“You hurt?” he asked.

  “My ankle. I may have sprained it when I jumped into the freight car.”

  “There’s no time to look at it,” Slocum said, canting his head to one side. “They’re coming after us. Davies must have recognized us.”

  “We should have stayed hidden,” Laurel said.

  Slocum doubted that would have worked. Davies was too thorough when it came to a robbery. His methods were changing from waiting for another gang to do the robbery, then stealing off their dead bodies. Or maybe he had joined this gang with the intent of killing the others, leaving the money to him and Lem Butler. There wasn’t anything too despicable for Davies.

  “Can we outrun them?” Laurel sounded as if she was going to cry. Slocum looked at her and saw that she might have done more than sprain her ankle. She looked faint enough to pass out from pain.

  “Not in your condition. We’ll find a spot and fight them off.”

  “Where?” Laurel looked around. Slocum knew what she’d see. Nothing suggested even a shadow to hide in around here. They were near the foothills of the Wasatch Mountains, and losing Davies and his gang was out of the question since Slocum didn’t have adequate time to effectively hide their trail.

  “We ride hard,” he said. “In that direction. It looks like a canyon. If we’re lucky there will be branching canyons joining it, and we can try to confuse Davies.” Slocum doubted this would be possible but wanted to keep Laurel’s courage up by giving her some small hope.

  “Thank you, John,” she said. “I know what you’re trying to do. Go on, leave me. I’ll be all right. He wouldn’t dare hurt a woman.”

  “That’s exactly who he would hurt,” Slocum said harshly. “Are you looking to get raped and killed? Raped by all his men and then killed slowly? That’s the kind of treatment you can expect.”

  “I don’t think I can continue on much longer.”

  Slocum urged her horse forward with a swat to its rump. Laurel gamely hung on, but he could tell that her pain increased with every minute they rode. From the look of her boot, her ankle was swelling enough to completely fill it. As he rode, he reloaded his six-shooter, then crammed a few extra cartridges into the magazine of the carbine slung by his knee. Slocum was as ready as he could get for a real fight.

  To his surprise, they reached the wooded area at the mouth of the canyon. He wondered if he might decoy Davies away while Laurel hid nearby and waited for the gang to follow him. Then Slocum realized this wasn’t going to happen. Davies and his gang had closed the distance and were keeping them in sight. The steep slope to the canyon mouth was all that kept the outlaws back. Slocum guessed they had exhausted their horses reaching the point where they had stopped the train. Now the animals were flagging fast.

  But there was no way Laurel could hide.

  “Keep going,” Slocum urged. “Into the canyon. I’ll hold them off while you keep riding.”

  “I can’t, John. I can barely keep from passing out now. The pain makes my entire leg feel as if it’s been shoved into a furnace.”

  “Ride as far as you can, then hide,” Slocum said. He wheeled about and studied how Davies and the others were coming up the slope toward him. The Army sergeant had more men with him than Slocum had expected.

  “I can’t, John. I can help. Give me your six-gun and—”

  “Ride, dammit,” he snapped. “Get as far as you can.”

  Laurel started to argue, then saw Davies getting closer. Lead began flying as the sergeant and his men opened fire. She reluctantly turned her pony’s face and started into the canyon. Slocum watched to make sure she was obeying him; then he turned to face the oncoming outlaws.

  He dropped to the ground and found a large rock protruding from it. Flopped belly-down on it, he rested the short-barreled rifle in the palm of his left hand and sighted carefully. His first shot went wide. His second spooked Davies’s horse. But he was up against too many outlaws to have much chance. He vowed to give Laurel as big a head start as possible.

  Firing methodically, Slocum drove the outlaws back down the slope until they were just out of range. He settled down to wait. Every minute they put off launching another attack gave Laurel that much more time to escape. This satisfied Slocum as much as anything. He spread out the ammo he had and took inventory.

  It didn’t look good for him, so his only consolation lay in Laurel’s escape. He had fewer than twenty rounds for his rifle, and only what he had in the six-shooter. He would have to knock down an outlaw with every third shot to get out of this alive.

  Grimly, Slocum watched for a good shot. He was an expert marksman, but the range downhill was deceptive. The trajectory of the slug would go awry easily if he didn’t make sure of his target and range.

