleseco was closer than Tucson, only about a day’s ride from where they were in the desert. He’d take Corker there and let the bank and the sheriff decide what to do with him. They had two full canteens of water and at least three hours of daylight left before they needed to make camp. Jacob ignored the outlaw’s complaining and kept his eyes looking up—up toward the sun, and toward the lawmen they’d meet the next day.
Also by A.T. Butler
The next book in the Jacob Payne series, Justice for Jasper, is available now!
Chapter One:
Jacob Payne almost got himself bit.
“Whoa, there!” He pulled his fingers away just in time. The dapple gray mustang had seemed friendly enough, but as soon as Jacob’s fingers brushed close to its mouth, it snapped at him. Jacob glared at the horse’s current owner. “Thought you said this one was broken.”
Caleb Shaw widened his eyes, wearing his most innocent expression. “He is. You musta riled him somehow.”
“Uh huh,” Jacob muttered.
He turned back to examine the horse, keeping out of reach of its strong jaw—which was no way to really learn anything, but he kept trying. Jacob needed to have something to ride out of there today.
The bounty hunter’s previous horse, Paint, had been shot from under him while he was on the trail of a bank robber out in the desert. In the several days since he captured Jed Corker and turned him over to the lawful authorities, he had managed to do without a horse of his own, staying in town and going everywhere on foot.
But now, looking at Shaw’s meager selection, Jacob wondered how much longer he could do without. It’s not that he couldn’t afford a fine horse, but more that there were none to be had. His current options were a mare that had given birth two days earlier, a Morgan that could not be younger than twenty years, or this one with the biting—Shaw called him Smoke. Jacob wondered how he’d manage to bridle the creature without losing his fingers.
“You sure you don’t have any others for sale, Shaw?” Jacob asked, turning back to the the man.
“Payne, I swear—”
“Jacob Payne!” a big voice shouted from the doorway of the livery. “Anyone seen Payne?”
“Who’s asking?” Jacob shouted back. Shielding his eyes against the sunny backdrop, Jacob made out the silhouette of a tall, thin man walking toward him. Out here in Arizona Territory, a stranger knowing his name could either be very good or very bad.
“U.S. Marshal Owen Santos,” the man said as he approached.
As the stranger got closer, Jacob noticed he was holding up a badge. From this distance he couldn’t make out what the badge said, but he’d heard of Santos all right.
“I’m Jacob Payne. What can I do for you, Marshal?”
Santos took off his hat and offered his hand to the bounty hunter. The Marshal stood taller than Jacob by several inches, which was uncommon, but was leaner than a bean pole. Jacob’s broad shoulders could probably hide the other man behind him twice over.
He shook the marshal’s hand, then noticed Shaw awkwardly watching the interaction.
“Have you met Caleb Shaw, Marshal?” he asked, gesturing.
The lawman glanced at the livery owner, barely acknowledging him before turning his attention back to Jacob. “I’m gonna tell you this straight. I need your help. I can legally force you into helping, but I’d rather you come willingly.”
Jacob was half defensive and half amused by this approach. Though he wasn’t technically a man of the law, he still respected what men like Santos had to do. “What is it you need, sir?”
Santos let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes. His annoyance rolled off of him in waves. “Well, seems the sheriff down in Jasper can’t do the job he was elected to do. He’s called on the marshal’s office for assistance, and all my men are out in the field.”
“Assistance with what?”
“Claims he’s identified a wanted murderer, one Floyd Daly. But seeing as the man is currently in the employ of the Rockville Mining Company, he’s having a devil of a time even getting close to him.”
“You need me to go down and capture this Daly character?”
“Oh, I don’t mind goin’ down there to collect the man myself, but I don’t dare trust the sheriff to back me up if I need it. I need a capable associate by my side if things go south. You’re the first person I thought of.”
“Why me?”
“All I been hearin’ these last few months is ‘Jacob Payne this’ and ‘Jacob Payne that.’ You’ve made quite the impression since you arrived in Arizona. Bonnie, in particular, seems to like the taste of your name in her mouth.”
Jacob smiled. Bonnie, his favorite waitress at the San Xavier Cafe just a few blocks away, sure did make his visits to Tucson pleasant. But she couldn’t be the only one talking about him to the U.S. Marshal. Likely the sheriffs of Bennettsville or Valleseco—or maybe even San Adrian, if they had a new sheriff already—would be speaking well of him.
“I’m happy to help if I can, Marshal.”
“Much obliged. I’ll deputize you now and we’ll be on our way tomorrow morning.”
“One problem, sir. I still don’t have a horse—”
“Since Jed Corker shot yours? Yeah, I heard about that, too. Hanging’s too good for that one, I tell you. Well, fine.” Santos looked around the stable for the first time. “None of these?”
Jacob hesitated. “I was hoping to be able to invest in a more reliable animal.”
Santos nodded. “I see.” He glared at Caleb. “Well, in that case, just leave it to me. I’ll find a mount for you by tomorrow. You can’t get the thing killed, though.”
“I’ll do my best,” Jacob said with a grin. “You have any idea why the sheriff down in Jasper can’t get his man?”
Santos sighed. “Like I said—Daly managed to get a job working at the Vernon Copper Mine and has apparently made himself indispensable. The boss always has some excuse why he can’t be bothered or why they can’t reveal his whereabouts.”
“All right.” Jacob considered what kind of security might be around a mine. “We’ll find a way to get to him.”
“Damn right, we will,” Santos said vehemently. “Glad you’ll be joining me, Payne. Come on over to my office. We got a lot to do.”
He led the way out of the livery.
“So you won’t be taking Smoke?” Caleb asked before Jacob left.
The bounty hunter looked at the other man, exasperated. “The horse that almost bit me? No, Caleb. Not this time.”
Caleb nodded, while Jacob hurried to catch up with Santos and prepare to track down the outlaw Daly.
Read the exciting next chapter in Jacob Payne’s story here — Justice for Jasper on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited
Jacob Payne Series:
Trouble By Any Name
Danger in the Canyon
Justice for Jasper
Blood on the Mountain
Outlaw Country
