“Three nights ago.They came and took him away.”
“How many men?”
“Two.”
She sat across the table from him.In the candlelight, Caleb could see the web of lines spreading out from the corners of Imala’s eyes.Gray strands were beginning to streak the black hair.He guessed her to be in her thirties, maybe older.It was tough to judge the age of some women, and those who lived out on the frontier tended to age faster than the women he recollected from back East.Except for Caleb’s mother.He believed that she began aging the day she married.
“Tell me what happened when they came for him,” he said.
She looked toward the door, remembering.“The moon was still high enough that the light was good.I woke Smith when I heard them.He pulled on his coat and boots and was waiting outside for them.They rode up to the cabin like they owned it.”
“Where were you?”he asked.
“I was inside.I had the shotgun, but I am to use it only when it is necessary to kill.Smith says it is better to stay out of sight.He doesn’t want anyone knowing I am here.”
“Could you hear what they wanted?”
“The men wanted to know where they could find the nearest doctor.My husband told them Elkhorn was the only place.”
“Either of them wounded?”
“No.They sat straight in their saddles.”
Caleb considered.However many road agents were in this gang, they only sent two to get help.These fellas had to be the same ones who’d been spotted waiting for Doc and Smith at the edge of town.The rest of the gang, or at least some of them, had taken the wounded passenger somewhere else.Possibly to a hideout up past Devil’s Claw, as the judge said.They must have been concerned about being caught here, so close to the holdup.
“Why did your husband go with them?”
“He had no choice.He was in the army in Wyoming, but he was no killer.He had his pistol, but it did not frighten them.They drew their guns and made him drop his in the dirt.Then they told him to fetch his horse.”
They were in a hurry, Caleb thought.
“I think they are the kind who fear nothing, Marlowe.”
Caleb knew men like that.The frontier was full of them.Men who had endured the hardships that this life threw at them and came to believe they were invincible.Tough, hard, clever.Many were just lucky.Until they weren’t.
Gunslicks were the worst of the breed.Always thinking they had the fastest draw, the steadiest hand, the best shot.Always striving to prove it.Always looking to build their reputation by gunning down some other gunslinger who’d been around longer, whose fame had spread wider.And then, eventually, their luck ran dry, and they called out the wrong man.
He knew exactly the kind of men Imala was talking about.He’d had to kill more than a few.
And he was tired of being the wrong man.
“That’s the last time you saw him?”
“The last.”She stood and went to the stove, busying herself there.
Caleb figured that come daylight, he’d search the tracks along the trail and see if there was anything distinctive about the horses those men rode in on.
“Anything else you can tell me about them?Anything that stood out with you?”
“One was called Dodger,” she said.“He was young, big, angry.He drew his pistol first.I think the other one thought he would kill my husband.I heard him say, ‘Easy, Dodger.Let the man get his horse.’”
“What were they wearing?”
“They both wore dark coats, not dusters.The young one wore a dark bandana.One wore a stovepipe hat and the other’s hat had a wide brim, like yours.I could not see their faces clearly.”
She went on to describe the horses they were riding.
Caleb decided this was the most anyone seemed to know about the members of this outlaw gang.He had a name.Dodger.