  “Charge!” came the loud cry from below. Slocum recognized Davies’s voice.

  Four men scrambled toward Slocum, firing wildly with their six-shooters. He got off a shot and took the leg out from under one. He missed the next five shots, then winged another outlaw in the arm. The outlaw cursed a blue streak, warning Slocum he had angered the man rather than incapacitated him.

  He got in a decent shot on the fourth man. This slug crashed squarely in the center of the man’s chest. Slocum’s experience told him he’d either killed the man outright or injured him so badly he might as well be dead.

  But the other three came closer, until Slocum could see their faces clearly. He realized Davies had sent them to be killed. The sergeant and Butler sat back safely, letting Slocum do what they had no doubt intended to do—kill their confederates.

  Slocum obliged, but it cost him all the ammunition for his rifle. All he had left was the six rounds in his Colt Navy. He drew it and waited to see what Davies had in store next.

  Nerves on edge, Slocum had whirled around and almost fired when he heard movement behind him.

  “Laurel! What the hell are you doing here? I told you—”

  “It’s a box canyon, John. And it’s not a very deep one. There’s no place to hide and no way I could ever get up the canyon walls, so I came back to be with you.”

  To die with me, Slocum thought grimly, turning to do what he could to stop Davies, Lem Butler and the other three outlaws launching their attack.

  18

  “Stay behind me,” Slocum said to Laurel Atkins; then he popped up over the rock to snap off two quick shots. Both slugs ripped through an outlaw. Slocum got a fleeting look at Davies’s expression and knew he had been right about the sergeant’s motives. Davies intended for Slocum to kill as many of the gang as possible, so Davies wouldn’t have to. When the gang was reduced to just Butler and the sergeant, the killing would end. And Slocum wondered if Butler might not be in danger from his partner.

  Slocum fired three more times and wounded another outlaw. He let out a rebel yell that spooked Lem Butler and sent him fleeing. He was still clumsy from the bullet Slocum had put into him back on the train, and he crashed into Davies, knocking the sergeant down. Slocum had one bullet left but didn’t have a good target. He sank back down, the assault ended for the moment.

  “You chased them off, John,” Laurel said.

  “Not for long. Davies is no fool. He knows I don’t have much ammo left.”

  “How much?”

  He held up his six-gun and said softly, “One shot.”

  “Oh” was all Laurel said, sitting down heavily. She was as white as a sheet and trembled like a leaf caught in a stiff autumn breeze. Leaning back against a rock, she rubbed her thigh, wincing as she did so. Slocum realized she wouldn’t be in pain much longer. Davies would see to that.

  He gripped the ebony handle of his six-gun even tighter and knew it would be a mercy for him to simply shoot Laurel now rather than let her live long enough to be captured by Davies and Butler. But he couldn’t do that. Better that they both went down fighting, if Laurel could put up that much of a fight.

  “Here,” he said, drawing his knife from his boot top and handing it to her. “Use it.”

  “We’re not going to get away, are we?”

  “You’re not going to hoof it out of here on that gimpy foot,” Slocum said, forcing a smile. “Good thing you’re not a horse or I’d have to shoot you.”

  “Save the last shot for them,” Laurel said, understanding that Slocum had actually considered this.

  “Why not?” Slocum took a deep breath, then swarmed over the rock that had protected him so far, cut loose with another rebel yell and charged downhill toward the sergeant, private and the remaining two gang members gathered in a huddle discussing what to do next.

  The unexpected frontal attack took them by surprise. Slocum fired as he ran, missed and crashed into Butler. He knocked the outlaw over. A heavy fist connected with the private’s chin and rocked his head back with a sharp snap, knocking him out. Then Slocum knew he had reached the end of the trail.

  He looked up into three leveled six-shooters.

  “This is gonna be a real pleasure, Slocum,” Davies said. “I kin do whatever I want with you. Kill you slow-like, maybe usin’ some Apache tricks I learned when I was stationed down at Fort Selden. I could make you regret you was ever born for days and days, but you’ve been such a pain in the ass I’m not goin’ to do that.”

