Ralph Compton Double-Cross Ranch

by Matthew P. Mayo

  All these thoughts collided in Paddy’s jouncing mind as he fought to regain his pain-blurred vision. The old man’s face leered in and out of focus, and Paddy felt something tugging at his gun hand—No! Mustn’t let go of the gun. Hold on to it at all costs. You give up your gun, you give up your life. That’s what he always told himself.

  Paddy bit the inside of his mouth, bit down hard on the soft flesh of his cheek. It helped to sharpen his thinking, and he saw the old man struggling with his one good arm to jerk free the knife from where Paddy had fallen on it, pinning it beneath him. Good, at least he’d done something to slow down the nasty old demon.

  He gripped the pistol harder, felt the old walnut grip, its smooth, worn contours as comforting as the lap of that night girl back in Taos, the one he’d known for a long, long time. The one who never asked questions, just seemed to like him for who he was, not what he was. Then, come morning, never asked him to stay. As good as that was, sometimes he wished she would ask. He squeezed that grip tight, tighter, and something exploded, bucked, kicked back at him, slammed hard into his already aching head.

  What had happened? He didn’t know, maybe death. Maybe that’s all there was to it.

  Chapter 27

  A ringing sound like dozens of large brass bells heard up close jolted Ty awake. Or back to consciousness—he didn’t know or care either way. But he did come to feeling confused. He jerked his eyes wide, but the bell sounds kept right on clanging, softened somewhat by daylight, harsh and cold. And judging from its angle, it was morning light. The events of what he hoped was the day before came back to him in a flood of memory. He struggled to rise, found that he was in a seated position, on a floor, perhaps.

  The light stabbed at him, made his head ache. The back of it felt as if someone could lift free the entire section of skull and that might somehow make it feel better. But he also knew with a sudden clarity where he was, who he was there to save, who to kill, and nothing that had happened the day before had changed that at all.

  He also realized he was bound fast, hands behind his back, and lashed at the ankles. His fingers rested in a sticky, thick paste—his seat felt wet with it. What was it? Too thick for water. A shadow passed before his light-filled eyes and then something smacked him in the back of the head—the sorest part. A hot rush of pain flowed over him, setting his teeth tight together and his eyes clamped shut.

  “Wakey, wakey!”

  Another clout landed on the same sore spot.

  “That’s just for starters, Mr. Farraday.”

  The voice came to him close and loud, and though it startled him, the fact that he could hear it also made him realize that he hadn’t been permanently deafened in the barely remembered close-quarters gunfire. What had that been for? Sue Ellen, yes, now he remembered. And the snakes, the awful snakes. He stiffened, gritted his teeth against the urge to gag—he was sitting in the bloody mire of dead snakes. A gruesome mess he had made. He only hoped Sue Ellen hadn’t been bitten.

  In a rasping tone, Ty called her name, barely heard his own voice, tried again. All he heard was laughter, not his own. A man’s laughter—the voice of whoever had just spoken in his ear.

  And then he knew who that was, too—Clewt Duggins. And the whole awful mess of the past couple of days flooded back to him. Ty forced his eyes open, squinted against the harsh light. “What have you done with her, Duggins?”

  “Why . . . nothing she doesn’t deserve . . . Farraday.”

  A shadow shifted, Ty flinched, moved his head to the left.

  “You’re a quick learner, boy. But not quick enough.” Clewt rained a series of hard, fast slaps to Ty’s face, whipping his head back and forth.

  “Stop it!”

  A woman’s voice.

  “Sue Ellen?” said Ty.

  “Yes, it’s me. You’re going to be okay, Ty. Don’t worry.”

  Ty managed a weak smile. “That’s what I was supposed to say to you.”

  “You both are rather optimistic, really. But I have to tell you that none of it’s going to matter. Chatter all you want. I won’t stop you. Why should I deny short timers the chance to fritter away what little is left to them?”

  Ty shook his head slowly, trying to clear away the cobwebs. “What is it you want, Clewt? Why did you come here in the first place?”

