Chapter 12

The sleepers had arrayed their bedrolls around the smoldering embers of their fire. Just before dawn, a tall figure, draped in a riding duster, with wide-brimmed hat pulled low, stepped up to drop a handful of dry twigs on the fire’s glowing coals. In the resulting flare, the shadowy figure took a broad stance, holding ready a double barrel scattergun, stock butt to shoulder. Two other figures moved in from the sides.

Malik and Cowboy worked their way around the snoring group, the smell of liquor broadcast with their every exhale. A knife held to throat, gloved hand over mouth, a whispered caution, and the application of piggin’ strings to both wrists and ankles. When only Lestly remained, both men retrieved the other shotguns and Malik said quietly to Gabriela, “Go ahead.”

Still at the fire, she called to the sleeping figure, “Granger! Granger, you sorry, turd-sucking worm, wake your ass up!”

“Hell, that’s a woman,” said one of the bound figures, still on their bedrolls.

Cowboy poked the man hard in the ribs with the barrel of his shotgun. The man grunted. “Keep your yap shut,” Cowboy growled.

Lestly sat up. “What the hell? Gabriela? What are you...?” Lestly noticed Cowboy and Malik standing there, then looked quickly toward his companions. He jumped to his feet and all three brought their shotguns to bear on him.

Malik said, “Easy there, Lestly! Nothin’ you can do but get killed.”

“What d’ you want?”

“Answers to a few questions.”

“Questions? What kind a’ questions?”

“Hard questions, Lestly. Could be the hardest you’ve ever been asked. That’ll be up to you.”

“What the hell you talkin’ about, Malik? What is it you want?”

“Right now? For you to get naked.”

It had only cost Granger Lestly a couple hard pokes of a shotgun barrel to his belly to learn that Malik was serious about his order to strip down. It also made him amenable, just after sunrise, to begin picking up some of the bottle shards that littered the area. The other men sat on their blankets, still tied, hands behind backs, also naked, though strips of cloth clung to a few bound wrists and ankles, remnants Cowboy and Malik had left after cutting off the rest.

Malik said, “Sit down, Lestly, back on your blankets. It’s time for the questions.” Lestly sat, pulling his knees up to his chest, his genitals protected by his feet.

Malik first turned to Williams. “Chief Deputy Williams, what are you and these other deputies doing up here with Mister Lestly?”

“You can go straight to hell, you—”

Malik was on him in a flash, pulled hard on the hair at the crown of his head, and scalped him in a heartbeat, then returned to stand in the center, throwing the hair and attached flesh onto the fire’s embers, where it sent up a foul smoke.

Williams howled, hurling invectives between his cries of outrage and pain.

Cowboy walked over and poked him hard in the ribs with the shotgun. “Shuddup!” When Williams didn’t, Cowboy poked him even harder. Williams was reduced to whimpers.

Lestly said, “They’re looking for some rustlers. They thought maybe it was the same Injuns killed poor Anna, so I came along to see if I might recognize ‘em.”

“Wasn’t it Anna who gave you those scratches on your cheek?”

He reached up and touched the healed gouges. “What? No, a’ course not. My horse ran me into a tree when I was tryin’ to get Anna back.”

Gabriela started toward Lestly, but Malik held out his arm in front of her and said, “This isn’t the time.” She looked at him with tears welling in her eyes.

“So you’re not up here overwatchin’ that grave to get the jump on me and your sister-in-law?”

“No, a’ course not.”

Cowboy stepped behind him, grasped his chin and cut off his left ear. Then he dropped it into his lap. Lestly gasped and laid his hand over the side of his head, looking daggers at Malik.

“Reckon you forgot I said it would be up to you how hard the questions were.”

Lestly glared and moved up on one knee. “You Maliks think you’re better ‘n everybody else. Your old man was just as bad. Had it all, an’ too bad for anybody came after. Yes, I planned to kill you and that bitch. The same way I kicked her husband’s head in and then raped her little princess before I crushed her skull with a rock. Rot in hell, Malik, you can kiss—”

This time Gabriela got past Malik and she took a long swing of the shotgun at Lestly, connecting with his head. Lestly went over like a felled tree.

Malik turned to the other side of the trussed-up group.

“Deputy Porter, why are you men up here?”

Porter looked around at his the other deputies. “It’s like he said. We’re waitin’ ‘cause ... we knew you’s comin’ up to the, uh, grave. Orders were to, uh, kill you.”

“Who gave those orders?”

Porter hesitated.

“Hard question, Porter?”

“No, ah, it was Lestly”

“Lestly commands the Jackson County Sheriff’s deputies?”

Cowboy, brandishing his knife, started toward him.

“The sheriff! The sheriff, uh, and Lestly! They’re in some kind a’ swindle, but I don’t know what.”

“Who would know?”

“Well, them two.”

“Obviously. Anyone else?”

Porter’s eyes flicked involuntarily toward Williams.

Williams, blood dripping over his face, said, “You can’t just do this. What’re you gonna do, kill us all?”

“That’s not somethin’ you can control, so just drop it. Tell me, besides the Lestly Ranch and all the choice lots in town, what else do they want?”

“How ‘n hell would I—” Cowboy gave him a hard look and held up his blade. Williams groaned. “Ah, the hell with it. They got some sort a’ plan to take over the whole the Rio Isabella valley. Throw a dam up in the canyon, send irrigatin’ water to the Toonilini Valley and east a’ town, run mills, even got some idea about silver. I don’t know any more, jus’ heard bits and pieces.

“Silver? The only silver around these parts is on the Sonora reservation. How’d they figure to get that?”

“I don’ know. I told you everything ... oh, Judge Gunderson has his eye on Christina Baylor an’ your ranch. That’s all I know.”

