Kennedy scowled. “So? What’s the point?”
“It gets better, boss,” Jeb told him. “Hell, don’t you remember that name, Miranda Hayes? That’s the name of that woman from Kansas City I heard about when I was sniffin’ around there askin’ about Jake. That’s the name of the woman who shot him.”
Kennedy straightened further. Of course! Was it the same woman? “Might just be someone with the same name,” he said. “Even if she was the same one, what good does that do us now?”
“Somebody name of Jake came lookin’ for the woman,” Jeb answered.
Kennedy’s steely blue eyes narrowed, and he targeted them at Les Stanton. “Jake Harkner?”
“Called himself Jake Turner,” Stanton answered. “Big man, dark, like maybe he was part Mexican or part Indian, wore his guns on two belts crisscrossed low on his hips and carried a rifle and a shotgun on his horse. He damn well knew how to use those guns.”
Kennedy rose and leaned closer over the table, all ears. “What did he do?”
“Like I say, he was lookin’ for that woman. Nemus, he tried to say she wasn’t there, but somehow he knew she was. Damned if he didn’t draw his gun and shoot Nemus right across the side of the face and told him he’d better take him to the woman. They went outside, and another man there drew on this Jake fella and Jake shot him down easy as you please. The whole thing scared the hell out of me. This Jake, he took Nemus into his cabin where the woman was. We wasn’t sure what went on in there till later. We found Nemus pistol-whipped and tied to a chair, but layin’ on the floor, hurt pretty bad. Turner shot down another one of us when we tried to come in after him, wounded another in the arm. Another man rode off, scared shitless. I’m the only one who didn’t get hurt. Turner, he brought the woman out and put her in one of Nemus’s wagons, had us hitch up his horse and packhorse to pull it. Stole the wagon and lit out of there.”
Stanton squirmed a little under Bill Kennedy’s piercing stare. “None of us was about to go after him,” he added. “Figured he’d shoot us down if we did. He claimed the woman belonged to him. Headed west with her, far as I know. She’d been on her way to Virginia City to find her brother. That’s what the preacher told us. I don’t know what the hell Turner had in mind for her—whether he was gonna help her or hurt her; but from the way he acted, I figure he had a soft spot for her and meant to help her.”
Jeb Donner chuckled. “Sounds like ol’ Jake is still into helpin’ women in distress.”
Kennedy straightened, his eyes bright with the thought of revenge. “It had to be Jake Harkner! I knew he’d give himself away with those guns!” He looked at Jeb. “Why in hell do you think he went after that woman? Hell, she’s the one who shot him. I don’t get it. The way he behaved over that woman—” He caught himself, not wanting to say too much in front of Stanton and the other strangers in the saloon. “Jake wouldn’t hurt her. Then again, maybe he was pissed over her shootin’ him and figured to get paid back—take it out of her flesh, so to speak.”
Jeb shook his head. “Not Jake. He’s gone soft lately, over women, anyway. Don’t sound like he’s gone soft when it comes to them guns.”
Kennedy looked at Stanton. “Where’s this tradin’ post again?”
“About three weeks west of here, on the Oregon Trail.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
Stanton shrugged. “Must have been a couple months. If they went on west, they’d be clear to Wyoming by now, I expect, unless Indians or the weather or an injury got them. Hell, all kinds of things can kill a man on that trip. The woman, she might have died from that snakebite.”
Kennedy sat down and faced Jeb. “He’s headed west, just like we were gonna do. Goddamn it! We should have thought of that sooner. Whatever he’s got in mind for the woman, if she’s dead or alive, he’ll keep goin’ west to avoid the law. And that’s where we’re goin’! We might not make it all the way this winter, but we can get pretty far before winter sets into the mountains. On horseback we can travel faster, maybe cut the distance between him and us.” He rose, looking excited. “Jeb, you round up the rest of the boys. I’ll go find Juan. Tell the others to meet tomorrow mornin’ at sunup behind this saloon. We’ll head out then.” He reached into his pocket, slapping a twenty-dollar bill onto the table in front of Les Stanton. “Mister, you earned this. Thanks for the information.”