Rufe came over to Ace and Chance. “My uncle wants to talk to you fellas before you ride out.”
“How’s he doing?” Ace asked.
“Uncle Dave?” Rufe made a scoffing sound. “He’ll be all right. He’s tough as whang leather. It’ll take more ’n a bullet graze to do him any real damage.”
Ace was glad to hear that was the extent of Wingate’s injury. He and Chance walked across the camp with Rufe.
Laura met them at the back of the Fairfield wagon. “Mr. Wingate is inside.”
Ace and Chance climbed into the wagon and found the old scout propped up in one of the bunks.
Wingate grinned at them. “That little gal insisted on havin’ Rufe and the cap’n put me in here so I could rest better, and once she makes up her mind about somethin’, you can’t talk her out of it. Just like any woman.”
From where she was standing beside the lowered tailgate, Laura snorted.
Ace said, “We’re glad you’re all right, Mr. Wingate.”
The older man was shirtless, but he had bandages wrapped around his torso, holding a thick dressing in place over the wound. “Yeah, I bled like a stuck pig and I’ll be pretty stiff and sore for a while, but that little crease didn’t really amount to much. As skinny as I am, I reckon I can’t afford to lose too much meat from these old bones.”
“You’ve got enough to last you for a while,” said Chance.
“Dang right. Anyway, the cap’n tells me you boys are leavin’.”
Ace nodded solemnly. “That seems like the best thing to do. I think McPhee actually wants to work out a deal with these folks, but he’s got a grudge against Chance and me and won’t settle things as long as we’re around.”
Wingate waved a knobby-knuckled hand. “You don’t have to explain nothin’ to me, son. I don’t know what it’s about and it don’t matter.” He extended the hand. “All I care about right now is thankin’ you fellas for all your help.”
“We were glad to pitch in,” said Ace as he shook hands with the scout.
“And don’t forget, you helped us after McPhee’s men gave us that thrashing,” added Chance as he gripped Wingate’s hand.
“Speakin’ of which, I guess I ain’t the only one who’s a mite sore,” Wingate said.
“We’ll be carrying around some bruises for a while,” Ace said. “But we like to keep moving, so that’ll keep us from stiffening up too much . . . I hope.”
“Yeah, that’s the plan,” Chance agreed.
“Whereabouts are you headed?”
The Jensen brothers exchanged a glance. They hadn’t had a chance to discuss it, but the whole problem of Ling and the money she and Haggarty had stolen from them still hung over their heads.
“We don’t really know yet,” said Ace. “Sort of figured we’d head on south, though. That’ll take us away from McPhee’s ranch and Rimfire, and we’re sure not welcome in either of those places.”
Edward Fairfield was listening from the back of the wagon. “If you fellows would like for me to put in a good word for you with Mr. McPhee, I’d be glad to. He’s shown a few glimmerings of being a reasonable man.”
“No, that’s all right, Mr. Fairfield,” said Chance. “You don’t want to do anything that might complicate coming to an agreement with him about settling here in the valley.”
And it wouldn’t do any good for Fairfield to speak up on their behalf anyway, thought Ace. McPhee was smitten with Ling, that was obvious, and when a man fell for a woman, common sense usually went out the window. The Jensen brothers might be young, but they were old enough for Ace to have grasped that fundamental truth about the universe.
“Suit yourself,” said Fairfield. “You’ll be taking our best wishes with you, wherever you go.”
“And if you ever come back this way, you have to stop and say hello,” added Laura.
Ace and Chance said good-bye to Dave Wingate, then stepped down from the wagon, shook hands with Rufe and Fairfield, and returned the impulsive hugs that Laura gave them as Rufe scowled a little.
As the brothers headed across the camp toward their horses, more of the men shook hands with them and slapped them on the back. Several of the women hugged them.
One woman handed them a burlap sack, explaining, “These are some supplies that everyone pitched in on for you. There’s enough food and ammunition in there to last you for a while.”
