As suddenly as it came it was gone. The wind died down quickly. Leaves stripped from the oaks littered the ground.
Immediately, they were out from under the wagon checking on the horses.
Josh examined the roan first, stroking the roman nose and talking to him to calm him down, next he went to the team. “How do your horses look?”
“Mine’s fine, excepting a few bruises,” Pat said.
“Mine, too.”
Josh continued to examine the team and found the bay with a cut and bleeding left front fetlock. “Looks like the bay took a pretty bad hit. The fetlock joint is bleeding and he’s favoring it.”
Josh walked the team around, and the bay continued to favor the leg. “He’ll never make it to the ranch. Let’s get him unhitched and, Pat, if you don’t mind, we’ll put your horse in the harness. Reckon we’re still close enough to town for you boys to head back and switch out a healthy horse with Tiny. You can spend the night there and start out again mañana. It’ll put you a day later getting to the ranch, but I don’t see how it can be helped.”
Scott walked over, checked the bay, and started unhitching him. “Yeah, boss, looks like you’re right. I hate to turn around, but I don’t see any other answer.”
Pat brought up his horse and, after a little persuasion, they got him settled into the harness.
Josh stepped into the saddle. “It appears the rest of the horses have some nasty bruises, but it could have sure been a lot worse.”
“A lot worse,” Scott said. “I’ve seen horses and cattle killed from hail. If it’s big enough, it’ll kill whatever is in the open. Why, I remember down around Uvalde four or five years ago we almost had a herd wiped out. That storm hit early in the morning and we immediately had a stampede. There was one big mossy-horn that was running like crazy. He was hit in the head with a chunk of ice the size of a bucket—drove him right to his knees. Why—”
“How about you hold up that story until we get back on the trail, and you can share it with Pat on your way back to town,” Josh said with a wink at Pat. “We let Scott get to spinning a yarn, and we’re liable to be here for the rest of the day.”
Scott grinned and turned to Pat. “We’ve got plenty of time. I can’t imagine letting you miss out on a good story.”
Scott’s brow wrinkled slightly. “By the way, how you reckon Bull fared in this.”
“Hopefully he’s dead,” Pat said as he turned and spit. “But he likely found a hole somewhere.”
“Let’s just keep our eyes open,” Josh said as they left the concealment of the oaks.
Pat stopped the team for a moment and turned to Josh with a twinkle in his eye. “Now, Major, you keep your eyes sharp and clear. I’ve no desire to give Fianna any bad news.”
“You keep your eyes sharp, and I’ll see you at the ranch in a couple of days,” Josh said gruffly. He raised a hand, the buckboard turned north to town, and Josh quickly turned south to keep Pat from seeing his face. How the heck did Pat know about his new feelings for Fianna? He wasn’t even sure about it himself. Anyway, he was headed for Colorado Territory, and Fianna and Pat were off to California. He wasn’t even sure that Fianna had any feelings for him. How could a beautiful woman care for a big galoot like him? Even if she did, nothing could come of it.
He let the roan out into a lope. It felt good to be in the saddle. There were still several hours of daylight left. He’d be able to cover some miles today. The roan felt like he, too, was enjoying stretching his muscles after the storm.
Josh carefully surveyed the plains and arroyos. This country was cut with arroyos. Most were dry, but still had vegetation along their edges. They were sliced out of the hills from heavy rains that coursed down the hillsides. This passing storm had been heavy enough to fill many of them, although the current would die quickly, and the water would evaporate and absorb into the dry ground.
In this part of Texas every drop of water counted. The short grasses that survived in this area were nourished by the storm. Everything looked washed and clean. The pin oaks, the blue stem grasses and even the prickly pear had put on a new face, enjoying the moisture.
Josh scanned the shinnery covered hills. He slowed the roan to a walk and, while remaining alert to anything out of place, his mind shifted to the Colorado Territory. His uncle had talked about the valley so often, Josh could picture it. He could see the tall, nourishing grass, the stream coursing down from the majestic mountains surrounding the valley on three sides. The mountains were covered with tall pines, that would provide the lumber for their ranch. It was all there waiting for him and Callum, but time was drifting away.
