Blood Bond 3 (13 page)

“Pick up your rabid skunk and your dead gunslick and get out of town,” Matt told the Broken Lance riders, turning from the batwings to face them. “I'll not bar any of you from town, but don't come in here looking for trouble. Pass the word, boys. No trouble in Nameit.”

“You've played hell this time, Bodine,” Harry Street said. “You know John Lee will not let this pass easy. And I ain't threatenin' you none by sayin' it. I'm just statin' a fact, is all. He's a revenge-seekin' man, he is.”

“Harry,” Matt said, “I'm going to give you and the other boys some advice. You know there's a Texas Ranger working slow circles around this area. If this situation busts wide open, he'll call for help and you all know what that means. Shoot a Texas Ranger and his buddies will track you through the gates of hell. Best thing you boys could do is draw your pay and ride.”

Harry Street hesitated, then slowly shook his head. “I ain't never quit a job of work, Bodine. No point in startin' now.”

“Attacking ranches and trying to burn them out, Harry? That's what you call a job of work? Attacking women?”

Harry Street's grin held little humor. “I heard about some ol' boys attackin' the Circle S. Course I wouldn't know nothin' about who done it. Seems they run up on a Mex cook with a shotgun. Them boys lost. 'Pears to me them women you speak of can take care of themselves.”

“I've said all I can say then, Harry.”

“If a couple of the boys escort Nick and his bride back to the ranch, you mind if the rest of us finish our drinks?”

“Don't mind at all, Harry. Long as there is no trouble.”

“It won't come from none of us, Bodine.”

“Nor from any Circle S hand,” Dodge said.

“Fair enough. Enjoy your drinks, boys.” Matt walked out on the boardwalk and stood with Sam, watching as the unconscious form of Nick Lee was loaded into the buggy beside his still-squalling wife. The body of the hired gun was tied facedown across his saddle, and the parade headed out of town, escorted by several Broken Lance riders.

“Wonder where the nearest dentist is?” Sam said.

“El Paso, probably. Maybe Fort Worth. Brother, if this doesn't blow the lid off things, I don't know what will.”

“We said that when you whipped John Lee, remember?”

“Yeah, we sure did. What's he waiting on, Sam?”

Sam chuckled. “He might be waiting on some false teeth!”

Matt and Sam were awakened about ten o'clock by Lomax banging on the front door. “They hit the Flying V 'bout two, three hours ago, boys. Burned down the barn, scattered the horses, and put lead in Ed Carson. He ain't a-gonna make it, I'm thinkin'. Chookie's over gettin' the doc now. Gary rode in to tell us, but he couldn't ride no more. He caught one in the shoulder.”

“I'll saddle the horses,” Sam said, stepping around Matt and slinging his gunbelt around his lean waist and sticking the second .44 behind his sash.

They were in the saddle ten minutes later, the doctor right behind them in his buggy. Jeff Sparks had left ten hands behind at his ranch, and he had led the ride over to the Flying V, Lisa driving her mother in the buggy, Lia on Lightning.

“I say we ride over to the Broken Lance and burn the goddamn place to the ground and kill every dirty son there!” Sparks said, his voice tight with anger.

“Not while I'm wearing this badge,” Matt told him.

“Nor me,” Sam told them.

“Whose side are you on?” Sparks yelled at the brothers.

“I won't even dignify that with a reply,” Sam told the rancher.

Sparks's shoulders slumped and he shook his head. “I'm sorry, Sam. I truly am. But what the hell can we do?”

“Did you get lead in any of the attackers?” Matt asked.

“Killed four,” Gary said, a bloody bandage on his left shoulder. Noah was inside with his father. “We stretched 'em out over yonder. John Lee's hired some new men, Matt. We ain't never seen any of them dead gunslicks before. And their horses got brands that we ain't never seen.”

“He hired them especially for this job,” Sam said. “And those that got away are still riding. Bet on it. Nothing left behind to connect the Broken Lance with this night's trouble. He's getting smarter.”

“How many men were there?” Matt asked.

“Ten, I'd say,” Teddy said. “They was all wearin' dark dusters and come out at us fast and hard. I'd guess that we wounded maybe two of them. How bad is anybody's guess.”

“And they headed north,” Mark said. “Straight for the New Mexico border.”

Dr. Winters stepped out on the porch of the ranch house. “Gentlemen, Ed Carson just died.”

Matt pulled Beavers over to one side. “Get you a fresh horse and ride for the settlement. Get a wire out or some kind of message to Ranger Headquarters. Advise them we need Josiah Finch in here and we need him right now!”

“I'm gone, Matt.”

“I'm here now.” The voice came from behind the bunch.

They all turned around. Josiah Finch sat Horse about twenty-five feet from them. Horse moved as quietly as the Ranger.

