“You’re alright? They didn’t harm you?”
“No,” Ellen shook her head. “No, I’m unhurt.”
“Thank God,” Jim said. “Who were they?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen them before. They came in to rob the bank.” Ellen looked at the man behind the desk. “Mr. Geissler…he tried to stop them and they shot him. They wanted the money. When they couldn’t fill the sacks fast enough, one of them struck Mr. Flannery over the head with a pistol.”
“They weren’t after you?” Jim said.
“After me? No…no, I don’t think so. Why would they be?”
“I thought I recognized one. I’d almost swear he was one of Cord Bannen’s men.”
“After all this time?” Ellen said. “Surely he’s given up. We own the mine free and clear. He can’t take it from us now.”
“I don’t know. Maybe they were only after the bank.”
Sheriff Max Wheeler arrived next, two deputies on his heels.
“What happened here?” Max said. The old sheriff was huffing and puffing, but Jim gave him credit for jumping in where needed. The older man might not want the job of enforcing the law for such a large county, but he took his duty seriously.
Jim and Ellen outlined what they knew. So did the other customers and the bank officers. Then Max led Jim outside to the body.
“Seen him before?” Max said.
“Never.”
“Well, let’s see if we can learn who this is.”
Max leaned down and rifled through the man’s pockets. He turned up two dollars, a few matches, a tobacco pouch, and a folded scrap of paper. The paper had markings on it. The sheriff unfolded it to reveal a crude map.
Over the sheriff’s shoulder, Jim saw the map clear enough. It was Donovan’s Valley, along with Onionville.
“Mind if I look at that? I’ve ridden over this country a few times,” Jim said.
Max shrugged and handed over the map.
Onionville was clearly marked, the word bank written above it. A line ran from town up into Donovan’s Valley, around the lake, then along the northern edge of the mountains. Jim recognized it as the back trail he and Neill had used to go find their ranch. An X lay at the other end of the line. The word cabin was written above it and the words boy and girl below.
Jim’s heart went cold at the sight of it. He knew where he’d recognized the mounted man from, he knew exactly where they were headed next, and he knew why.
“Mean anything to you?” Max said.
“I need a horse, a fast one, the fastest in town. I’ve got to stop them,” Jim said.
“Jim?” Ellen said. “Jim, what is it?”
“They’re headed for the cabin.” Jim’s voice was hard. He passed her the paper. “They’re after Walt and Alma.”
* * * *
The bay was fast, and Jim was grateful that he proved sure-footed as well.
Over rock and sod, hooves rang in a thunderous beat. Jim barely heard them. The pounding in his ears was twice as fast, twice as loud.
After the sheriff had pointed out the fastest horse in town, Jim had taken time only to throw his saddle aboard and then spurred the horse into motion. If the bay needed to be bought, Ellen would handle the details. He hated leaving her alone. He wanted more than anything to stay by her side. To keep her safe. But she was in town; the sheriff and his deputies were with her. They’d promised to keep her safe. Besides, Bannen’s men had already struck there. They wouldn’t return.
Jim crested the pass between Onionville and Donovan’s Valley. He fought his way through a tangled knot of miners, freighters, teamsters.
If they cursed and snapped at him, Jim didn’t hear them.
Five miles. Five miles across the valley to home. He had to circle the lake, then cross the stream. Choked with sluice boxes and panners as it was, he’d lose time finding a crossing. He could just blaze on through. But that would be a good way of getting shot, and getting shot wouldn’t help save Walt and Alma.
Ellen’s parents were with them, but what could the two of them do against Cord Bannen and his thugs? Worse, they’d be caught completely unaware. None of them expected Bannen to strike, not after so long.
“My fault,” Jim said. “I should have expected him. I should have hunted after him.”
Taking a wide path where the horse could have firm footing, he skirted the lake. The stream was directly ahead. He had to slow. He knew where all the best crossings were; the stream had few pools deep enough to be a hindrance. Unfortunately, these were also places where the miners preferred to set their camps.
He found one such camp. Someone had put up a tent, but there was room enough for his horse to squeeze past.
“Hey hey, you can’t bring that horse through here,” a man said when Jim started forward.
Jim ignored him until the man bent down for a scattergun. When he straightened, Jim had his pistol drawn.
“There’s a gang of outlaws about to murder a pair of old folks and two children across the creek. I’m riding through.”
“Young’uns?” the miner said. “You aren’t jumping my claim?”
