“I’ve already saved your life once back in Cottonwood Pass and I’m trying to do it again now.” Dalton smiled, but Vaughn no longer appeared to have the strength to reply. He took a deep breath. “When you’re back in Sweet Valley and you’re well again, I’ll tell you the full truth about your brother.”

  A brief smile twitched at the corners of Vaughn’s mouth, suggesting he’d taken Dalton’s declaration as an admittance of guilt, and when he thought back Dalton reckoned it did sound more damning than he’d intended it to be. He backed away and jumped down from the wagon to join Loren.

  “I heard that,” Loren said. “You took a risk making that offer.”

  “I did,” Dalton said with a shrug. “In the end I couldn’t bring myself to lie to a man who could be dying.”

  “Then let’s hope he’s so sick he doesn’t remember that promise.”

  With that, they resumed their journey to Sweet Valley. They continued at the same quick pace, and when the town appeared ahead the sun was still above the horizon proving that they’d shaved several hours off the journey time.

  As with the first time they’d approached the town several people were milling around on the main drag, but this time they moved out of town to greet them. Dalton rode on ahead of the wagon to report what had happened, but as the townsfolk were brandishing guns he slowed down.

  “Stay back,” one man called. He identified himself as being Jerome Lawton and then stepped forward and held a hand high in a warding-off gesture.” Don’t come no closer.”

  Dalton did as he’d been asked and stopped around twenty yards away from him.

  “We’re not trouble,” he shouted. “We need help.”

  “Then we’re sorry that we can’t give it. We’re a sick town. Four people have died and we don’t know what ailed them. We hope the sickness is now under control as others have gotten better and nobody else has fallen ill recently, but we’re not taking no chances of it spreading.”

  “We know that. We left town with Marshal Vaughn and Deputy Kidd yesterday. The deputy left us and I assume he didn’t come back here, but Vaughn fell sick. He’s in a bad way.”

  Jerome winced and the other men all registered their concern with slow headshakes.

  “We were keeping out of your way yesterday, but I remember seeing you Two Forks folks now and we haven’t seen Stanhope since he left.” Jerome narrowed his eyes. “How do you feel?”

  “We’re fine, or at least we are at the moment.”

  “The illness takes hold real quick and if you catch it you’ll know that you’re not feeling right soon enough. If you don’t mind we’ll keep our distance and take Vaughn back to the town now. Then you can be on your way.”

  “We’ll do whatever you think is best,” Dalton said and then headed back to join the wagon, which was now slowing to a halt.

  He explained the situation to Loren. Then they waited quietly while the men headed around the wagon and jumped up into the back. They came out with a limp and still Vaughn and with their faces averted they laid him down on the ground.

  Then they stepped back quickly. A brief debate followed before Jerome came over to stand in front of Dalton.

  “The marshal’s dead,” he reported. “He’s still warm so he didn’t pass on all that long ago, but even if you’d have gotten him here quicker, we reckon it wouldn’t have done him no good and he’d have still died.”

  Dalton nodded, but as he couldn’t work out whether he felt relieved or dejected by this development he struggled to find the appropriate response.

  “We got here as fast as we could, but it’s a relief to know that,” Loren said when it became clear that Dalton wouldn’t speak. “And we do have some good news that I reckon you’ll appreciate once this crisis is over. We found the bandits and wiped out the whole lot of them.”

  Jerome smiled. “That is good news. Marshal Vaughn was a good man and it sounds as if he did his best for our town right up until the end.”

  “He did.” Loren rubbed his jaw and then affected a casual tone, as if he was talking about a less important matter. “As his deputy probably won’t return to Sweet Valley, if Vaughn had any other problems or missions that were on-going, we’d be happy to deal with them until you get this situation sorted out.”

  “We’re obliged for the offer, but McKinley was the only trouble that concerned Vaughn. We’re a peaceful town and with the bandits dealt with, any other trouble that happens is likely to be minor and nothing we can’t handle.”

