Free Autumn of the Gun by RALPH COMPTON Page B

north of here. Mostly deep canyons and brakes along the river. When I was a deputy U.S. marshal, working out of Fort Smith, I chased outlaws through there.”
    â€œNathan Stone, is there anything you haven’t done?”
    Nathan laughed. “Not much. A few miles west of here—along the Red, after it swings into Texas—I had a shootout with the Cullen Baker gang. I rode all the way back to Fort Smith, full of outlaw lead and raging fever.” 8
    â€œMy God, you’re lucky to be alive.”
    â€œI know,” said Nathan. “Escape death often enough and you become fatalistic. I know that someday there’ll be a slug with my name on it. Until then, I’m invincible.”
    Vivian shuddered. “Dear God, don’t talk like that!”
    It took only a few minutes for all their suspicions to be confirmed. When the saloon door again opened, Rutledge Jackman stepped out, followed by the sheriff. Jackman said something to the sheriff and he started back the way he had come. Jackman turned down the boardwalk in the other direction.
    â€œHe’s going to send a rider, or he’s going himself,” Nathan said. “My guess is that he’s on his way to a livery.”
    That proved to be the case. After Jackman had ridden away, Nathan and Vivian mounted their horses and followed. Once Empty knew they were trailing the distant rider, he loped on ahead.
    â€œWe don’t have to keep him in sight,” said Nathan. “Empty will guide us. Hold back, while I ride downriver for Mel Holt.”
    Vivian rode on while Nathan turned south. He found Holt waiting, almost within sight of the town.
    â€œJackman’s on his way,” Nathan said.
    Without a word, Holt trotted his horse beside Nathan and they rode north. Within minutes they caught up to Vivian, and Holt tipped his hat.
    â€œJackman’s headed toward the river,” said Vivian. “I’ve lost sight of Empty.”
    â€œHe’ll double back,” Nathan said, “when he realizes we’ve fallen behind.”
    They rode on in silence, and the terrain became more rugged as they progressed. Empty loped back to meet them and Nathan reined up.
    â€œMaybe he’s found their camp,” said Holt.
    â€œNo,” Nathan said. “He’s just making sure he hasn’t lost us.”
    Empty again took the trail, turning northeast toward the river.
    â€œThe camp’s somewhere north of here, along the Red,” said Nathan. “Likely some dry canyon, with a runoff for water.”
    The next time Empty doubled back, he growled deep in his throat.
    â€œHe knows where they are,” Nathan said. “We’ll leave the horses here and continue on foot. Silver wanted you here representing the law, Mel. Take charge from here on.”
    â€œOh, hell,” said Holt, “with or without a badge, you think like a lawman. You know the rules. We’ll cover them from two directions, and then we’ll order them to drop their guns and show bills of sale for the horses. Besides horse stealing, there’s a charge of attempted murder. I don’t expect them to surrender.”
    Empty led them to the lower end of an arroyo that angled away from the river. There was abundant mud where the runoff from the Red had been swallowed by sand. Leading into the arroyo were many horse tracks.
    â€œYou take one side and I’ll take the other,” said Holt. “We’ll try and catch them in a cross fire from the rim. Wait for my challenge. If they come up shooting, then I reckon I don’t have to tell you how to answer them.”
    Nathan crept along the rim, Vivian following. At first the willows and undergrowth along the canyon floor kept them from seeing anything, but eventually they could see a clearing in which nine horses grazed. One of them—a big black—Nathan recognized as Barnabas McQueen’s Diablo. Five men stood in the clearing, and while Nathan was unable