4

"If you feel so inclined."

"That's one word for it," Shepard murmured, willing to put aside the more dangerous bounty he'd just decided on for the time being.

Strickland sat up straight with a satisfied nod and adjusted the reins as he reached into his coat pocket. Withdrawing a small item, he stared at it for a moment before tossing it to Shepard, who caught it with ease. "Consider yourself deputized; we're doing this as official as possible."

Shepard looked at the star-shaped badge, spattered in dried blood and sporting a misshapen dent roughly the size of a bullet.

"Hope you don't mind its worn appearance." Strickland motioned to Shepard's waiting animals, "I told the other's we'd meet 'em on the road."

Shepard scoffed and shoved the badge in his coat pocket, grabbed Bouncy's lead rope, secured it, tightened Bubbles' belly cinch, and gathered the reins before hauling himself into the saddle. "How many men are riding with you?"

Strickland wheeled his mount around and fell in step alongside him as they directed their horses to the Northwest end of the valley. "Six, including you and me... all with ample motivation to see the Fairleigh gang answers for their crimes."

"Anyone I would know?" Shepard adjusted his hat, hoping the answer would be a firm 'No.'

But when Strickland opened his mouth, Shepard's gut clenched in dread, and he knew he wouldn't be so lucky.

"Walter Peterson maybe, he had about twenty or so head of cattle stolen. His cousin Daniel Clark is riding with us as well."

Shepard muttered a curse under his breath and nodded, "I remember Daniel from school. Did he have cattle stolen too?"

"Nope," Strickland replied with a shake of his head, keeping his eyes fastened forward, "he was friends with Deputy Black."

Shepard turned to the Marshal in surprise, not knowing who the deputies' were lost in the attack. "Lewis or Michael?"

Strickland met Shepard's gaze for a brief moment before resuming his study of the empty dirt road, "Lewis." He adjusted his seat in the saddle and reached up to scratch his cheek before adding, "Michael died some two years ago,... after being kicked in the head by a mule."

They rode in awkward silence for over two miles; the only sound the muffled clip-clop of the horses' hooves in the loose soil. Puffs of dust rose into the air with each step, tickling Shepard's nose and making Strickland sneeze five times in a row.

"Apologies, I'm on the tail end of a head cold I can't seem to shake," Strickland murmured after blowing his nose in his bandana and wiping his face. He stuffed the used cloth back in his right coat pocket and sniffled.

Half a mile later, Strickland straightened in his saddle and pointed with his chin to a cluster of riders in the distance, "That oughta be them up ahead."

One of the four men glanced over his left shoulder, then reined his mount in and let out a shout. He lifted a hand in greeting as Shepard and Strickland approached. The other three riders maneuvered their horses to face the two newcomers and silently waited.

Shepard braced himself for what he expected to be an uncomfortable meeting.

Daniel Clark, easily recognizable by his curly carrot-orange mop of hair poking out under his hat, stiffened and watched Shepard with wary eyes as he and the Marshal drew close.

Shepard inclined his head in greeting as the Marshal made a quick round of introductions. First was a burly mountain of a man named Robert Boyd with hands the size of dinner plates.

"Your brother killed my Alice," he growled.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Shepard murmured, biting his tongue against the desire to mention that he'd suffered a loss himself.

Robert clenched his teeth tight, making a muscle along his chiseled jawline rapidly twitch. Tears glimmered in his eyes before he averted his gaze and took a deep breath, saying no more.

Next to him was Walter Peterson, an ordinary and plain-looking man in every respect, save for his piercing blue eyes.

Walter inclined his head in greeting but remained quiet.

Shepard followed his lead.

Daniel Clark's gaze hardened, but he nodded his head in greeting when Strickland mentioned his name.

"Shepard."

"Dan. "

Elias Hennessy, the fourth man and shortest of the bunch, stared at Shepard with naked hostility. His bull nose appeared to have been broken more than once, sporting a pronounced bump that redirected the lower portion toward his scarred right cheek.

"I oughta shoot you where you stand," Elias hissed.

Shepard arched a brow, fighting to keep control of his temper. "Guess I'm fortunate to be sitting on a horse... save you a bullet for Fairleigh or a Wardell, someone that deserves it."

Strickland scratched his neck and shook his head, "His brother Rufus was my other deputy."

"I ain't riding with him, Jeremiah," Elias growled at Strickland while glaring at Shepard. "He's a murderer, just like his brother was."

Shepard clenched his hands into tight fists, aching to plant his knuckles in Elias's repulsive face.

"You think you can go around shooting and murdering people and getting paid for it," Elias continued. His horse started sidestepping in agitation, ruining what was undoubtedly meant to be an attempt at intimidation.

"I believe you have me confused with someone else. See, I'm what's known as a bounty hunter," Shepard said in a patronizing tone, knowing such an attitude would antagonize the man. "I don't shoot random people just for the hell of it in cold-blood... though I might make an exception in your case."