“We’re mighty obliged to you, ma’am,” Ace told her, “and to everyone else, as well. We’ll miss you folks.”
“You risked your lives to help us,” said one of the men. “None of us will ever forget that.”
Ace tied the bag onto his saddle. He and Chance could transfer the contents to their saddlebags later, after they left the camp. Waving to the pilgrims with whom their trails had intertwined for the past few days, they heeled their horses into motion and rode south.
“We’re not really leaving this part of the country, are we?” asked Chance as they put the wagon train behind them.
“While Ling and Jack Haggarty still have that money they stole from us?” Ace shook his head. “Hell, no.”
They rode south for about a mile and stopped on top of a small hill where there were enough pine trees and rocks to give them some cover if they needed it. As McPhee had promised, none of his men had come after them so far, but neither Ace nor Chance would put it past some of the rancher’s gun-wolves to seek vengeance on their own.
They dismounted and stood looking at the landscape around them, alert for any sign of trouble.
Chance said, “If McPhee’s back at his ranch, it’s likely Haggarty and Ling came out from Rimfire with him.”
“Yeah, he’s going to let them stay there as guests,” said Ace, “but I reckon we both know what that means.”
“How long do you think it’ll be before the two of them make their move?”
“As soon as they figure out how to get into McPhee’s safe and clean it out,” said Ace.
Chance laughed. “Do we really want to save him from that? Wouldn’t it be easier to let them steal his loot, then take it from them along with our money?”
“Which would make us thieves just like they are,” Ace pointed out.
“Well, not exactly like they are. McPhee owes us something for that beating his men gave us, and they stole our guns, too.” Chance shrugged. “But you’re right, I suppose. Doc didn’t raise us to be outlaws.”
“No, he didn’t. Maybe what we should do is wait until Haggarty and Ling clean him out, then grab them and take them and the money back to McPhee.”
Chance gave his brother a skeptical look.
“If we did that, Ling would come up with some wild story about how it was us who stole McPhee’s money, and he’d swallow it hook, line, and sinker. You know he would.”
Ace nodded glumly. “You’re right. He’ll almost have to catch them red-handed before he’ll believe anything bad about Ling.”
“Maybe . . . maybe if we wait until they have the loot, then trail them until they hole up somewhere, one of us could keep an eye on them while the other went back to lead McPhee to wherever they’re hiding.”
“That might work,” said Ace. “For now, it looks like we’re going to have to find a place to watch the ranch headquarters without being spotted ourselves. That way we’ll know when the two of them try to sneak off.”
“And not get caught by McPhee’s men while we’re doing it.”
“Well, yeah. As many warnings as McPhee has already given us, he wouldn’t be happy if he found out we were spying on his ranch house.”
“I can’t help but think Doc would be disappointed in us for getting mixed up in a mess like this.”
“Doc got mixed up in plenty of messes of his own. Remember Janey?”
“Oh, yeah,” Chance said. “Who could forget Janey?”
They decided to wait until nightfall, then use the cover of darkness to approach the headquarters of the Tartan ranch. They didn’t know exactly where it was located, only the gene
ral vicinity, but Ace was confident they could find it. The trick would be to locate the ranch house without giving away their presence nearby.
While they were waiting, they transferred the supplies from the burlap sack to their saddlebags and ate some jerky and biscuits that were among the provisions. The afternoon was long and boring, so Chance passed the time the way he often did when he had the opportunity. He stretched out under a tree and slept.
Ace kept watch, which was his usual pastime, too.
* * *
They didn’t set off for McPhee’s ranch until dusk had settled over the Montana landscape. It would have been nice to build a fire and brew a pot of coffee, but they couldn’t afford to give away their location. More jerky and water from their canteens made for a grim supper, but it was better than nothing.
