Brad rammed his gun barrel into Jordan’s gut and knocked the air out of his lungs.
Sugarfoot neighed his fear and displeasure from the back of the cave.
Jordan grappled with Brad. He lashed out with both arms, and his hands grabbed Brad’s arms as the half-breed tried to edge away toward the cave entrance.
Brad shoved his pistol back in its holster and spread his arm to break Jordan’s grip. Jordan’s hands flew off Brad’s arms as Brad drove him backward and slammed his body into the hard rock wall.
Jordan cursed and brought his arms up. His made fists and lashed out at Brad with his right hand.
The blow landed on Brad’s jaw and staggered him. He doubled up a fist and drove it straight into Jordan’s belly. Jordan cried out in pain and doubled over for a second or two. He came out of his crouch swinging. He punched with a right and a left, trying to drive Brad backward.
Brad fended off the blows with his arms and elbows, but stepped backward, out of range of Jordan’s fists.
“I’ll get you, you sonofabitch,” Jordan snarled, and he waded toward Brad, both fists cocked to deliver blows once he had his attacker in range.
Brad sidestepped Jordan’s charge and landed a glancing blow on his face with a roundhouse right. Jordan cried out in pain and fell toward the back of the cave.
Brad went after him. Both men panted hard as they grappled again, each trying to land fists on the other’s body and face.
Jordan was strong. Brad could feel the corded muscles in his arms, the power of his legs as Jordan pushed against him and tried to encircle him with his arms.
Brad stepped a half pace backward and escaped the lethal grip of Jordan’s hands. He lashed out with a left hook and caught Jordan on his right ear with a stinging blow.
“Owwww,” Jordan erupted and staggered sideways. Then he recovered and swung a right at Brad’s head.
Brad threw his head back and felt the air rush past his chin. He reached up and grabbed Jordan’s wrist. He dug in his nails and squeezed the wrist hard.
With an extra effort, Jordan broke the hold and tried to knee Brad in the crotch. He came close.
Brad brought a fist down and cracked the knuckles into Jordan’s upper leg. He was so close he could see the pain etched on Jordan’s face.
But Jordan danced away, limping slightly from the pain in his leg.
Brad pressed his advantage and strode close. He hammered Jordan with a quick left and then a right, landing both blows on either side of Jordan’s jaw. Jordan winced and retaliated with a flurry of fists that drove Brad backward toward the cave entrance.
Both men could hear each other’s labored breaths.
Jordan pursued Brad with flailing fists. He was fast. Brad stepped slightly to one side and Jordan threw himself off balance for a split second. Brad rammed a fist into his side. Jordan staggered and grunted in pain.
But Jordan was still standing. He whirled to attack Brad again from a better angle.
Brad was ready for him.
As Jordan charged him with his fists doubled up, Brad stood his ground. He jutted his elbows out, and Jordan’s blows stung both of them with tremendous force.
Brad saw his opportunity. Both of Jordan’s fists were low and he had not yet drawn them back toward him to strike out again.
Jordan cursed him in Arapaho.
Brad drove an uppercut between Jordan’s arms and bashed him on the point of his chin.
Jordan’s head snapped backward. His arms went slack. His eyes rolled in their sockets and he had to widen his stance to keep his balance.
Brad followed up with a savage left hook that slammed into Jordan’s jaw with hammering force. Jordan spun around, dazed, and struggled to keep from falling.
“Give it up, Jordan,” Brad panted.
“Not until you’re dead,” Jordan said. His voiced sounded as if he had a mouthful of mush. Blood leaked over his lips and when his mouth opened his teeth were covered with blood.
Brad’s fist had cracked one side of Jordan’s lips, drawing blood, splitting the tender skin.
Jordan tried to recover. His dark eyes seemed to have a light of their own as he charged Brad with swinging fists.
Brad tucked in his belly, and one of Jordan’s fists missed its mark. The other one caught Brad high in the chest. It was a skin-tightening blow that filled his lungs with a sudden heat.
