Outlaw Pass (9781101544785) (10 page)

“Why don't you wait around for a minute or two until I'm all packed up and ready to ride?” Adam suggested. “I might need a hand.” He wasn't sure where Wilber went to eat breakfast, or whom he might talk to, but he felt he would be a little more comfortable if he was on his way before Wilber had the chance to tell anyone he was still in town. Wilber shrugged indifferently, and waited. When Adam was ready, he walked the bay out to the front door of the stable and paused to look the street over before nudging the horse to a leisurely lope toward the dry goods store the bartender had mentioned. Once he was even with the store, he turned to scan the ridge east of the town. Spotting the notch he had been told about, he headed the bay directly toward it and started up the slope. He had halfway expected someone to take a shot at him, but everything seemed peaceful as he left the town behind him.

 

More than half of the claims were deserted, but there remained a good many tents and crude structures of all kinds with rough-looking bearded men who stopped to stare at him as he approached. He was reminded of the hillside littered with badger holes that cost Brownie his life. He repeated his inquiry at each camp, but none admitted to knowing Jake Blaine. It seemed unlikely to him that no one had heard of Jake, and he began to wonder if the information as to the whereabouts of Jake's camp was correct. Maybe the bartender was mistaken. He was about to conclude as much when he recalled Jake's partner, a man named Finn.

“Finn?” the grim-looking miner replied. Holding a double-barreled shotgun at his side, he had put aside the pick he had been working with and stood watching Adam approach his camp. “Yeah, I know Michael Finn,” he said after just having denied knowing Jake Blaine. “He's a good man. Whaddaya lookin' for him for?”

Considering all Adam had heard about outlaws preying upon the miners along the gulch, he was not surprised by the man's suspicious nature. “I'm told he and my brother were partners. It's my brother I'm lookin' for, but nobody seems to know him.”

“So that's who you're lookin' for,” the miner said, “Finn's partner.” He leaned his shotgun against a knee-high boulder. “Hell, I knowed him. I just didn't know him by name. Ever'body knows Finn, though. He's been here since the first, but he ain't had a partner but about a year. You say he's your brother?”

“That's right,” Adam replied. “I was hopin' you mighta seen him recently. We got word that he was on his way home, but he never showed up.”

The miner took a moment to scratch under his chin whiskers while he studied Adam's face, apparently trying to decide if Adam was telling him the truth. It was a fact that Finn had come to Bannack right after the first strike, and he was still here. The logical thinking was if Finn hadn't pulled up stakes and moved on to Alder Gulch, then he must still be digging rich ore out of the earth. He had suffered run-ins with outlaws several times, hoping to find a hidden treasure. This formidable stranger might just be one more. After a lengthy pause, he decided Adam was really looking for his brother. “I can tell you how to find Finn's camp,” he said. “If anybody knows where your brother is, I expect it would be Finn.”

 

He was a little man, but in stature only, with large forearms and strong shoulders, obvious evidence of many years of hard work. His face was partially hidden behind a dense growth of whiskers liberally streaked with gray, but his eyes were clear and youthful as they measured the stranger on the bay horse when he entered the mouth of the deep ravine.

Not spotting the man until he suddenly stepped out from behind a boulder, rifle in hand, caused Adam to pull up abruptly, and ask, “Are you Finn?”

“I'm Finn” was the simple reply, offering nothing more while he waited for Adam to state his business.

“My name's Adam Blaine,” Adam said. If the little Irishman recognized the last name, he gave no indication, waiting for Adam to continue. “I was told my brother, Jake, was your partner, and I'm tryin' to find him. He sent word that he was on his way home, but he never showed up. So I came lookin' for him. I'm hopin' you can help me.”

There was just a hint of softening in the gaze fixed so firmly on Adam as Finn made up his mind. Finally he spoke. “So you're Shorty's brother—I always called him Shorty.” He nodded his head as if to confirm the statement, while continuing to evaluate the stranger. “Bless me if you ain't a bit taller than your brother.”

