Burke continued to watch both sides of the heavy stream far below them. Mike and Harvey were doing the same thing from further down. He knew the fall had probably killed Larabee, but he wanted to make sure. The man knew things about him and his men and he couldn’t take the chance on someone finding him alive. He swore as time passed with no sign of the blond. He knew they could’ve missed him, especially at this distance, but he needed concrete evidence before he gave up the search.
He turned to the two companions and shouted. “We need ta get down there and make sure he’s dead.”
“It’ll take us a couple of ‘ours ta get down there,” Harvey informed him.
“He’s gotta be dead, Ray. No one coulda survived that. He’s prob’ly so weak he couldn’t fight the river. The rains got the banks flooded. He’s dead!” Mike insisted.
“Yeah, but we need to know for sure. Think about it. If he’s alive and gets someone ta help ‘im then what’s ta stop ‘im from tellin’ what he knows ‘bout us?” Burke asked.
“Who’s gonna b’lieve ‘im. The town voted guilty and they wanted ‘im strung up,” Mike nodded towards then edge of the bank. “Ain’t no way he coulda lived through that.”
“So yer both willin’ ta go ta jail and ‘ang if’n he wasn’t killed in the fall or drowned in the river?” Burke enquired.
The three men looked at one another until Harvey broke the silence. “I guess we go down there and make sure.”
“Guess we do,” Burke said and hurried towards his horse.
Chris woke up cold and shivering, his body still in the same position as when he’d dragged himself from the water. He had no idea how long he’d lain there, but he knew he needed to find shelter. Not just from the scorching sun, but also from his pursuers. He had little doubt they’d come down and search for him, yet he didn’t have the energy to stand up. He lifted his head and searched the immediate area. He spotted a small opening and prayed it was big enough for him to crawl into. He dragged his body over the wet ground, ignoring the pain shooting from his arms. By the time he made it the short distance he was again trembling with cold and exhaustion. The opening was smaller than he first thought, but he knew he couldn’t be reckless. All kinds of animals could’ve made this haven a home. He picked up a few rocks from the ground beside him and through them inside. He repeated the process for a few minutes longer and finally moved his weary body towards it. He moved through the opening and was surprised to find the inside larger than he first thought. It was damp, but he barely registered that fact as the fever continued to grow. The interior of his shelter was barely illuminated by the light coming through the opening, but he could see he was alone there.
He sighed and dropped his head between his cuffed hands. He knew he should try to conceal the opening, but he couldn’t move his stiffening limbs. He was beyond pain now. His lean body numbed by the cold and the lack of clothing, shivered uncontrollably. The sun’s warmth had done nothing to stop his trembling and he knew he was in trouble.
A harsh wracking cough tore from his chest and Chris Larabee turned onto his right side. His head throbbed and he knew he was sick. He groaned and vomited the water he’d swallowed when he surfaced in the river. He let his head drop back on his arm and succumbed to the call of darkness.
Thirteen-year-old Jamie Warren smiled as he headed towards home, a full string of fish attached to his saddle. He knew his Pa would be proud of his catch and they’d be eating the fresh catch as soon as his ma cleaned and fried them. His mouth watered as he thought of the meal of trout, sweet potato pie and his ma’s chocolate cake. No one made Chocolate cake like his Ma. He continued along the trail until he heard a soft whinny off to his left. A frown tugged on his freckled features as the sound came again.
‘Wonder who’s in there,’ he thought as he pulled his horse to a stop. “Whoa, girl,” he said as his horse answered the unknown animal. He flicked the reins over the branch of a tree and slowly pulled back on the brush. He was a cautious boy and knew better than to hurry into unknown dangers. His eyes lit no the beautiful animal standing in the underbrush, he frowned as he realized there was no one near it. He waited another few minutes, listening for the horse’s owner. He shrugged his shoulders and stood up.
“Anyone there?” he called as he moved towards the horse. He could see the animal was tired, sweat glittered off its hide and he wondered how anyone could be so cruel as to leave him saddled in this heat. Shaking his head he moved towards the skittish animal, speaking softly as he got closer.
“Hello, Boy, Are you all alone out here?” The animal lifted his head and snorted at the newcomer. “Easy, Fella, I ain’t gonna hurt ya. You look kinda tired and thirsty. Where’s your owner?” he asked as he nervously looked around. There was no sign of anyone near the horse and he made a complete search of the area. He went to his own mount and grabbed his canteen, patting his horse on the mane as he headed back to the weary animal in the brush.