Brad grabbed one of Jordan’s arms and twisted it. Jordan cried out in pain and swiveled around until he dropped to one knee.
“Damn you, Storm,” Jordan yelled, and there was pain in his voice.
Brad continued to twist until he heard something snap in Jordan’s elbow.
Jordan screamed and dropped to his knees.
Brad released his grip on Jordan’s arm and saw the forearm dangle uselessly, swinging back and forth in a slow motion, like a broken pendulum.
Jordan tried to rise to his feet.
Brad stepped closed to him and drove a straight right hand into Jordan’s temple. He heard a sound like a cracking pane of glass. Jordan slumped over and collapsed in a heap. He was out cold.
Gasping for breath, Brad stood over the fallen man and gulped in air to drench the fire in his lungs. After a few moments, Brad walked back to where Jordan’s horse was stomping its feet and pawing the stone floor of the cave. He loosened the leather ties on one of the lariats attached to the saddle. He patted the horse’s neck and spoke a few soothing words to it.
“It’s all over, boy,” he said to the horse as he walked back toward Jordan.
Brad knelt down next to the unconscious man and drew his knife. He stretched out a length of rope and cut it, then used that piece to measure three others and cut them all to the same size, quickly, deftly. He sheathed his knife and let the remainder of uncut rope lie where it had fallen.
He pushed Jordan onto his stomach and drew his arms backward until both hands were behind him. Then he lashed Jordan’s hands together and tightened the rope before tying knots. He pulled on the rope to test its hold.
Satisfied, Brad stood up. He pulled Jordan to his feet. Jordan was slowly regaining consciousness. He tried to pull one arm free of the rope bond, but gave up while Brad watched. The other arm was useless and Jordan could not move it or his hand.
“You won this one, Storm. But it ain’t over yet.” Jordan, obviously in pain, slurred the words out and appeared to be in a daze.
“No, it’s not over yet, Killdeer,” Brad said. “There’s one more rope I don’t have on me at the moment.”
“Huh? You got ropes in your hand.”
“Not the one I really want,” Brad said.
“You talk like a crazy man. What rope?”
“The rope they’re going to put around your neck up on the gallows. The rope that’s going to break your damned thieving neck.”
Brad shoved Jordan back toward his horse. He dropped the extra lengths of rope and grabbed Jordan. He forced him onto the saddle, pushed him until he lay on it, belly down. His legs dangled on one side.
Brad wrapped rope around Jordan’s ankles, then walked to the other side. He attached the other end of the rope to a D-ring and secured it firmly. Then he tied another rope to another ring and walked to the other side where he wrapped the rope around Jordan’s knees and tied it tight. With the last strand of rope, he ran it under Jordan’s belt and wrapped the other end around the saddle horn and tied it.
Then he unbuckled Jordan’s gun belt and rolled the rig into a ball, which he put into one of the saddlebags.
“I can’t breathe,” Jordan said.
“You can breathe,” Brad said.
He picked up the dangling reins and led the horse toward the cave entrance and into the dark.
“Where you takin’ me, Storm?” Jordan asked as the night air washed across his face.
“Why, back t
o Wild Horse Valley where you can take one last look at all the pretty horses,” Brad said.
“You are one mean and devilish sonofabitch,” Jordan snarled.
“It takes one to know one,” Brad said as he led the horse along the ledge.
The dwindling moon peeked over the rim of the mountains and cast a glimmer of light on the two of them as they cleared the ledge and headed down the slope to where Jinglebob’s horse was tied.
The horse whickered as they approached.
Jordan’s horse replied with a rippling nicker.
“I ain’t real comfortable hogtied like this,” Jordan said as Brad pulled himself into the saddle and pulled on the reins of Jordan’s horse.
“You’ll get used to it, Killdeer,” Brad said. “Just think about all those horses you’re going to see one last time.”
“I ain’t through with you, Storm. I got friends.”
“If you do have friends, you’ll have some company when you go to the gallows.”
