"Are we close?" Mitch asked.
"I'd say they're about two hours ahead of us," answered Art.
"I grew up in a city. I don't know much about tracking," the junior detective said in awe. "We're gaining on them, aren't we?"
"They had about a four hour lead yesterday, so yeah, we're getting closer," the sheriff replied.
"The horse is still weighed down?" This question came from Wilcox.
Art nodded. "The beast is carrying a heavy load. That doesn't tell me if the burden it's carrying is alive, but it's reason to hope. Can't imagine Jasper continuing to haul Minnie around if he'd…" His throat clenched, and the rest of Art's words were choked off by the emotion threatening to overwhelm him.
"Where are they heading?" The senior detective wanted to know.
"I don't know." His voice was abrupt as he answered, "I'm beginning to wonder if Jasper isn't lost."
Mitch wondered, "Do you have much trouble with Indians around here?"
Shaking his head, Art answered, "Not in these parts, not really. We might run into some Nez Perce, but they're usually more to the northwest of here."
"You ever have many dealings with them?" Mitch pressed.
"Some. Why?" Art asked, impatience making his words short.
"You might want to take a look over there." Mitch pointed into the distance.
Three men sat astride their horses dressed in nothing more than buckskin leggings. Art surveyed the men before saying to his companions, "Stay behind me, and let me do the talking."
As he approached the men, he intentionally caused Mutiny to turn a bit so they could see the horse's markings. As an Appaloosa, Mutiny might be able to do a better job than he could of convincing the trio they were not enemies.
"Hello." He kept his voice both congenial and respectful.
The three conversed amongst themselves for a moment, and then the youngest of the men said, in accented English, "We wish to know how you found your horse."
"He picked me," Art answered.
The three again consulted with one another before the one said, "How did he choose you?"
Offering a smile, Art said, "He tried to eat my hat."
The young man said something to the other men, and they laughed. Then he said to Art, "We tell tales of one of your kind whose horse tried to eat his hat. It is good to see the horse is still strong."
"Best horse I've ever had. I depend on him every day, and he never lets me down. I've tried to take good care of him the way your people taught me."
Art's words were again translated. They all scanned him appraisingly. "What are you doing this far away from your people?" the young man asked.
"I am following a bandit who stole a woman. I aim to rescue her."
There was more back and forth chatter before Art was asked, "Is she your woman?"
Not quite sure how to answer, Art said, "Not yet, but she's going to be. Have you seen them?"
More quiet chatter. Then, "It is honorable to retrieve what is yours. It is dishonorable to take that which belongs to another man. This man you seek went that way," he said pointing in the distance, "but he will come to a blocked path he cannot pass. It will force him to come out over there." He again pointed in another direction. "If you ride now, you will get there before him. He will come from a canyon to your right. The canyon's mouth is marked with a white pyramid."
"Thank you," Art said to them. Nodding gratefully, he wheeled Mutiny around.
"Wait."
Chafing at the delay, Art glanced back. The youngest of the men spoke softly, without regard for Art's impatience.
A short while later, Art steered Mutiny in the direction indicated. He rode on, the spring sun beating down on his head, with Wilcox and Mitch fast on his heels.
****
"Confound it all, this is not what I need!" Jasper's irritation came out hot against Minnie's neck. His horse pranced sideways beneath their weight, agitated by the show of anger. The ground beneath them was sandy, and the horse was having difficulty walking through it with the weight of them both on its back.
"Should you put me down and make me walk? It might be easier on your horse. I'm sure you don't want to risk an injury to the animal." Minnie tried to keep her voice noncommittal.
"You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you?" Jasper asked harshly.
Jasper was not cut out to be on the run from the law. The longer they were away from Larkspur, the more unhinged he became.
"Tell me," she said, "were you always a criminal or did you become one after you were deputized?"
"That's enough!" he yelled, his voice blasting into her ear until she could feel her teeth vibrate.
Jasper stopped his horse and jumped off. Then he untied Minnie's hands from the pommel and pulled her down beside him. He unwound the rope around her wrists enough to get a little more length, then retied it to the pommel. "I think walking is a great idea," he said scornfully.
Minnie was now tied to the horse in such a way that she could not take more than a half step away from the beast's side. If she tired or did not keep up with the horse, she would be dragged or, worse, trampled under its feet. While they were stepping their way through this treacherous terrain it might not be a problem, but if the horse got spooked, or if Jasper decided to spur the animal on to a faster trot, Minnie would be doomed.
She was sure the man didn't want to kill her, so she assumed he was doing this to torture, frighten, or humiliate her. Either that, or he'd given away the last of his common sense. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of begging, she did her best to maintain her footing while keeping pace with the horse. For his part, the beast appeared as uncomfortable having her beside him as she was being there, which seemed to slow him down a bit. Or he disliked his master as much as she did and wanted to help her out. Minnie swallowed the small bubble of hysterical laughter that almost burst forth at the thought.
****
The three men rode hard for over an hour. Art was beginning to wonder if he'd missed the canyon altogether. Then something to the right caught his eye. Slowing Mutiny down, he jumped off the horse's back and dug through some brush that was starting to green up. Behind the plants was a small, neatly piled pyramid of white rocks.
Wilcox and Mitch dismounted as well, and the three began scouting for the best vantage point to watch the canyon's opening.
