"I suppose your sour-faced friend here was one of those you sent to kill Latch?" Jed commented. "He looks to be the kind."

"Let me kill him, Walt!" The man with the sour face had his hand on his gun. "Just let me kill him!"

"What I want to know," Seever said, "is where you got them guns?" Walt said, holding up a hand to stop the other man.

"Out of the wagon, of course! The men you sent to stop Latch before he got here messed up. I'd just gotten away from a pa.s.sel of Indians and was stark naked. I found clothes in the wagon. I also found the guns."

"About like I figured. Now we'll get rid of you, an' I'll have Casa Grande."

Jed was poised for a break, any kind of a break, and stalling for time. "Thieves like you always overlook important things. The men you sent messed up badly. They were in too much of a hurry and didn't burn the wagon. And what about Arden?"

Jed had come a step nearer. They would get him, but he was going to kill Walt Seever. He chuckled. "They missed her, Walt! Arden is a girl. She was with Latch when he was killed."

"A girl?" Seever turned on the other man. "Clark, you never said anything about a girl!"

"There wasn't any girl!" Clark protested.

"He killed three of them, but she was out on the prairie to gather wild onions or something."

"That's a lie! There was only the three of them!" Clark shouted.

"What about those fancy clothes you threw around in the wagon? Think they were old woman's clothes?"

Walt was furious. "d.a.m.n you, Clark! You said you got all of them!"

"There wasn't no girl!" Clark protested. "Anyway, I didn't see one!"

"There was a girl, Walt, and she's safe. If something goes wrong here you will have to answer for it, Walt. You haven't a chance!"

Seever's face was ugly with anger. "Anyway, we've got you! We've got you dead to rights!" His hand moved toward his gun, but before Jed Asbury could move a muscle, there was a shot.

From behind Jed came Pat Flood's voice. "Keep your hands away from those guns, Walt. I can shoot the b.u.t.tons off your shirt with this here rifle, and in case that ain't enough I got me a scattergun right beside me. Now you gents just unbuckle your belts, real easy now! You first, Seever!"

The men shed their guns. "Now get off the hosses!" Flood ordered.

They dismounted and Flood asked, "What you want done with 'em. Boss? Should we bury them here or give them a runnin' chance?"

"Let them walk back to town," Jed suggested. "All but Clark. I want to talk to Clark."

Seever started to speak, but the buffalo gun and the shotgun were persuasive. He led the way.

"Let me go!" Clark begged. "They'll kill me!"

Jed gathered the gun belts and walked to the blacksmith shop, behind Clark. "How much did you hear?" he asked Flood.

"All of it," the big blacksmith replied bluntly, "but my memory can be mighty poor. I judge a man by the way he handles himself, and you've been ridin' for the brand. I ain't interested in anything else."

Jed turned on Clark. "Get this straight. You've one chance to live, and you shouldn't have that. Tell us what happened, who sent you and what you did." He glanced at Flood. "Take this down, every word."

"I got paper and pencil," Flood said. "I always keep a log."

"All right, Clark, a complete confession and you get your horse and a running start."

"Seever will kill me."

"Make your choice. You sign a confession or hind a runaway horse. Seever's not going to kill anybody, ever again."

Clark hesitated, and then he said, "I was broke in Ogden when Seever found me. I'd knowed him before. He told me I was to find this here wagon that was startin' west from St. Louis. He said I was to make sure they never got here. I never knew there was a woman along."

"Who was with you?"

"Feller named Quinby and a friend of his'n named Buck Stanton. I met up with 'em in Laramie."

At Jed's exclamation, Flood glanced at him. "You know them?"

"I killed Buck's brother Cal. They were crooked gamblers."

"Then you were the man they were huntin'!" Clark exclaimed.

"Where are they now?"

"Comin' this way, I suppose. Seever sent for 'em for some reason. Guess he figured they could come in here and prove you was somebody different than you said."

"Seever ordered the killing?"

"Yes, sir. He surely did."

A few more questions and the confession was signed. "Now get on that horse and get out of here before we change our minds and hang you."

"Do I get my guns?"

"You do not. Get going!"

He mounted and left at a dead run. Flood handed the confession to Jed. "Are you going to use it?"

"Not right now. I'll put it in the safe in the house. If Carol ever needs it, she can use it. If I brought it out now it would prove that I am not Michael Latch."

"I knew you weren't him," Flood said. "Old George told me a good bit about him, but just seein' you around told me you'd covered a lot more country than he ever did."

"Does Carol know?"

"Don't reckon she does, but then she's a right canny la.s.s."

If Stanton and Quinby were headed west, then Seever must have telegraphed for them to come, and they would certainly ally themselves with Seever against him. As if he did not have trouble enough!

Costa and Jim Pardo rode into the yard, and Costa trotted his horse over to Jed, who was wearing the silver guns now. "There were many cattle! More than expected! We came to see if the Willow Springs boys can help us."

"Later. Was Miss Carol out with you?"

"No, Senor. She went to town."

Jed swore. "Flood, you take care of things here. We're riding into town!"

Seever would stop at nothing now, and if Quinby and Stanton had arrived in town Jed's had known how to reach them, and it must have been from Stanton that Seever learned his name. A description from Seever would have been enough for Stanton to recognize who he was.

