Part 41 (1/2)

”I'll come with you.”

”Stay with my wife.”

”But Sylvia can-”

”Ben, stay with my wife!”

Tracker climbed the front steps of The Ram, crossed the porch, and kicked the front door open.

The Ram had never been so full. The saloon was packed shoulder to shoulder. You couldn't see the bar. The faro tables were swamped. The air was full of noise, sweat, and smoke. But when the front door burst open, everything grew silent. Every rusher, rancher, and wh.o.r.e turned to look. Foster dropped his hands from the keyboard. The banjo player managed one final pluck of a string and then stopped.

Tracker stepped inside, his boots loud on the floorboards.

”Andy Dupois!” he shouted.

Rain drummed on the windows.

A chair squeaked.

Someone coughed.

Suddenly, an old man jumped to his feet, yelling, ”Play, play!”

Peering through the smoke, Tracker said, ”Frosty?”

Frosty whirled around. ”Sheriff!” he shrieked. ”Make them play!” He stumbled between two hulking ranchers. ”Make them play, I say-I want to hear some,” he clapped his hands together, ”Mu-sick!”

”Frosty,” Tracker said irritably, ”sit yourself-”

The back door slammed shut.

Tracker leapt forward, shoving people out of his way. He raced down the rear hallway and burst onto the back porch. The rain pummeled him. Lightning flashed in the sky, revealing Andy Dupois on the run toward Hannigan's Tree.

”Stop!” Tracker shouted. He jumped off the porch and gave chase. For a moment, he lost him in the dark. Then Tracker heard a cry, followed by a splash. Andy had fallen into the muddy remnants of the creek.

Tracker crouched and zigzagged toward him, unsure if Andy was armed. He reached for his own gun but touched an empty hip.

Then he remembered: he'd set his gun on the supper table.

Still, he drove forward. But by the time he reached the tree, Andy was gone.

Above him, thunder growled. Rain poured off his hat brim. He wanted to chase after Andy, but it was hopeless. He'd never find him at night in a storm. And even if he did, he wasn't armed.

But he'd been close. So close.

Cursing Frosty, Tracker turned around and headed back to the Doc's. As he pa.s.sed the back porch, a woman appeared and shouted his name. Tracker stopped and looked up. It was Jane.

”Sh-sh-Sheriff,” she stammered. ”It-it's De-Delilah.”

”What about her?” Tracker asked.

Jane swallowed, struggling to get the words out. ”She's d-d-d ... she's dead.”

Tracker returned to the Doc's house. Inside the waiting room, Ben was sitting on the bench, his hands clasped in his lap. Seeing Tracker, he leapt to his feet and said, ”Did you-”

”Wait,” Tracker said, and opened the examination room door. The heat rushed over him, the air thick with the coppery stench of blood. Caroline was awake, her eyes dark against the bone white of her skin. She lay on her back, propped up on her elbows, her legs parted and bent at the knees. The knife had been removed, her shoulder bandaged. Sylvia stood over her, dabbing her head with a wet cloth.

Caroline saw him. ”Tom,” she gasped.

”I'm here,” Tracker said, rus.h.i.+ng over to her.

”No you're not,” Sylvia said. ”The baby is coming. Get out.”

”But-”

”This is woman's work, now get!” she shouted.

Tracker backed up and shut the door. Sylvia was right. He knew she was right. He couldn't help. He couldn't protect her from the pain. All he could do was to wait and feel useless.

”Well?” Ben asked.

Tracker stared at the door a moment longer. Then he said, ”I lost him.”

”You lost him?”

”Frosty distracted me, giving Andy enough time to escape.”

Ben shook his head. ”You should have let me along,” he said. ”I could have dealt with Frosty and you could've jumped on Andy. But you didn't, Sheriff, and now he's gone.” His face flushed. ”I'm just saying ... good gosh Sheriff.”

Tracker turned and nodded. ”You're right.”

”Because I'm your deputy, and-I'm what?”

”You're right,” Tracker said, approaching him. ”I could have used your help. I apologize.” He held out his hand.

Ben shook it. ”I ain't in hitches over it or nothing. I'm just saying.”

Tracker sat on a bench. In the next room, Caroline cried out.

”She likes to make that sound,” Ben said, sitting.

”Yes, she does,” Tracker said, resisting the urge to break the door down.

”So what do we do now?”

Tracker sighed. ”Nothing until morning. Come sunup, I'll hunt Andy and bring him back. With your help,” he added. ”I'll need you to stay and watch the town. That means you'll be sheriff in my absence.”