“I seen the fire from miles off,” Josiah said. “Figured it had to be trouble.” He looked at Matt and Sam. “By the power vested in me by the State of Texas I now say that you two is swore in Texas Rangers. Raise your right hands and repeat after me.”

He swore them in on the spot. “Now, by God, you two will not be a-ridin' hellbent around for trouble. You're Texas Rangers now.” He dug in his saddlebags and tossed the badges. “Pin 'em on, boys. You!” he pointed to Pen Masters. “You're now marshal of Nameit.”

“Me?” Pen shouted. “The hell you say!”

“And you,” Josiah pointed to Bam, “is his deputy.”

“That's disgusting!” Bam said. “What'll all my friends say?”

“Knowin' the kind of people you been associatin' with for years, they'll probably shoot you on sight,” Josiah said, his eyes twinkling with dark humor. “Matt, Sam, give them two new lawmen your marshal's badges and switch your saddles to fresh horses. We got some trackin' to do. First light, one of you boys ride to the settlement and send a wire to Austin—Ranger HQ. Advise them we got two new Rangers—Matt Bodine and Sam Two Wolves—and to put them on the payroll. Let's ride, boys.”

Daylight found them closing in on the men who had attacked the ranch. The outlaws had ridden hard for ten miles, then rested and back in the saddle had been walking their horses.

“Does it bother you at all that we just might be in New Mexico?” Sam asked Josiah.

“Nope.”

“But you have no arrest powers outside of Texas.”

“I do as long as I keep the criminals in sight.”

“But we haven't seem them yet!”

“Seen their tracks. Same thing.”

“You are a very exasperating man,” Sam told him.

“I'm a Texas Ranger. That says it all. And so is you boys. Bear that in mind.”

“Smoke from a campfire up ahead,” Matt said, spotting a thin line of smoke in the distance.

“That'll be them,” Josiah said.

Sam looked at Josiah. The man's jaw was set and his eyes focused straight ahead. “Why do I get this feeling that we're just going to ride right into the outlaw camp—if it is the men who attacked the ranch—announce who we are and demand their surrender?”

“ 'Cause that's what's we're gonna do,” Josiah told him. “Ain't no point in pussy-footin' around and bein' polite and all that. We'll know where we stand as soon as they jerk iron. If they don't jerk iron, we got the wrong bunch and we can step down and have coffee with them.”

“And if they are the right bunch?” Sam asked.

“We shoot them and then drink their coffee. Lawin's easy once you get the hang of it.”

“Incredible,” Sam said.

“Thank you,” Josiah replied.

Six men looked up from their breakfast as the three Rangers approached their camp. Two of them wore bloody bandages; one on his leg, the other arm-shot. All had dark dusters tied behind their saddles.

“Get ready,” Josiah said. “We got two apiece.”

“We have them outnumbered,” Sam said, the sarcasm thick in his voice.

“Sure do,” Josiah agreed. “Glad to see you're gettin' the hang of it so fast.”

The three Rangers had the reins in their left hands. Their right hands were close to their guns. The outlaws were heavily armed, and the men brushed back their coats, exposing their pistols.

“Texas Rangers,” Josiah announced. “Stand or deliver, boys.”

The outlaws chose the former, grabbing for iron. The camp exploded in gunfire, gunsmoke filling the air with puffs of gray clouds. At that range, it was nearly impossible to miss. It came down to who cleared leather first, and the Rangers did. When the shooting stopped, three outlaws were stretched out in the dirt, dead. Two were hard hit and probably dying, and a third stood holding his one good arm in the air. His right arm dangled bullet-shattered by his side.

“You damn people are crazy!” the wounded outlaw said.

Sam wanted to tell him that he agreed wholeheartedly with that assessment, but held his tongue, figuring Josiah would take exception to it.

“Stand over yonder,” Josiah told the man, motioning with his Peacemaker.

The man moved slowly back.

The Rangers swung down from their saddles and began checking the camp. Josiah tied the wounded man's good arm to his belt and poured himself a cup of coffee, using his own cup from his saddlebags.

“Might catch hydrophoby from them yahoos' cups,” he said. He looked at the wounded man. “Talk to me, boy.”

“Nice day, ain't it?”

Josiah smiled, the slight curving of his lips resembling a rattler's smile. “Now, boy, we can do this any number of ways. You can cooperate, and I might see that the judge goes easy on you. You can get smartmouthed, and I'll just leave you out here, without horse, guns, boots, or food. And if you think I won't do that, then you're a fool.”

The outlaw nodded his head. “Man come up to our camp outside the trading post called Roswell. Up north of here. Must have been three, four weeks ago. It was at night. Never did get a good look at him. Said he wanted a job of work done. Wanted a rancher name of Carson burned out and his cattle drove off. Throwed a sack of money onto the ground and left. Took Steven there,” he nodded at a dead outlaw, “ 'bout a week to round up enough boys to pull it off. Then we done 'er. Now I'm sittin' here shot up lookin' at you. That's all I know about it.”