“Hey, Fella, I got something for ya,” he called as he moved closer to the unknown animal. He poured water into the cupped hand and slowly advanced on the nervous animal. “I know ya must be thirsty. I got water here for ya,” he said as he reached the gelding. He watched as the huge eyes stared at him and the head slowly lowered towards his offering. He smiled as the tongue lapped the moisture from his hand and quickly added more as he realized just how thirsty the sweaty horse was. He emptied the canteen and shook his head as he realized the horse must ran for a long time.
“I ain’t got no more, Boy, he said as the horse turned towards him. The soft whinny made him smile and he patted the strong neck. “We got lots back home though. Why don’t I take you there and maybe Pa and me can find out what happened to your owner? How does that sound?” he soothed. He laughed as the head seemed to bob up and down.
Jamie reached down and began untangling the horse’s reins. It took nearly five minutes to free the animal and he led it out of the brush. He untied his own horse and mounted it. With a last glance around he rode away from the clearing and headed home, Pony striding wearily behind him.
Ray Burke lead the way down the rocky terrain until they reached the bottom two hours later. The river provided a wonderful area for lush growth. Small trees, brush, and lush green grass grew in abundance. They were forced to go further south from where Larabee jumped because of the thick foliage.
The three men dismounted and moved towards the swollen river. They knew where Larabee jumped and could make out the overhanging rocky ledge, but they couldn’t see what lay beneath. They hurried to the edge of the quick flowing water and looked over a narrow dam of rocks into the pool beyond. They could see the shore on both sides, but not quite all the way under the ledge.
“Anythin’?” Burke asked as they searched the area.
“Nothin’,” Mike answered as he stretched out over the water. He musta been swept over that dam...”
“If he was then he’s dead fer sure,” Harvey replied. “Ain’t no way he could’ve survived in that water.”
“We need ta be sure,” Burke muttered as he swept the area again.
“Come on, Ray. This river is runnin’ high and the rapids just past that bend led to heavy waterfalls. He’s gotta be dead,” Mike explained.
“I still ain’t fer sure on whether he got swept over that dam of rocks. He could be hidin’ under that damn ledge. There’s gotta be some way we can check ta make sure,” the sheriff told them. He walked as close to the edge as he could but wasn’t able to see past the heavy foliage or rocky outcropping.
“It’s starting ta rain ag’in, Ray. Why don’t we go back ta town. If he is behind there than he’ll drown when the rains come ag’in. That water’s already high and it’ll keep climbin’ until that areas flooded,” Harvey tried.
“Then maybe we should stay ‘ere ‘til it does,” Burke snapped.
“I ain’t stayin out in another storm,” Mike hissed. “Larabee’s dead and he cain’t do nothin’ ta us. Let’s get back ta Haven and I’ll buy ya both a beer.”
“Beer sounds good right now, Ray,” Harvey said as the rain grew heavier and thunder again echoed around them.
Burke looked at the river and wondered would they be saved by nature. Did the river actually take Chris Larabee to a watery death, or was he out there somewhere. Watching, waiting, biding his time until he came forward to expose them. He took one final look at the heavy shrubs and the outcropping. The water would rise beyond them and if Larabee was in there he’d drown. Sighing heavily the sheriff ran his hands through his rain-slickened hair and turned away from the river and Chris Larabee. Without a word he mounted and aimed his horse back towards the town he’d called Haven.
Jamie pulled into his yard and smiled as his father came towards him. “Hi, Pa.”
“I though you were goin’ fishin’ not huntin’ for horses,” Robert Warren smiled at his son. The older man had the same freckles and red hair as his son.
“I found him, pa. He was out by the creek. I checked, but there wasn’t anyone around. I couldn’t just leave him there.” The boy jumped down from his own mount and followed his father to the dark gelding tethered behind him.
The older Warren knew good horseflesh and this one was among the finest he’d ever seen in spite of its exhausted appearance.
The animal whinnied as Robert got closer and Jamie reached out to pat his neck. “Easy, Boy, Pa’s just gonna check ya over. Make sure there’s nothing wrong with ya.”
Robert smiled at his son. He was proud of the way Jamie could sooth an animal and knew someday the boy would make a fine Vet if that’s what he wanted to do. He turned his attention back to the horse and ran his hands down the four legs. Aside from a few minor scratches the animal was fine. He reached up and undid the cinch in order to remove the saddle, saddlebags, and rifle from its scabbard.
Jamie took the saddle and other items from his father and placed it on the porch. Next came the sweaty blanket and he laid it next to the saddle. “Is he okay, Pa?” Jamie asked worriedly.
