Kilpatrick wore a pair of Cavalry style Butternut pants, held up by broad suspenders over a gray shirt. A much used cloth coat covered the holstered revolver strapped around his waist and a battered Derby hat was jammed on his head.
‘Sergeant, just the sight of you will make even a Tong man run away,’ Hallows said, barely managing to keep a straight face.
‘If that’s the case, sir,’ Kilpatrick said, ‘then I’ll be a happy man.’ He reached under the back of his coat to show the lethal-looking wooden billy club he carried. ‘Just in case I run out of bullets, you understand,’ he added.
They had gathered in Hallows’ office for a final discussion. Richard Hunt was there too, disappointment showing on his face at not being fit enough to join them. He had accepted the group decision and in truth he understood. He was still weak from his wound and in no state to go riding across country on the back of a jogging horse. The doctor, too, was concerned over him and wanted to keep an eye on his patient.
‘No strenuous maneuvers. That arm needs time for the damage to knit together. And you will still be weak from blood loss for a while.’
‘Fine, you’re the doctor,’ Hunt said. ‘I just wanted to make my mark. The Chinese Tong is why I came to America in the first place.’
‘From what I’ve heard,’ Bodie said, ‘you’ve already made your mark.’
‘Still leaves me out of the main action.’
‘Richard,’ Brand said, ‘staying at Doc Boyd’s and watching over him is important. The Tong might have it on their minds to make a visit if they believe Henry Lee is still alive.’
‘True enough,’ Hallows said. ‘They don’t give up easily and they are strong on retribution.’
‘All right, Jason, I’m convinced. I’ll get over there now.’ Hunt said. He had his revolver holstered on his right hip, butt forward so he could easily reach it with his left hand. ‘Good luck, chaps,’ he said as he left.
Boyd wished them luck and followed Hunt out.
‘The place Lee described,’ Brand said. ‘Where they might have Jasmine Soong…’
‘About five miles outside the city,’ Hallows said, indicating it on a map tacked to his office wall. ‘The Belker place has been deserted for a few years since the original owner went bankrupt and left. Mora bay is here. No more than a couple of miles west.’
‘I can find it,’ Kilpatrick said. ‘Give me a half hour and I’ll have horses ready.’
After the Irishman had left Brand and Bodie readied the weapons at hand. Hallows had provided long guns and ammunition for them.
‘We could find ourselves facing a strong force,’ he pointed out.
‘Then let’s make sure were loaded for bear,’ Bodie said, a cold grin on his face. ‘For a lot of damn bears. I’m in the mood for a hunt.’
‘Is he always so cheerful?’ Hallows asked.
‘Bodie? Yeah, he always sees the funny side of any situation.’
‘Nobody ever said that about me before.’
‘Take it as a compliment.’
~*~
Kilpatrick showed up with four saddled horses. Mounted they rode slowly through the busy streets until the city fell behind them and they picked up a well-beaten trail leading west. The ocean lay on their left, gradually slipping from sight as Kilpatrick veered slightly north. At first they found themselves riding by ranches and farms, the countryside lush and scattered with timber. The further they rode from San Francisco, the wider spread were the outfits.
Drawing rein in a scatter of trees Kilpatrick thrust out an arm. ‘There she is,’ he said.
Beyond the trees the terrain fell away in a long, sweeping view into a wide basin, bounded on all sides by open slopes. A generous house, constructed in the Spanish style, with white walls and a deep red tiled roof. There were a number of strongly built corrals, outhouse and a pair of large barns. A wide stream, water sparkling in the sun, curved along the land. A tall windmill swung lazily in the slight breeze. The place had a deserted look to it, grass and undergrowth long and unattended.
“Now that,’ Hallows said, ‘is real pretty. Kind of place a man could take to and settle down.’
‘Yeah?’ Bodie said. ‘So tell me why there isn’t a moving soul, man or beast, in sight? Tell me that. Hell, maybe Tung has moved his people away.’
Even though they sat and studied the layout for a good ten minutes they saw nothing.
‘If we circle around we can come in back of the barns,’ Brand suggested. ‘Take a closer look.’
‘I guess,’ Hallows said. ‘Since we rode all this way, be a shame not to have a closer look.’
They stayed within the cover of the trees and made the long, slow ride around the rim of the basin until they were looking down on the far side of the spread. They dismounted, tied the horses under cover. Rifles in hand they walked the slope that took them to the flatland and the back yard of the house, coming up to the solid bulk of the barns.
It was here they made a discovery. Moving down the side of the closest barn they picked up muffled sounds coming from inside.
‘If that ain’t horses…’ Bodie said.
A side door allowed them access. The mingled odors of hay and feed, leather and horses met them. Down one wall were a number of stalls and unsaddled horses stirred restlessly when they moved toward the main doors.
Brand paused to inspect a line of tracks in the hard packed dirt floor. The marks left by iron-rimmed wheels. Some kind of buggy pulled by a two-horse team. He followed the tracks to the main door. He crouched and checked the marks. Moisture was still seeping into the earth. He gestured to Bodie and the man hunter made his own inspection
‘Few hours I’d say. Somebody left.’
The tracks led to the main door and when they eased one of the high doors open a few inches they were able to see the buggy tracks lead off across the yard and out onto open land.
‘If they left someone in the house,’ Kilpatrick said, ‘there’s likely they’ll know where the buggy went.’