Strickland heaved a sigh. "All right, now, any one of you has the right to turn back; no one's forcing you to stay. But," he paused and leveled a pointed stare at Elias before continuing, "I'll not tolerate this sort of behavior. Like it or not, Shepard has expertise most of you are gonna need if we aim to bring Fairleigh and the Wardell's to justice."

He looked each man in the eye, then returned his attention to a quietly fuming Elias. "He ain't the one who killed Rufus, Elias... or Alice, Lewis and the others... you best redirect your anger and pain toward those that did and are still on the loose, else we're gonna fail before we even get started."

Elias averted his gaze with a grunt and held mute on the matter.

Strickland waited, giving ample opportunity for any of them to head back to town. Then, when no one did, he clucked his tongue and nudged his mount forward without saying another word.

One by one, the others slowly fell in line behind him until all six men rode in silence.

The tension was at an all-time high for the first couple of hours, hanging so thick and heavy in the air around them, it became a tangible object and seventh presence to their group.

They rode until dark and set up camp near a creek. Until Dan had a small fire going, Strickland became the only one attempting to make conversation, futile though the effort proved to be. Robert and Walter disappeared, searching for something to eat, while the rest set about bedding down their mounts for the night.

Shepard enjoyed the menial tasks of tending his animals and the mindless familiarity they brought. He relieved Bouncy of his burden first, then turned to take care of Bubbles and stumbled into Elias.

He made an exaggerated effort of bending his head to meet the shorter man's gaze, inwardly smiling at the rage that flared to life. Biting his tongue, he tried to step around him, but Elias blocked his path no matter which way he moved.

Irritation boiled to the surface. "If you're looking for trouble, I'll be more than happy to help you find it."

Elias glared at Shepard, his hands curled into tight fists at his side, and his barrel chest heaved. "You think you're so tough, eh Devereaux?"

"You're the one calling me a cold-blooded murderer without knowing a thing about me, Elinor."

It was a childish thing to do, Shepard knew, but he'd learned during his first year of cowboying that a potent and enjoyable way to emasculate a bully and illustrate contempt was to call him a woman's name.

Especially when the name chosen oozed femininity and brought floral crowns and maidens dancing around a maypole to mind.

Elias growled, "What'd you call me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, didn't realize you were hard of hearing, Elinor," Shepard patted him on the cheek, "my apologies."

"Call me that one more time, and so help me, you'll live to regret it."

Shepard arched a brow and clucked his tongue, "Now don't go making promises you can't keep, Elinor." He brushed his coat aside, revealing the holstered revolver at his right hip before he settled his palm on the grip, "You make a threat like that, and I get all impatient to see how you're gonna follow through."

Elias ground his teeth, a vein throbbed at his left temple, and a deep red flush stained his pock-marked cheeks. He flicked a glance to Strickland, who was reaching for his rifle, and Shepard had no doubt it was to see if the Marshal was going to step in.

When Strickland failed to move, Elias' nostrils flared, and his brow lowered in a fierce scowl. Then, returning his attention to Shepard, he growled and took a step away, then another before retreating to the fire as he spat, "Just you wait and see, devil... you'll get what's coming to ya."

Sleep was hard to come by, and the long days in the saddle became the worst sort of torture to Shepard's sleep-deprived and frustrated body. Elias's animosity toward Shepard seemed in no short supply, regardless of his inability to follow through on his constant threats of retribution.

Strickland kept a cautious eye on the short man and did his best to keep himself between them, but much to Shepard's chagrin, such tactics proved ineffective in dissuading Elias from speaking.

"How many men have you killed for money since you been a bounty hunter, Devil?" Elias asked, leaning forward to see around Strickland. "Twenty, forty... over a hundred?"

Shepard clenched his teeth and ignored him, something he'd become proficient at during the past twenty-four hours out of necessity.

"Cat got your tongue, or you afraid to answer cause you ain't got the smarts to count that high?"

"How far ahead of us do you think Fairleigh and the Wardell's are, Strickland?" Dan asked with a baleful eye directed at Elias.

Strickland removed his hat and scratched his head as he pursed his lips. Smoothing his hand over his messy salt and pepper hair, he settled the dusty Stetson back atop his head before answering. "At least two or three days, I reckon. Should have a better idea once we reach Colorado Springs tonight."

"I'd wager four dollars you're as yellow as a bounty hunter comes," Elias said, talking over Strickland. "You probably christened yourself The Devil too while cowering behind stand-up citizens like myself who were doing the real work. Am I right, boys?"

Robert grunted in agreement, but the others remained silent on the matter.

Strickland turned to Elias, "That's enough jawing from you for today. Another attempt on your part to spark contention among Devereaux and the men, and I'll hog tie you and leave you for someone else to deal with. Don't think I won't."

Elias glared at Strickland and spit, narrowly missing the Marshal's right boot, "At least now I see where your loyalty lies, Jeremiah."