“I don’t buy it,” Jordan said.
“It’s free, Killdeer. You don’t have to buy it.”
Brad touched spurs to Jinglebob’s horse, and they rode out of the small clearing and headed down into the timber. Moonlight painted streaks of silvery light through the needles and branches of the pines. The beams looked like misty lances of fairy lights as they wound their way over and past deadfalls.
Brad knew the way back to Wild Horse Valley. And so did Jordan.
Brad could hear him wheezing as they descended through the shadows of night along unseen pathways where ancient men had hunted and left strange markings on stone to mark their brief days in a time most men had forgotten, when the West was young and unmarked and un-owned by anyone.
FORTY-FOUR
The prisoners lay asleep in their bedrolls when Brad rode up with Jordan and his horse in tow. Firelight flickered on the blankets of the sleepers. Joe was sitting on the log near the fire with a rifle across his lap. Brad saw that Julio and Wilbur were also asleep, and their blankets danced with black shadows, orange and blue tongues of light.
Joe looked up as Brad approached.
“Is that Jordan’s body on his horse?” he asked as he stood up, his voice pitched low.
Flames from the fire scrawled arabesques of color across his face, glanced off the metal and wood of his rifle like living wraiths of multicolored light.
“No, Joe,” Brad said as he swung out of the saddle, “he’s alive. Got a busted arm and a few bruises and welts is all.”
Joe swore in disbelief.
He walked to the side of Sugarfoot and looked at Jordan’s swollen face. He was out cold. There were puffy lumps under his eyes and one of his earlobes was the size of a small peach.
“You got him trussed up like a sack of meal,” Joe whispered.
“I wanted him alive,” Brad said. “I want to see him hang for his crimes.”
“I’ll lay out his bedroll and help you get him down,” Joe said. “Tired?”
“Beyond tired,” Brad said. “My muscles are locked up tight, and every bone in my body is screaming. I could use a cup of strong coffee and a few hours of sleep.”
“Maybe some oil for your joints, too,” Joe said.
He walked back and untied Jordan’s bedroll and laid it near the lumps of prisoners. He and Brad lifted the limp body of Jordan out of the saddle after Brad loosened the ropes under the horse’s belly and the one attached the saddle horn.
They carried Jordan to his tarp and lay him down.
“He’s still breathing, anyway,” Joe whispered as he pulled the blanket over Jordan.
“Get me one of those lengths of rope I left back there,” Brad said. “I’m going to tie his feet together.”
“Sure,” Joe said. He went quickly to where Brad had dropped the ropes and picked up one of them. When he got back, Brad was kneeling at the feet of Jordan. Joe handed him the rope.
Brad lifted Jordan’s boots and wrapped rope around the ankles. He tied them tight. Jordan did not awaken.
“That ought to hold him,” Brad said. He stood up.
“He ain’t goin’ nowhere soon, that’s for sure,” Joe said. “There’s still coffee left in the pot. Probably cold by now. I’ll set the pot on the fire and stoke it up.”
The two men walked to the fire ring. Joe put more wood on the hot coals, then set the coffeepot where the flames could reach the bottom. They sat down while the horses stood hipshot, staring at the fire.
“Well, Brad,” Joe said, “we got almost all we need. As soon it gets light, I’ll take Wilbur down to the valley with me and I’ll start writin’ down brands to take to court.”
“You trust Wilbur?” Brad asked as he rubbed his hands together over the fire to warm them.
“I think he’s a changed man,” Joe said. “What about you?”
“Pendergast might want to hire him,” Brad said.
“You’d recommend him?”
“Yeah, I would. I think Wil might make a good detective. There’s nothing like a reformed criminal to track down others of his kind.”
“You may be right. He’ll be a big help to me in the morning when I check those brands.”
“Oh?”
“The ones that are changed. He can tell me what they were, or what kind of running iron he and Trask used so I can figure it out.”
“Big job,” Brad said.
“With Wilbur’s help, we can go through the horses pretty fast,” Joe said.