Every day here meant a day less to build a house, barn, and corral for the Spanish Mustangs he planned to catch with Callum, but his debt to Rory, and now to Bill and Mary Louise, had to be cleared before he could leave. They were in dire straits and he wanted to help them.
He must find out how Ruffcarn planned to take the ranch and why. Why was the big question. They were here in the eastern edge of the Comancheria. Since the war started and the men left, the Comanches rode almost unhampered through this country. Though the army was again establishing posts and forts to control the Comanche they were still a deadly force to reckon with. Land was available farther east that was much less hazardous to ranchers and their stock. So why was Bill’s land so important?
Josh enjoyed the slightly cooler wind that had followed the storm. It was a welcome respite from the stifling summer heat. The sky was clearing from the west. The sun, lowering now, slipped between the higher clouds and the horizon, and spread across the plains, highlighting the brilliant greens of the washed-clean oaks, and reds and yellows reflecting off the ochre boulders on the hillsides.
The sun’s light also struck the barrel of Bull’s .52 caliber Sharps on the hillside, where he lay in ambush. Josh saw the bright flash of reflected light and spurred his horse. The last that his mind registered before the bullet slammed into his head was the puff of smoke from the flash.
The slug hit Josh on the right side of his head, just above his hat brim. He was immediately unconscious, but some innate reaction caused him to grab the saddle horn, only for a moment. The roan was running full out as Josh gradually slipped from the saddle. His left boot slipped through the stirrup and hung as the horse continued to race across the prairie.
Bull leaned back and smiled, “Gotcha, ya blasted blue-belly.” He watched as Josh had slumped forward, then slowly slipped from the saddle. When he saw that Josh’s foot was caught in his stirrup, Bull’s smile turned to laughter.
His eyes lit with an evil gleam as Josh’s body bounced across the sand, rocks, and shinnery, and disappeared into the Cross Timbers pin oaks. “That Yankee boy is a dead man for sure,” he said out loud. “He was dead before he hit the ground.” Bull knew he never missed with the Sharps. This was a good day. Revenge was sweet. He stood, leaned back to stretch the back muscles that had stiffened.
When he saw Josh split off and Pat and Scott head the buckboard back to town, he knew his time had come. Bull was familiar with the perfect spot for the ambush, and he shadowed the Yankee cavalry man toward it.
Bull had been caught on an open hillside when the storm hit. If it hadn’t been for him hiding on the downwind side of his horse, he felt sure he would’ve been killed. Even so, he had some major bruises besides those he’d sustained in the losing fight with Josh and a big lump on the side of his head from the hail. His hat had saved him.
Now he was hurting. He was stiff and sore and needed a drink. He figured Mr. Ruffcarn and Pierce would be pleased to know that Logan would no longer be a problem. There sure wasn’t any need for him to try to find Logan. The way that horse was moving, he’d probably never catch up with them. Anyway, Logan would be coyote bait by now.
Bull stepped into his saddle, and with a self-satisfied smirk, chuckled low in his chest. This was a good day’s work.
Josh’s body was like a rag. He bounced off the rocks and slammed into a pile of pr
ickly pear. He twisted and turned, unconscious as he smashed against the ground. The roan’s left rear hoof hit him in the ribs, but he felt nothing. He hit the shinnery, and his shirt was ripped to rags. The roan raced into the thick pin oaks of the Cross Timbers. The big horse turned to miss a huge oak, and Josh’s foot slipped out of the boot that was hung in the stirrup. He rolled across the grass and crumpled against the tree.
Except for his legs, there was almost no place on his body that wasn’t bleeding. Blood was still flowing from the bullet wound in his head. His face was covered with cuts, each one bleeding. Prickly Pear thorns were stabbed into his back and shoulders with a pad still stuck to the back of his neck. He felt nothing. He lay broken and still against the tree as the shadows grew and the sun disappeared behind the red hills.