  “You’re going to talk me to death. Is that it, Davies?” Slocum saw the anger flash on the sergeant’s face. He hoped to goad Davies into making a mistake, but that wasn’t going to happen. A slow smile of satisfaction crept onto the man’s lips.

  “As much fun as it’d be cuttin’ off your eyelids, stakin’ you out in the hot sun and watchin’ you die all blind and fearful, I’m goin’ to get as much enjoyment out of jist shootin’ you,” Davies said. He lifted his pistol to fire.

  The report caused Slocum to swallow hard. Then he realized the slug that should have ended his life had never come from the muzzle of Davies’s gun.

  Surprised he wasn’t dead but not questioning why he hadn’t died, Slocum rushed forward again. His six-gun swinging like a club, he collided with Davies and bowled the man over. Slocum immediately saw that the gunshot had put a bullet into Davies—from the back.

  “You son of a bitch,” Slocum said. He swung the butt of his pistol into Davies’s temple. The man went out like a light. Slocum rolled to the side and looked around. To his surprise, the fight was over. Two soldiers in tattered uniforms stood over the fallen outlaws. Another man, dressed only in soldier’s britches, took stumbling steps away.

  Laurel Atkins came limping down the slope, whooping and hollering. She threw herself into the man’s arms. He swung her around and kissed her soundly on the forehead, then hugged her close.

  “Darlin’, I never thought I’d see you again,” the man said. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, but you shouldna come out huntin’ for me.”

  “I couldn’t bear not knowing what happened to you,” Laurel said, hugging the man again. She pushed back and fumbled for the locket Slocum had found. She held it up for the man to see.

  “You found it. How?” The shaggy man stared at her in amazement.

  Slocum got to his feet, wary of the soldiers who held guns leveled on him. He walked to where Laurel still clung to the man who had saved them all.

  “Pleased to finally meet you, Sergeant Atkins,” Slocum said, thrusting out his hand. The sergeant didn’t reach for the hand, and suspiciously stared at him.

  “This is John Slocum, Father,” Laurel said. “He found the locket. He tracked you. He’s why I just knew we’d find you!”

  “You been lookin’ after my little girl?”

  “She’s not so little,” Slocum said. This time the man shook his hand. “And you look like you’ve been pulled through a knothole backwards.”

  “Feel like it, too. Me and my men over there, we’ve been out here waitin’ for our chance to bring down those varmints.” Joshua Atkins spat in the direction of the unconscious Davies.

  “Why didn’t you report back?” asked Laurel. “You must have known how frightened I’d be.”

  Sergeant Atkins shook his head sadly. “Wanted to go back. I did. For the sake of my men and those that were killed. But I didn’t dare report anywhere, especially back at Fort Crumpland. The commanding officer’s not who he claims—”

  “We know, Father, we know. He killed the proper commander,” Laurel said.

  “You knowin’ all that must be why he sent them owlhoots after you.”

  “Davies and the private—that one—by the name of Butler have been killing road agents and then stealing the loot that’s already been stolen,” Slocum said. “He branched out into killing anybody who crossed him, but I don’t think he was under Holman’s thumb. Not entirely. Sometimes occasion put them into bed together. Mostly, Davies robbed and Holman pretended he was in charge.”

  “Lieutenant Tartaglia’s in that up to his ears, too,” said Joshua Atkins. “Don’t matter their motives. It was Davies and his bunch that dogged our trail and shot us down, on Tartaglia’s orders.” Atkins fingered his pistol. “I spent the last three months thinkin’ ’bout what I’d do to him when I caught him, but now I can’t do it.”

  “Turn him over to the garrison at Fort Douglas,” Slocum said. He saw Atkins stiffen.

  “How do you know they aren’t mixed up in all this? There wasn’t nowhere we could turn. We tried to catch Davies, and we didn’t dare trust nobody in uniform. That’s a mighty sorry thing to say, but they might all have been against us.”

  “You’ve lived like an outlaw long enough. If we get Captain Wilson out of the Newsome jail and clear him of the robbery they committed,” Slocum said, glaring at Davies and Butler, “it won’t take much to get a company of troopers out of Fort Douglas to clean up your post.”

