by Linda Broday
“I always do, dear.”
Somehow, Roan didn’t think her words pertained to tallow and flame.
“I hope you get your friend buried without any trouble.” Marley reached to shake Roan’s hand. “I’m just glad my father is going along.”
He was too, even though this was his fight and not Duel McClain’s. Still, Roan was practical above all else and knew he was in no shape to take on the hooded gang by himself just yet.
“I can’t very well talk to him unless I go, Marley Rose.” Duel glanced at Roan.
The words ran through Roan, sparking his curiosity. He hadn’t known the big rancher long at all, but he’d already learned that the man divvied up his words in fits and starts, not speaking until he had something to say. Whatever it was could bear hearing. Mose had taught him that it paid to listen to wise elders.
With Marley, Jessie, and a few of the children waving as they left, they rode out toward San Saba County.
Roan loped beside Duel’s black gelding, trying to lessen the jolts to his battered body. “You have something in mind, sir?”
“I answer to Duel. It’ll wait a bit I reckon.”
The informal use of first names reminded Roan of Mose, and look what had happened to him. “I prefer to keep things as they are.”
“Whatever suits you, son.”
They rode east, cutting a trail along the Colorado River before turning south. An hour later, they stopped at a wide creek to rest the horses. Roan clamped his lips together to keep a sharp cry from escaping when he dismounted, then stumbled away from the water’s edge to lie in the shade of a live oak. The ride was giving his battered body another beating, and he’d be hard-pressed to continue.
Duel dropped to the ground and made himself comfortable against the same tree trunk. “Come work for me,” he said out of the blue.
The offer stunned Roan. “Pardon me, but you don’t appear in need of another ranch hand.” From what Marley had said, the rancher already had a full bunkhouse.
“You’re wrong. One up and quit yesterday, rode out last night. And Hardy Gage is getting up in years, even though the stubborn cuss won’t admit it.” Duel removed his hat and wiped his forehead with a faded bandana. “I can use a man like you who’s willing to work. It would sure help me out.”
Working cattle would be a welcome change from planting crops that shriveled and died under the Texas sun. He had an obligation to Mose first, but even so, the offer intrigued him. And working on the ranch would let him get better acquainted with Marley Rose. He had an idea of how to help get her books in print.
“You’d trust a hard-luck drifter? I’ve been between hay and grass all my life, sir.” And had learned to make do with the little he had. Still, what was wrong with being flush for a while?
“I’m a good judge of character, and you remind me of myself when I was younger. A little over twenty years ago, after burying my first wife, Annie, and my stillborn son, I saddled my horse and drifted from town to town. I didn’t have two cents to my name or much care about staying alive. In fact, I prayed to die. Thank God I found Jess, and she and Marley Rose gave me a reason to live again.” Duel glanced toward a gaggle of geese dropping from the sky onto the water downstream. Roan followed his gaze to the birds taking their rest before they resumed their flight south for the winter.
Maybe that’s what he needed to do. Take a break and work on the Aces ’n’ Eights while he regained his strength.
“Mind if I think on your offer? I have a friend to bury first, then I’ll go from there.” One thing at a time was all he could promise.
“Sure. Take as long as you want.” Duel opened the burlap bag beside him and handed Roan a cold biscuit and a slice of ham before reaching for his own.
Roan watched the rancher carefully. Duel appeared rock solid in everything he did. Roan had seen a few men like him and always admired them. They had honor and decency. Duel sure as hell wasn’t like Blackie Culpepper, his outlaw father. McClain would fight to keep every single one of his children. That was the right kind of man in Roan’s book.
Soon it was time to ride. The rest wasn’t near long enough, but Roan climbed back into the saddle, anxious to be at Mose’s place. All sorts of things raced through his mind, mostly questions about what was laying in store.
Twilight was still an hour away when they reached the small homestead. Shadows of the burned-out hulk of the cabin writhed across the ground. Roan’s gaze went to the figure of his friend, lying where he’d fallen. No one had had the decency to move him. Vultures feasting on the bloated figure shrieked in protest before rising reluctantly into the sky.
The stench of decayed flesh filled Roan’s nostrils. He reached for his borrowed bandana and held it to his mouth and nose. Grief overtook him, and he knelt beside the still form of the man who’d taken him in and shared what little he’d had. Tears ran down Roan’s cheeks, and his shoulders shook with sobs.
“Mose, I’m sorry it took me so long to get back. Judgment day is coming for those murdering scum, I promise you that.” Roan wiped his eyes. “I won’t rest until I get them all.”
Duel looped the reins of his horse over a tree limb. “I reckon I’ll find a shovel in the barn. We need to get him into the ground.”
“Yeah.” Roan shot a glance toward the barn, the only structure left standing. Thick memories circled him like bees buzzing around their hive. Every second of the attack came back with crystal clarity. The face of the one man he’d seen. The smell of fear and despair. The voices he knew he’d recognize again. He finally stood. It was time to get to work.
Duel plucked a Bowie knife and hat from the dirt. “These yours?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Roan wiped the dried blood from the knife on a thatch of nut grass and stuck it into his boot. Then adjusted the hat on his head.
