Matt Starr had circled and circled for several hours after taking up the trail after Kitty and her gang. During his many confrontations with Kitty he had learned that there was a place that they liked to hide out in; somewhere in Colorado. That was all he knew about it. But, chances were, that eventually, she would head in a north-easterly direction, if she were to choose to hide out.
Just before dark, he picked up a trail of six riders. Tracks of five of the horses did look familiar, but he couldn’t be sure. He had tracked The Wildcats before and these certainly did look like tracks he had followed many times; especially the two big horses, that could possibly be Cy’s big chestnut mare and Rap’s big gray stallion.
In the fading light, it was just too hard to tell for sure. He hated to quit the trail so early, but he wouldn’t make much progress in the dark anyway. Besides, his quarry would have to hole up for the night too.
They would all be moving out with an even start in the morning anyhow.
He found a good spot under some trees and near a stream to make camp. He stripped the saddle off the sorrel, rubbed him down with grass and ground hitched him where he could graze and get water.
Then he built a small campfire, not caring about creating smoke, for there was no need for secrecy out here, and got some coffee boiling. He had a bit of bacon, some sourdough and some jerky.
Nighttime was completely on him and he was completely surrounded by darkness, save for the light of his campfire and the half moon that filtered down through the tops of the trees by the time he had his meal ready.
He was about to take the pan out of the fire when he heard a deep voice shouting, “Hello! The Camp!”
Matt left the pan where it was, half rose to his feet, his hand on his right pistol grip, and the weapon half slipped out of its holster. “Who’s there?” Matt answered warily. He couldn’t see the owner of the voice.
“Friend. Mean you no harm. Saw your fire. Could use a cup of coffee if you can spare it.”
“Show yourself,” Matt instructed. He stood all the way up; his gun now fully drawn and at the ready.
Low hanging branches of trees in front of him parted and a horse’s head, chest, and forelegs emerged. A big man lowered his head to avoid the branch. A wide brimmed high crowned hat covered his head and shaded his face.
As he emerged into the light of the campfire and raised his head, Matt could see the man’s broad craggy face. He was a man of about fifty and beefy around the middle. The campfire glinted on the silver star pinned to the man’s vest.
Behind him, two more men emerged. They were both smaller men. One also had a silver star, but the other one had his hands tied to the pommel of his saddle.
“Name’s Tom Vestry,” the big man said. “Sheriff out of Century City. This other feller is my deputy Wade Miller and the ornery little cuss we got tied up is Billy Tyrene. He’s a bank robber. Him and his brothers Kenny and Jimmy robbed the Century City Bank yesterday.”
“A bit out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you Sheriff? Century City’s in Colorado and I judge we must be in New Mexico.” Matt was still holding his pistol in hand.
“We’ve been hot on the trail of these skunks. I reckon we lost track of where we was. Besides, I’m taking this one personal. They shot one of my deputies and killed a woman who just happened to get in their way. I’m gonna get them with or without jurisdiction.”
“Just the same,” Matt said. “This is New Mexico. You won’t be able to take them back.”
“Then we won’t,” Deputy Wade Miller put in.”
Matt glanced in his direction. The man was thin and wiry. He had thick blond hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in ages and he sported a ragged full beard.
“We’ll just shoot them and turn them in for the reward. They’ve each got five hundred dollars on them, including this one.” He nodded toward the prisoner. He spoke with a chuckle that sounded more like a snort.
“So, are you lawmen or bounty hunters?” Matt said icily.
“Lawmen, bounty hunters,” Vestry said matter of factly. “Don’t make no difference no how. Justice is justice. So what if we make some money at the same time.”
“So, you’re tracking these men as bounty hunters.” Matt supplied.
“Then jurisdiction don’t make no difference, no how.” Vestry smiled.
“Guess not,” Matt agreed.
“Then if you got no more questions, friend,” Vestry said. “How about you put that hogleg of your’s away and invite us to stay.”
“Oh, yeah,” Matt said absently as if he had forgotten he was still holding a gun on them. Matt forced a smile, trying to hide his distaste for these men. He released the cocked hammer and dropped his Colt into its holster. “The name’s Matthew Starr. Come on ahead. Step down. I’ve got coffee on, but I’m afraid I don’t have much food to share.”
“That’s alright, friend,” Vestry said as he lifted his bulk out the saddle and swinging down. The big man winced as his right foot took his weight on the ground. His hand on the pommel steadied him as brought his left foot down to take the brunt of his weight. He caught his breath and limped toward the fire.
Wade Miller alighted from his perch, gathered up the reins of all three horses and tied them to a young sapling nearby. With total lack of feeling for the young outlaw, Miller pulled the lad from the saddle and let him fall like a sack of potatoes, onto the ground. Tyrene grunted as he landed. The horses stamped and milled about at the sudden movement near their hooves.
Matt Starr winced to himself at the brutality of it, but tried not to show it. He was going to let things play out before he would show his hand. He figured it best not to give away his identity, as a lawman, just yet.
“Hurt your leg, Sheriff?” Matt asked as Vestry lowered his body carefully, to sit on the ground next to the fire. He held his right leg out straight as he sat. Matt could see the pain registering in the big man’s ruddy face.
Matt squatted beside Vestry, picked up an empty cup, lifted the coffee pot from the fire and started to pour.
“Got shot a couple of weeks back,” Vestry said, accepting the cup. He raised it to his lips and sipped briefly. “Damn, That’s hot. Strong too. Just the way I like it.”
The deputy had just dragged Billy Tyrene close to the fire and squatted down on the other side of Matt Starr.
Matt gave him a cup and poured. “How about him?” Matt nodded toward Tyrene. “Coffee for him too.?”
“Nah,” Miller said taking his cup of coffee. “Little sumbitch don’t deserve nothin’,” He took a sip from his cup. Smacked his lips, exaggerating his satisfaction and raised his cup toward the bound lad. Tyrene licked his lips with want. “Do you, sumbitch?” Miller chuckled. Then drank some more.”
Tyrene grumbled under his breath, “Bastard,” he hissed, as he tried to wiggle himself to a sitting position on the ground.
“I don’t think it would hurt to give the lad a little,” Matt said, reaching for another cup.”
“Well, he don’t get nothin’,” Vestry snarled.
The look on Vestry’s face was enough. Matt thought, “Best I back off.”
“You said you got shot?” Matt asked Vestry again, avoiding confrontation. “What happened?”
Vestry’s hardened stare softened a bit and let the prior affront go.
“Yeah. Damn Wildcat Gang,” he said after taking another sip.
“Wildcat Gang?” Matt blurted in surprise.
“Yeah. You heard of them?” Vestry said.
Matt tried to tone down his interest. “Seems to me I have. But, tell me. Where did you meet up with them?”
“They held up a stage, the other side of Century City. Shot me in the leg and got away with a hundred thousand dollars. I was riding guard. That old man they call The Cyclone Kid shot me, then they all drove away with the stage. Killed the stage driver too.”
“Are you sure it was The Wildcat Gang? I’ve heard that they rob, but I never heard of them killing people.”
“Well
, they do,” Vestry said. “I seen them with my own eyes and they left me lying in the dirt, thinking they had killed me too.”
“Do tell,” Matt said matter-of-factly. There was more he needed to know about this so called lawman. “Do tell.”
****
Chapter Sixteen