“A bit, maybe,” Adam confirmed.

“Your father must be a large man as well—John, I believe Shorty said his name was.”

“Nathan,” Adam corrected, already impatient with the seemingly small talk. Then, judging by the expression on Finn's face, he guessed that the little man was seeking to verify his legitimacy.

“Right you are,” Finn said. “My mistake.” He continued to study Adam's face for a few moments more before deciding to trust his instincts. “I'm sorry for my lack of hospitality,” he went on, speaking with the thick brogue of his native Ireland. “But I've had a few of Sheriff Ainsworth's bullyboys snoopin' around lately, and I have to keep an eye out for the back-shootin' bastards. I expect they would have put a bullet in my back long ago, but they think I've got a cache of gold dust hidden somewhere around here. And their sneakin' around ain't found nothin' yet.”

“Well, I'm not interested in your gold,” Adam said. “I'm just concerned about Jake.”

“I believe you,” Finn replied. “And now that you're tellin me he's missin', I'm concerned as well.” He paused to recall the exact day Jake had left his camp. “It's been two,” he started to say before changing his mind, “no, three weeks when he left here on his way to town—I think to see some little saloon girl he knew.”

“He never got there,” Adam said. “I found the girl and she said he never showed up.”

Finn didn't respond at once. He could well imagine why Jake didn't make it to Bannack. There were hundreds of gullies and rock piles between his camp and town. Jake's body was no doubt lying in one of them. Finally he shook his head back and forth sadly. “I warned the boy to be careful, that Ainsworth's men were still watchin' the camp, waitin' to see if I'm gonna pack up and try to sneak out. He'd already had a run-in with some of ‘em over the girl that came close to gunfire. If I hadn't been there to talk some sense into his head, he wouldn't have walked away from that. There were too many of ‘em. There are always too many of ‘em. He wouldn't have had a chance. They ain't the kind of men to forget somethin' like that, and if somethin' bad has happened to your brother, I'd be willin' to bet they had a hand in it. I know that they threatened to kill Jake.” Finn paused again, watching Adam's reaction to what he had just said. There was no change in the calm facial expression, but the big man's eyes seemed to be looking right through him with a steel-blue intensity, causing Finn to sense the deep presence of a violent capability. The younger brother had demonstrated a rough and ready demeanor, willing to stand up to any challenge. But this solemn man standing before him now was the more lethal of the two, cold and calculating, with blood that ran as cold as Jake's had hot.

“Which trail did Jake take to town?” Adam asked.

Finn turned to point. “At the mouth of the gully, then to the north, the way I always go to town. It's a ride of about four miles. I ain't been there since Shorty left. I don't go no more than I absolutely have to. Sometimes, if some of Ainsworth's boys see me in town, I'll come back to find my camp all torn up, lookin' for somethin' they ain't never gonna find.”

Finn's statement caused Adam to recall something Mutt had said, that the folks who had struck it rich were prisoners in the valley, afraid to try to take their gold out. The thought that was searing his brain, however, was the matter of Jake's fate. He had to find out for certain what had happened to his brother, and he feared that it was too much to hope for that Jake was all right. Hidden by his stoic expression, a fire of rage was spreading through his veins as he thought of the free-spirited fun-loving younger man, and his fear of what might have happened to him. Life on the Triple-B, herding cattle, had never appealed to Jake. He was too much like a colt, yearning to stretch his legs.
Maybe I'll find the young colt, and all my worry will be for nothing,
he thought. He turned to step back up in the saddle. “I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Finn,” he said as he wheeled the bay. “I'm goin' to look for my brother.”

Concerned for what Adam was going to find, Finn felt a deep compassion for the somber older brother. “You're welcome to come on back here to camp for the night. It's getting along in the afternoon and there won't be much daylight left.” When Adam paused to consider the invitation, Finn went on. “Be less trouble if you leave your packhorse here while you're lookin',” he said.

Adam paused to think it over. “'Preciate it,” he said after a moment. “I'll take you up on that.” He dismounted again and took the packs off the roan, then hobbled it and left it to graze. “I'll be back about dark if I don't find somethin' any sooner.”