“Seems fine, Son. Whoever owned him took good care of him. Why don’t you get him some water and feed and put him in the corral.”
“Sure. What are we gonna do with him?”
“Well, Jamie, someone’s gotta own him and whoever it is, is probably out looking for him now. Maybe the owner was thrown from him. We’ll take him with us to Four Corners tomorrow and see if anyone there knows who he belongs to.”
“What if they don’t?”
“Then we’ll put up some posters and see what we can find out. If nobody claims him then I guess he’s yours.”
Jamie loved the idea of owning the beautiful animal, but didn’t like the idea that someone might be hurt and searching for him. “I hope whoever he belongs to wasn’t hurt.”
“Me too, Son. Now get him settled and I’ll bring that fine string of fish into your ma. Looks like you’ve earned that chocolate cake she’s been workin’ on.”
Jamie’s face lit up as he hurried towards the barn and the water trough. He smiled as the horse dipped its head and drank its fill. “Wonder if you’ve got a name?” he asked as he patted the strong neck once more. He placed the horse inside the corral before turning to do his chores.
Cold, he shivered and felt something wet under him. He lifted his head, but couldn’t keep it up. He couldn’t figure out why his legs were cold and wet or why his head pounded. He heard a low sound and realized it was coming from his own throat. He didn’t want to move, yet something told him if he didn’t he’d be dead before long. Keeping his head still he forced his eyes open. It was dark and he couldn’t remember where he was. Again he wondered why he was wet.
The sound of thunder cracked close by and lightening flashed, illuminating the cave he was in. He forced his head up and looked down at his legs as fireworks exploded inside his head. He groaned and forced his cuffed hands under him. He forced his body upwards and rolled onto his back. God, he was so cold, so miserable, and belatedly he realized he was nearly naked. He clenched his eyes and tried to remember what happened to him and why he was lying in a cave, shivering as his body heat ebbed into the cold waters lapping at his legs. The water level continued to rise and was now up to his thighs and he knew he had to get out of the cave.
He shut his eyes as a vision of a whiskered man in red flannel danced before his eyes. Somehow he knew this man had something to do with the predicament he now found himself in. Shouts of ‘Burke’s got him’ and ‘murderer’ rang in his ears along with the drumming sound of the thunder. He had to find a way to get back home and get to his friends. Between them they’d break the Sheriff’s schemes wide open and see him and his men brought to justice. ‘First thing you gotta do is get outta here, Larabee,’ he thought.
He turned onto his stomach and pulled his legs under him. Slowly, ignoring the agonizing pain lancing through his skull he got to his knees, only to fall face first into the mud and sludge. He lay there, out of breath, waiting for the tremors in his body to diminish enough for him to try again. The water was now halfway up his thighs and he knew time was running out. He took a deep breath and ignored the scratching claws gouging at his throat. He knew he was sick, and growng worse, but he couldn’t dwell on how lousy he felt. Chris Larabee was a man of action and his next action had to be to get out of the cave. Again he tried to move, and didn’t know whether the bright light was inside his skull or lightning flashing outside the cave. It didn’t matter which one it was, he needed to move and move he would.
He forced his knees under him and crawled towards the entrance, his hands sinking halfway up his arm in the soft interior of the cave. He advanced on the opening and looked out into the late evening storm darkened skies. The landscape around him was covered in swirling turbulent water and he felt the frustration of running on empty. His energy was almost nil, yet he had to get out of this cave before it was below the waterline.
He moved out onto what was once shoreline, held onto a fair sized sapling. He closed his eyes and waited until the world stopped its spinning. He blinked rapidly until the sparkling lights winked out and looked around the storm swept world. He felt the water hitting his leg and splashing on his upper body. The wind forced the rain in a slanting line that struck his body like sharp needles. He blinked rapidly in an effort to keep the water from getting into his eyes. His hair hung limp and mud soaked over his forehead, but he knew the mud was rapidly being washed away.
“Gotta get outta here,” he mumbled weakly as he looked for the safest way out of the river. He could feel the tug of the river, pulling at him, trying once more to reclaim what it thought it lost when he’d leapt into it from above. The meager light was fading fast, but he spotted a few rocks and shrubs along the cliff face behind him. He didn’t know if he had the strength to make the slight climb, but he realized it was his only chance. To stay where he was any longer would be to give himself over to a watery grave and he wasn’t gonna do that. He needed to survive if only to make sure the sheriff didn’t pull this stunt on some other unsuspecting victim.