While Duel headed to the barn, Roan went to his horse for the blanket he’d brought from the ranch. He wrapped Mose in it and secured it with a length of rope.
Duel emerged with a shovel and a piece of an old quilt. “I don’t know why this was in the barn, but maybe it meant something to your friend.”
Roan closed his eyes as memories swirled of the way Mose had thrown his wife’s quilt around his thin shoulders the night before the raid, saying he felt her near. Roan tucked the memory away and went to take the quilt sewn by Mose’s wife’s hand. “Mose would want to be buried with that.”
After wrapping the quilt around the blanket-clad body, they eased Mose over the borrowed horse and walked toward the family cemetery. A little while later, as the shadows deepened, they laid the gentle man into the newly dug grave beside his wife and children and covered him with dirt. Roan imagined the happy reunion that had taken place when Mose flew up to his family that terrible night. He could almost hear Mose’s deep laugh that had seemed to come all the way from his toes.
Thinking of Mose’s happiness instead of the way he’d died made the day a little more bearable. Almost.
He and Mose had shared happy times. They’d read each other’s moods by the look in their eyes, not by words. Roan knew he’d never have another friend like Mose Mozeke. So he remained with his head bowed and told him how much his friendship had meant.
Duel stood reverently until Roan finished, then put a hand on his back. “It’ll be dark soon. How about we make a fire, get coffee boiling, and eat something?”
“I have to find my horse first—if those riders left her.”
“I’ll help you look. Where do you think she might be?”
“Antelope Creek. She loves the wild rye that grows along the banks. I left her there with Mose’s mule. That ornery mule never would go in the barn, so Mose usually let it roam around.”
“Lead the way. We’ll find them if they’re there. At least they won’t be hungry.”
Roan tugged up the collar of his jacket and set off for the creek, with Duel
beside him. The ride and then the burial had sapped his strength. If he didn’t lie down soon, he’d fall. But the creek wasn’t far, and they were soon there.
The mare began snorting and raising Cain before Roan even got near. Roan hurried his pace when Shadow came into view, ignoring the driving pain. He threw his arms around her neck and pressed his face against her hide. That horse was pitiful looking, but to his eyes, she was the prettiest animal he’d ever seen. A thatch of dark-gray mane fell over her eyes, and one ear lay folded over where it’d been damaged before Roan got her. Shadow’s dappled gray body quivered, and she nickered softly in welcome.
“You’re not much to look at, girl, but I’ll sure claim you,” Roan said. She was worth little to others and probably wouldn’t get a second glance. Maybe that’s why the raiders had left her.
Duel must’ve sensed that Roan was hurting too badly to swing up on his own and helped him onto Shadow’s back. Roan rode her to the burned-out cabin while Duel brought the other two and the mule.
Later, after they’d eaten, Roan lay next to the fire, satisfied with the outcome of the journey. He’d taken care of Mose, found his hat, knife, and horse. Tomorrow, he’d look for his Colt among the ashes.
His glance slid to McClain, sitting by the fire on a stump, holding a cup of coffee. “Thanks for coming, sir. I was in no shape to do this alone.”
“Glad to help.”
That the man had dropped everything to help a stranger, in the midst of dealing with losing his cattle, amazed Roan. He’d imagined men like Mose were too rare to find another, but it looked as if—in this, at least—his luck was holding steady.
Duel rose and stared out toward the town of San Saba. “Some real bad stuff started here in 1880, and lasted until three years ago when the Texas Rangers rode in. A mob of men who hated former slaves and white abolitionists ruled the town. They lynched and burned and took whatever they wanted. By the time it was all said and done, a whole lot of people died.”
“I didn’t hear anything about that.” Roan’s ears perked up. “Do you think what happened here was connected?”
“There are always pockets of resistance after that type of hate burns into a man’s soul and can change him into someone he doesn’t know. There’s bound to be resistance by broken men unwilling to change.” Duel turned. “Mose’s killing has all the markings of the same type of crimes that occurred back then. That mob wore hoods too. I think it’s possible the two bunches could belong to the same faction.” He released a troubled sigh. “God help us if it’s a new group.”
The rancher’s words chilled Roan. “You should be safe, seeing as your ranch is in McCullough County.”
“Son, no place was safe back then. The war—and that’s exactly what it was—spilled over into every county around. It might still be raging hot if not for Walter Early and Sheriff Charley Bell of Brown County. They stood up to the group of terrorizing bastards. They were the ones who called in the Texas Rangers and quelled the violence. Yep, it was bad stuff.”
Long after Duel climbed into his bedroll, Roan lay there, listening to the sounds of the night, reliving his own horror. The carnage and the flames flashed through him like jagged bolts of lightning each time he closed his eyes.
Mob rule left no one safe.
Surrounded by the heavy night shadows, Roan glanced toward the house and thought he saw Mose smiling in the blackened doorway. Maybe he was trying to tell Roan not to worry, or reassure him that he was in a better place now, free from pain and loneliness. Or it could have been nothing more than a trick of the light.
One thing Roan knew. Mob rule or not, he was hell-bent on making them pay.
