The Prairie Man, page 8
Haynes snorted a laugh at Temple’s incredulous expression and then headed to the door.
“Is that good news or bad?” Hank asked when he’d gone.
“I don’t know,” Temple said. “I guess it depends on what Emerson’s telling him.”
Then there was nothing left to do but let the morning pass. They didn’t know when Canby was due to present his verdict, so time dragged where every moment that passed provided a mixture of hope that something might be happening while bringing the moment of revelation closer.
When full light arrived, Temple marked time by listening to Hank’s steady pacing back and forth, punctuated by occasional stops when a noise sounded in the law office. When sounds of bustling industry came they were in the courtroom on the other side of the office.
Temple couldn’t help but view this as being a bad sign. Scraps of a distant conversation came to him and he strained his hearing to hear words or even recognize voices. They were talking calmly, but he couldn’t discern anything.
Hank paced his cell for around a hundred more times before the door to the courtroom opened. Only Canby entered. He stood by the door and faced the line of the cells. He lowered his head before he moved on, the small gesture telling Temple everything he needed to know, but Hank stopped his pacing to await the answer.
“I’ll be leaving for Redemption City now,” Canby said.
“When?” Hank croaked, his voice small.
“At sundown.” Canby flashed an apologetic smile. “You had an extra day to make your peace. I hope you can use your last hours wisely.”
He walked past the cells, and stopped before Temple’s cell.
“This is wrong,” Temple said.
“I decided on the rights and wrongs some time ago,” Canby said. “I’ll return next month when I presume I’ll decide on the rights and wrongs of your case.”
“Wait!” Temple said. “There has to be something else we can do.”
Canby moved back to the courtroom doorway where he stopped. Then, with a heavy tread, he carried on through it. A thud sounded as Hank slumped down on to the floor and put his head in his hands. Temple didn’t want to burden him with his problems, but Canby’s comment hadn’t been lost on Luther, who edged closer to his cell.
“It sounds as if they’ve worked out who you are,” he said.
Temple shrugged. “If Simmons lets you out of here before someone links us, I won’t tell them about you.”
Luther sighed. “It’s the same for me.”
He gave Temple a pensive look, but Temple didn’t make the request Luther must be expecting. When Luther had been arrested their plans for a jailbreak had been at an early stage. If Luther was released today, Temple couldn’t expect him to help them out, especially when he’d relinquished his hold over him.
Luther offered a smile, perhaps acknowledging this before with a cough, he resorted to facing the door to the law office, as if he could make Simmons appear by force of will alone. The effort proved to be worthwhile as a half-hour after the judge had gone Simmons entered. He ignored Temple and Hank and opened Luther’s cell.
“Have you slept it off?” he said.
“Sure,” Luther said, giving an innocent smile as he tried to appear as if he were a nobody who had just been unlucky in catching a lawman’s attention. “I’m sorry I got carried away. I haven’t had a job for a while. Then I got me one last night and I went loco. I won’t cause you no trouble again.”
“See that you don’t and we’ll get on just fine.”
Luther winked at Temple, who returned a silent salute, but Hank was still sitting on the floor, lost in his own private misery. Luther rolled off his cot and walked sideways out through the door.
Simmons turned aside, but at that moment, with a sudden change of attitude Luther darted in. Simmons stepped away but his shoulder caught the edge of the door, slowing him. In a moment Luther was on him.
Metal gleamed, a knife catching a stray beam of light and dazzling Temple. Then the two men tussled until, with surprising speed, Luther wrapped a firm arm around the lawman’s neck. Then he spun him around, dragged him backward to press his back to his chest and thrust a knife up against his neck.
“Where did you get that?” Simmons said, speaking Temple’s thoughts.
“Your deputy found a knife,” Luther said, leaning over his shoulder. “He should have looked harder.”
“You should have just left.” Simmons shook his head in puzzlement. “You’re the first prisoner I’ve ever had who’s tried to escape after I’d released him.”
“I’m not bothered about me. I’ve been listening to that one’s story. He doesn’t deserve to hang. Open his cell.”
Simmons didn’t move at first, forcing Luther to encourage him by pressing the blade into his neck. Simmons winced as blood welled, but he did move on to Hank’s cell.
“This is a bad move,” Simmons said as he selected the right key. “You’re making yourself as guilty as he is.”
“Or as innocent, lawman. Don’t waste time coming after us. Get others to track us down while you investigate his case properly.”
“I don’t act on your directions. I’ll be coming for you, Billy.”
Luther cast Temple an apologetic look that acknowledged the fact he had provided an alias, and then kept his attention on Simmons as he opened the cell. Hank bounded out and took the ring of keys off the lawman.
“Are you coming?” he asked Temple.
“I guess so,” Temple said. “We can’t sort this mess out in here.”
“You’ll get yourself into even more trouble if you run,” Simmons said.
Temple slipped out through the opening door and walked up to him while shaking his head.