"Just doing my duty to keep the peace," Strickland murmured, "a foreign concept for you, I know, but one I'm hopeful you'll learn the advantage of when this is over."

Shepard grunted and shook his head.

"You have something to say, Devil?"

"Nope," he murmured, kicking Bubbles to a faster clip. Every moment spent in Elias's company was more excruciating than the last.

"I thought so...," Elias snorted, directing his mount up alongside Shepard.

They rode in silence for several minutes, with Elias casting dirty looks Shepard's way and Shepard doing his utmost to ignore them.

It hadn't taken long to figure out Elias was like a foolish child poking a bear with a stick, jabbing with his words in search of a reaction that would prove Shepard to be the sort of man he'd accused him of being right out of the gate.

Elias's thick lips curled in a sneer as he turned to him and stupidly continued, "Your brother was a co-"

Shepard launched himself in an explosion of pent-up fury the instant the word 'brother' fell from Elias's mouth. Both men landed hard in the dirt road amidst a choking cloud of dust.

Straddling Elias's chest to keep him subdued, Shepard withdrew his revolver and pressed the barrel between Elias's eyes. "What were you saying about my brother, Elinor?"

Elias stared at Shepard, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock, anger, and fear. He flicked a glance at the other riders coming up to form a half-circle around him and Shepard. "Marshal... you gonna just sit there and watch this man attempt to murder me in cold blood?"

"Yup," Strickland murmured with a slow nod.

"Thought you was all about keeping the peace," Elias whined, his voice shaking with fear and outrage.

Strickland rested his elbows on the saddle pommel as he leaned forward, the reins dangling in his grip. "I am."

Shepard cocked the hammer and pressed the barrel harder between Elias's eyes. "Nineteen men, that's how many I've killed these past two years to save enough money to try and get my brother out of that miserable town," he said through clenched teeth. "And every last one of 'em more than deserved it. You dare say one more thing about William—hell, you say his name aloud or even think it—and I'll gladly make you number twenty. Got that, Elinor?"

Elias paled. His Adam's apple bobbed as he gave an awkward nod and stammered, "I d-didn't know him... all too well... come to think of it."

Grunting in approval and a little disappointment, Shepard uncocked the hammer of his revolver as he stood and walked to Bubbles. He took the reins in hand, and a whisper of unease skittered across his skin seconds before a bullet grazed the crest of his left shoulder, and the crack of a rifle broke upon the air.

At first, he turned accusing eyes on Elias, who was struggling to his feet. But he looked as surprised as Shepard felt. The other men all cast their gazes around in search of who'd shot at him.

Within the next heartbeat, Daniel let out a choked groan as he lurched forward in the saddle and dropped dead.

Chaos ensued.

Bullets zinged through the air, striking Strickland, Robert, and Walter in quick succession. Strickland returned fire, blowing a bloody hole in one of the seven men shooting at them and knocking him off his horse.

Two more men dropped from their mounts, one dead, the other struggling to release his right boot caught in his stirrup while being dragged across the rugged terrain by his panicked mount.

Shepard rode for cover in a stand of trees nearby and managed to fire off three more rounds before another bullet struck his left thigh. Blood oozed down his leg as he took aim and shot one of the remaining four men.

His target fell back but righted himself and leveled his rifle for another shot. Another bullet whizzed past Shepard's right ear, so close it burned his skin as he released Bouncy's lead rope.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Elias aim in his direction.

Time slowed.

Shepard's heart pounded.

Without giving himself a chance to second-guess his instincts, Shepard swung his revolver up and pulled the trigger—an instant before he was knocked flat against Bubbles' broad back in a breathless daze. Pain radiated through his entire body as he fought to sit up straight and draw air into his lungs.

Shepard groaned as he straightened, clutching at the left side of his chest, and found Elias dead on the ground.

Three of the four men wheeled their mounts around, twisting at the waist to continue exchanging gunfire as they fled. Clenching his teeth against the agony wracking his body, Shepard kicked Bubbles into a gallop after them with Strickland close behind.

He fired again and watched his target slump forward and topple to the side as his mount slowed to a stop. The last two riders turned in unison and fired off several rounds.

Strickland shouted when a bullet hit him in the right shoulder, and another struck his side, toppling him off his buckskin, Flapjack. Rolling onto his elbow, he emptied his revolver at the attackers before crumpling onto his back.

Shepard watched with bated breath for any sign the Marshal's aim had been true, but despite twitching from being hit, both riders continued on, increasing the distance separating them.

In desperation, he took aim and fired, emptying both revolvers without a single bullet dropping the two escaping outlaws.

Knowing the folly in giving chase when the odds were stacked against him, he shouted a curse as he reined Bubbles in and watched them get away. Casting one last glance over his shoulder, Shepard muttered a string of expletives and directed Bubbles toward Strickland.

"You all right?"