Marshal Justice Sterling's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

Ruby's hand stayed on the stirrup. Sterling looked north, where the road climbed into broken hills. He meant to ride out and take Cole Ransom alone. Then a boy ran up from the Silver Spur, breathless, and said the words that changed the plan. Ransom hadn't ridden north by himself. Four men rode with him. All armed. All his own. Sterling sat still. One rider he could take. Five he could not. If he rode up alone, they would bury him like they buried the last marshal. And once Sterling was gone, no one stood between Ransom and the girl in the stone cell. Ruby read his face. "You're doing the arithmetic," she said. "It comes out bad. Don't ride it anyway." Her voice dropped. "Two came back last time. I counted them off the saddles myself." Sterling swung down. He walked to the jail block and pushed open the door. The deputy sat by the cot with the shotgun across his knees. A small gecko clung to the warm stone above the window, still as a stain. "Clyde," Sterling said. "Ransom brought four men. I can't take him alone." The deputy stood. "Then don't." "You're the only man I trust to hold this door." "I know these hills better than any of them." Clyde nodded at the girl. "But she needs a wall and a gun. That's me sitting here." He rubbed his jaw. "Years back I lost a man in country like that north road. Never found him. I don't lose two." Sterling weighed it. He needed the deputy in two places and could put him in only one. He looked at Ruby. "Deputize me," Ruby said. Both men stared. "You tend a bar," Clyde said. "I load a shotgun faster than you clean one." She stepped into the cell. "I'll sit the door. Clyde rides with the Marshal. One man against five is a grave. Two men who know the ground is a chance." Sterling shook his head. "This isn't your fight." "You said that yesterday." Ruby took the shotgun from Clyde's hands. "I heard you the first time." Sterling looked at the girl on the cot. He looked at Ruby's steady hands. He made the call. He pinned no star on her, but he set his own on the cot beside the child, the way he had before. "You hold this door," he told Ruby. "Nobody comes through but me." He turned to Clyde. "Get your horse. You track. I'll take him." Clyde was already moving. Outside, the pinto tossed its head and stamped, smelling the road and the trouble on it. Sterling mounted. Two men now, where there had been one. Not enough, maybe. But no longer a grave with his name in it. He rode north, and the deputy rode beside him.