  Duggins walked around to stand in front of Ty. “What I want is none of your business. What I got is more to the point. Nothing and nada. Thanks to her.” He jerked his chin away from Ty.

  The battered rancher stretched his neck in that direction, but could see nothing beyond a dirty, ripped length of fabric. Sue Ellen’s dress. “Are you hurt, Sue Ellen?”

  “Yes, yes, she’s hurt. She’s hurt my feelings by not telling me what I needed to know. And now I find she truly doesn’t know it after all.” He laughed, then said, “I guess Delbert, or whatever he called himself, wasn’t what you’d call a husband who shared much with his wife, eh, woman?”

  Ty heard a chair scrape, heard Sue Ellen grunt, stifle a groan.

  “Pick on someone your own size, Duggins. Leave her alone.”

  He heard footsteps; then Clewt leaned back into view. “Don’t you dare tell me what it is I need to be doing. I’m still angry with you for killing all my snakes.” He stood and set fire to a small black cigar stuffed into one corner of his lips, shook out the match, and tossed it on Ty’s lap. “Took one of my boys a whole day to gather those nasty things. And now he’ll have to do it all over again.” He blew smoke in Ty’s face.

  “I reckon I’ll leave you both here in this dank hole with all this bloody mess you made. Maybe one of these dead vipers will slither to life and give you a few bites, save me the trouble of doing the deed. But I ain’t quite ready for that yet, anyway.”

  “What is it you are ready for?”

  Duggins laughed and walked up the narrow passageway, stopped halfway up. “Clean yourself up, will you, Farraday? You’re a mess.” His laughter continued long after he slammed shut the heavy wooden door and slid home the heavy bar securing it. Bare slivers of light angled in between the thick planks.

  “Sue Ellen?”

  “I’m here, Ty.”

  “I’m sorry about all this.” He felt so tired, fought to keep his eyes open. “I—”

  “No, no, Ty. It’s me. It’s my fault. None of this would have happened . . .”

  “What is it he wants, Sue Ellen? I heard one of them mention a treasure.” Ty perked up, tried to turn himself toward her, but managed only to send a fresh surge of throbbing pain from his neck up into his head.

  She sighed. “It’s . . . I barely understand it myself, Ty. But he killed Alton, Ty. I just know he did.” Her voice cracked, he heard her take a deep breath.

  “You mean you don’t know for certain if Alton’s dead?”

  “Oh, I know. Deep down, I know. He never came back from town the day they arrived. And then Duggins had his pocket watch. Alton treasured that, said it was given to him by his grandfather a long time ago. Hadn’t worked for the longest time, but he said that when he finally made his fortune, it was the first thing he spent money on. He got it repaired.”

  Ty remembered seeing Winstead glancing at the watch a time or two in town over the years. He always thought the man did so as a sort of affectation. “I have some bad news for you, Sue Ellen.”

  “Oh, Ty,” she said in a weary voice. “How much worse could it all get?”

  “It’s just that . . . I know Alton’s dead.”

  For a few seconds he heard nothing; then in a firm voice Sue Ellen said, “How?”

  “I found him. In the hills between our places.” He didn’t think he needed to tell her that coyotes and other critters had begun their work on him. When she didn’t speak, he continued. “I covered him pretty well with rocks. It was a hasty job, but we can redo it.”

  “Thank you. I kno
w none of this has been easy.”

  “Sue Ellen, you need to tell me what’s going on. Why are these men here? Why kill Alton? What about this treasure business?”

  Again she sighed.

  Ty inched himself slowly over, sliding on the dead snakes. Finally he could make out her form in the gloom.

  “It seems Alton wasn’t what he told me. I know what you’re thinking. And I guess you were right all those years ago.”

  He didn’t say anything, just waited for her to go on. But he wanted her to hurry up—there might not be much time before Duggins returned, and at that point it was anyone’s guess what that crazy man would do to them.