With so few cattle grazing down there at that time of year, Ace didn’t figure McPhee would have any nighthawks out riding the range, but he and Chance moved cautiously and quietly anyway. They stayed well south of the area where the wagon train was camped and then worked their way eastward through the broad valley, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. It made for slow going, but they had all night, Ace supposed.
A couple hours after full dark had fallen, he spotted some dim spots of light ahead in the distance.
At the same moment, Chance said, “Look up there.”
“I see ’em,” said Ace. “Looks like several windows.”
“Must be McPhee’s place.”
“I don’t know of another spread in these parts.”
Several times the lights disappeared, blocked by trees or higher ground. On each occasion, Ace and Chance rode back and forth until they picked up the distant glow again. Gradually they came closer, until they decided it would be a good idea to dismount and go ahead on foot.
They tied the horses to a couple thin-trunked aspens, drew the revolvers, and catfooted forward. The ground sloped up slightly until they found themselves on a small ridge overlooking a wide pasture. On the other side, visible in the light from moon and stars, the ground rose again, but only a few feet to a bench where the ranch buildings sat.
Light shone from a couple windows in the ranch house, which was a sprawling, two-story frame structure. It had started out as a small shack, back in the days when McPhee had first come out to establish his spread, and had been built on to over the years.
Off to one side was a long, low bunkhouse, also with a lighted window. A huge, dark, looming shape had to be a barn. Smaller buildings were likely a cook shack, blacksmith shop, maybe a smokehouse. Several large corrals were scattered around the place, including a round pen most likely used for breaking horses.
Ace and Chance had seen a number of similar spreads and had even worked on a few of them.
They knelt on the rise and Chance whispered, “How are we going to make sure Ling and Haggarty are here?”
“I can’t imagine those two riding out from Rimfire on horseback,” replied Ace. “I’ll go take a look in the barn and see if there’s a buggy there. If there is, we’ll have a pretty good idea the two we’re looking for are in the house.”
“You’re not gonna go by yourself.”
“Yes, I am. That way, if anything happens to me, you’ll still be out here on the loose, so you can pull my fat out of the fire.”
“Makes sense, I suppose,” Chance said with a shrug. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”
“No, it sure doesn’t.” Ace rose to his feet and dropped a hand on his brother’s shoulder, squeezing for a second. “I’ll be back.”
“Be careful.”
“Always am,” Ace lied.
The way Chance grunted indicated that he knew it was a falsehood, too.
Ace moved along the ridge for a hundred yards and then slid down it so he could circle around the buildings and approach the barn from the rear. The route he followed skirted wide around the bunkhouse. He didn’t want to bump into some cowhand on his way to or from the privy or even one who was just restless and out for a walk.
The night was quiet enough that he could hear the horses shifting around in their stalls and swishing their tails back and forth. Over in the bunkhouse, voices spoke too low for him to make out the words, and then a man laughed. Even after all the drama earlier in the day, the Tartan appeared to be at peace.
A small door in the back wall of the barn stood open about a foot. Ace eased it back a few more inches and slipped through. Inside the barn, the darkness was almost complete. Only a faint gray light seeped in here and there. It was enough to allow him to make his way around slowly and carefully. As he moved toward the front of the barn, he saw something sitting motionless in the wide center aisle. When he was close enough, he reached out and touched it. His fingertips encountered the cool smoothness of metal. He slid his hand along what felt like a rail of some sort and realized it was part of the frame of a buggy, just like he’d expected to find.
He supposed it was possible McPhee could have a buggy parked in his barn without Ling and Haggarty being at the ranch headquarters, but it was one more bit of evidence to indicate that they were there.
Ace felt around on the thing until he was absolutely certain it was indeed a buggy, then turned to go back the way he had come. As soon as he rejoined Chance, they could withdraw from the immediate vicinity of the ranch and start looking for a place to hole up.
