Page 17 of Hard Bounty

She’s not, John. The moment she can, she’ll turn on you and try to escape. That’s for damn sure.

By design, there wasn’t much conversation as he led her down the road. The cave was far behind them now and it was about ten in the morning when she said, “Have you picked up the trail of the horses?”

“Nope. Rain washed that away. It’s time to admit I’ll probably never see those mounts again. And I loved my horse. We’ve ridden together a good many miles.” He shot her a stern look before turning his eyes back to the road. “Anyway, right now, I’m just trying to get us to Garrettsville.”

“Is that a town?”

“If you could call it that. More of an outpost, really. But it’s got a post office, store, and saloon. A livery stable, too, I expect. Maybe we can find some horses there.”

“I’ve never been there,” she said. “And I’ve been all over this area.”

“You’ve been all over this area runnin’ from the law,” he reminded her. “But like I said, not much to Garrettsville. It’s easy to never wander that way unless you have reason to. Should be coming up soon if my memory serves correctly.”

Sure enough, about thirty minutes later, they rounded a bend and then saw the tiny village spread out before them.

That wasn’t all John saw.

There, tied in front of the saloon, were his two horses.

And they were sure a sight for sore eyes.

***

John wished there was a marshal around Garrettsville, but they weren’t even big enough to have that. The county sheriff rode through there every so often to check on things. Of course, he’d come if someone fetched him. But right now, there was no time for that and no one for John to leave his prisoner with.

Maybe he didn’t need a marshal or sheriff, though. He’d been in some mighty tough scrapes that he’d gotten through all by his lonesome. Surely this couldn’t be any harder than those times.

“Come on,” he said, guiding Mary into the store.

“But the horses are at the saloon,” she said.

He ignored the comment and approached the counter where a short, balding, slightly round man in an apron was diligently counting money. Suddenly, he seemed guarded, probably worried John would steal the cash. He put the till back in the register, closed it, and said, “What can I do you for?”

“My name is John Hardin. Deputy United States Marshal.”

The man’s eyes fell to the tin star and he looked up at John with a newfound appreciation. “Are you here to do something about those damn ruffians over at the saloon?” The shopkeeper’s eyes darted to Mary. “My apologies for swearing in front of the lady.”

John fought back a laugh. Running with the likes of the outlaw gang she had, she’d probably heard a lot worse. But of course, this feller didn’t know any of that.

“There are outlaws at the saloon?” John asked. He figured there were, since the stolen horses were there. But any information he could glean from the shopkeeper before charging into battle blind would come in handy.

The man snorted but then shrugged. “I don’t know the particulars of any crimes they’ve committed. But the whole place is a den of iniquity! A lair of wickedness! You ask me, they all need to repent.” He stood up as straight as possible. “Are you here to help them see the error of their ways?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.” John jerked his head toward Mary. “But she’s a prisoner and I can’t leave her unguarded.”

The older man’s jaw fell slack in astonishment, causing his sizable jowls to look even heavier. “She’s a prisoner?”

“Yes, sir.”

The shopkeeper shook his head. “What is this world coming to? A young woman breaking the law.” He looked at her. “Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Your job, young lady, is tending to a family!” He gave an emphatic nod.

“I couldn’t agree more,” John said.

“Raisin’ young ‘uns and such,” the shopkeeper continued. “It’s what the Good Book commands!”

“Amen. Preach, brother,” John said. He couldn’t help but give Mary a little smirk.

She simply cast daggers at him with her eyes but held her tongue.

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