Adam had ridden about half of the four miles to the town, checking every gully and ravine he came upon, when the trail he followed took a sharp turn to avoid a deep ravine whose sides were thick with scrubby pines. Judging it too steep to risk riding down into the bottom, he dismounted and made his way down the slope on foot. It was here that he found the body, a little more than halfway to the bottom. It had caught on a sapling pine and was lodged there, swollen and decomposing. The shock of finding his brother in this way was enough to cause Adam to sit down hard on the slope in an effort to control his emotions. The advanced stage of decomposition made it difficult to identify the corpse as Jake's. Had it not been for the shock of sandy hair, he might have held out hope that it was not his brother. When he had left Finn's camp, he had tried to steel himself for what he might probably find, but no amount of discipline could prepare him for this crushing grief over seeing what they had done to Jake. Feeling a sudden weakness in his knees, he sat down beside the body, which had been stripped of everything except shirt and trousers—they even took his boots. Thinking what he was going to tell his father, he remained there for some time, remembering Jake on the last day he had seen him—so much alive and eager to start out for the gold fields. After a while, his grief began to turn to anger, and he knew he could not return to the Triple-B until those who had murdered his brother had paid with their lives. With his way clear before him now, he got to his feet and climbed back up to the top of the ravine.

Finn was waiting for him when he returned. It was sooner than he expected, so the little Irishman presumed he had bad news to report. “You found him?”

“I found him,” Adam replied, his impassive emotions now under control again. “I wanna borrow a pick and shovel to bury him.”

“I'll go with you,” Finn said.

 

It was the hardest thing Adam had ever had to do. Bent in a permanent position around the tree trunk, the body had not been discovered by buzzards yet, but when he and Finn pulled it away from the tree, they discovered a whole colony of worms that were well into their macabre occupancy. The sight caused Adam to gasp involuntarily, sickened by the desecration of his brother's body. Although able to maintain a grim face, he was barely able to control the fire of vengeance raging in his very soul. Finn realized there was nothing he could say that would console the big man, so he worked away in silence as the two of them dug Jake's grave near the top of the ridge. When it was done, and Jake was in the ground, Finn watched as Adam collected some rocks to fashion a crude marker before attempting to offer his condolences.

“I'm sorry,” Finn said. “That ain't easy on you to find him like that.” When Adam made no reply, he asked, “What are you gonna do now? I expect you'll be goin' back to tell his father.”

There was still no immediate reply from Adam, so deep was he in a mental whirlpool of sorrow and rage. Finn thought he had not heard his question and started to repeat it when Adam spoke. “Do you know any names?” he asked, obviously deep in thought. He looked up sharply at Finn. “Them that threatened Jake?”

“No, sorry,” Finn replied.

Adam recalled the man whose nose he had broken in the saloon had been called Lon by his friends. “Was one a baby-faced little bastard named Lon Bridges?” Finn shook his head no.

“Adam,” Finn was quick to comment, “you might not be thinkin' straight at a time like this. It's not just two or three men you're dealin' with; it's closer to a hundred. They're all connected. They know everything that's goin' on between here and Virginia City. There's no sense in puttin' yourself in danger. It won't bring your brother back, and is likely to present your father with two dead sons. If you had a little altercation with Lon Bridges, they're most likely already lookin' for you. Go home, boy.”

“If they're lookin' for me, then I reckon I'll make it easier for 'em,” Adam said as he stepped up in the saddle. “But I don't wanna bring any trouble your way, so I'll pick up my packhorse and find me a place to camp.”

“Hell, it's close to dark now,” Finn said. “You might as well stay with me tonight. I ain't noticed any of Ainsworth's boys close to my place for a day or two, anyway. Give you a chance to get something to eat and rest your horses, maybe think a little bit more about what you're gonna do.”

“I'm obliged,” Adam said. “I ain't particularly hungry, but I could sure use a cup of coffee.”