Chapter 13
Bull rode into Camp Wilson as the waning moon crept above the eastern hills. Pain still surged through his face, from Logan’s blows, but he felt good. He’d ambushed men before, but Logan was personal. Laughter rolled up from his belly as he relived the sight of Logan’s body bouncing across the prairie, smashing into the cactus and shinnery. Carefree for the first time since he’d met the yankee near the Pecan, he walked his horse boldly through main street to the King 7 Saloon, stepped down and hitched him at the rail. Elation surged through his body as he pushed the Saloon’s swinging doors open.
He stood there for a moment. All eyes swung toward him. Three troopers at the bar glanced at him before turning back to their drinks. His swollen face and nose still showed the results of his fight with Logan. It would be some time before it healed, and his nose would always be misshapen. Bartholf, wiping glasses behind the bar, glanced up. His eyes dismissed Bull as he went back to his glass cleaning.
Ruffcarn and Pierce were sitting at a table in the corner, away from the bar. Ruffcarn’s surprise was written across his face. Pierce’s face registered nothing. His eyes held Bull’s in a cold stare for a few moments before he went back to his game of solitaire. Ruffcarn nodded to the empty chair at the table, indicating Bull should have a seat.
Bull swaggered across the room, pulled out the chair and dropped his huge bulk into it. There was a bottle on the table. Ruffcarn turned to Bartholf. “Bring us another glass.”
Bartholf dropped the glass in front of Bull. Ruffcarn waited as Bull filled his glass, downed it, and filled another. “What are you doing back here?”
“That no good Yankee is dead.”
Pierce glanced up from his cards. “You killed him?”
“Dead as a stomped rat.”
Pierce dealt another card. “Logan appeared to me like a hard man to kill. Are you sure he’s dead?”
“Sure as I’m sitting here at this table.” Bull said. “Why, that .52 caliber slug knocked him out of his saddle like a sack of flour. Prettiest sight I ever did see. I tell you, I loved every minute.
“I watched that crew split up after the storm. I figured about where he was going, rode on ahead, found a likely spot, and waited. He never even knew he was dead. One second he was riding along, sitting tall and proud, and the next second he was coyote fodder. My, my, my, it was something to see,” Bull gloated.
Ruffcarn slapped Bull on the back. “Good job. Have another drink. In fact, have the whole bottle. You earned it.” he said, as he slid the bottle over in front of Bull.
Pierce wasn’t done. “What did you do with the body?”
At this, Bull answered defensively, “I ain’t done nothin’ with it.”
Ruffcarn’s smile turned down and his brow wrinkled, “You did check on him? You rode up to him and poked him or did something to make sure he was dead?”
“Didn’t have to. I shot him in the head. When he rolled off his horse his foot got caught in the stirrup. You should have seen him bouncing through those rocks and pears. He was dead before his head ever hit the ground. But he was double dead with that horse running flat out and dragging him like he did. After awhile the horse headed into a thicket of pin oaks. Didn’t figger there was any need to follow him—Logan was already a long-time dead.”
Pierce looked at Ruffcarn. “He may not be dead.”
Bull slammed his glass back onto the table. “He’s dead, I tell you. He’s dead. I shot him. I saw him being dragged. There’s no way a man could live through that, no matter how tough he is.”
Pierce turned back to Bull, “Keep your voice down. You didn’t ride up to him. You didn’t check him. I don’t care what you did or saw. A man like that doesn’t die easy. He could still be alive.”
Bull shook his head and turned to Ruffcarn. “Mr. Ruffcarn, you’re worrying for nothin’. I tell you, I killed him. He ain’t gonna be a bother to no one. Why, the coyotes probably already cleaned up any sign of him.”
“Alright, Bull, we believe you. Pierce is just being extra cautious. Why don’t you take this bottle and get a room from Bartholf. You can rest up tonight, and we’ll head to the ranch in the morning.”
Bull slid back his chair. He took the bottle, and nodded to Pierce. “Mr. Ruffcarn, I swear he’s dead.” Bull walked off muttering under his breath.
Ruffcarn wanted to believe Bull. This could be great news. Everything would go so much easier if Logan were dead. But he was still concerned that Bull hadn’t physically checked Logan. “So what do you think?” Ruffcarn asked Pierce.
“I think varmints are probably feeding on him right now. Bull is a dead shot. Then you add being dragged by his horse, and the odds are high he’s dead. But there’s always a long shot, and Logan is, or was, a tough hombre. But yeah, I think he’s dead.”
