Chapter 6

The drive was like any other I had ever been on. Hot, dusty, filled with stubborn animals who didn’t want to leave their home range. By the third day we had them almost trail broken and life was getting easier. The old brindle cow who had assumed the lead position was up before daylight most days, ready to begin the journey. I decided she would be spared the fate of the others and would bring her home with us. A good lead cow is as valuable as a good hand.

We’d been on the trail for four days when Brad rode up. “We got company. Ten, maybe twelve, dogging us about three miles back. The don’t look friendly.”

We talked it over, and Brad and Carlos kind of drifted away under cover of the dust. They stayed with our new friends, creeping close to camp late that night. Listening intently, they found they were indeed after us, waiting to attack us at a place where there was a narrow pass with high sides. They planned to stampede the cattle over us, knowing we couldn’t get away because of the steep sides. Carlos and Brad drew back, and made plans of their own. No need to make it easy for them. About four in the morning, when even the sentry was asleep, they undid the picket line and took most of their horses, bringing them back and turning them into our remuda. They were pretty good stock, outlaws couldn’t afford to have a slow or weak horse. If they were going to follow us now, they would be walking, and totin’ their saddles.

Carlos kept an eye on them. They were down to four horses, so they sent two riders back to get more mounts. He said the leader shot the sentry down without a chance. After hearing that it would take four days for the men to return with fresh mounts, he followed the two men. Catching up with them the next day, he set up an ambush, got the drop on them, and left them on foot. It would take a week or better for them to fetch new horses if they had to walk. He’d taken their guns, dropping them about an mile out, making them walk back to get them. A mile later he dropped the ammo.

We made it to the train depot, met the Quartermaster, and after he inspected the beeves he wrote out our voucher. I got him to do me a favor and send it on to Big Bend with a patrol who would be in the area, to be delivered to our banker. Captain Ross offered me a contract. Five hundred head a year for five years, the price being whatever was current. It was good deal, so I took it.

Brad came by the office as we were finishing. “Our friends just rode into town.”

I grinned. At least they hadn’t bothered us on the drive. “Good. Let’s go down to the saloon, buy them a drink, shoot the breeze a little.”

The crew, all twelve of us, bellied up to the bar. We watched them through the mirror, as they talked and mumbled to themselves. One of them finally got up and stood behind me.

“You stole our horses, you bastard!”

I turned around, looking him over. He was young, too young for the life he was leading. He fancied himself with a gun, I could tell by the way he wore them low on his hips. I grinned.

“Accusing a man of being a horsetheif is mighty serious business, youngster. I could shoot you out of hand and no one would say a word. You want to tell me why you think I got your horses?”

“We saw them in the corral, asshole.”

“Oh, now besides being a horse thief I’m an asshole. I must be a pretty horrible person. How can you stand to talk to me? If you’re referring to those horses I picked up on the trail, I turned them over to the Captain, telling him somebody might be by to claim them. He seemed mighty interested in a couple of the brands, though. I hope you got your bills of sale.”

This conversation wasn’t going anywhere near the youngster wanted it ot go. He figured he’d be standing over my dead body right about now, but I had kept my hands clear of my guns. “Why don’t you go on over and fetch your horses. I’m sure you got places to be. Let’s say I did take your horses. If I did, it was for your own good. You were about to do something that would not turn out well for any of you. So you got sore feet, big deal. At least the buzzards and skunks ain’t stripping your carcass, which is what would have happened if you’d caught up with us. Consider it doing you a favor and saving you from yourselves.” My crew had fanned out, putting a little space between each other. Brad was by the end of the bar, his everpresent shotgun lying on the counter. The crew the kid was with were caught sitting down, and most of them knew they’d be dead before they could get their guns out. One called out to the kid.

“Let it go, kid. They got us boxed. There’s always another day.”

“Like hell I will!”

I have to say, he was damn fast. What he didn’t expect was me stepping forward, covering the short distance between us before he could bring the pistol to bear. I grabbed his hand and bent it until everyone in the bar heard the crack. Screaming with pain, he went for the other pistol, so I broke the other wrist, tossing his weapons across the room.

“You got sand kid. I think, though, it might be a long time before you can brace another man with a gun. It might be never. You should think seriously about another line of work.”

I looked at the others. “We’re walking out of here now. If you try to follow us, we’ll go to the ridges and pick you off one by one. You might take a message back to Butch Kramer for me. I’m coming for him. He’s got until I get back to my ranch and gather the rest of my boys. Just so you know, there won’t be any talking. We’ll kill you where we find you. Understood?”

The men nodded. The youngster, who had been sobbing with pain, looked up and grinned. “You ain’t got a crew, not no more. Butch and the Preacher decided to pay your ranch a little visit. They’re probably shacked up in that big house right now, enjoying those stuck up bitches. I just wish I was there instead of here. I always wanted me a redhead.”