Chris trudged through the water and mud, holding on for dear life as he moved along the treacherous riverbank. He made it to the area he’d spotted and sighed heavily. His chest hurt and he coughed, a wet hacking sound that was quickly drowned out by the storm overhead. He looked at his tethered hands and knew they were too swollen for him to slip out of.
Taking a deep breath he fought back the urge to cough and reached for the first handhold over his head. The pull on his legs was even worse now and as he slipped the cuffs over the small protuberance they were swept out from under him. He hung by his hands, his legs scrambling for purchase, his shoulders screaming at the pressure being exerted on them. He prayed they wouldn’t be pulled from their sockets as he finally managed to get his legs back on the treacherous ground. He placed his head against the rock face and waited for his breathing to slow.
“Okay, Larabee, if you’re gonna do this you’d better fucking get moving!” he gasped. “Shit! Now I’m talking to myself,” a low grating sound came from his throat and he realized he was laughing. Shaking his head he moved further up the ledge and to the left. It was slow going because he had to be sure of his footing. He glanced down and noticed he was literally hanging over the worst part of the stream. “Better h...old on!” he continued to talk to himself as he inched his way along the cliff face. He slipped, gasping at the pressure exerted on his arms.
Ignoring the fact that he hung out over almost certain death he laughed again. “S...sheriff j...just s...saved my l...life. H...have t...to t...thank mi...sera...ble b...as...tard,” he muttered as he got his feet on the small ledge again. He moved by will and cussedness alone now. No strength left, barely clinging to the tiny handholds he found. He knew he had to make it, if only to fulfil a promise to see the sheriff brought before Judge Travis. He kept talking to himself, his voice the only company he had now as the wind died down. He knew the storm was moving away, the lightening flashing in the distance and the thunder a weak form of the rich dark power it was earlier.
He reached for the next hold and realized as he fell that he’d reached the end of the cliff face. His body impacted with the soft ground and he groaned as pain lanced through him. He lay still, hoping to quell the rising tide of nausea, but he retched violently in spite of his empty stomach. A final heave, a choking gasp, and a painful breath followed him into unconsciousness. The last dizzying display of lightening streaked across the sky, illuminating a mud covered form lying near the edge of the newly formed riverbank. A sparkling testament to the fight Chris Larabee had fought and won. The only question now was whether he’d live to tell about it.
JD sat outside the jail, his eyes darting up and down the street. As Sheriff of Four Corners he liked to remain visible. He knew the title was only for show. He was a peacekeeper, but he was only one of the seven men who protected the town and its citizens from the bad element. JD sighed as he watched the ladies man coming towards him.
“Hey, Kid, anything happening I should know about?” Wilmington asked.
“Nope,” Dunne answered. “Everything okay at Chris’ place?”
“Yep. Where’re are the others?”
“Vin’s at the saloon. Josiah and Nathan are at the clinic. Ezra’s...”
“Sleeping,” the scoundrel finished for him.
“Yeah. He ate breakfast and headed for his room,” Dunne shook his head at the gambler’s odd hours.
“Figures, Ezra don’t seem to cotton to being around during the day. No one to fleece,” Wilmington laughed.
“Ezra certainly knows how to pick a mark,” Dunne observed. His eyes caught movement at the edge of town and he looked past the ladies man. Three people came towards them. A woman and a boy in a wagon and a man riding a horse. There was nothing strange about seeing newcomers in town, but JD’s eyes were caught and held by the rider less horse tied to the wagon.
Buck saw the change come over the kid’s ear and turned to see what he was looking at as he asked, “What’s wrong, Kid?”
“Buck, that looks like...”
“Pony!” Wilmington exclaimed as he hurried to meet the newcomers.
Robert Warren pulled up as he saw the two men hurrying towards him. He held up his hand and signalled for Jamie to pull the wagon to a halt. This was their first visit to Four Corners in the year since they’ bought the small farm and he was unfamiliar with the two men.
“Buck, that is Chris’ horse,” Dunne cried as they closed the distance.
“Yeah, JD, it is. Go get the others!” he snapped as he drew abreast of Pony. He looked at the older man on horseback. “Mister this horse belongs to a friend of mine and you’d best have a good reason why he’s here with you!”
“I...I found ‘im, Mister,” Jamie stammered as the irate man glared at his father. “He was caught in some brush out by Miller Creek where I was fishin’.”
“Was anyone with him?” Buck asked.
“I looked ‘round, but didn’t see anyone. He was all sweaty like he’d been runnin’ a long time. Thirsty too. I gave him water and brought him home.”
