by Bill Dugan
Conlee hung on like a lamprey, locking his arms and putting all his weight into the stranglehold. Ted was starting to choke. He remembered the knife and jerked it loose. Conlee saw it and started to let go as Ted slammed the blade into his side. The big man groaned as Ted sliced across his gut. Both hands locked on Ted’s wrist, but the strength was gone. Ted tried to get up, putting all his weight into the effort and forcing Conlee back with the knife itself.
The big man fell backward and Ted kicked free. He scrambled to his feet and looked toward the porch. Millie, her hands over her mouth, was motionless. She seemed frozen in midscream. The sound poured from her in one continuous howl.
The dead man sprawled half on the porch and half off. Behind him, framed in the doorway, Margaret stood crying, the pistol still smoking in her hand.
25
TED SHOVELED THE last of the dirt onto the mound. He tamped it down with the flat of the blade. Grabbing the makeshift sign, hacked out of charred siding and bearing only the single word “Cookie,” he stabbed it into the damp earth and drove it home with a blow of the shovel. Millie and Margaret bent to place a few flowers.
“He was a good friend to you, wasn’t he?” Millie asked.
Ted nodded. “Yeah, he was a good friend.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ted didn’t answer.
“What are you going to do now?” Millie asked.
“Dunno.” He thought about Texas. Somebody had to tell Rafe about Cookie. But the thought of facing Jacob and Ellie frightened him. He didn’t think he could do it. And he didn’t think he wanted to. Still, he had to tell Rafe. “Texas, I guess. How about you?”
“I don’t know. I have nothing here. And with Kevin …” She choked back a sob, and he saw her wipe at a tear. “I guess …”
“Look, you can come to Texas, if you want.”
“I couldn’t. I …”
“Why not?”
Millie walked away a few steps. Her back to him, she stared at the ashes of the barn and the house. “We could take Margaret, too,” Ted said “I mean … you know, until we can get word to her family.”
Millie turned back to him. “I don’t think so,” she said.
“No, I suppose not.” He threw the shovel aside. He sighed, realizing he’d never visited Johnny’s grave and didn’t know where it was.
“You going to stay here, then?” he asked.
“I guess I will.”
Ted walked to his horse and climbed into the saddle. “I might be back,” he said. “I got some things to take care of first, but I’ll be back.”
Millie walked close to the horse. She reached out for his hand. He remembered the strong grip. He smiled, just for a second. Then he took her hand.
“See you,” he said.
“Yes.”
At the end of the lane, he turned in the saddle. Millie was still watching. Margaret waved, then started to run. Millie was right behind her.
ONE MAN’S WAR
A faint glow from a half-dozen fires smeared the air with a hint of orange. Ted dismounted and started up the hill, quietly levering a shell into the Winchester’s chamber. He muffled the click as best he could with his free palm.
Drifting to the left as he neared the crest, he tried to pick out the sentry on the far hill, but it was impossible to see any details at all. He curved to the left. If he couldn’t see anyone, at least he had a slim chance that the sentry couldn’t see him either.
He climbed toward the orange glow, angling for a shallow notch. Dropping to his belly, he crawled up the very center of the notch until he could look down into the next valley. Somewhere above and to his right, the sentry sat oblivious. And below him, he saw the camp. Six fires and, at first blush, at least thirty bedrolls.
Conlee had an army.
And Ted Cotton was alone.
Also by Bill Dugan
BRADY’S LAW
GUN PLAY AT CROSS CREEK
DUEL ON THE MESA
MADIGAN’S LUCK
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1990 by Charlie McDade
ISBN: 0-06-100032-9
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © JULY 2011 ISBN: 978-0-062-10942-2
First HarperTorch paperback printing: August 2003
First HarperPaperbacks printing: April 1990
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