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Riders were moving through the darkness. They weren’t close enough yet for Braxton to work out who they were or what they were doing, but they were heading toward the hanging tree behind the station, and they were coming from the side of town where the Norton brothers lived.
That was all the proof Braxton needed to move closer. The last two days had been frustrating. Despite his hope that he’d prove the Norton brothers were members of the hangrope posse, he’d not made any progress in his investigation.
After McSween had found him, he’d been too tired to carry out anything more than a perfunctory search for the missing Jeremiah Fox. In the end McSween had searched alone. Today McSween had again searched alone while he left Braxton to continue the broader investigation, although he’d warned him not to annoy the Norton brothers.
So Braxton had talked with as many people as possible, hoping someone would reveal something or behave guiltily. Nobody had and neither had the brothers ventured into town. When he and the marshal had met at sundown to compare stories, McSween had failed to find any trace of Jeremiah.
They had retired for the night, hoping they’d have better luck the next day. But Braxton’s mind had been too active for him to relax and, despite McSween’s warning, he’d headed out of town.
He’d planned to keep lookout on the Norton’s home, but movement behind the station had curtailed his mission. As Braxton crept through the shadows, doubled over, he became more certain that ahead were the men who had kidnapped him at Renton’s house.
Three riders were moving slowly, flanking an open wagon. On a moonless, cloudy night Braxton couldn’t tell whether Yves Couder’s wagon was being used again, but the form of a man was standing hunched over in the back, and the man was struggling to keep his balance.
Braxton reached the endmost tree in the line of five fifty yards ahead of the leading rider, where he crouched down. Working silently the riders directed the wagon past the trees, giving Braxton hope that he’d been mistaken, but thirty yards on the riders stopped.
Then the wagon swung around to present its side to him. When the wagon stopped the man on the back lurched forward before he went to his knees, and when he stood up he drew a second man to his feet, revealing that he’d been standing guard over a prisoner.
Worse, the prisoner had a sack over his head. Before the situation could get out of control Braxton drew his gun and stepped forward. He fired into the air.
“That shot was for the clouds,” he shouted. “The next is for the first man to make a wrong move.”
The hangrope posse reacted calmly. The captor and prisoner froze in the process of clambering off the wagon, while the driver and riders leaned forward. This was his first sighting of these men, but they’d all lowered their hats to hide most of their faces.
In the poor light he could discern only blank features, suggesting they wore masks. Having only met the Norton brothers once before he couldn’t tell if they made up the bulk of this group. He stopped midway between the tree and the lead rider and gestured with his gun.
“Move real slow,” he said. He gulped to moisten his throat when his voice emerged at a higher pitch than he’d have liked, and his obvious nervousness made two riders edge forward. “Firstly, free Jeremiah. Help him down and remove the sack from his head.”
The prisoner straightened up, his animated response confirming Braxton had identified him correctly. Then he moved toward the back of the wagon, but his captor placed a restraining hand on his shoulder halting him. Braxton waited for the captor to carry out his order, but long moments dragged on with nobody moving.
“I hope you’re not going to do anything stupid. Free the prisoner.” Braxton waited, but still nobody moved. He raised his gun and fired into the air. “I said, free the prisoner!”
The hangrope posse stood impassively, making Braxton unsure of what he should do next, but thankfully Jeremiah broke the impasse when he took his chance for freedom. He shrugged off his captor’s hand and moved on.
He’d judged well where the edge of the wagon was, and he vaulted down readily but, with his hands tied behind his back, he fell awkwardly and pitched forward. Jeremiah still scrambled to his feet and with his head down he ran on, picking out Braxton’s position accurately.
Braxton figured that if the hangrope posse wouldn’t cooperate, arresting them was less important than saving Jeremiah. He backed away, meaning to usher him to safety. His action made the riders tense for a moment.
Then Braxton sensed movement behind him. He turned at the hip and a man was standing up close behind him. He just had time to chide himself for assuming he’d accounted for all the members of the group when the man lashed out.
Gunmetal glinted a moment before a swiping blow to the back of the head made Braxton stumble. He took a faltering step and then dropped to his knees, where he swayed while feeling nauseated and disorientated.
The next he knew he was lying on his chest with his cheek smashed down against grit. He moved on to all fours to try to avoid the next blow, but his limbs wouldn’t obey him and he flopped back down on to his chest.
The ground beneath him felt like it was swaying, and he tensed until the apparent movement stopped. Cautiously he raised himself again, and only the dim outline of stark vegetation was close by.