“When did ya find ‘im, Kid,” the ladies man asked as he examined Pony’s legs.
“Yesterday afternoon. I didn’t see no one, Mister.”
“My son would never steal from anybody. He found that horse and if he says there was no one around you can be sure he’s telling the truth,” the woman in the wagon said.
“I believe him, Ma’am,” Wilmington smiled at her. “I’m just tryin’ to find out what happened to my friend. This is his horse and there’s no way he’d just let him loose.”
“Maybe he was thrown,” Jamie said.
The scoundrel laughed as he looked at the boy. “Ain’t no way Chris Larabee gets thrown from a horse. Especially not this one.”
“Well, whatever happened this fella was rider less when Jamie found him. Now if you got a Sheriff here we can turn him over to him and my son can tell him where he was found.”
“What’s goin’ on, Buck?” Jackson asked as he joined them.
“This kid found Pony,” the scoundrel answered.
“Found him where?” Sanchez asked.
“Out near Miller’s creek,” Buck answered.
“Who are you folks?” Jackson asked.
“I’m Robert Warren. That’s my wife Millie and our boy Jamie. We bought the Grady farm out past Miller’s creek about a year ago. We’ve only been to town a couple of times. Usually do our shopping in Haven, but thought we’d give this place a try. Now are you men gonna tell us where we can find the sheriff?”
“That’d be me, Mister, Warren,” Dunne said as he joined them.
“You? Why you not old enough to be...” Warren observed.
“I’m older than you think,” Dunne interrupted indignantly. “There’s seven of us who keep the peace in Four Corners.” He pointed towards the moustached man. “He’s Buck Wilmington. That’s Josiah Sanchez and that fella is Nathan Jackson.”
“Thought you said there were seven of you. I only count five,” Robert stated.
“Ezra’s sleeping, Vin’s out on patrol and Chris Larabee is the other one,” JD explained.
“Chris Larabee’s the one who owns him?” the older Warren nodded his head towards the gelding.
“Yeah, he does. Kid, do you think you can show us where you found him?” Wilmington asked.
“Sure can, Mister Wilmington,” Jamie answered.
“We’ll just grab our supplies and you men can head back with us. Shouldn’t take us more than an hour,” Warren explained.
“JD, you ride out and see if you can find Vin. He’s probably on his way back from Nettie’s place,” Sanchez said. Dunne nodded and hurried towards the livery stable.
“It’ll take us that long to get Ezra outta bed and make arrangements for someone to watch the town while we’re gone,” Jackson explained. “I’m gonna go on up to the clinic and get my things. Hopefully I won’t need them,” he said, but knew as he looked at Pony that something must’ve happened to cause Pony to be alone.
Chris woke to darkness and heat. He couldn’t understand where the fire was coming from. The heat itself seemed to burn from inside his chest. He groaned as he turned onto his back and looked up at the blurry sky overhead. The stars seemed to blend into a carpet of brightly twinkling lights and he blinked rapidly to try and bring the world into focus. He lay still until the last of the vertigo left him and edged back onto his side.
“Shit!” he swore as his body continued to shiver. He knew beyond a doubt that his body was bruised to the bone, but it was the scratchy pain in his throat and the wheeze from his lungs that worried him.
“G...get u...up, Larabee!” he rasped in the still night air. The mud was caked on his body and he felt it cracking and flaking off as he forced himself to stand on rubbery legs. He held himself erect as he rose to his full height. The lone call of a coyote broke the stillness of the night and sent shivers down his spine.
His joints ached and his head throbbed in tandem with the wound on his arm, but he couldn’t give in to that pain. He needed to get moving and the sooner the better. He was hot and cold at the same time and longed for something to cover his shivering form.
He could almost hear Wilmington’s voice, laughing and bright as he spoke, ‘Damn, Stud, you’re a mess. Get up and move those damn legs. Ain’t no point in sitting there waitn’ to take root. Move your sorry ass. Now!’
“I’m goin’, B...Buck. J...just have t...to f...figure out which way,” Larabee’s low weak voice carried on the still night air and joined with the call of an owl. He lifted his right foot and placed it slightly ahead of the left. Over and over he repeated the action, his head down as he concentrated on where he was stepping. He felt like he’d been walking forever when he lifted his head and looked around. He swore softly as he saw the river a couple of hundred yards behind him. “S...son of a b...bitch!” he rasped, the sound of his own voice ricocheted through his skull as he slumped to the ground.
‘Come on, Larabee, you ain’t no quitter!’
