Chapter 19

### DJ Falls

Knowing they had very little time to spare, Buck ignored his pain and injuries.

“Ms. Happy, what I’ve got in mind to do is nothing that a lady should see, but I’m going to ask that you give me a hand with those two bodies in the bathroom. I’m thinkin’ to haul ‘em out here, set ‘em up in chairs and pose ‘em at the kitchen table. I’ll need a hand with that, if you’ve got the stomach for it.”

“Anything you say, Buck. Let’s get after it.”

Gran paused to duck down by the side of the bed. Little Bug was sound asleep, curled up in the corner under the head of the bed.

“Good place for her. I’ll need to be in here when she wakes up so she doesn’t come wandering out into trouble.”

Between the two of them tugging and lifting they were able to get the two dead guards seated upright in kitchen chairs on either side of the table. The bound and gagged live guard’s eyes opened wide and stared at the macabre sight but he, good as his word, stayed silent and made no protest.

Buck scanned the kitchen counter and drawers and found a collection of knives, including a set of stout steak knives.

’Perfect ... Just perfect!’ he thought.

Handing Gran the knife taken from the first dead guard, he asked her to go around to the drapes and curtains in the downstairs rooms.

“Cut off the pull cords. Retrieve the longest lengths you can. We’re short of rope but those cords will serve.”

Buck selected four of the strongest-looking steak knives and found a mallet-style meat tenderizer, the kind used for pounding cuts of meat prior to cooking.

’Excellent! A fair hammer for pounding in the knives.’

Gran came back dangling a handful of curtain pull cords and laid them on the table.

“Great. Use one to tie around the chest of that one,” he pointed left. “I’ll cinch this one up. I don’t want them falling over in the middle of my little show.”

“Okay, that’s done. I’m asking you to stay in the bedroom with Bug. Stay there until I call for you. And be sure to keep Bug quiet. It shouldn’t take long to get Brewster under control when he comes down the stairs. He’s not expecting us to be free and his guards disabled. When I call for you, leave Bug behind on the bed and come with your pistol handy. We’ll need to deal with the ranch manager if he comes down with Brewster.”

Buck had placed the dead men facing the table. He lifted one man’s arms and stretched them over the table, palms up. Taking a steak knife and the cast metal mallet, he hammered a knife blade down through each hand, centered in the palm and into the table top. He stepped around the table and repeated the gruesome task with the other dead man’s hands. They sat facing each other, arms outstretched, palms up, hands skewered to the table. No blood oozed out; it had long since stopped flowing.

’Now for the ultimate shock value. When Brewster sees this he’ll come unhinged!’ Buck turned to the horrified prisoner. “I suggest you turn your head. You don’t want to watch this.”

The guard, eyes squeezed shut against the horror of the table scene, spun his head around as far as it would go. Buck pulled the sharp butcher knife Gran had found. Grabbing the hair of the closest corpse, he slashed deep into its throat, opening it wide. Buck yanked hard and the head flopped back, hanging behind its neck. Buck repeated the slashing, half-decapitation mutilation of the other corpse. Very little blood flowed. The sight was ghastly.

“Partner, I’d advise you not to open your eyes. Keep your head turned sideways. This ain’t pretty and you don’t want to be vomiting and drowning behind that gag!”

Buck pulled his pistol, checked the magazine load and saw a round chambered in the breech, and reset the safety. Gun in hand, he moved to stand beside the stairway door, choosing the side where he’d be behind the door when it opened.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs. It was one man. The door swung open and DJ Brewster stepped forward and froze when he saw the ghastly tableau at the kitchen table.

He gagged. He lost control of his stomach and he bent forward, grabbed his knees and projectile-vomited across the floor. Done with all but dry heaves, he stood shaking and moaning. Donald Jacob Brewster was thirty-three, a year older than Reese, but he was a totally different specimen. Where Reese was tall and lean, hardened from years of extreme military service, DJ was shorter, soft, corpulent, self-indulgent and averse to physical exertion. He had caused violent maiming and death. He had ordered physical violence against anyone anytime it suited him, but he had never, ever participated in it or saw the results. That was a job for his hirelings.

Buck softly closed the door and eased the bolt closed. He stepped behind DJ and waited. It took several minutes for DJ to regain his senses and become aware of his situation. The moment DJ began to straighten up, Buck stepped in and seized his right wrist and twisted it sharply behind him. He shoved DJ forward to an empty chair at the end of the table. He forced him to sit. DJ resisted but he was weak and ineffective. He was no match for Buck even in Buck’s beaten and injured state.

“Donny, Donny, Donny! You sorry sack of shit! Look up, boy! See your hired crew? Take a good look, Donny. That could be you! Do you think you’d look good cut open that way, Donny? We can do it right now if you prefer, Donny, or we could have a little talk first. Maybe you prefer to wait a bit, Donny, and see if you can negotiate a better ending for yourself?

Buck took up a length of cord and made two tight wraps around Donny’s chest. He cinched him to the chair. He took a twisted dish towel and looped it around Donny’s head, forcing Donny’s jaws apart to gag him. He knotted it behind Donny’s head so tight it hurt. He lashed Donny’s arms together at the wrists behind the chair back. More loops of cord secured Donny’s knees and ankles to the chair legs. Donny sat completely restrained, unable to move anything but his head.

“I realize that you can’t talk through that gag, Donny, but you can nod your head. How about once or twice up and down for ‘yes’ and sideways for ‘no.’ Can you remember that, Donny? Don’t worry, I’m about to rig up a way to help you remember.”

Buck took up another length of cord, eight feet long. He tied a small loop in one end with the cord passed through it to make a slip loop. He dangled it in front of Brewster’s face.

“This is a crude slip sling, Donny. I’d prefer a hangman’s knot but once they tighten, it’s the very dickens to get them to loosen up again. I guarantee you wouldn’t like that. Are you with me so far, Donny?”

Brewster didn’t move. His eyes jerked frantically from side to side and he tried to turn his head to look toward the stairway entrance. Buck back-handed Donny’s face, hard!

“No, no, Donny. That’s bad! I asked you a question and you didn’t answer me. Now pay attention, boy. Are you with me so far, Donny? Yes or no?”

Tears ran down DJ’s cheeks and he nodded his head wildly up and down, glaring up at Buck.

“Oh, good! So you can follow instructions. I was afraid that after a lifetime of getting your own way that you’d possibly forgotten. Okay, Donny, I want you to understand that I have no attraction at all to male private parts. I’m not wired that way. I’m not gay, Donny, but we’re about to get very familiar. I hope you understand that I’m doing this because it’s necessary. No? That’s okay. It will all become clear in a minute.”