He sensed that he was alone. By the time he’d pushed himself to his feet he’d accepted that he’d been knocked unconscious and that time had passed. When he’d gathered enough strength to move on, he reckoned he’d been taken away from the hanging tree and dumped elsewhere.
The sky being cloudy, he couldn’t work out where he was, nor could he navigate his way back to town. He assumed that by now he would be too late to save Jeremiah, but when a chill wind blasted against his face making him shiver, he turned his thoughts to his own well-being.
He roved around in widening circles until he found wheel tracks. Then, with his head down, he followed them. The brisk walk soon warmed him up while the cool wind sharpened his senses.
When Shady Grove first appeared ahead the cloud was breaking up to reveal a lightening sky, so he sped up. Sadly he approached the town on the station side and it became clear that he’d failed to save Jeremiah.
McSween had found the swaying body. He was in the process of cutting Jeremiah down when Braxton walked into his line of sight.
“You picked a fine time for an early morning stroll,” McSween called to him when he reached the trees.
Braxton didn’t reply until he’d assured himself of the dead man’s identity.
“It started as a midnight stroll,” Braxton said. He described what had happened last night.
“And you didn’t recognize the men?” McSween asked when he’d finished.
“No. The riders kept their distance and they hid their faces. I caught only a fleeting glimpse of the man who knocked me out.” Braxton shrugged. “He was about your build, but I didn’t see his face.”
McSween frowned, leaving Braxton to turn to the tree, which he was now thinking of cutting down so that they wouldn’t have to perform this ritual again.
“It’s pity you didn’t, and it’s a pity nobody heard the gunfire last night. I only heard about this when a worker on his way to the depot found him.”
Braxton walked around the body while wondering what else he could have done to save this man.
“I assume Jeremiah gave you as little trouble as Renton did.”
“Jeremiah was quiet recently, but he had a colorful past.” McSween waited until Braxton raised a querying eyebrow before continuing. “He spent a year in jail for stealing from Yves’s store and before that he was a hired gun for the railroad.”
“So the hangrope posse isn’t delivering justice for current crimes. They really are killing men who used to work for the railroad in their search for the missing payroll?”
McSween raised a hand. “It’s possible, but as I told you, don’t waste your time on wild theories.”
Braxton didn’t reply until they’d loaded Jeremiah’s body on to the back of McSween’s horse and they were on their way back into town.
“Renton said two more would die. Who could be the last one?”
“I don’t know,” McSween said with a weary sigh.
Braxton frowned. “I know you don’t want me to accuse Nathaniel Norton, but aside from the depot, all that’s beyond this tree is the brothers’ mission, so perhaps Jeremiah was kept prisoner there before they hanged him.”
“If the brothers are guilty, hanging the men close to their own property wouldn’t be sensible.”
“Not being sensible is a good description of those men.”
McSween uttered a supportive laugh. “I agree, but they never worked for the railroad and I know of nobody else in town who worked on it either.”
Even though he was unwilling to abandon his only hunch, Braxton struggled to find any good reason for it to be likely. He shrugged.
“All right, I’ll keep an open mind.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. We need to be sure before we act. Whoever is taking justice into their own hands is ignoring the law, which means we have to follow it or we’ll be no better than they are.”
Braxton fingered the back of his neck and shivered, reckoning he’d never forget the feel of the noose around his neck.
“I know, but that’s hard to accept after what they did to me.”
“I’m sorry you suffered that, but they didn’t kill you.” As they reached the edge of town, McSween gestured at the body and frowned. “Clearly their twisted justice has a method.”
“Having a method doesn’t sound like the Norton brothers.”
McSween drew back on the reins outside the undertakers’ workshop.
“I’m pleased to hear you say that. Question everything and don’t talk to the brothers again until we have proof.”
Braxton nodded. McSween jumped down from his horse to head into the workshop, leaving Braxton to return to the law office. On the way the thought uppermost in his mind was that no matter what McSween said, he couldn’t wait for a lucky break.
He had to make something happen, but when he dismounted outside the office he flinched. His brother Martin was walking down the boardwalk toward him. He was escorting a young, black-clad woman, who was having difficulty in walking.
Braxton gave a smile that Martin didn’t return, so Braxton hurried ahead and opened the door for the pair. The woman slipped inside without acknowledging him, leaving Braxton to face Martin.
“I didn’t expect you two would return so quickly,” he said.
“Neither did I.” Martin gestured through the door. “What’s even stranger, she’s not the widow woman I left with!”