Ruffcarn leaned back with a smile. “That’s settled. Now we can get along with our plan. When we have the Rocking N, we can start our search. Then we can go and do anything we want. I’m ready to get out of this God-forsaken country and get back to civilization. Maybe California or New York or maybe even Europe.”
“Don’t get too anxious. We still have a long way to go and a lot to do to get Nance’s ranch. He’s a hard head and will probably never sell it to us. But now, with Logan gone, we can kill them all if we have to. No one will be the wiser. And I’ve got a date to put a snotty little Irish girl in her place.”
“Pierce, her brother is still around and he’s ex-army. You best be careful with him or we could have all those soldier boys riled at us. At least wait until he leaves. Scott Penny is also still here, and I’ve got a feeling he can be trouble.”
“I’ll wait, but not too long. I think those boys are leaving town tomorrow. After that, she’s fair game—and Ruffcarn, don’t you try to interfere with me. It wouldn’t be smart, or good for you or our business deal.”
“Sure, sure, but let’s just keep a low profile till we can consummate this deal.”
Pierce's black eyes lit up as his lips lifted in a sinister smile. Good choice of words; I think I'd like this deal consummated sooner than later.”
Fianna was worried as she looked around the table. Her brother, Pat, sat across the table from her. Scott sat next to him. Mr. and Mrs. Diehl sat at each end of the table. She scanned each face. She wasn’t the only one who was worried.
“Do you think he’s okay,” she asked anyone who would answer.
Pat reached across the table and patted her hand, “He’s fine as the hairs on a frog. There be no tougher man that I know. Just because Bull is back in town means nothing. He was probably hiding, waiting for Josh to leave.”
Fianna peered into her brother’s eyes. She knew he was only trying to comfort her, for she could see the worry in his eyes.
Mrs. Diehl smiled at her. “He’s one of the toughest men I’ve met. I don’t know if anything has happened to him, but I have faith that no matter what, he’ll survive.”
Scott chimed in, “Tiny set us up with a team for the wagon, so we’ll be heading back that way in the morning. I’m sure he’s fine, but we can keep a lookout for him. Of course, he didn’t have much further to go before he turned a little more east. But we should be able to conf
irm he’s okay.”
Fianna thought for a moment. “I’m going with you.”
“No, lass. That ‘tis not smart. We have many a mile of Comanche country to pass through before we reach the ranch, and with a wagon. This isn’t the time or the place for you to be with us.”
“Pat, I’m going!”
Mrs. Diehl reached for her hand. “You must think, my dear. As helpful as you might be, you’ll still be a distraction on the trail. Your brother and Scott don’t need their attention divided while traveling through Comanche country. I know. There’s been many a time I’ve wanted to go with Mr. Diehl, but common sense won out. They'll be safer without you. Trust me.”
Fianna lowered her head. “There’s so much I don’t understand about this country. But I just want Josh to be safe. Is that asking too much?”
Mrs. Diehl continued to hold Fianna’s hand. After a sad, understanding smile, she said, “No, dear, that isn’t too much to ask. But there are times we must help our men folk by staying home, so they needn't worry about us while they're about their business. Here, we have the army and, of course, Mr. Diehl.
Jeremiah Diehl smiled at Fianna, then looked at Pat as he said, “You’re in safe hands here, Fianna.”
Fianna raised her head. Her eyes were glistening, but her chin was up as she looked at her brother. “Alright, I’ll stay with Mr. and Mrs. Diehl. I’ll wait. But Pat, please, as soon as you can, send me word of Josh.”
“Aye, lass, I’ll do that, as soon as I can. ‘Tis my thinking now that we should all get some rest. We’ll begin early in the morning.”
“Sounds good to me, although I think I might sleep better if I had a touch of Cecil’s medicine,” Scott said as he slid his chair back from the table.
“Aye, a wee nip would do me fine also. Mr. Diehl, would you care to join us?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Jeremiah Diehl said, as he glanced at his wife.
Logan's Word: A Logan Family Western - Book 1 (Logan Family Western Series) Page 10