  “Let’s just say that Alton did something to these men a long time ago, before he ever came here. From what I could make out in Duggins’s rambling, Alton was a . . . a thief, maybe even a killer. Oh, but I have a hard time believing that. I knew him, or at least I thought I did, pretty well. We were married for ten years, after all.”

  “Yeah, I’m well aware of that.” Ty regretted what he said as soon as it tripped out of his mouth.

  “I can’t keep apologizing, Ty. It won’t change anything.”

  “I know, I know. So what did Alton do that he deserved to die over?”

  “They stole a big treasure, or something very valuable. Then Alton left them all to take the blame. Duggins and at least one of the others spent time in prison for it.”

  Ty nodded. “And vowed to get their revenge once they got out. Same old story, older than the hills.” They sat in silence for a few moments; then Ty said, “So did he?”

  “Did he what?”

  “Have a treasure? I know he spent money like it was going out of fashion, especially those early years.” Boy did he know it—bought Ty’s land right out from under him.

  “He was wealthy. But in recent years he didn’t spend as much. In the past year or so he acted more cautious with his purchases, began spending lots of time watching the roadway in, using his fancy glass to scan the surrounding hills. He always made sure I had whatever I wanted, though in truth I didn’t really want much. But what he offered I didn’t . . . Never mind.”

  Ty let that last thought pass. Too much time and much too late to think about anything but living through all this. “Duggins is looking for the treasure, then? Not just revenge?”

  “That’s what he said. He thought I knew where it was.”

  Ty looked at her. “And do you?”

  She didn’t respond right away. Then she breathed deeply. He saw her face turn toward him. “At first, no, I didn’t. Then . . .”

  “Then? You think you know where it is?” This information could save their lives—or at least get them out of this hole, and then maybe he could make a play somehow.

  “Ty, do you remember . . . where you first said you loved me?”

  Love? She was bringing that up at a time like this? How long ago had he told her that, anyway? Eleven years and more. Of course he knew the spot—the waterfall. It was a place he and she had vowed their undying devotion to each other. It was the spot where he spoke things he’d never said before, and he knew now that he’d never utter again to anyone else. How dare she bring up that place?

  “Sue Ellen,” his voice was harsh, snappy, and he didn’t care. “I will never forget that place. And you well know it. But this is no time to bring up the past. Now if you know where this so-called treasure is, you’d better tell me so we can use it to get out of this mess, you understand?” By the time he finished speaking, his voice was quavering on the edge of anger.

  “Ty,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m telling you where it is, if you’d only listen. And I’m not saying it out loud because he’s more devious than you can imagine. I wouldn’t put it past him to be out there listening, somehow.”

  The tension in his jaw lessened; the truth dawned on him. Yes, now he knew. The waterfall. But how did Alton know about it? Unless . . . “You took him there?”

  “Who, Duggins?”

  “No, Alton!” Ty felt his anger rise again.

  “Ty.” She sighed. “Never mind. It’s not important how he found out about it.”

  “It is to me,” he said, feeling a little like an angry child.

  “Okay, okay. He followed me there. It was back in the early days of our marriage. I suppose I was unhappy. I told myself I had done the right thing, but knew in my heart that I hadn’t. Without even knowing it, I’d take long walks all the time. Sometimes for hours and hours. Eventually Alton grew suspicious.”

  “Of what?”

  “He thought I was meeting up with you, Ty.”

  He didn’t say anything, just snorted.

  “He followed me and one day caught up with me there. He accused me of going to meet up with you, Ty. Said I was a harlot and a whore and I suppose I was. . . .”

  He could hear that she was sobbing. “No, you’re not, Sue Ellen.”

  “But I went there hoping to bump into you. I thought that somehow, I could explain it.”

  “There was nothing to explain. You chose him over me. That’s all there was to it. Look, Sue Ellen. This is all water under the bridge. We have to think of a way to get out of here or none of it will matter, anyway. So do you have any ideas? Any at all?” As he said it he remembered his boot knife, the one thing he almost forgot to tuck in when he’d left the Rocking T for the day. Maybe it was still there.

