grateful to Sierra for distracting Jake’s attention from her. Then she realized it was too late to give Sierra a warning about why Jake Kearney had come to Santa Fe. Unless Anabethwanted to run. she had no choice except to trust Sierra not to give her away.
And Anabeth had no intention of running.
She was leaving when she saw Grier come into the bar. His arm was in a sling and a bloody bandage covered his wrist. He seemed agitated as he crossed to a table in the corner and spoke to a man whose back was to her.
Anabeth recognized the man as he turned around. It was Wat Rankin. She took a step forward to confront him, and realized she couldn’t do that with Jake Kearney upstairs. Any gunplay and the Ranger was liable to come running. After he put his pants on, Anabeth thought with a cynical smile.
In the future she would carefully choose the time and place for any confrontations. Anabeth watched Wat Rankin and Otis Grier head toward the batwing doors of the saloon. She snuck out the back way and hurried down the alley after them.
From now on she would be the hunter, and they would be the hunted.
6
Wat shoved his way through the batwing doors and followed Otis Grier into the night. “I’m telling you the man who shot at you couldn’t have been Booth Calhoun. Booth is dead!”
“It sounded like Booth. And you know Booth was gone when we went back to the shack to search again for the gold. I tell you it was him.”
“And I say you’re crazy,” Wat said to the big man as he stepped into the saddle. “Even assuming he could have survived getting hit by seven bullets, Booth wouldn’t be on his feet yet. Have you forgotten he was shot in both knees?”
“What about those pearl-handled Colts I saw in the alley? How do you explain that?” Grier asked as he slung his heavy weight onto his horse with surprising grace.
Wat was silent for the length of time it took them to get to the last lights of Santa Fe. “I figure the Kid came back and found Booth. He took the body and the guns. The man you met in that dark alley was the Kid. Which means he’s somewhere in Santa Fe.”
Grier grunted and scratched at his beard. “I suppose it coulda been the Kid. I didn’t get a good look at him in the shadows.”
“Where’d you leave the rest of the gang?”
“Camp’s set up a couple miles south of town. We gotta warn ’em about the Kid,” Grier said.
“Yeah, the Kid will have to be taken care of.” This newest crisis made Wat wonder if he had made a mistake manipulating the Calhoun Gang instead of simply hiring someone to murder Sam Chandler.
Then he thought of the look in Chandler’s eyes when he had recognized Will Reardon behind the outlaw’s mask, and the expression on Chandler’s face when he realized he was a dead man. No, it had been worth the risk to do the deed himself.
He had set up everything perfectly so that when he got possession of Window Rock, he would get Claire Chandler as well. Only there had been a few hurdles along the way. Booth Calhoun was one.
Booth hadn’t wanted anyone killed during the gang’s robberies, so Wat had been left with no choice except to get rid of him. The Kid was another problem altogether. The Kid would have to die, of course. But not until he had told them where Sam Chandler’s gold was hidden.
Wat didn’t mind the killing. He had gotten an early start at it, having shot his drunken father for beating him when he was only eight years old. At ten, he had stabbed to death the man who pimped for his mother. He had learned early that if he wanted something he had to get it for himself. And he had discovered that the easiest way to deal with an obstacle was to remove it.
Wat had never flinched from the dirty jobs that had to be done. Shooting Booth in the back hadn’t given him a qualm. There was, after all, no honor among thieves. But he had made a serious miscalculation by not making sure Booth had all the gold with him before he ambushed him.
And he should
And Anabeth had no intention of running.
She was leaving when she saw Grier come into the bar. His arm was in a sling and a bloody bandage covered his wrist. He seemed agitated as he crossed to a table in the corner and spoke to a man whose back was to her.
Anabeth recognized the man as he turned around. It was Wat Rankin. She took a step forward to confront him, and realized she couldn’t do that with Jake Kearney upstairs. Any gunplay and the Ranger was liable to come running. After he put his pants on, Anabeth thought with a cynical smile.
In the future she would carefully choose the time and place for any confrontations. Anabeth watched Wat Rankin and Otis Grier head toward the batwing doors of the saloon. She snuck out the back way and hurried down the alley after them.
From now on she would be the hunter, and they would be the hunted.
6
Wat shoved his way through the batwing doors and followed Otis Grier into the night. “I’m telling you the man who shot at you couldn’t have been Booth Calhoun. Booth is dead!”
“It sounded like Booth. And you know Booth was gone when we went back to the shack to search again for the gold. I tell you it was him.”
“And I say you’re crazy,” Wat said to the big man as he stepped into the saddle. “Even assuming he could have survived getting hit by seven bullets, Booth wouldn’t be on his feet yet. Have you forgotten he was shot in both knees?”
“What about those pearl-handled Colts I saw in the alley? How do you explain that?” Grier asked as he slung his heavy weight onto his horse with surprising grace.
Wat was silent for the length of time it took them to get to the last lights of Santa Fe. “I figure the Kid came back and found Booth. He took the body and the guns. The man you met in that dark alley was the Kid. Which means he’s somewhere in Santa Fe.”
Grier grunted and scratched at his beard. “I suppose it coulda been the Kid. I didn’t get a good look at him in the shadows.”
“Where’d you leave the rest of the gang?”
“Camp’s set up a couple miles south of town. We gotta warn ’em about the Kid,” Grier said.
“Yeah, the Kid will have to be taken care of.” This newest crisis made Wat wonder if he had made a mistake manipulating the Calhoun Gang instead of simply hiring someone to murder Sam Chandler.
Then he thought of the look in Chandler’s eyes when he had recognized Will Reardon behind the outlaw’s mask, and the expression on Chandler’s face when he realized he was a dead man. No, it had been worth the risk to do the deed himself.
He had set up everything perfectly so that when he got possession of Window Rock, he would get Claire Chandler as well. Only there had been a few hurdles along the way. Booth Calhoun was one.
Booth hadn’t wanted anyone killed during the gang’s robberies, so Wat had been left with no choice except to get rid of him. The Kid was another problem altogether. The Kid would have to die, of course. But not until he had told them where Sam Chandler’s gold was hidden.
Wat didn’t mind the killing. He had gotten an early start at it, having shot his drunken father for beating him when he was only eight years old. At ten, he had stabbed to death the man who pimped for his mother. He had learned early that if he wanted something he had to get it for himself. And he had discovered that the easiest way to deal with an obstacle was to remove it.
Wat had never flinched from the dirty jobs that had to be done. Shooting Booth in the back hadn’t given him a qualm. There was, after all, no honor among thieves. But he had made a serious miscalculation by not making sure Booth had all the gold with him before he ambushed him.
And he should
Similar Books