“We won’t. We’ll just hole up, not cause no trouble and wait until we hear that you’ve caught the Prairie Man. Then we’ll return.”
Simmons said nothing other than to snarl, so Temple disarmed him. Luther frisked him with greater care than clearly he had been frisked. Then he used a long kerchief to gag the lawman.
While he was locking him away Temple went to the door. The office beyond was empty, but the deputy was just returning after completing an errand. To get out quietly without bloodshed they would need care and good timing.
He bided his time. Hank joined him and stood to one side of the door waiting while Temple crouched down beneath the small window. Sure enough after a few minutes the silence in the jailhouse concerned the deputy and he came to the door.
Temple listened to his footfalls and counted down his approach so they could coordinate their assault. The moment Hayden’s form darkened the window bars, Temple threw open the door, causing the deputy to teeter in surprise.
Fueled by desperation Hank burst out and grabbed Hayden and then carried him backward for several paces until both men fell to the floor. Temple followed him out at a more sedate pace and stood over them, but Hank was seizing his chance for freedom and he didn’t need any help to subdue the deputy.
When Hank had disarmed him, he walked Haynes back into the jailhouse, where Luther put him in a cell two away from Simmons. Hank found several short lengths of rope. While he and Luther trussed up the lawmen Temple raided Simmons’s armory for guns as well as gathering a few provisions.
Then he stood by the window. It was late morning and few people were about. Even better, three horses were at the hitching rail outside the office. When Luther and Hank joined him they considered the scene and deemed that it was safe for them to leave.
Luther volunteered to go out first, as he was the one who was in the least trouble and so would presumably attract the least attention. He walked across the boardwalk in an unhurried manner and checked that the horses were ready to go.
Then he stood for a few moments, as if he were undecided about what to do today, before he mounted up. He nodded to Temple and he and Hank came out, but they weren’t as good at presenting a calm demeanor as Luther had been, and in short order both men leaped on their horses.
Despite their haste, Temple judged that nobody paid undue attention to them as they trotted away. Hank rode with his head bowed and his hat drawn down low, but Temple kept his head raised, figuring that his predicament wasn’t well known.
Nobody followed them and the moment they reached open land they sped up. Only when they were riding alongside the creek did they slow and take stock of their situation.
“Why did you save me, Luther?” Hank asked, broaching a subject that had been on Temple’s mind. “You were only in there for a minor crime. Now you’re in big trouble.”
“It’s a long story,” Luther said. “Maybe when we’re safely holed up somewhere I’ll tell it to you.”
“Whatever the reason, you’re a good man.”
Luther coughed. “You got that wrong, but we need to decide where we’re going.”
“I reckon we need to put as many miles as we can between us and Prudence,” Temple said. “But not so many that we can’t find out what’s happening back here.”
“I’d put that out of your mind,” Luther said. “Give it a year, maybe longer, before you even think of finding out what’s happened. Only time will make you safe.”
Temple gave a brief nod, accepting that others would now have to uncover the truth, but Hank shook his head.
“You two can keep going,” he said. “I’m staying close to town.”
“You’re hours from the noose,” Temple said. “You can’t risk it.”
“I can. I don’t know what’s going on here. Kate could be in danger, too.”
Temple winced, having not thought about that possibility.
“Her husband leads the Rangers. She’ll be safe. You need to think of yourself for a while.” Temple waited until Hank started to shake his head. “And our best chance is to stick together.”
Hank bit his lip as he sought a retort, but then he gave a brief and reluctant nod.
“All right, we move on, but only after I’ve seen her and explained what we’ve done.” He pointed ahead. “After all, it is on the way.”
Temple didn’t feel inclined to persuade him that this was the wrong thing to do, but to his surprise, Luther nodded.
“You agree?” Temple said.
“We don’t have a choice,” Luther said. He pointed back toward Prudence. “We’re being followed, after all.”
Temple turned in the saddle. A half-mile behind them three riders were moving in and several more were closing in from the sides, speeding to a gallop as they approached.
Chapter Twelve
By the time the three men were closing on Kate’s house the pursuing riders were a hundred yards behind them. Worse, they were close enough for Temple to recognize them as being Emerson’s men.
Temple doubted they would be able to outrun them and with nothing but the open prairies beyond the house they had nowhere to head to. Quick nods from the other two men confirmed they also thought that they had no choice, so they swung in through the gates in front of the house and leaped down to the ground outside the stables.
This and the house were the only two buildings here. They hurried to the house, but they had managed only a few paces when their pursuers started firing at them. The distance was too great for accuracy and their shots were wild, but several clattered into the house and one smashed a window.
“To the stables,” Hank shouted.
Temple joined him in backtracking. Luther dallied, but the porch was thirty yards away and the stables ten. He joined them. As their spooked horses were spreading out and covering them no further gunshots came, letting them reach the relative safety of the building.
Temple confirmed that the large double doors at the front were the only way in. Then he stood to one side of the doorway while Hank took the other. Luther moved into the shadows, searching for a way up on to the short hayloft.
