Page 42 of Charlotte's Reckoning
The biggest rewards, some reaching $500, were paid with bank drafts, not cash. He couldn’t carry that much money around with him.When the formerbank robber became a bank customer, he put his past behind him and let his infamous family name go.
“We’re down this way, Walker,”the older mansaid, walking toward the east end of town.
Seth paused, glancing towardthe inndoor where he’d last seen her. If it was the girl he rescued from the attic, she had landed on her feet. He could sleep easier, not worrying about her anymore. But what if it wasn’t?
***
Thorn had only beena memberofthe Hartigangangfor a few weeks, but he talked a big game, and Seth had learned several of his favorite haunts when off the trail. Added to the sheriff’s information, he picked up his trail within days. It led him to a seedy saloon on the outskirts of Lincoln.
Raucous laughter and the clink of whiskey filled the air ashe entered. Seth scanned the room for his quarry, locating him as he drunkenly stumbled toward a young saloon girl, his intentions clear.
In time to spare the young woman his drunken advances, Seth moved in. Grabbing Thorn’s arm, he spun him around and swiftly had him pinned against the wall with the muzzle of his Colt pressed between his shoulder blades.
“What the fuck?”he exclaimed, thick-tongued, his speech slurred.
“It’s been a while, Thorn. Remember me?”
The older man twisted to look over his shoulder. Bleary-eyed, he blinked blankly at him.
“Apparently not,”Seth drawled. “But it doesn’t matter. What does is that you’re coming with me.”
“I ain’t going nowhere,”he replied, thenhiseyes widenedinrecognition. “You’re Deadeye Bill Hartigan’s snot-nosed kid.”When he glanced at the star on Seth’s shirt, a flicker of something—fear, perhaps—crossed his face. He quickly masked it. “Why’sa memberofthe Hartigangangwearing a badge?”
“Times change, as do people,”Seth said vaguely, letting his actions speak for themselves as he tied his prisoner’s hands with the rope he’d tuckedinto his pocketfor just this occasion. He wasn’t taking any chances, even if Thorn was too drunk to see straight, let alone make a run for it.
He wasted no time getting to the question that had constantly been on his mind for three long years. “Where is Ike?”he demanded, his voice icy and resolute.
“Ike who?”
“You damn well know who. Ike Hartigan. Deadeye Bill’s brother and my uncle,”Seth snapped, pulling the rope tighter than necessary as he knotted it off. “You were the last one with him. I want to know what happened.”
“That’s too tight!”Thorn protested. “You’re cutting off the blood to my fingers!”
Seth loosened the knot but only slightly. He wasn’t unkind, but he also wasn’t born yesterday. It didn’t stop the man’s sniveling.
“You’re pathetic,” he ground out between his teeth. “Why Judd trusted you I’ll never know. Neither me nor Ike bought your line of bull about being a friend of Pa’s. It was obvious you just wanted to worm your way into the gang and take over.”
“So what if I did?” he slurred. “Couldn’t have a kid half my age telling me what to do. ’Sides, I proved I was the better man to be leader. He got himself dead, and I’m still standing.”
“You got yourself caught,” Seth pointed out. “Think about that, tough guy, when you’re standing behind bars.”
“Fuck you!”
“Where’s Ike? What did you do to him?” Seth demanded.
“I got no idea what you’re talking about.”
Seth wasn’t buying it. Thorn was involved in Ike’s disappearance; he’d bet the entire $1000 bounty on it. With miles of hard riding ahead, he had plenty of time to get the truth out of him.
As he led his staggering captive from the saloon, the young woman Thorn had accosted smiled at him with gratitude and mouthed a silentthank-you.
He nodded, reminded of another girl from a different time in an even more harrowing situation. If the redhead in Omaha was truly her, then the gnawing uncertainty about what had become of her would be over. If only he could be sure.
***
Two days with Thorn seemed like two months. He’d never been as relieved as when he reined in outside the Omaha jailhouse. Wrangling his struggling, resistant, foul-mouthed prisoner from his horse and through the door wasn’t easy. Once he’d sobered up, nothing was.
The front room was empty, the four cells vacant.