What they would do after that, he still didn’t know. If the opportunity presented itself, if McPhee rode off and left Ling and Haggarty at the ranch house without too many men to guard them, maybe he and Chance could grab the two thieves and force them to confess to McPhee. That would be a long shot at best, but it might be the only chance they would have to recover their money and convince McPhee of the truth.
Those thoughts were going through Ace’s brain as he slipped out the barn’s back door, and they might have been distracting enough that he didn’t hear the man who stepped up behind him. Or maybe the man was just that good.
At any rate, Ace was surprised when he felt the cold ring of a gun muzzle press against the back of his neck as a man’s voice whispered in his ear, “Don’t move, mate, or I’ll blow your spine clean in two.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Ace stayed where he was, sensing that his life hung by a thread. The hard, icy undertone in the man’s voice told him the words were no idle threat. The man would kill him without hesitation.
Even so, Ace didn’t like having a gun pulled on him, so he was alert for any opportunity to turn the tables on him.
“Ah, you’re gonna be sensible,” the unseen man continued. “I like that. Never enjoy spillin’ blood without a good reason.”
The man had an accent, and after a moment Ace placed it as Australian. Ace and Chance had encountered a few natives of that continent in the South Pacific while they were in San Francisco with Doc Monday, years earlier. According to Doc, at one time there had been an Australian gang among San Francisco’s underworld, and some of their descendants were still along the Barbary Coast.
The likelihood of Angus McPhee having an Australian gunman working for him seemed pretty remote, but Ace couldn’t rule it out entirely. If his captor dragged him before McPhee, there was no telling what the rancher might do.
“I’m not looking for trouble—” Ace began.
“Hush now. You’re one of McPhee’s men, aren’t you? What are you doin’ out here at this time of night?”
Ace took a deep breath. From the sound of those questions, the man behind him wasn’t one of McPhee’s hands, although he might be trying to pull some sort of trick. Ace didn’t think so, though. He trusted his instincts and spoke just above a whisper. “I’m no more one of McPhee’s men than you are, mister.”
“Then who are you?”
“Just a fella who’s got a score to settle.” That answer was simpler than trying to explain about Ling and Haggarty and what they had done. Let the Australian draw his own conclusions.
That was just what the man did
. “A score to settle with McPhee? What are you plannin’ to do, ambush him? Burn down his barn?”
“Just taking a look around,” Ace replied. “Seems like he’s got visitors. I found their buggy in the barn.”
“Visitors, is it? And you’ve got an interest in them?”
“I might,” Ace allowed cautiously.
For a moment, the man didn’t say anything.
Ace sensed that he was thinking things over.
Then the man said, “I think you’d best come with me, mate.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea—”
“Maybe not, but I’m the one with the gun at your neck, so your opinion ain’t really relevant, is it? Stand still. Budge an inch and I’ll pull the trigger.”
“If you do that, McPhee’s men will come running to see what the shooting’s about, and I’m guessing you’re not supposed to be here, either.”
“Don’t get too full o’ yourself, lad.” The man reached around Ace and plucked the gun from his waistband. “That’s all I wanted, just to make sure you don’t get any foolish ideas in your head. Fact of the matter is, I’m startin’ to get a feelin’ we may be on the same side.” He pulled the gun away from the back of Ace’s neck. “Now, you’re comin’ with me, all right? No trouble.”
To Ace, cooperation seemed like the fastest and easiest way to find out what was going on. “All right.”
The man put his hand on Ace’s shoulder and steered him away from the barn. They skirted one of the corrals and moved through the darkness toward some trees a hundred yards away. The place where Chance was waiting for him was in the opposite direction and Ace hated leaving his brother behind, unaware of what had happened at the barn, but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.
From the barn Ace hadn’t seen anyone hiding in the trees, but as he and his captor entered the grove, several dim shapes appeared, surrounding them.
A man asked, “Who the hell is this, Clancy?”
“Don’t know, Mr. Belmont, but he claims that he’s no friend to Angus McPhee.”
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