CHAPTER 40

The three men stared at the poster in stunned silence as a long moment dragged past.

Then Monte Carson burst out, “That’s loco! The Santa Rosa Kid’s been dead for fifteen years, at least. I don’t remember exactly when the law caught up to him and stretched his neck, but I know that’s what happened. I talked to people who were there at Yuma when he walked up the steps to the gallows!”

“Maybe so,” Pearlie said, “but I know as soon as I laid eyes on that Markham jasper for the first time, I thought I recognized him. I was in the same crew as the Kid a time or two myself, and you don’t forget an hombre like him.”

Thoughts clamored through Brice’s head. He tried to calm them and force his brain to function logically. That wasn’t easy to do when an icy dagger of fear for Denny’s safety was shoved in his belly. But after a few seconds, he was able to say, “Hold on a minute, both of you. Even if this Santa Rosa Kid was still alive somehow, he’d have to be in his forties, maybe even close to fifty years old. There’s no way Steve Markham is that old.”

“You sure about that?” asked Pearlie. “Some fellas don’t look their age.”

“Pretty damned sure. I’ve gotten several good close looks at him, remember, while we were whaling the tar out of each other.”

“Brice is right,” Monte said as he tapped a finger against the poster. “Yeah, Markham bears a mighty strong resemblance to the fella on this dodger, but they can’t be the same person. It’s just not possible.”

Pearlie didn’t look convinced, but he said, “Well, how do you explain it, then?”

Brice thought about it some more and then said, “Maybe Markham is the son of this Santa Rosa Kid. Do you know what the Kid’s real name was?”

Monte and Pearlie looked at each other.

Monte shook his head. “I don’t reckon I ever heard it.”

“Me, neither,” said Pearlie. “We just called him the Kid. He wasn’t even really all that young, come to think of it. He must’ve been twenty-four, twenty-five, somewhere in there.”

“All the more reason to think that he and Markham aren’t the same person, even though they look so much alike,” Brice said. “They could almost be twins, but the age difference rules that out, too. The only thing that makes sense is if they’re father and son.”

Monte said, “I ought to be able to find out what the Kid’s real name was. I can send a wire to the warden at Yuma Prison, down in Arizona Territory. That’s where he was locked up and finally hanged.” The sheriff rubbed his chin and frowned in thought. “Although that might not actually prove anything. The Kid could have been using some alias when he was locked up.”

“And we don’t have any proof that Steve Markham is the other fella’s real name, either,” Brice pointed out. “All we have to go on is what Markham told us. One or both of them could have lied.”

Pearlie said, “Well, then, the only real evidence we have is that right there” his finger jabbed the picture on the wanted poster—“and it ain’t lyin’. No two fellas ever looked that much alike without bein’ related.”

“And Denny’s gone to Montana with him,” Monte muttered.

The same thought loomed enormously in Brice’s mind. He wasn’t the sort of man given to panic. If he had been, he never would have been able to become a deputy U.S. marshal. But the idea that Denny was off somewhere far away, possibly alone with the son of a brutal killer, made his insides clench in tight knots.

“Cal’s along on that trip, too,” said Pearlie, “as well as Gene Cunningham and some of the other hands, and they’re all good fellas. They’ll look out for Denny, whether she wants ’em to or not.”

“She won’t,” Brice said. “And she’s mighty stubborn about getting her way.”

“Something else we need to consider,” Monte said. “Even if Markham is the Santa Rosa Kid’s son—”

“He is,” Pearlie broke in. “Ain’t no doubt in my mind of that. That’s why I felt like I knew him all along.”

“Even if he is,” Monte went on, “that doesn’t mean he’s the same sort of man his father was. A man can have an owlhoot for a pa and not be on the wrong side of the law himself.”

Brice said, “That’s true, but what are the chances?”

Monte shrugged. “That’s just it. We don’t know.”

“We don’t know a damned thing.” Brice picked up the wanted poster and stared at it, seeing the features of Steve Markham in the lines printed on the page. He wanted to crumple the paper and throw it against the wall. “That’s the problem. We don’t know what Markham’s up to, if anything. But it’s too dangerous to let a man like that run free until we find out what he’s planning.”

