Page 81 of If the Boot Fits

Holstering his gun, Asher hurried to the door and let himself inside. If he could find Kendrick’s stash of funds, he could delay the man’s escape. Maybe even enough for Jeter to catch up.

Asher closed the door behind him and started his search. The west-facing window did little to light the room, but Asher couldn’t afford to leave the door open. The shack needed to look empty should Kendrick approach.

The cabinet housed a skillet, camp-sized pans, and a dented coffeepot. The shelves above stocked tinned meat, beans, jerky, coffee, and enough ammunition for a small army. The shadowy pile behind the cabinet proved to be a pair of saddlebags, but when Asher opened the flaps, all he found were clothes, a flask of whiskey, and a leather document case with a copy of Eli Dearing’s will. No money.

He checked behind the stove, under the bed, and in the rafters. The floor was dirt, so nothing was hidden there. Where was the money? Could Kendrick have buried it outside somewhere? Asher hadn’t noticed any disturbed ground, so he doubted it. Besides, that would take too long to retrieve. Kendrick would want to snatch and run.

Thinking of Fergus and the places he tended to hide his notebooks, Asher lifted the mattress, moved the cabinet, and even checked the undersides of the table and chair seats. Nothing.

Where could it be? Moving away from the window, Asher scanned the room again, this time making a mental list of the things Kendrick would likely grab. Food. Saddlebags. Cooking gear. Ammunition. What else?

Bedrolls.

There were two under the bed. He’d moved them when he’d searched for a packet or lockbox, but he hadn’t taken the time to unroll them and look inside.

Dropping to the ground, Asher snatched the pair of bedrolls and dragged them out from beneath the bed. He unfastened the straps on the first and unfurled it with a flick and his wrists. Nothing flew out of the folds, and Asher tamped down a barrage of disappointment. For good measure, he yanked the blanket out from within the canvas covering and shook it out. No packet. He grabbed the second roll, undid the straps and flung it open. A thick leather pouch bounced against the bed frame.

The money. It had to be.

Asher lunged for the pouch, unbuckled the flap, and opened it to find a stack of greenbacks. His breath stuck in his chest as he fanned the bills with his thumb. Had to be at least three hundred dollars. He’d never seen so much money in one place. Enough to take care of Mama Bess and the boys for a good long while. Not that he would steal it. Asher closed the flap and fastened it in place. Best not stare at temptation too long.

He tucked the packet into his waistband at the small of his back, then kicked the unrolled bedding against the wall. He needed Kendrick to know the money was missing. It would slow him down, and maybe give Asher some bargaining power. After shooting Eli in front of witnesses, Duke had to know he was a wanted man. There’d be no returning to the Three Cedars. His only hope was to outrun the law, and to do that he needed funds. Funds Asher would gladly trade for Clint.

A dull, rhythmic thudding filtered through the crevices in the shack wall. Hooves. Asher lurched away from the window and positioned himself in the southwest corner. When Kendrick entered, the door would hide Asher from view. Not for long, but hopefully long enough to give him the advantage of surprise.

Asher eased the revolver out of his holster and focused on the sounds coming from outside.

The hoofbeats grew louder, then stopped.

“We ain’t got much time, but the horse needs to rest a while before we ride again. There’s a pump on the side of the shack and a bucket hangin’ from a nail on the wall. Fetch some water.”

“With my hands tied?” Clint spat the words with a heavy dose of disdain.

“You’re a clever boy. Figure it out.”

Boots tapped against earth. Asher tensed. Readied his gun.

“Where’re you goin’?” Kendrick’s call was muffled, as if he’d turned away from the door.

“Home.”

“You plannin’ on walkin’ all that way in bare feet?”

“If that’s what it takes to get away from you,” Clint shot back.

Running footfalls took Kendrick away from the cabin. “Listen here, boy. I ain’t got time for this nonsense. If I have to sock you in the jaw again and sling you over my shoulder like a sack of taters, I will.”

“Is that your plan, Duke?” Clint’s voice rose, as if he’d turned to face his captor. “Keep me on a leash for the rest of my life? ’Cause that’s what it’ll take. I ain’t stayin’ with you willingly. First chance I get, I’m runnin’, and when I do, I’m goin’ straight to the nearest lawman and tellin’ him exactly where to find you.”

A smack followed by a whimper had Asher reaching for the door handle.

“Why are you doing this?”

Clint’s angry shout halted Asher’s motion. He dropped his hand from the door and settled back into the shadows.

“I loved you!” Tears roughened the boy’s voice. “Trusted you.”

“Eli stole my life,” Kendrick snarled. “Made me a measly employee instead of a partner. Took the woman I fancied. The position in the community that should’ve been mine. The wealth. All of it! He pawned me off with scraps as if I were a faithful hound. Wages and a puny cabin, while he lived high on the hog in that fancy house, hobnobbin’ with the likes of Charles Goodnight and the other cattle barons. I’ve worked the Three Cedars just as hard as he has. I’ve poured the same sweat and blood into the land. It should belong to me!”