Will waited until he was sure Mac had left. He planned to hang back until after the posse left the sheriff’s office, then follow them. He could catch up when they’d gone too far to send him home.

But he had to leave the house before Mama got up, or she would stop him surely. He waited until first light, then trod quietly down the stairs.

He startled and almost yelled when Maria whispered from the parlor, “Will, what are you doing?”

“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Will hissed. “You half-scared me to death.”

“I got up when Pa left.” Maria sighed. “I’m too frightened to sleep.”

“I’m going after him,” Will said. “Don’t tell Mama.”

Maria rushed over and grabbed his sleeve. “You can’t, Will. Mama and Pa told you not to. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m going anyway. It’s me Johnson wants. I know it is. And I want to have it out with him.” Will touched the pistol he’d kept nearby since watching for Johnson a few days earlier. It now hung through his belt, and he’d filled his jacket pockets with ammunition. He’d looked for Mac’s other pistol, but Mac must have taken it.

“Will, don’t go,” Maria pleaded, trying to hold him back. “Please don’t go.”

“I have to, Maria.” This was man’s work, and Will didn’t expect her to understand. But he couldn’t stay away from Johnson. He had to be a part of confronting the man.

“Oh, Will,” Maria whispered and flung her arms around him.

Will couldn’t help himself. He might not see her again. He leaned over and touched his lips to hers. This kiss was as sweet as the first one. “Wait for me. I’ll be back. You’ll see.” He hoped his words would convince them both.

Jenny came down the stairs in time to see William kiss Maria. She gasped, and both children turned to her.

“Mama,” Maria exclaimed.

Jenny ignored her daughter and focused on William bundled in his heavy coat and holding his hat in his hand. “Where are you going?” she asked.

Will straightened to his full height, towering over her. “I’m joining the posse, Mama. I have to.” He turned and rushed out the back door toward the carriage house.

Jenny ran after him and found him saddling Shanty. “You can’t go, Will. Your father and I forbid you.”

“Mac isn’t my father,” Will said, glaring at her. “And Johnson might be. Are you telling me I don’t have a part in this?”

“Whatever your part is,” Jenny said, tugging on Will’s arm, “it isn’t going with the posse. I can’t lose you again.”

Will pulled away from her. “I have to, Mama.”

She retreated when he pulled Shanty out of the stall. “Please, William,” she whispered, her heart pounding and her voice catching. “No.” She watched him mount and ride away, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Will worried he might be too late to see which direction the posse took out of town, but they were just leaving the sheriff’s office as he approached. He hung back far enough that he hoped Shanty wouldn’t call to Valiente. He’d have to be careful, or the gelding might give him away. Once they left town, there weren’t many forks in the roads, and Will should be able to follow the horses’ hoof tracks in the light coating of snow.

There were six men in the posse—he’d only expected five. He’d heard the discussion naming the sheriff and his deputy, Mac, Zeke, and Daniel. It didn’t matter to Will, but he wondered who the sixth man was. Then he heard a deep voice boom—Samuel Abercrombie. Will hoped the old blowhard didn’t bollix their search for Johnson. Will wanted to confront Johnson face to face.

He waited until he could barely see the men in the faint light of dawn. As they disappeared into the morning flurries, he followed.

Chapter 64: On the Hunt

The posse rode north through the streets of Oregon City. At the far end of town, near where the Clackamas River joined the Willamette, the sheriff gestured to the right. “We head east along Abernethy Road,” he said. “After a few miles we turn north between two creek beds. That’s where Albee found Johnson’s lair.” Sheriff Thomas gestured at his deputy.

“How’d you find it?” Mac asked.

“Got word from a farmer in those parts,” Albee replied. “Said he seen a man in the woods near a farm what’s been abandoned. The description of the man matched what we know about Johnson. Bad left arm. Confederate garb. I checked it out yesterday. Saw signs of a man living in an old shack. I didn’t approach ’cause I was alone. But I marked where to head north from the road. I can find it again easy enough.”

They followed the road through forested hills and dales. The snow ceased, but dank clouds hung overhead, keeping the day gloomy and gray. About an hour’s ride from town, Albee stopped them. “There’s my mark.” He pointed to a small pile of rocks beside a twisted pine. “We turn off the road here.”

Mac gazed up a creek bed descending the hill above them. Another creek trickled down about a hundred yards farther along the road. Patches of snow lay where no sun could reach the ground. “What’s the best way to approach so we don’t chase him off?”

The sheriff peered upward, just as Mac had done. “Better split up,” he said. He and the deputy conferred about the terrain and about how to pinch Johnson’s camp between two groups of men.

“All right,” Sheriff Thomas said after he and Albee reached a decision. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll head up this creek bed, takin’ two of you with me.” He gestured at the deputy. “Albee will take the other two, go up the other creek bed. My group will stop below the shack, and Adam’s group’ll head up above it and drive him down to me. If Johnson stays put, we’ll attack him from both above and below.”

“I want to be in on the kill,” Samuel Abercrombie said. “I’ll go with you, Sheriff. Daniel, you’re with me.”

The sheriff caught Mac’s eye and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m fine with that.” Mac grinned. “If you all make too much noise, we might be the ones making the arrest.” He raised an eyebrow at Zeke, who shrugged his assent.

“Give us a chance to get started,” Deputy Albee said. “We have a longer climb.”

Mac and Zeke followed Albee to the other creek bed, and they turned up the hill. “Have you been this way?” Mac asked the deputy.

“Yep. I went up this path yesterday,” Albee said. “And come down the other creek bed, trying to find the best route. The two paths are about even in terms of difficulty. This route’s longer, but the other has more fallen trees to get over or around.”

“Serves old Samuel right,” Zeke murmured to Mac. “He’ll have fun jumping his fat gelding over the logs.”

Will stayed far enough behind the posse that he could barely hear the horses’ hooves clopping along the road. He almost caught up to them several miles out of town along Abernethy Road. Shanty’s ears perked up and he tossed his head. “Whoa, boy,” Will whispered, and stopped the gelding to stay behind a curve from Mac and the others.

Will dismounted and tied Shanty to a tree, then he crept into the forest and inched toward the posse, which was stopped at a gully that crossed the road. He heard the men discuss splitting up, then watched as Mac, Zeke, and the deputy rode a bit farther along the road until they turned up a second creek bed. About ten minutes later, the sheriff and the two Abercrombies started up the first gully.

Will raced back, untied Shanty, and headed toward where the posse had halted. Which group should he follow? He didn’t relish letting Mac shout at him, but he had no interest in spending the day with Samuel Abercrombie.

“God damn it,” he heard Abercrombie bellow from up the hill. “This path ain’t nothin’ but downed logs.”

That clinched it. He wouldn’t follow Abercrombie. Will urged Shanty along the road and up the path Mac’s party had taken.

Will followed the hoof prints of the horses ahead of him, trying to stay back far enough to avoid being seen. Soon, however, he heard them not far ahead. “Can we jump the log, do you think?” he heard Zeke say.

“Valiente can take it,” Mac said. “Your horse is bigger and younger.”