Josiah sipped his coffee and stared at the man. One of the wounded men screamed horribly and then died. The other was lung shot and belly shot and wouldn't last much longer. “It's my duty to tell you that you're under arrest for murder. That rancher died last night.”

“You'll play hell provin' it was me that kilt him.”

“That's a fact,” Josiah agreed. “But you was a part of it, you confessed to it in front of three Texas Rangers, so that means you'll spend some years in prison. Which horse is yours?”

“The bay over there.”

Matt saddled the bay while Sam collected the guns and personal effects from the dead. The men sat around the fire, for the morning was still cool, drinking coffee and frying bacon while they waited for the other outlaw to die. As soon as he passed, his body was dragged over to a ravine to lie with the others. A small bluff was caved in over them. Josiah got his Bible and the men took off their hats.

“Oh, Lord,” Josiah said. “Do what you can for these sorry bastards. Amen. Let's ride.”

They headed back to Texas.

 

 

They rode into Nameit, dirty and tired and hungry and wanting a hot bath, some food, and rest. The wounded outlaw—his name was Charles Gruen—was treated by Dr. Winters and tossed into one cell of the three-cell pokey.

“Now what happens?” Gruen asked.

“You get tried soon as I can get a judge over here,” Josiah told him. “Might be next month, might be next year. Then we either hang you or you go to prison.”

“I want a lawyer.”

“Sure, you do. But they ain't no lawyers in this town. Thank the Lord.”

“I was driven to a life of crime. I had a terrible childhood,” Gruen said. “My daddy beat me.”

“He didn't beat you enough,” Josiah told him. “Now shut up.”

There was a note on the desk stating that Pen and Bam were out chasing some petty thieves. They would be back first light.

The men took their baths, shaved, then got something to eat. Josiah turned up the lamp on the office desk and took pen and paper and began writing out his report. He left it on the desk when he went out back to use the privy. Sam picked it up and read, “Me and Bodine and Two Wolves picked up their tracks heading north from the burned-out ranch. We found the six of them the next morning. I think we was in Texas. We braced them, they jumped, we shot them. Killed five—I spoke words over them—and we brung Charles Gruen back to Nameit for trial.”

“That pretty well says it all,” Matt said, reading over Sam's shoulder.

“He's not a wordy man, is he?”

Dodge rode up and walked into the office. He looked at the outlaw sitting on his bunk in the cell. Back in the main office, he poured a cup of coffee. “John Lee is hirin' more men. I got that word this afternoon.”

“How's his mouth?” Matt asked with a grin.

“Sore, so I'm told,” the old gunfighter turned rancher said with a smile. “I'm told they can't tell about Nick's mouth until the swellin' goes down.” He looked at Sam. “Watch your backtrail, boy. Nick's swore to kill you. And don't take him lightly. He'll kill you any way he can.

“I never take death threats lightly. I guess I should have shot him when he drew on me, or tried to draw on me, back in the saloon.”

“You mighty right you should have,” Dodge said. “But I understand why you didn't.”

“You're out pretty late, Dodge,” Matt said.

“Jimmy's on the prod. We're lookin' for him. He left home swearin' to kill John Lee. That was about noon today. Nobody's seen hide nor hair of him since.”

Josiah had entered through the back door and stood listening until the foreman had finished. “Is the boy any good with a gun?”

Dodge shrugged. “Average, I'd say. He's not fast, if that's what you mean. But he's real good with a rifle.”

“What brought this on?” Sam asked.

“No one knows. But he was real fond of Ed Carson. Funeral's at dawn, by the way. Ed always requested that.”

“We'll be there,” Matt said. “What do you want us to do about Jimmy?”

“Rope him if you see him. But I don't think you will. I think he's hid out plannin' on how to get a shot at John Lee.”

Josiah sighed audibly. “If he does that, it'll have to be called murder, Dodge.”

“I know it. And you boys will have to go after him.”

“Damn!”
Matt swore.

 

 

The service was a simple one, with the Reverend Willowby officiating. Halfway through the service, Sam looked up and saw a dust cloud rolling toward them. He dropped to his knees and put an ear to the ground, just as Willowby stopped in the middle of his sermon and looked disapprovingly at him.

Sam jumped to his boots. “Riders! A lot of them and coming straight for us.”

“Not even John Lee would do something this horrible!” Ed's widow cried.

“Let them open fire!” Josiah yelled. “If they do that, we can take it to a court of law and stop John Lee.”

“Get the women in the house!” Jeff Sparks called. “Move, people, move!”

The riders, fifty or more strong, all wearing bandanas over their faces, circled the ranch-house area, shooting at anything that moved. All of the smaller ranchers who had moved back into the area were at the funeral with their families, several of them with small children.