When the men outside dismounted, he and Hank laid down a quick burst of lead at the attackers, and this encouraged them to seek cover. As their gunfire hurried them on their way at least four men scurried behind a buggy that stood square on to the stables.
Another three men found themselves trapped in the open. They went to ground in the nearest cover of a depression where they lay flat and out of sight. Temple was on the side nearest the house and there was no sign of anyone coming out to investigate.
Since Kate was presumably still working with her lawyer to free Hank and with George perhaps patrolling with his Rangers, it was possible that the house was deserted. This was fine with Temple, but getting away from Emerson’s men wouldn’t be easy.
“What do you want with us?” he shouted.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” one man shouted. “For now, you’re not going nowhere.”
Temple tried further taunts to get more information, but he didn’t get a response and, worse, their horses mooched off for a short distance. They could be reached in a few seconds, but the three men in the stables were so outnumbered they stood little chance of laying down enough gunfire to get away unscathed.
They needed a distraction. Temple turned to Hank for ideas, but he gave a sorry shake of the head. Luther had clambered up into the loft and was searching for a gap in the wood through which he could shoot at their attackers.
“I can pick them off from here while you make a run for the horses,” he said, leaning back.
“You won’t get all of them and besides, we’re not leaving you here,” Temple said.
“I never said you should. Just get my horse, too, and we’ll get out of here while making them eat enough lead to make them think twice about coming after us.”
Temple was about to shake his head, but Hank caught his eye.
“It’s a plan, and we have to do something before Kate returns,” he said.
When Luther nodded, Temple picked out a route to their horses. They were eating flowers from baskets on the porch, so they’d have to cover thirty yards in full view from the buggy. Even with Luther’s cover Temple reckoned they’d need plenty of luck, so he searched for another possibility and he noted that one of the stable doors had been moved to the side wall for repair.
The door was heavy and it wouldn’t provide adequate protection from sustained gunfire, but it was bulky enough to mask their precise location. He backed away to the door and picked it up, finding that he could just about lift it on his own.
Even better, on the back a length of wood held the planks together; it was at the right height for him to rest it on a shoulder. Hank checked through the open doorway and then hurried over to join him.
“Let’s do this before I start thinking about how bad an idea it is,” he said taking hold of the door.
Temple nodded and when Luther signaled that he was in a good position, they maneuvered the door to the side of the doorway.
“Wait until we’ve drawn their fire,” Temple said to Luther. “Then give them hell.”
On the count of three they raised the door, ducked down to keep their heads below the top and fast-walked outside. To Temple’s delight they pounded on for five paces before a cry of alarm went up.
Someone shouted out that they needed to be stopped while someone else demanded they went back to the stables. They took advantage of the confusion and kept walking, and even better, they achieved a rhythm that let them speed up.
They’d halved the distance to the nearest horse when the shooting started. Lead whistled over the top of the door. A second shot sprayed splinters a few inches from Temple’s hand.
In an instinctive gesture he flinched his hand back and the temporary loss of support made the door plow into the ground and bring them to a grinding halt. Luckily it also stopped the men firing as they awaited their next move.
Luther gave them plenty to think about as he rattled gunfire at them. Shouted orders ripped out and footfalls pounded making Temple raise his head over the top of the door. The men who had been lying flat were hurrying into safety behind the buggy, while another man was running toward them.
Luther made him pay for his brave move and a low shot to the side sent him spinning to the dirt. A second man had been moving to follow him out but he hurried back into cover.
“Stop admiring the view and get moving,” Hank said behind him, shoving the door along the ground for emphasis.
Temple took the strain on the door and they set off. The brief rest had helped them regain their strength and they managed a strong loping pace toward the horses. Another volley of shots tore through the door, but they were all through the edge of the wood where Temple had been before he’d moved back.
They reached the steps up on to the porch, where they faced the hardest task of coming out to secure the horses. Temple turned to Hank for suggestions and he was pointing at the base of the porch.
For most of its length, the porch had short, white-painted rails, but on either side of the steps the rails had been fenced in. They lowered the door to the ground and went to their knees, allowing the door to lean against the posts on either side of the steps.
Then they fast-crawled up the steps and rolled into hiding, taking either side so that they flanked the steps. Temple gathered his breath, preparing to run for the horses from an unexpected position, but then he got a better result when the leader shouted out an order.
“Stop them getting in the house,” he called. “It’ll take forever to flush them out of there.”
Gunfire tore out, followed by a cry of pain showing that someone had tried to move out from the buggy and had then been dispatched by Luther. Then Emerson’s men reverted to silence.
Long moments passed in which Temple lay behind the solid planks on the porch, trying to work out what their attackers were doing. A decision must have been reached, for a thud sounded as the buggy was tipped over.
Sustained gunfire rattled, but it was all directed at the door, which shook with every shot that holed it. Then the door slid down the posts to clatter to the ground on its back.
“The front door never opened,” someone shouted. “They didn’t go inside.”