  Loren nodded and then gestured at Dalton inviting him to probe further. Dalton reckoned that Loren had been as direct as they could be in trying to find out whether anyone else knew about the marshal’s mission to find Deputy Vaughn’s killer.

  If he were to ask more questions, it might raise suspicions, so he directed a brief shake of the head at Loren, who turned back to Jerome and then gnawed at his lip giving the impression that he was wondering whether to ask his next question.

  “I have one last question before we go,” he said, lowering his voice. “How long do you reckon it’ll be before we can be sure that we won’t fall ill?”

  The other men shrugged, so Jerome spread his hands.

  “We just don’t know, but I figure that if you’re still feeling fine by the time you get back to Two Forks, you’ll continue to feel fine and you won’t make anyone there ill either.”

  Loren raised a hand in farewell. “In that case, I only wish that we folks from Two Forks could have met you all in better circumstances, but we hope it’s not the last time.”

  Jerome nodded while the rest of the men murmured their support for this sentiment.

  “We’ll make sure it won’t be. Now be careful and tell everyone you meet that something bad happened here and that they should stay away until it’s over.”

  When Loren and Dalton both nodded, Jerome backed away to join the rest of the men. Loren then got down from the wagon and headed to his horse. They left the wagon and by the time they were a hundred yards away from the town, the men had split up with several of them heading back to town, while the others were taking Vaughn’s body back to the wagon.

  The two men had moved on for a mile and the town was no longer visible when Loren drew his horse to a halt. Dalton moved closer.

  “So this is over now,” Loren said. “We did the right thing and despite the unfortunate outcome there shouldn’t be any repercussions.”

  Dalton shrugged. “I guess I’m now relieved that Vaughn took the last thing I said to him as a confession, but there are still loose ends. Stanhope looked bored when Vaughn told us about his mission to find his brother’s killer, which means he must have made a habit of telling people about it.”

  “He might have done that, but it’s not the sort of mission that anyone else is likely to want to follow up.”

  “Aside from a man with a grudge and a bad attitude like Stanhope.”

  Loren sighed. “Stanhope’s biggest problem was with Vaughn, so he might not cause any problems for you, but even if he repeats his accusation I doubt he’ll ever find anyone who’ll believe him. We’ve had dealings with Marshal Muldoon in Durando and Sheriff Blake in White Falls and they both know you to be trustworthy.”

  Dalton nodded as he tried to let himself feel as optimistic as Loren was feeling.

  “The most likely place Stanhope will go is back to White Falls and Vaughn said that Blake didn’t trust him, so I guess it’s unlikely that the sheriff will act on anything he claims. Even if Blake does check it out one day, the townsfolk of Sweet Valley will tell him that we did our best for Vaughn.”

  Loren smiled. “So you agree that this is over?”

  “This is over,” Dalton said with an emphatic nod. “We can go back home now.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Despite his declaration outside Sweet Valley Dalton couldn’t help but brood over the possibility that Stanhope or anyone else who happened to know about Vaughn’s mission would try to cause problems for him. He didn’t want to ruin Loren’s contented mood, so he kept those thoughts to himself.

  As they rode along beside the river, taking the most direct route back to Two Forks through Spinner’s Gulch, he and Loren exchanged the usual type of light banter that they always traded on hunting expeditions. By the time they were approaching the town, late on the second day of traveling, Dalton had distilled his musings into two worries: that Stanhope had visited Two Forks to cause mischief by repeating his accusation, and that they might still get ill.

  “Do you reckon we’re safe to carry on to town?” Dalton asked, deciding to voice only one of those concerns.

  Loren leaned back in the saddle and breathed deeply with his head thrown back.

  “I feel fine,” he said. “What about you?”

  Dalton did as Loren had done and breathed deeply with his chin held high.

  “I don’t feel as if I’m about to keel over and Jerome did say that you start feeling ill quickly, but even so for the next few days I’ll avoid people as much as I can.”

