Mac tramped down the hill toward Zeke and Johnson with his rifle trained on Johnson. Will followed behind him.
“Go inside the cabin and look for something to tie him up with,” Mac told Will. He kept his gun on Johnson.
“You’re McDougall, ain’t you?” Johnson said, spitting. “Ain’t seen you since you was in Missouri. You gonna kill me like you killed my pa?”
Will came out of the cabin, a ragged rope in hand.
“Tie him up, Will,” Mac said.
“Well, young Will,” Johnson sneered. “You think you’re gonna tie up your own pa?”
Will said nothing but shot a look at Mac.
“Go on, Will,” Mac said. “Tie him up.”
Will bound Johnson’s hands. Then, after Zeke threw the scoundrel to the ground and held his legs, Will bound Johnson’s feet.
Zeke checked the knots, then nodded at Mac. “He ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
“Where’s the sheriff?” Mac asked, lowering his rifle but keeping an eye on Johnson.
“Who knows?” Zeke said. “Maybe got held up by Abercrombie. Or a rotten log.”
“What’s next?” Johnson taunted. “You gonna shoot me?”
Mac looked at Will. “What do you think, Will? Should we kill him now? He murdered Albee, and you know what he did to your mother.”
Chapter 66: Will's Decision
“Kill him?” Will startled at Mac’s question. Why had Mac asked him what to do?
He thought about all the trouble Johnson had caused. First, raping Mama all those years ago, and heaven knew what other crimes he’d committed in Missouri. This year, the man attacked Mama and Will in their own home and threatened the entire family. He was a Secessionist deserter. He’d hidden out for months in Oregon, probably stealing from farmers for his sustenance. And now he’d killed Deputy Albee.
But if the posse shot Johnson now, while he was trussed on the ground, it would be cold-blooded vigilantism. Akin to murder of their own. Will wanted Johnson gone from their lives forever—and he dearly wished he’d never known about the man’s existence. But did his evil deeds justify the three of them killing him now?
Mac wanted Johnson dead. The bastard had caused enough misery in their lives. Johnson’s malevolence began even before Mac knew Jenny, and his vile deeds still influenced their family. Without Johnson and his two fellow rapists, Jenny might have married Mac in forty-seven, and they could have lived happily.
But she wouldn’t have married him because Mac wouldn’t have taken her with him to Oregon. And they wouldn’t have Will. Nor Maria—for it was doubtful Mac would have gone to California and met Consuela. And if he hadn’t married Jenny, none of the other children would exist either.
Everything that was good in Mac’s life had come from meeting Jenny, bringing her to Oregon, marrying her, and raising their family. Sometimes, evil acts brought good consequences—if the victims could overcome the depravity through righteous behavior.
Mac hoped he and Jenny and their children had been righteous.
At the moment, Mac wanted Will to feel he had a role in the decision what to do with Johnson. Will, more than any of them, had a stake in the outcome. No matter how expedient it might be for Mac to simply pull the trigger and kill the man, Will would still have to face the truth that he had been fathered by a rapist.
Mac and Zeke kept their rifles trained on Johnson and waited for Will to speak.
Mac had killed Johnson’s father, Will remembered. As Mac told the story, it had been in self-defense—the older Johnson had fired at Mac first. How would Mac deal with killing two of the three men who might have been Will’s father? Was it right to put that burden on Mac?
Was Will willing to pull the trigger himself? If he wasn’t, he couldn’t ask another man to do the job for him. He couldn’t ask Mac.
It was one thing to let the courts try the criminal and rule as they saw fit, after finding the man guilty. Even if Johnson were sentenced to hang. It was something else to pull the trigger here in the wilderness, with only Will, Mac, and Zeke standing in judgment.
Will shook his head. “We’ll take him back to town, Pa.”
As Will spoke, three horsemen trotted into the yard.
“Whoa,” Sheriff Thomas said, as he pulled his mount to a stop, the two Abercrombies behind him. “What happened? Where’s Albee?” He turned to Will. “And what the devil are you doing here?”
Mac and Zeke told the sheriff and the Abercrombies about the gunfight. Then the men lashed Johnson to a saddle on an old, scarred mare found behind the cabin—probably a horse Johnson had stolen from the Army when he deserted. “Tie his hands to the reins,” the sheriff said. “And we’ll hope the horse throws him. Pershing,” he said to Zeke, “since you captured him, you lead him into town.”
The lawman helped Mac and Will wrap Albee’s body in a dirty blanket from the shack and place it across the back of the deputy’s horse. “I’ll lead his horse,” the sheriff said. “Adam was a good man.” He looked at Johnson. “I hope you hang for this.”
The somber posse rode back to Oregon City. Any time Johnson started to talk, Zeke kicked him. Will saw a glance pass between Mac and Zeke, and he realized Zeke didn’t want Johnson saying anything about Will being his son. Will nodded gratefully at Zeke, who grinned back at him.
As they returned to town, Will reflected on his realization that Mac’s raising him made Mac his father. It didn’t matter whose blood ran in Will’s veins. Mac had contributed far more than blood to Will’s character.
No one knew who sired Maria either, but Mac was her father, too. And Mac treated both Will and Maria the same as he treated their siblings he’d fathered in blood. Will wondered what all this meant for his attraction to Maria, but those considerations would have to wait for another day.
When they reached the sheriff’s office, Sheriff Thomas supervised the jailing of Johnson, then dismissed the posse. “You men go home to your families,” he said. “I’ll take Adam’s body to the undertaker, then visit his wife. She’ll be devastated. They have a little baby.”