The town lay basking in a warm sun. In the distance the Sierras lifted snowcapped peaks against the blue sky. A man loitering in front of the Golden Strike stepped through the doors as Jed appeared in the street with his Casa Grande cowboys.

Walt Seever stepped into the doorway, nonchalant, confident. "Figured you'd be in. We sort of detained the lady knowin' that would bring you. She can go loose now that you're where we want you."

Jed stepped down from the saddle. This was a trap, and they had ridden right into it.

"There's a gent in front of the express office. Boss," Pardo said.

"Thanks, and watch the windows," Jed suggested. "Upstairs windows."

Jed was watching Seever. Trouble would begin with him. He moved away from his horse. No sense in getting a good animal killed. He did not look to see what Costa and Pardo were doing. They would be doing what was best for them and for what was coming.

"Glad you saved me the trouble of hunting you, Seever," he said.

Seever was on the edge of the boardwalk, a big man looking granite hard and tough. "Save us both trouble. Folks here don't take to outsiders. the outfit than a stranger. Shuck your guns, get on your horses, and you can ride out of town."

"Don't do it, Boss," Pardo warned. "He'll shoot you as soon as your back is turned."

"The ranch goes to Miss Carol, Seever. You might get me, but I promise you, you will die."

"Like h.e.l.l!" Seever's hand swept for his gun. "I'll kill you!"

"Look out!" Pardo yelled.

Jed stepped aside as the rifle roared from the window over the livery barn, and his guns lifted. His first bullet took Walt Seever in the chest; his second went into the shadows behind a rifle muzzle in the barn loft.

Seever staggered into the street, his guns pounding lead into the street. Oblivious of the pounding guns around him, Jed centered his attention on Seever, and when the man fell, the pistol dribbling from his fingers, Jed looked around, keeping his eyes from this man he had killed, hating the sight of what he had done.

Costa was down on one knee, blood staining the left sleeve of his shirt, but his face was expressionless, his pistol ready. A dead man sprawled over the windowsill above the barn. A soft wind stirred his sandy hair. That would be Stanton.

Pardo was holstering his gun. There was no sign of Strykes or Feeley. "You all right, Boss?" Pardo asked.

"All right. How about you?"

Tony Costa was getting to his feet. "Caught one in the shoulder," he said. "It's not bad."

Heads were appearing in doors and windows, but n.o.body showed any desire to come outside. Then a door slammed down the street, and Carol was running to them. "Are you hurt?" She caught his arm. "Were you shot?"

He slid an arm around her as she came up to him and it was so natural that neither of them noticed.

"Better get that shoulder fixed up, Costa." He glanced down at Carol. "Where did they have you?"

"Strykes and Feeley were holding me in a house across the street. When Feeley saw you were not alone he wanted Harry Strykes to leave. Feeley looked out the door and Pat Flood saw him."

"Flood?"

"He followed you in, knowing there'd be trouble. He came in behind them and had me take their guns. He was just going out to help you when the shooting started."

"Carol," he hesitated. "I've got a confession to make. I am not Michael Latch."

"Oh? Is that all? I've known that all the time. You see, I was Michael Latch's wife."

"His what?"

"Before I married him I was Carol Arden James. He was the only one who ever called me Arden. During the time we were coming west I was quite ill, so I stayed in the wagon and Clark never saw me at all.

"He convinced Michael there was a wagon train going by way of Santa Fe that would take us through sooner, and if we could catch them it would help. It was all a lie to get us away from the rest of the wagons, but Michael listened as the train we were with was going only as far as Laramie.

"After we were on the trail, Clark left us to locate the wagon train, as he said. Randy Kenner and Mike decided to camp, and I went over the hill to a small pool to bathe. When I was dressing I heard shooting, and believing it was Indians, I crept to the top of a hill so I could see our wagon.

"It was all over. Clark had ridden up with two men and opened fire at once. They'd had no warning, no chance.

"Randy was not dead when I saw them. One of the men kicked a gun out of his hand he was already wounded and shot him again. There was nothing I could do, so I simply hid."

"But how did you get here?"

"When they left I did not go back to the wagon. I simply couldn't, and I was afraid they might return. So I started walking back to the wagon train we had left. I hadn't gone far when I found Old Nellie, our saddle mare. She knew me and came right up to me, so I rode her back to the wagon train. I came from Laramie by stage."

"Then you knew all the time that I was faking?"

"Yes, but when you stopped Walt I whispered to Costa not to say anything."

"He knew as well?"

"Yes. I'd showed him my marriage license, which I always carried with me, along with a little money."

"Why didn't you say something? I was having a battle with my conscience, trying to decide what was right, always knowing I'd have to explain sooner or later."

"You were doing much better with the ranch than Michael could have. Michael and I grew up together and were much more like brother and sister than husband and wife. When he heard from his Uncle George, we were married, and we liked each other."

Suddenly it dawned on Jed that they were standing in the middle of the street and he had his arm around Carol. Hastily he withdrew it. "Why didn't you just claim the estate as Michael's wife?"

"Costa was afraid Seever would kill me. We had not decided what to do when you appeared."

"What about these guns?"

"My father made them. He was a gunsmith and he had made guns for Uncle George. These were a present to Mike when he started west."

His eyes avoided hers. "Carol, I'll get my gear and move on. The ranch is yours, and with Seever gone you will be all right."

"I don't want you to go."

He thought his ears deceived him. "You what?"