  Loren nodded. “I don’t reckon we’re a danger to anyone, so I guess the bigger danger is that Stanhope went down with the sickness, after all, and that he managed to get himself here so he could get some help.”

  Dalton had only worried that Stanhope had gone to Two Forks to spread rumors, but with Loren’s suggestion feeling like it was a more likely danger he tried to detect whether anything was amiss ahead. They were coming down the slope above the town so they’d reach Loren’s and then Dalton’s homes first, and the distant buildings beside the rivers looked the same as they had done when they’d left town.

  They still headed to Dalton’s house together. Dalton called out for Eliza, but she wasn’t there. Loren greeted the news with a shrug, but Dalton knew him well enough to tell he was concerned and he was trying to make light of the situation.

  With a greater sense of urgency they rode at a fast trot down the rest of the hill. They headed for Newell’s house figuring that she could be with her brother, or that he would at least know where she was.

  Several people were standing outside the building and they were deep in debate, that conversation ending when they turned to the approaching riders. Wes Potter was among the group and their arrival made them bunch up and hold a quick discussion after which Wes moved away from the house to meet them, his gait slow and his shoulders hunched.

  Dalton sped up with Loren matching his pace until they drew up in front of Wes, who raised a hand before his eyes to ward off the dust thrown up by their horses. Then he took an excessive amount of time to lower his hand.

  “What’s wrong?” Dalton said.

  “I’m sorry,” Wes said with a gulp.

  “Just tell me. Has something happened to Newell?” He waited, but Wes didn’t reply. “Eliza?”

  Wes removed his hat and held it before him. He crumpled the rim while gulping heavily and he looked so crestfallen it was clear that he would rather be anywhere else other than standing there facing them.

  “Both,” he said with a small voice.

  “What’s happened to them?”

  “They got sick.”

  “Are they resting up in Newell’s house?”

  “No.” Wes took a deep breath. “They’re dead.”

  Dalton wasn’t sure what happened after that as the next he knew he was sitting on the ground and Loren was kneeling beside him resting a hand on his shoulder. He felt numb, as if he’d fallen off his horse and jarred every limb, but he figured Loren must have helped him down.

  “How?” he said, willing Wes to take back what he’d just said.

  “It all started the day after you left,” Wes said, the words tumbling out now that he’d passed on the terrible news. “Newell got ill and Eliza took care of him. Then the Webster family fell ill. They’d been spending time with Newell so Eliza took care of them, too. She thought it best to limit the amount of contact we all had with each other as they were real sick, shivering and sweating and weak.”

  “We know. Some folks in Sweet Valley got ill, too.”

  Wes nodded and then kneeled down in front of Dalton.

  “Then it all happened real quick. In one horrible night Newell died and two of the Websters succumbed. Eliza was distraught and she probably felt so bad about losing her brother that she didn’t notice she was falling ill, too. The next night the other Websters died and soon after that she died.”

  “And then?”

  Wes mustered a thin smile of encouragement. “She was the last one to succumb, so we hope that’s brought an end to it. We’ve all been keeping to ourselves and it’s only now that we’re starting to take stock of the situation.”

  Dalton nodded. “I want to see her.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I don’t care about getting ill,” Dalton snapped. “I want to see her.”

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t. First thing this morning we had a town meeting and we decided to burn the bodies. Fire destroys most things, so we thought that was the best thing to do. We scattered everyone’s ashes in the river.”

  Dalton lowered his head, this fact somehow feeling even more of a hammer blow than the earlier devastating revelation had been. He put a hand to the ground and levered himself up until he was standing.

  Without further comment, he walked down to the river. For a long while he stood on the riverbank while the water rippled and lapped against the stones below him. Loren stood close by and from time to time various townsfolk arrived and spoke with Loren, presumably asking about him, but Loren didn’t move closer until the sun had set.