  “Why’d he do it?” Atkins asked.

  “Fort Crumpland was being closed down,” Slocum said. “Laurel can explain it all. I want to find some ammunition for my six-shooter and my rifle before we head on to Newsome.”

  “Is that a good thing, Slocum?” Atkins looked skeptical. “I don’t trust any of ’em. Especially not the law in these parts, not with our own soldiers shootin’ us in the back.”

  Slocum looked to Laurel to convince her father that he had been on the run too long and needed finally to trust someone. If he couldn’t believe his own daughter, there wasn’t much hope that he would come in out of the hills anytime soon. Slocum had seen this too often after the war. Men who had become so distrustful, they preferred living like animals to the company of men. Slocum figured this wasn’t Atkins’s problem, since he still had two of his troopers with him.

  Going through Davies’s gear, Slocum took a pistol he could load with captured ammunition. He stuffed the soldier’s six-shooter into his belt, wishing he could find ammunition for his own Colt but knowing .36-caliber was hard to come by in the Army.

  “You coming with us or you staying?” Slocum asked Atkins, who stood with his arm around Laurel’s shoulders. Side by side, Slocum could see the resemblance. Atkins was a powerful lot older in comparison, but his life had been hard lately. But their chins had the same square set, and something about the shape of their eyes told of their relationship. Atkins’s eyes were gray while Laurel’s were bright blue, but Slocum knew Laurel had inherited a great deal of beauty from her mother. The picture in the locket proved that.

  “Reckon me and my boys’ll be with you, Slocum. Laurel’s talked me into goin’ along.”

  “When we get the captain out of the town jail, that’ll settle most of the problems,” Slocum said.

  “The colonel’s a killer, Slocum,” Atkins said.

  Slocum remembered how Colonel Holman had murdered both Zoran and Craning. He agreed.

  They secured their prisoners, mounted and rode along slowly, Slocum in the lead. Atkins and Laurel brought up the rear, yammering away like the long lost relatives they were. Slocum had taken matters into his own hands and ordered the two privates with Atkins to ride on either side of their tight knot of prisoners.

  Three days later, they reached the city limits of Newsome.

  19

  “Go on, tell the marshal everything,” Joshua Atkins said. He shook Lem Butler hard enough to rattle his teeth.

  “None of that now,” Marshal Mendelsohn said, picking his own yellowed teeth with a splinter he had cut from the post outside the general store. From inside the store peered a half dozen pairs of eyes. Slocum wondered why those folks didn’t come on out where they could listen.

  “If he don’t talk, I’ll do more’n shake,” Atkins promised.

  “Now, we’re havin’ this talk outside the jailhouse ’cuz I want it to be informal. Nothin’ to get upset over,” said Mendelsohn. The marshal-barkeep looked at Slocum, then motioned him to one side.

  “Is that the gent what went missin’ from the post a few months back?”

  “It is,” Slocum said. “Laurel Atkins is his daughter. That’s Sergeant Joshua Atkins, and the two soldiers with him are all that survived an ambush Davies and Butler there set for them, under Lieutenant Tartaglia’s orders. The colonel knew about it and probably condoned it. The rest of Atkins’s squad was cut down as they rode. When they tried to get away, Davies potshotted them one by one.”

  “Where’s he been all this time?” Mendelsohn looked back at the three soldiers standing close together, their six-shooters leveled on Butler and Davies.

  “He’s a mite skittish about who to trust,” Slocum said. “Especially if they’re wearing a uniform—or a badge.”

  “I can see how that’s possible,” Mendelsohn said, continuing to apply the splinter to the hunk of meat caught between his teeth. “So if Lem there confesses to robbin’ Weiss’s bank, that lets the captain I’ve got penned up off the hook?”

  “Looks like it,” Slocum said. He hesitated to tell the marshal where the loot from the bank robbery had been buried. It would be a tidy sum to recompense him for all the trouble he had been through since coming to this part of Utah. He looked at Sergeant Atkins and knew then he couldn’t keep the gold stolen from the bank. The noncom had spent the better part of three months hiding from shadows and jumping every time he heard someone approaching. Davies and Butler had to be solidly nailed for their crimes.