Free Death Rides Alone by William W. Johnstone Page A

said.
    Hardy McCoy appeared in the stable’s open double doors, weighed down by Luke’s saddlebags and rifle. As he came in, the boy said, “I spotted you fellas comin’ over here, Mr. Jensen. Here are the things you sent me to fetch.”
    â€œThanks, Hardy,” Luke said. He’d kept his gun out while they were walking to the stable, but now he pouched the iron and took the saddlebags and Winchester from Hardy. “You’re an observant, enterprising lad. I appreciate all your help while I’ve been here.”
    Hardy looked up at him and asked, “You wouldn’t need a partner in your bounty huntin’, would you?”
    â€œYou already have a job at the hotel.”
    â€œYeah, but I think it’d be fine sport to hunt down desperadoes like you do.”
    â€œIt can be,” Luke said, “but it’s a bit too dangerous for a boy. You’d best grow up some more first.”
    Donovan said, “Don’t listen to him, Hardy. Bounty huntin’s no life for anybody. It’s just one step above bein’ an outlaw yourself.”
    Luke wasn’t going to waste time arguing with the marshal, who clearly didn’t like him and never would. Instead he slid the Winchester into its sheath, slung the saddlebags over the gray’s back and fastened them in place, and then said to Tyler, “Mount up.”
    â€œI sure wish you wouldn’t do this, Jensen,” the young man said. “Take me anywhere else you want and turn me over to the law there. I won’t give you a bit of trouble, I swear. But if you head for White Fork, you’re damning us both.”
    â€œI said mount up.” Luke’s tone left no room for argument.
    Tyler sighed, put his foot in the stirrup, and swung up into the saddle on the paint’s back.
    Luke took a pair of handcuffs from one of his saddlebags and said, “Put your arms behind your back.”
    â€œYou’re gonna cuff me like that?”
    â€œI am.”
    â€œHow am I supposed to ride?”
    â€œI’ll be leading your horse,” Luke said. “You won’t have to do anything except enjoy the ride.”
    Tyler sighed and said, “It’s gonna get mighty uncomfortable, riding like that.”
    â€œMaybe, but you’ll be alive. That’s more than Rachel Montgomery can say.”
    Tyler scowled but didn’t say anything else. He had that air of despair about him again as he put his hands behind his back as Luke ordered. Luke snapped the cuffs around his wrists.
    He mounted up and took the reins of Tyler’s horse as Crandall handed them up to him.
    â€œI’d tell you to be careful . . .” Donovan said as his beefy shoulders rose and fell. “Except I don’t really give a damn.”
    â€œYou’re a fine example of a peace officer, Marshal,” Luke said. The sarcasm practically dripping from the words made the marshal’s face redden. “Exactly the sort that Bent Creek deserves, I’d say.”
    Before Donovan could respond, Luke heeled the gray into motion and rode out of the stable, leading the paint behind him.
    Hardy McCoy stepped into the doorway, waved, and called, “So long, Mr. Jensen!”
    Luke turned in the saddle enough to lift a hand in farewell, then glanced at the café as he rode past it. The windows were brightly lit, the curtains were pushed back, and he could look inside and see Mary behind the counter, pouring coffee, serving food, and talking with the customers who were already there.
    For a second he wondered what it would be like to pull his horse to a stop, step down from the saddle, go inside, into that light and warmth, and just forget about everything else. The lure of that thought was strong . . .
    But he was smart enough to know that it wasn’t going to happen, and even if it did, things probably wouldn’t work out the way he hoped they would. He was too old, too hardened by life to