  “How did this happen?” Dalton said, not that he expected an answer he would accept.

  “I’ve been hearing a few more details and it doesn’t make sense,” Loren said. “Then again, I doubt an answer would make this any easier.”

  “Try.”

  Loren took a deep breath. “My first thought was that it had to be Stanhope. He’s the only obvious link between the sick folks in Sweet Valley and the sick folks here as he came here just before the first person fell ill.”

  “He sure did,” Dalton snapped and turned to Loren, but Loren raised a hand while shaking his head.

  “Except it seems that Stanhope came here again after Marshal Vaughn dismissed him. He was probably planning to do what you thought he would do and cause trouble for you, but he was perfectly well and when he heard about the illnesses he became concerned and helped out.”

  Dalton snorted. “That didn’t do no good.”

  “It didn’t, but he helped put people’s minds at ease. He saw Eliza just before she died and confirmed that she had the same symptoms as the people who had fallen ill in Sweet Valley. He told Wes that everyone here was doing what his townsfolk had done and that it appeared to be working as the sickness had stopped spreading.”

  Dalton ran that story through his mind searching for a way to prove that Stanhope was behind the disaster that had struck the town, but then with a sigh he accepted he just wanted an outlet for his anger.

  He lowered his head. “I guess it doesn’t sound as if he brought the illness here.”

  Loren came forward and laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “It doesn’t. It was just one of those terrible things that sometimes happen, such as the illness first striking in Sweet Valley for no good reason.”

  Dalton raised his head and nodded. “So where is Stanhope now?”

  Loren gestured to the east. “He left for White Falls earlier today after they’d burned the bodies. Apparently the fire was his idea and it doesn’t sound as if he even mentioned Vaughn’s suspicion about you. I know it’s no consolation, but it really does sound as if that’s one problem you’ll never have to deal with again.”

  “Yeah, my problems sure are over now,” Dalton said.

  Then he turned away from the river and made his slow way back toward his house.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next night and day were the longest Dalton had ever experienced. He stayed in Loren’s house as he found that he couldn’t bring himself to set foot again in his own house. Throughout the evening a procession of people came out from the town to offer their condolences.

  Dalton glumly acknowledged them while Loren took the lead in making them welcome. Most of the townsfolk repeated the story that Wes had first told them while adding a few further details that emphasized how selfless Eliza had been.

  Everyone’s praise for her actions only made Dalton more depressed as he had often put himself into dangerous situations without thinking about the effect it would have on her if the worst were to happen. Yet it was she who had paid the price for her bravery.

  When the last person had left, he sat on the porch outside with his back resting against the wall until Loren came outside and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. He went to sleep sitting up and when the morning chill brought him awake he stiffly stomped around to warm up before again heading down to the river.

  He stood by the water until other people began to stir, after which he returned to Loren’s house. Loren insisted that he ate, and he dutifully did as he’d been told before he settled down to await the visitors who hadn’t come the previous day.

  Thankfully only a few more people came by and they didn’t stay for long, so by early afternoon he had been left alone with Loren. They spent a quiet few hours until later in the afternoon Wes Potter and Cliff Sinclair arrived and they’d brought a small barrel of Wes’s infamous brew.

  “I wondered whether liquor would help,” Wes said, holding the barrel high.

  “Nothing will help and especially not your gut-rotting brew,” Dalton said. Then, feeling that he’d been unnecessarily rude, he shrugged. “If I start drinking to get me to stop dwelling on this I’ll never stop, but you two are welcome to stay and drink that down.”

  Loren gave a thin smile and Wes returned a thin smile of his own. Dalton didn’t show that he’d noticed they were silently exchanging opinions about him. The four men sat down on the bench outside.

  While Cliff, Wes and Loren supped the harsh ale Dalton turned away from them. With Dalton being quiet the others spoke in short bursts about Eliza and Newell along with the Webster family and the other people who had died here before them.

 

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