  “Sue Ellen, are your fingers free?”

  “I guess so. They’re so numb from being tied I’m afraid I’ll never be able to move them again.”

  “We have to try something. I’m hoping my knife is still in my boot. But I have to get over to you first.” As she spoke he pushed backward with his heels against the floor, but it was still slick with snake gore and they just slipped out from under what pressure he exerted. He tried again and again, finally shoving away enough dead snake mess to gain purchase on the floor. He pushed hard, his backside sliding, until his back connected with the rocky wall. It took him longer than he would have liked to stand, but he was as tired as he could ever remember feeling, his brain had been clunked a few times too many, and his tongue felt like a dry, wooden plug—he’d give a healthy beef for a cool drink of water.

  As he worked to force himself to stand, inch by inch, he thought of Uncle Hob, hoped the old man was able to fend off the attackers. Despite Hob’s ornery demeanor and never-give-up attitude, Ty thought that maybe this time the bad eggs could have gotten the best of the old man. He felt guilty about making a hash of this entire affair. He should have stayed away from the ranch, ridden for the law, anything but what he’d ended up doing.

  Now look at him, look at Sue Ellen, at Uncle Hob. Heck, even his favorite horse, Stub the Morgan, was now loose, wandering another man’s range.

  Sue Ellen’s whispered voice cut in on his thoughts. “Ty, I think I hear someone coming.”

  He was almost to his feet, inching with his fingertips up the packed dirt-and-log walls, when a shadow outside cut across the light slanting in through the gaps in the door’s planking. The wooden dead bolt slid backward, caught. Whoever it was grunted and cursed in a soft voice and rammed it harder. The bolt slid the rest of the way. The door swung outward, and bright light filled the doorway.

  A tall, wide-shouldered figure filled the space, appearing only as a blackened form, skylined as he was against the light. Ty squinted. It didn’t seem like Clewt. But who?

  The man walked down the short hall, bending low, his features becoming more visible with each step. Ty guessed it had to be one of Clewt’s men. And judging from Sue Ellen’s sneering look, Ty guessed correctly.

  “What do you want?” she said.

  Ty had to hand it to her, she was still a spitfire, even in a dicey situation like this.

  The man had a long, horselike face, and when he spoke, it was in a decidedly Southern drawl. “What
in the name of all that is holy happened in here?” He swung his face toward each of them, concern and curiosity writ large on the long features. “Either one of you bleedin’ bad? Dyin’?”

  “No,” said Ty. “But those rattlers have seen better days.”

  The man looked down, his mouth pulling wide in disgust as he realized what it was he was standing in the midst of. He lifted his big boots one at a time as if that might help.

  “I ain’t got much time,” he said, glancing back up toward the door. “Boss might come back and I . . . I can’t get caught doing this. He’s a devil, he is. Kill a man as soon as look at him. You ought to see what he made me do with Paco.”

  While he spoke the man slipped a sheath knife from his belt and slashed the wraps that held one of Sue Ellen’s legs tied to the chair. He pulled a revolver free and cranked it back. “No trying anything now. Either of you. I’m here to help, but I will shoot you, just so you know.”

  “Shoot us and your precious boss will come running. That makes you doomed, I’d say.” Sue Ellen sneered a grim smile at him, her eyes hard and glinting in the bright light.

  Ty had never seen that look on her before, nor heard the hard, mean edge to her voice. Then again he’d not really known her for a decade, far long enough for someone to change. And considering what she’d been through these past couple of days, he could hardly blame her for being flinty.

  The tall man swallowed, appeared to be thinking over his options, and began to look rabbity to Ty. “Hey, fella,” said Ty, giving Sue Ellen a quick wide-eyed stare. “You cut us loose and neither of us will try to trip you up, you have my word. Clewt will never hear of this. Right, Sue Ellen?”

  “Ty—”

  “Right?” said Ty, louder than Sue Ellen’s protestations.