Mitch, the most citified, and least experienced of them all said, "I'm a crack shot. Get me a clear line of sight, and I won't miss." Art wasn't sure he wanted to gamble on what might be nothing more than overinflated pride when it came to Minnie's life.
"Nobody takes a shot if Minnie's in the line of fire. We can't risk it."
"Art," said Wilcox, "I appreciate where you're coming from, but what if Jasper's got a gun to her head? If we don't get the drop on him, this could get ugly real fast. We need to think through some scenarios. What would you do if you were Jasper coming out of this canyon?"
"I hear you," Art said, despite being loath to admit the older man might have a point. Indicating a tree-sheltered area a quarter mile past the mouth of the canyon, he said, "Let's put the horses down there. They'll be close if we need them, but the branches on those trees are full enough to keep them out of sight."
"I'll take them," said Mitch. His look said he didn't care for the way the previous conversation had gone, but he didn't seem the type who would go out of his way to prove a point. The last thing Art needed was a hotshot who was out to make a name for himself.
As soon as Mitch walked away with the horses, Wilcox said, "This is your hunt, Sheriff, but you're not out here alone. It would be wise of you to accept help that's offered and to understand the strengths of the men on your team. The better you know those strengths, the easier it'll be for you to capitalize on them."
Looking Wilcox in the eye, Art said, "You remind me of our old sheriff. I admired him. He had a lot of wisdom, and I wasn't near done learning it all when he left." Casting his eyes around at the terrain, he said, "So tell me, what would you do?"
Nodding, Wilcox said, "We don't know the situation. Minnie could be bound and gagged. She could be in front of him on the saddle. Could be behind him. They could be on the horse or on foot. Understand my meaning?"
Art, who had already decided exactly how Jasper would come out of the canyon, rolled his eyes. "I get it. I'm assuming Jasper will do what I'd do, and that's the only scenario I'm planning for." Wilcox nodded, and Art sighed. "Is he as good a shot as he says he is?"
"Best I've ever seen. He might not sit a horse the prettiest, and he might not know a thing about tracking, but he's a crack shot. He doesn't miss, and he won't put Minnie's life at risk." Art continued to look at Wilcox, questions swirling around in his head. The older man cut straight through those thoughts. "This isn't a contest to see who's the best lawman. We all have one goal, and we need to work together to get it done."
Art let out a long sigh as Mitch returned to the group. Hoping he wouldn't regret it, he said, "Okay, Mitch, if you had to pick your vantage point, where would it be?"
Mitch indicated a boulder fifteen feet from the canyon's mouth. "I'd perch behind the boulder there. The tree over there," he said, pointing to a tree up on a knoll nearby, "is casting its shadow over that boulder, making it hard to distinguish what's natural from what's not. It'll be good camouflage."
Art had thought the young man was out of his mind when he pointed to the boulder, but once he saw the way the shadows were falling, he realized it was the ideal perch. "Okay," he said, "what would be your second pick and your third?"
Mitch pointed out two other areas, one about thirty feet from the canyon mouth and on the other side from the perch he'd first pointed to. The last spot he selected was down near where the horses were stashed. There was a wash low enough it would allow a person to get down in it and hide. "Why that spot?" Art asked.
"If he gets past the first two men, that'll be the direction he heads. He might think he's gotten away, letting his guard down. Whoever's there will have the shot of last resort."
Art studied Wilcox. "You agree?"
"I don't see anything better. I'll take the wash if you two want the closer shots." Nodding to the first two locations, Wilcox added, "It'll be good for one of you to be on either side of the canyon. Minnie might be on the horse, but what if she's not? If you've got someone on either side, then there's a better chance at least one of you will have a clear shot."
The men took their weapons and began situating themselves in their different locations. Before settling in, Mitch asked, "How do we know he hasn't already come out of the canyon?"
Art's eyes were grim. "No tracks, no exit."
Mitch nodded, then bent down and picked up a handful of dirt and began rubbing it over the barrel of his rifle. From his location, Art saw what he was doing and gave him a funny look but didn't say anything. He'd ask later.
****
"Tell me, Minnie, how are you doing down there?" asked Jasper. When she didn't answer, he cackled and said, "Oh, yeah. I forgot. You can't talk."
Minnie couldn't wait for him to remove the gag. He had been insufferable – hurling insults at her, needling her at every turn. The sound of his voice had become worse to her than fingernails on the blackboard. It didn't help that they hadn't stopped for lunch and he'd not given her anything to eat at breakfast. She was starting to feel lightheaded, but she had to concentrate on making sure she took each step. She couldn't afford to lose her footing.
She'd already stumbled a couple times and had begun to think of the horse as her secret ally. Whenever she took a misstep, the horse slowed his gait, as if sensing her distress.
"I'll bet you thought Sheriff Paulson was going to come for you. Shows how much you know." She'd long ago decided Jasper simply couldn’t stand the quiet. He must find silence unbearable. That's the only explanation she could come up with for how much the man talked.
She'd tried a couple times to engage him in conversation, hoping it would help change his mind if he got to know her. However, every time she'd spoken, he'd told her to stop her yammering and then had launched into his own monologue. Eventually he'd gagged her. Because he didn't want to listen to anyone but himself, no doubt.