We headed for town, me with the wagon, Matt on Ben. The trunk bumped and thumped on the rutted road. I began to think we should have tied it down better. Far off, I spotted two men trotting toward us on horses. My insides turned to mush when I realized it was Monk and Frank!
I pulled hard on the reins. The horse slid all four feet in the sand.
"What's..." Matt started to ask, then saw where I was staring.
Without speaking we made a u-turn and took off. I prayed they weren't close enough to spot their trunk on my wagon. We sped, bouncing and bumping as fast as the wagon could go over rocks, clumps of mesquite and prickly pear. At that speed it was near impossible to avoid them. The chest rocked and thumped on the wagon bed behind me.
"Slow down! The trunk's gonna fall off," Matt hollered across at me.
I aimed the wagon toward the trees and about the same time, hit a stone. The whole buckboard crackled under the stress and, of course, the rope snapped. The trunk flipped off the wagon. I heard it roll over a couple of times and then hit something solid.
I looked the other way to see Frank and Monk still coming, getting closer by the second.
Blinking in the bright sun I finally spotted the chest leaning at a weird angle against a giant boulder. I couldn't see anything at all on the other side, just sky. No time to think about that!
"Matt quick! Run back and toss some tumbleweeds around the trunk. I'll distract them," I hollered.
Several weird, hollow thumps came from behind me. What was that? I really wanted to turn to see what Matt was doing, but didn't dare.
I did steal a peek between my horse's legs. What I saw made my knees quake in the sand. Frank and Monk were coming at a gallop now!
I faked unconsciousness, not ready to die yet but not about to squeal like Monk did every time Frank was near him, either. Hooves skidded in front of my horse. Sand peppered my hair and the back of my shirt. I pinched my eyes open and saw Frank's spurs, still poked in the stirrup. I couldn't see Monk at all.
Suddenly, something brushed the back of my shirt and I braced myself to be stomped — or stabbed or, God only knew what.
The light touch turned more solid and steady — a hand. Monk leaned much of his bulk against my back. I could smell him, and it wasn't pleasant. "Hey, kid, you okay?"
Matt raced up, hollering, "You! Leave my friend alone." It sounded like he was beating Monk on the back. "Jesse, you all right?" He raced around and dropped down on my other side.
"I don't think he's hurt too bad," Monk said. I didn't know if he was talking to Matt or Frank, but I figured it was about time for me to come around before Matt said the wrong thing. I fluttered my lids a few times and twitched an arm.
Monk bent over me again. "Look Frank, he's comin' to."
"Huh? Wha? Where?" I stuttered a little for effect.
Monk turned me over and lifted my head in a huge paw. "Kid, you okay?"
"What happened?"
"Looked like your horse went outta control. Maybe a rattler spooked him or somethin'."
Rattlers were common in the desert and it seemed like a logical assumption to make, so I agreed with him. "Uh-huh." I stumbled to my feet, letting Monk hold my elbow.
Frank slipped off his horse, and marched to where the three of us stood. Matt and Monk backed the same number of steps together. I held my ground, knowing if Frank was going to kill me it wouldn't matter where I was standing — he had a pistol at each hip.
"Ask 'em about my trunk," he ordered.
"You seen anyone toting around a big trunk?" Monk asked.
"A trunk?" I asked real innocent-like. At home, I found that playing dumb sometimes kept me out of a heap of trouble. I hoped this was one of those times. "That's a big box, right?"
Frank glared at me.
"As a matter of fact, I did." I said slowly, then waited to let the information sink in. I watched Frank's brows go up, making a teepee between his eyes, and his mouth went from a frown to a straight line. Not exactly a grin, but I'd bet it was the closest he'd come in a hound's age.
Matt lowered his eyes and gnawed on his lower lip. I hoped he wouldn't open his mouth and screw up what I was about to do. Frank spit out a stream of tobacco juice, waiting.
I could tell he wasn't going to wait long so I said, "Yesterday we saw some guys just outside of town." I pointed to the east, the direction we'd come. "There was a big box of some kind on the back. I didn't pay it much mind. Could that be what you're looking for?"
"What did the guys look like?" Monk asked, hoping my description would get him out of trouble with Frank.
"Like I said, I didn't pay much attention. I think one guy was big and was wearing brown chaps. The guy riding was on a chestnut gelding." I thought brown clothes and a chestnut gelding were pretty safe guesses.
"The chestnut sounds like Brent Dawson's, Frank," Monk said leaning against the bed of the wagon.
"Which way were they headed?" Frank asked.
"Let's see." I put a finger to my chin pretending to be thinking real hard. "They were on the road towards Flagstaff. Headed south."
Monk sounded happier. "Frank, their hideout is in that direction."
"You kids better be telling the truth or I'm gonna come back and wail yer hides till they bleed." Frank heaved himself into his saddle and reined the horse backward. "Let's go," he growled.
"Wow!" I remarked.
"Don't mind him, he's had it tough," Monk told us. "Sure you're okay?"
"I think I'm all right," I shook each of my limbs proving they were still in working order. "Doesn't look like anything's broken. Thanks for stopping."
"Monk!" Frank barked.
They were gone in a cloud of dust that made us wheeze.
"That was close!" I said like I'd just invented wheat.
Matt was staring after them. His lips were moving, but nothing was coming out. I knew how he felt.
I shook his arm. "They're gone." I shook him again just because at that second, it felt good doing it.
He finally said something I could understand, "They're gone."
"Yeah. Help me get the trunk." I led the horse around in a circle and back a hundred yards or so to where the trunk had fallen off the wagon.
I froze, my mouth hanging open. Our trunk was gone!