arms once more. She hadn’t even brought him into the parlor, telling him what she wanted right there in the kitchen, then urging him to leave the house.
She didn’t get him out quick enough. Mark had heard that phony drawl of Rutledge’s before Tessa closed the door. Rutledge was good enough to invite into the parlor, but Mark Halloran wasn’t. He just did the dirty work.
Mark yanked his hat farther down on his head and scowled at an oriole that flashed across the trail in a blur of yellow.
What the hell was he doing this for?
For Ezra? He hardly knew the boy, not even as well as he knew Jules. While he wouldn’t recommend Billy as a model for any youngster, he couldn’t say he really cared about Ezra.
But he did care for Tessa. And she’d asked him for help.
Why hadn’t she asked Rutledge? Mark grimaced. She probably had and Rutledge had bowed out gracefully, having better sense than to hunt for men who didn’t want to be found.
Although it would have been a damn sight safer for Rutledge to come hunting Ezra than for a Dolan man like Mark.
He made a wide swing around the little town of San Patricio, not wanting his presence announced any sooner than it had to be. The hills west of town were pine-covered and riddled with long snaking canyons. On down a ways they rose to become mountains more than six thousand feet high. Lots of pinon pine and fir up there and maybe a few Mescaleros hunting until it was time to go back to the reservation for the government subsidy.
Somewhere in these hills Billy was camping with McSween and the Regulators. And Ezra.
Before he reached the higher hills, dust rising on the trail to the north caught Mark’s eye. He was already off the trail but he climbed higher to reach the cover of a pine grove where he had a view of his back trail. He reined in and waited,
After a time a column of mounted men rode into sight. Cavalry from Fort Stan ton. What were they after? Apaches? The Regulators?
Mark urged his sorrel from the pines and hailed the officer leading the soldiers, then descended the hill to join them.
Mark Halloran,” he told the captain.
Captain Carrol.” The officer’s voice was curt. “What’s your business this way, sir?” he
asked.
“I’m looking for someone who’s with Alex McSween,” Mark said. “Have you seen the
McSween party?”
“Are you working with Sheriff Peppin?” Captain Carrol asked.
“Unofficially, yes.” Mark thought the lie necessary.
“We left the sheriff and his posse near San Patricio,” the captain said.
“Back at San Patricio?” Mark echoed, not wanting to admit he had no idea Peppin was anywhere about.
The captain nodded briefly. “I’m taking over the pursuit, I suggest you join Peppin.’’ “Which way were the McSween men headed?” Mark persisted.
“Toward the Pecos.” Captain Carrol kicked his horse into a fast trot, pulling away from Mark. His men spurred after him.
So Peppin had managed to convince Colonel Dudley, the commander at Stanton, to go after McSween and the Regulators. Mark wondered how he’d managed it. Brady’s killing?
What now? Was it any use to trail Carrol? If the cavalry caught up with the McSween party, Ezra would be brought back to Lincoln anyway.
Mark heard hooves pounding toward him, again from the north, and eased off the trail. A sergeant passed, riding hard after Captain Carrol.
A lagging trooper catching up? Mark shook his head. Sergeants weren’t laggards as a rule. He looked after the soldiers, then kicked the sorrel into a gallop, following. He might be able to do something for Ezra if he was on hand when the Regulators were rounded up.
A half mile along the trail, Mark caught sight of blue uniforms. Dust rose as horses milled about. Mark reined in the sorrel. Damned if the troopers hadn’t halted. He pulled off the trail again, not wanting the captain to spot him and wonder why he hadn’t gone back to join Peppin.
To Mark’s surprise, after a few minutes the entire
She didn’t get him out quick enough. Mark had heard that phony drawl of Rutledge’s before Tessa closed the door. Rutledge was good enough to invite into the parlor, but Mark Halloran wasn’t. He just did the dirty work.
Mark yanked his hat farther down on his head and scowled at an oriole that flashed across the trail in a blur of yellow.
What the hell was he doing this for?
For Ezra? He hardly knew the boy, not even as well as he knew Jules. While he wouldn’t recommend Billy as a model for any youngster, he couldn’t say he really cared about Ezra.
But he did care for Tessa. And she’d asked him for help.
Why hadn’t she asked Rutledge? Mark grimaced. She probably had and Rutledge had bowed out gracefully, having better sense than to hunt for men who didn’t want to be found.
Although it would have been a damn sight safer for Rutledge to come hunting Ezra than for a Dolan man like Mark.
He made a wide swing around the little town of San Patricio, not wanting his presence announced any sooner than it had to be. The hills west of town were pine-covered and riddled with long snaking canyons. On down a ways they rose to become mountains more than six thousand feet high. Lots of pinon pine and fir up there and maybe a few Mescaleros hunting until it was time to go back to the reservation for the government subsidy.
Somewhere in these hills Billy was camping with McSween and the Regulators. And Ezra.
Before he reached the higher hills, dust rising on the trail to the north caught Mark’s eye. He was already off the trail but he climbed higher to reach the cover of a pine grove where he had a view of his back trail. He reined in and waited,
After a time a column of mounted men rode into sight. Cavalry from Fort Stan ton. What were they after? Apaches? The Regulators?
Mark urged his sorrel from the pines and hailed the officer leading the soldiers, then descended the hill to join them.
Mark Halloran,” he told the captain.
Captain Carrol.” The officer’s voice was curt. “What’s your business this way, sir?” he
asked.
“I’m looking for someone who’s with Alex McSween,” Mark said. “Have you seen the
McSween party?”
“Are you working with Sheriff Peppin?” Captain Carrol asked.
“Unofficially, yes.” Mark thought the lie necessary.
“We left the sheriff and his posse near San Patricio,” the captain said.
“Back at San Patricio?” Mark echoed, not wanting to admit he had no idea Peppin was anywhere about.
The captain nodded briefly. “I’m taking over the pursuit, I suggest you join Peppin.’’ “Which way were the McSween men headed?” Mark persisted.
“Toward the Pecos.” Captain Carrol kicked his horse into a fast trot, pulling away from Mark. His men spurred after him.
So Peppin had managed to convince Colonel Dudley, the commander at Stanton, to go after McSween and the Regulators. Mark wondered how he’d managed it. Brady’s killing?
What now? Was it any use to trail Carrol? If the cavalry caught up with the McSween party, Ezra would be brought back to Lincoln anyway.
Mark heard hooves pounding toward him, again from the north, and eased off the trail. A sergeant passed, riding hard after Captain Carrol.
A lagging trooper catching up? Mark shook his head. Sergeants weren’t laggards as a rule. He looked after the soldiers, then kicked the sorrel into a gallop, following. He might be able to do something for Ezra if he was on hand when the Regulators were rounded up.
A half mile along the trail, Mark caught sight of blue uniforms. Dust rose as horses milled about. Mark reined in the sorrel. Damned if the troopers hadn’t halted. He pulled off the trail again, not wanting the captain to spot him and wonder why he hadn’t gone back to join Peppin.
To Mark’s surprise, after a few minutes the entire
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