This time it was Tanner’s voice cutting through the pain and fever. The young man was his best friend, someone he trusted to watch his back. “D...didn’t e...expect y...you to do it when you’re not here, Tanner,” Larabee’s tortured voice cried. He knew the voice would not let him give up and forced his trembling legs to hold him upright. He knew the journey ahead of him was going to be one of the longest in his life, but it was also one he was going to see through to the end.
Burke looked at the colt in his hands and swore sharply. He needed to make sure Chris Larabee was dead. Somehow he knew he made a deadly mistake in not checking further down the river. If Larabee survived and got back to Four Corners he’d reveal everything he saw and bring the real law down on Haven. This was too god a deal for him to let that happen. He’d find some way to make sure Larabee didn’t survive. He stood up, walked outside and signalled Harvey and Mike to come over.
The sun was high in the sky and the rays beat down on the dilapidated buildings. A small brush rolled along main street as the two men ran across the deserted street to the sheriff’s office.
“What’s wrong, Ray?” Mike asked.
“We’re goin’ back!”
“Back where?” Harvey enquired.
“Back ta the river. We gotta go back ta the river and make damn sure Larabee’s dead,” he glanced around knowing most of the townspeople would be in church.
“Come on, Ray, ya know he couldn’t’ve survived. It’s to hotter’n hell out ‘ere and I ain’t in the mood ta go running around,” Harvey whined.
Burke’s hand snapped out and clasped the man’s shirt in his beefy fist. He pulled him close, their noses almost touching as he snarled. “Then ya best jest get outta town, Harvey. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let a slacker like you stay part of this. Mike and me can handle things on our own.”
Harvey wrapped his hands around the stronger mans. “N...no, R...ray. I’ll go. I’ll help!”
“Damn right you’ll help. Ain’t no way I’d’a let ya go,” Ray’s eyes glared anger as he released his grip on the other mans shirt. He smiled as Harvey dropped to the ground. “Now git yer ass o’er to the liv’ry and saddle the horses. We got us a body ta find. Dead or Alive!”
“And if he’s alive...”
Burke grinned at Mike as he finished. “We kill ‘im,”
“I found him right over there, Mister Tanner,” Jamie explained as they pushed apart the bushes and shrubs. His father’s arm lay on his shoulder in a gesture of support and the nervous boy was grateful to have it. He knew these men wouldn’t hurt him, but he looked up to his father. “He was tangled in them branches.”
‘Thanks, Kid,” Tanner said as he moved into the brush. He knew the others were staying back to give him a chance to search the surrounding area. He easily found the area where Pony was tangled. The downtrodden grass and broken twigs would’ve been easy for anyone to spot. What he needed to find was the track that would hopefully lead them to Chris Larabee. He walked along the brush until the tracks lead out onto the open area. It didn’t take him long to find Pony’s trail and he stood up. He signalled for the others to come over and pointed out his discovery.
“Pony came from south east.” He turned to the Robert Warren and asked. “Any idea what’s out that way?”
“There’s a few farms, but not much of anything else,” Robert answered.
“Chris would’ve been coming from that way, Vin. Maybe he’s at one of the farms,” Wilmington observed.
“Yeah, he’s probably sittin’ at a table eating lunch while we’re out here searching for him in this heat,” Dunne said.
“I hope you’re right, Kid,” the scoundrel muttered. “Any towns south or east of here?” he asked.
“There’s a place about a days ride to the south called Haven. Don’t know if I’d call it a town though,” Warren answered.
“Might I enquire why?” Standish asked as he wiped the sweat from the back of his neck with a lace kerchief.
“Well it’s just a few buildings. Maybe half a dozen or so families living there last time we went. The general store doesn’t have much stock,” Robert answered.
“Any law?” Sanchez asked.
“Well, there’s a man there calls himself the Sheriff. He’s got a couple of deputies, but I didn’t trust either one of them. That’s why we decided to check out Four Corners. Didn’t even know about your town until the Wilson’s came through and told us about it. Real nice people and they said your town was a safe place to get supplies,” the older Warren answered.
“Tom and his family are good people,” Jackson answered. “Vin, maybe we should check out those farms and make our way south to Haven. If Chris was hurt maybe one of the families took him in.”
“Sounds good, Nate,” Tanner said as he reached for Peso’ reins.
“Jamie, thanks for the help you’ve given us,” Wilmington said as the six peacekeepers mounted up.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Wilmington. Hope you find Mr. Larabee.”
“We will,” Tanner said simply as they turned away from the father and son.
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