“Christina Baylor? You mean Christina Malik, don’t you?”

“‘Baylor’s’ what the judge calls her.”

“When did you first hear about these plans?”

“Ah, I dunno. Must a’ been ... maybe two years ago.”

“And where was that?”

“Le’ me, uh ... reckon it was in the sheriff’s office, talk between the sheriff and Lestly, but I ain’t sure. Jus’ now and then I’d hear a few words afore they’d shut up as I came near, like that. Nobody asked my opinion or tol’ me any other thing. Jus’ talk I’d sometimes hear.”

Malik turned the other direction. “Deputy Porter, you ever hear any of this ... talk?”

“Only about the silver, once or twice. An’ I heard Gunderson, one time when his office door weren’t closed, tellin’ somebody what he planned to do to Miz Bay—, ah, Missus Malik.”

Malik turned to look at the other two deputies. The older one cringed, but the other, hardly more than a teenager, glared as Malik turned toward them.

“I don’t believe I know you men. You must be new.”

Cowboy said, “Bald feller’s the one had ahold of Christina at the Crossin’ depot.”

Malik walked closer to him. “What’s your name?”

“Norton, uh, Joe Norton. They call me Jersey Joe.”

“I’m sure that’s nice for you. Weren’t you working for the B-Bar-L?”

“Uh, yessir.”

“How’d you end up wearin’ a Jackson County star?”

“Well, uh, Macready, uh, up at the ranch, he fired me.”

“Why’d he fire you?”

“He, uh, didn’t like that I took hold of that woman an’ all.”

“How’d you end up a deputy?”

“Well, I thought, uh, well, I came down here with Frank, over there. Said he’d help get me on as a deputy, since I was quick to help out, y’know, at the Crossin’.”

Malik looked at the last deputy.

“You were dressed a little fancy for these desert hills. Where’re you from?”

“From Washington City, you dolt. I am the grandson of United States Senator Paulus Ranford. You are in more trouble than you can possibly imagine.”

“What is your name, mister?”

“I am Paulus Ranford the Third.”

“And what would possess you to leave Washington City and come out here?”

“That is not your business.”

Malik walked over and the young man finally cringed, falling back onto his bound hands. Malik inserted his knife about an inch into the now-crying man’s nose and drew it straight out, leaving a bloody cut straight through the fleshy nostril. Paulus Ranford, the Third, howled.

Malik reached down, grabbed a handful of hair, and lifted him back to a sitting position. Still holding Ranford by the hair, Malik bent down until he was looking directly into his eyes. “If you don’t quiet down, immediately, I’ll notch your other nostril.” Malik let go and Ranford almost fell backward, but his loud bawling was reduced to sniffles.

Malik stood in front of him and looked down. “What was the purpose of this ... posse?”

“We were supposed to find you an’ that woman an’ kill you an’ hide the bodies.”

“When did you learn of that purpose?

“Well, the afternoon before we set out”

“Why are you here rather than home in Washington City?”

He hesitated. “Because ... because my grandfather wanted me to report to him the goings-on among the men of the Jackson County government.”

“Report on what specific goings-on?”

“He did not specify. He just said to take note of anything of interest and to write it down, send it to him monthly.”

“And you’re here because they needed to get you far away from Washington City, for some reason, I reckon. What is it? Gambling debts? Get a girl pregnant? Scrape with the law? Ahh. What kind of scrape?”

“I, um, killed a nigger woman. She was only a whore. But grandfather is up for re-election and his opponent is another nigger-lover—”

Malik had clipped his head with the butt-end of his big knife. Ranford fell on his back, again. Malik grabbed him by his hair and pulled him up.

“Yes, I think I have an appreciation of their problem with you. But tell me, how many reports have you sent to Senator Ranford?”

“Uh, none. Only been here three weeks. I’ll send one at the end of the month.”

“How do you keep track of information to include in your report?”

“I keep notes.”

“Where? In what form?””

“In a bound writing-paper book.”

“Where is this bound writing-paper book?”

“There, in that saddle bag.” He gestured with his chin toward the packs draped over a nearby saddle.

Malik went over, dumped the packs’ contents out on the ground, and picked out a hard-covered journal book from among the liquor bottles, clothes, and personal items.

“This it?”

“Yes, but that’s confidential information.”

“That’s what I’m counting on, kid.” He squatted near the fire and he opened the book and began reading. “Hm. You seem to enjoy writing, Mister Ranford.”

“Literature and writing were my primary studies at Harvard.”

“Well, it certainly shows in what you’ve written.” Malik tossed the book back toward the upended bag.

On the opposite side of the fire, from her stance near Granger Lestly, Gabriela said, “This ... maggot is waking up.”

Malik looked at Cowboy. “Give me a hand, brother.” He headed toward Lestly, who was making quiet moans and reaching a hand toward his head. “Let’s sit him up, then drag him backwards against that tree by the big rock”

They each grabbed Lestly under an arm, sat him up, and then pulled him to sit back against the tree. Malik went about securing Lestly’s wrists behind the tree with another piggin’ string. Then he pulled Lestly’s lagging head up and tied another of the short cords around his neck and the tree, and one more across his brow and around the tree, thus holding his head upright.

Malik went and stood by Gabriela and said quietly, “I want you to go over and gather up that book I was lookin’ at. Then I want you to take it an’ go wait where we left the horses.”

“Not until Granger—”

“Gabriela! As bad as it’s been, it gets real ugly, now. You’d be seein’ things won’t leave your mind for the rest of your life.”

“Emil, I already carry such images. I wouldn’t mind at all if something else overwhelmed them. Besides, I came for Granger. I’m not going anywhere until I see him draw his last breath while I look him in the eye.”