They drank coffee and talked in low tones. Then Brad and Joe unsaddled the two horses and hobbled them with the others. Brad said good night and went to his bedroll. He was surprised to see his rifle lying half under it.
“Julio got your rifle,” Joe said, “and your canteens after the fight. He chased out a couple of rattlers where you was hidin’.”
Brad chuckled as he pulled the blanket over him. “I can take the watch when you get tired, Joe.”
“I’ll wake Julio in a couple of hours. You get some sleep. You got to be worn to a frazzle.”
“I am,” Brad said and closed his eyes as Joe walked back toward the fire. He heard him drop more wood on the fire. The wood crackled as it released gases and sparks into the night air.
One of the prisoners droned on in a soft snore and Brad fell into a deep sleep.
When he woke up, Joe and Wilbur were gone. Pale light illuminated the eastern sky and shafts of light filtered through the pines. Julio sat by the fire and Brad smelled the enticing aroma of coffee.
He threw off his blanket and stretched. He strapped on his gun belt and walked over to the fire.
“Morning, Julio.”
“Morning.”
“All the prisoners are still asleep.”
“They are tired from the wrestling,” Julio said.
“The wrestling?”
“They still think they can untie themselves and run away.”
Brad sat down. Julio poured him a cup of coffee.
“They are no trouble,” Julio said. “They have the ropes on the hands and the feet. You caught Jordan, eh?”
“You saw him?”
Julio nodded.
“He give out the moans when I wake up. I give him some water and he go back to sleep. His face look like he in a big fight.”
“He was in a fight,” Brad said.
“You did not kill him,” Julio said.
“The rope will kill him,” Brad said.
Julio grinned wide. He poured himself some coffee.
“We get our horses back, no?” Julio said.
“When we finish up with putting these rascals in jail, we can get our horses and go back home.”
“That is good,” Julio said.
Later, Julio and Brad rousted the outlaws out of their sleep and sat them up in a circle where Julio ind
icated they should sit.
“We will feed them now,” Julio said. “You feed two. I feed two.”
“We have enough grub?” Brad asked.
“They have grub in the saddlebags. There is much food.”
Brad sipped his coffee. Then he got up and walked over to where Jordan was still curled up in his bedroll. He knelt down and shook him.
“Wake up, Killdeer,” he said. “Get something to eat. Are you thirsty?”
“Yeah, I’m thirsty and I hurt all over.”
“You’ll live,” Brad said. “For a while, anyway.”
“You bastard. You ain’t seen the last of me yet. I still got an ace or two to play.”
“You’re finished, Killdeer. Your thieving days are over.”
“We’ll see,” Jordan said.
Brad helped him sit and then get to his feet. He forced Jordan to hop over to the circle of men and sat him down hard.
“Howdy, Boss,” Cletus said. “Sorry you got caught up with the rest of us.”
Jordan huffed up with a lungful of air and just glared at Brad.
“He beat you up pretty bad, looks like,” Toby said. “We didn’t do too good, either. Them boys plumb snookered us.”
“CJ will fix this,” Jordan said.
“Yeah,” Toby said.
Brad was kneeling down and picked up hardtack and jerky from a flour sack. He half heard what the men were saying, but put no importance on any of it.
He took food to the prisoners. Julio was already feeding Lenny and Terry by hand. He gave them both sips of coffee when they finished chewing.
Brad fed Toby and Cletus. He looked at Jordan.
“You hungry, Killdeer?” he said.
“I can’t eat just now. My lips are all swolled, and I got so much pain I don’t know if I could chew.”
“Coffee, then?” Brad asked.
“Maybe. A little.”
Brad picked up the same cup he’d used to serve Cletus and Toby in between bites. He held it to Jordan’s lips and tilted it slightly.
Jordan’s mouth filled with a tablespoon of coffee. He winced at the pain in his lips, but swallowed the coffee.
“More,” he said.
Brad gave him more coffee as Toby and Cletus looked at their boss.
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