The world slowed. My vision narrowed, and I could hear my heartbeat. I didn’t realize it, but my crew had their weapons in their hands, thinking about the women who had fed them, clothed them, taught them to dance. They were probably thinking of my daughters, their laughter as they joked with them, the cookies, sandwiches, and lemonade they brought them when they were thirsty and hungry. If ever anybody looked into the eyes of death, it was that bunch, and they knew it.

“Shut up kid! We don’t know that for sure. He’s just talkin’, mister.”

Before he knew it, I had my Remington out, crossed the room, and put the barrel to his balls. He looked like he was going to throw up. “You want to keep them shriveled up balls, you’ll start talking right now. If you don’t, I won’t kill you, but you won’t be a man anymore. If fact, if somebody don’t speak up, I geld the lot of you before I leave.”

Carlos was grinning, a wicked looking knife at the crotch of the youngster. The man with my barrel to his balls couldn’t talk fast enough. “Butch thought it would be a good idea to hit the ranch while you was gone, burn it down, kill or take the women with him. Thought he could get you to agree to a lot to get them back. Maybe even sign over the whole ranch. We ain’t with him because we won’t attack women and children. That’s why he sent us after you.”

“When was he going to attack?”

The man paled, knowing what my response would be when he told me. “Three days ago.”

I pulled the pistol back, noting the man had pissed himself.

“We’re leavin’ now. If any of us see any of you on this range again you’ll be dead. If we catch you alive we will geld you, stick a hot knife to the wound, and let you go. Understand?”

He couldn’t nod fast enough. The youngster, getting brave because Carlos had pulled the knife back, mouthed off. “I’’m going back. Butch promised me that little blond spitfire, and I’m going to enjoy breakin’ her in.”

He knew as soon as he said it he’d just killed himself. The knife in Carlos’s hand flashed, and he fell to the floor screaming, trying to stem the flow of blood from his crotch with his broken hands. Carlos snarled something in Spanish, and Brad was glad to translate.

“He said it would be interesting to see you try anything with a woman now, you little bitch.” I looked down, noticing the severed end of his cock lying in the sawdust. The Captain rushed in about then with half his troopers.

“Can’t talk, Captain, gotta go. See you next year.”

“Hold on there! Somebody needs to tell me what the hell is going on here!”

“Ask the bitch lying on the floor. I have to go, and go now. You wanna charge me with anything, you can do it after I’m done with what I have to do.”

We still had our weapons in our hands. The six troopers were holding their single shot carbines, their pistols still fastened in their holsters. The Captain wisely let us go. Two minutes later all he heard was the thunder of hooves.

We found out later that after he got the story from the bystanders, he immediately dispatched forty men under a lieutenant. Not to arrest me, but for support. They had a snowball’s chance in hell of catching us. We had a full remuda, and we would ride for six hours, change horses, and ride six more, all at a full gallop. We rode eighteen hours before we stopped for six, letting the horses rest while we ate and napped. Not one hand complained, hitting the saddle when I did.

We made the ten day trip in four and a half. I topped the rise to see the house still standing. We all breathed a sigh of relief that turned to horror as we got closer. We found Long Tom first, on a ridge above the bath house. It must have been a hell of a fight, judging from the empty shells. He died with his rifle in one hand and a pistol in the other, both empty. He had a paper in his breast pocket. “Did the best I could. Give Sunshine my rifle. Let Shadow have my knife.”

Sunshine was his nickname for Jessica, Shadow for Sabrina. I started growing cold. His position wasn’t one to cover the ranch. I looked around to see what he was defending, and my eyes fell ont he bath house. I was in the saddle at a gallop before the others knew.

I counted six bodies as I approached. Two had been killed with head shots, just a lump above their shoulders. I knew what could cause that damage. A .410 shotgun loaded with slugs. The rest had bullet wounds, small holes in their chests and head. Jessica’s little rifle. The door to the bath house was open, and I leapt through, both pistols at the ready. There were three more bodies in the changing room. One’s head was a mess but not quite blown off, Sabrina must have been down to birdshot by then. The other two had at least two holes each. They were probably using pistols by now. The concrete floor of the bathhouse was covered in blood, but it was empty. There was huge ache in my heart as I came out, to see the hands ringed around in a defensive formation. We rode slowly down to the ranch, expecting the worst.

I almost fell off the horse when Claire stepped out on the porch. It was plain to see she was in shock, but she shrugged, and gave me a smile. “I’m most pleased to see you, future husband.” I was off the horse and holding her in my arms as she swooned from relief. Paris came out, a bloody bandage on her arm, and helped me get her back inside. We lay her on the fainting couch, me thinking for the first time how aptly it was named.