“How do you figure on doing that?” Pearlie asked.

Brice shoved the fear aside in his mind. He needed to think quickly and clearly. A lot might be depending on it. “Those livestock cars with the horses in them have probably been changed over to a Northern Pacific train in Chicago by now and are heading west toward Montana,” he said, thinking aloud. “What’s the name of the town where they’re going?”

“Stirrup,” Pearlie supplied. “It’s the closest stop to the Circle C Ranch, about eighty miles south of there.”

“I don’t think Markham would try anything while they’re on the train,” Brice mused. “Too many people around. If he’s up to no good, he won’t strike until they’re driving that horse herd north.”

“What could he do?” asked Monte. “Try to steal the horses?”

“More likely he’d try to kidnap Denny. Get her off alone somewhere, grab her and tie her on her horse, and take off.”

Pearlie snorted. “He’d have his hands full doin’ that, I’ll damn well betcha.”

“Yes, but if he’s ruthless enough . . . and he takes her by surprise . . .” Brice’s mouth twisted bitterly. “She probably trusts him and would never expect anything like that.”

“All right. Let’s just take it easy,” Monte said. “I’ll send a wire to the local lawman in Stirrup and ask him to take Markham into custody when the train gets there. He can hold him until we get this straightened out.”

Brice started to nod, then stopped and shook his head. “If it turns out that Markham actually is innocent, and Denny finds out we had him arrested, she’ll be mad as she can be.”

“Send the wire to Cal instead,” Pearlie suggested. “That boy’s plenty tough and levelheaded. If Markham’s up to no good, Cal will put a stop to whatever it is. And if there ain’t really anything to worry about, Cal will keep his mouth shut and Denny won’t have no reason to be aggravated at any of us.”

“We’re all forgetting something very important,” Monte said. “Smoke. We need to tell him what’s going on. If he ever finds out we knew his little girl might be in trouble and we didn’t tell him about it . . . Well, let’s just say I don’t ever want to have Smoke Jensen that mad at me.”

Pearlie shook his head. “I know what you’re sayin’, Monte, and I ain’t claimin’ you’re wrong, but the problem is that Miss Sally’s just now startin’ to get over whatever was ailin’ her. If she finds out Miss Denny’s in danger, it’s liable to make her get sick all over again. I don’t think we can risk that when we don’t know for sure that Markham’s up to no good.”

Brice knew it in his gut, regardless of what either of the other men said, but how much were his instincts being influenced by jealousy and his dislike of Markham? Honestly, he couldn’t answer that question.

“You don’t reckon Smoke could keep it from Sally until we find out something for sure?” Monte asked.

“Smoke’s never been able to keep secrets from Miss Sally,” Pearlie replied. “She’d be able to tell that somethin’ was wrong, and she’d get it out of him, mark my words on that.” He sighed. “I don’t like it, not one little bit, but I think we got to handle this one on our own, boys. Send that wire so it’ll be waitin’ at Stirrup for Cal, Monte. That’s all we can do.”

Brice was still holding the wanted poster with the Santa Rosa Kid’s likeness on it. He dropped it on the desk and said, “That’s not all. I’m going to Montana.”

“Damn it, boy, they got too big a lead on you! You can’t catch up to ’em.”

“I’ll be traveling faster on the train than they will once they start driving those horses north,” Brice argued. “And then when I get to Stirrup, I can pick up some extra saddle mounts and switch off between them, so I can move twice as fast as they will with the herd. If I push hard, I’ll have an outside chance of catching up to them before they reach the Circle C.”

Monte’s face and voice were grim as he said, “Maybe that’s true, Brice, but if Markham’s planning some sort of deviltry, odds are he will have made his move before then.”

“You’re right, Sheriff,” Brice admitted, his own voice showing the strain he was under. “But I have to try. If I didn’t, and if anything happened to Denny, I . . . I’d never be able to live with myself.”

Monte looked at him for a long moment and then nodded. “I reckon I understand, son. But what if the chief marshal tries to get in touch with you and give you a new assignment, and you’re off in Montana chasing after Denny and Markham?”

“Then it’ll probably mean I lose my badge, but I’ll just have to take that chance.”