Eight
Marley sat at a newfangled Singer sewing machine the following morning, trying to figure out why her bobbin thread kept breaking. Truth to tell, her thoughts were more on the letter that Roan had left on her bed with a late-blooming rose on top. He’d thanked her again for saving his life and then spoke of never forgetting her. The part that filled her thoughts had seemed to come from his heart. She’d memorized the words.
People’s paths sometimes cross for seemingly no reason, only to realize the significance later. You gave me hope that I had long lost. It crowds out despair, and I will always carry you in my heart. When loneliness sets in, I’ll recall the conversations we shared and times spent together. I wish you every success and happiness that life has to offer. Follow your dreams and don’t get discouraged. I hope you think of me fondly as I will you.
Though she’d risen early and thrown herself into her chores, nothing kept worry at bay. Her constant thoughts were on her father and Roan. She sent up a silent prayer for their safety and hope that everything would turn out all right.
She finally rose with a sigh and went next door. “I’m having a difficult time focusing today, Mama.”
Her mother glanced up from feeding one of the babies. “They’ll be all right, Marley Rose. It doesn’t do a lick of good to fret. Your father knows how to take care of himself, and I suspect Mr. Penny does also.”
“Sometimes things happen beyond a person’s control.” Marley stood at the window, looking out. “What do you think about him?”
“I like the man very much. He has kind eyes and a beautiful smile.” Jessie glanced up. “But don’t go losing your heart, Marley Rose. Roan Penny is a handsome man with caring ways, but he may not be looking for a place to settle down. And what do we really know about him? Take this slow.”
“We’ve been over this, Mama. I told you that I’m not pinning any hopes on him.”
“I’ve seen how you stare at him and how he looks at you. Your father and I have kept you too sheltered. You don’t know how easily a man can charm a woman and make her do crazy things,” Jessie answered softly.
“There’s no worry there. I’ll probably never see Roan Penny again.” But Marley’s heart desperately wanted him to return. His touch still burned on her.
* * *
Roan was digging around in the rubble of what was left of the house when Duel found him, still looking for his holster and Colt.
“I’d best get moving if I don’t want to be late getting home,” Duel said. “Have you thought about my offer?”
Roan stared through the hole where the doorway had been, his gaze trained on the rolling hills Mose had given his life for. “I intend to seek justice. I can’t do it from your ranch.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything different. But here’s something for you to chew on. These things take a while and are a whale of an undertaking for one man alone.” Duel pushed back his hat. “It’s always been my experience that it’s wise to bide your time on revenge. Let the confrontation come at a time and place of your choosing, not theirs. And in the meanwhile, you’d have a paying job, food, and shelter, and can regain your strength for a proper fight.”
“I won’t have the bastards think I tucked tail and ran. That’s not a message I want to send,” Roan argued.
“Who cares what the hell a group of murderers think? You don’t have to prove anything as long as you know who you are.”
“Begging your pardon, but I’ve never given anyone reason to think I’m weak or incapable, and I don’t intend to start now.” Roan noticed a glint of silver among the ashes. His Colt. He dug it from the rubble, but the fire had baked the leather holster the gun was in. He wasn’t even sure the gun would ever work again.
“Son, I suspect you’ve had to fight all your life for every speck of ground. It takes courage to keep getting up each time someone knocks you down. Only a fool would call you weak. All I’m saying is this—retreat for the moment. Devise a plan, then come back. I guarantee you’ll get a lot more satisfaction. Choice is yours though. I’ve got to ride.” Duel stuck out his hand. “If you need help, you know where to find me.”
Roan stuck his Colt into his waistband and followed Duel to the horses. Before they reached them, two
riders, bandanas covering their mouths and noses, burst from the wooded growth.
“You’re trespassing on private land,” the man with long, light-colored hair snapped.
The voice indicated someone around Roan’s age. In fact, both seemed young. Anger boiled inside Roan. “I came to bury my friend. The devil take you and the rest giving the orders! This land doesn’t belong to you.” He slid his Colt from his waistband before the two riders could blink. Their eyes widened, and they shifted. “You caught me by surprise the other night. I assure you it won’t happen again.”
A gust of wind whipped the other horseman’s sandy hair. “You were told not to return. We meant it.”
Duel pointed at him. “You come a little late to tell a man where he can go. As you can see, he’s a mite riled. Unless you can produce a deed, I suggest you get off Mozeke land.”
“It’s in the process,” the blond rider shot back. “Who are you, mister?”
“Duel McClain of the Aces ’n’ Eights. Maybe you’ve heard of me.”
Roan watched a light dawn in their eyes and their nervous glances. He kept his gun trained on the two.
Duel narrowed his eyes and hardened his voice. “Maybe you’re the ones who rustled my cattle. You know what we do to rustlers, don’t you?”
“You can’t blame that on us.”
“But I’m guessing you know who did it.” Roan’s finger tightened on the trigger. “You’d better speak up before he reaches for his rope. A man like McClain doesn’t have much patience.”
The two men’s eyes widened with fear. The sandy-haired one opened his mouth to speak, and a shot rang out. At the same moment, a flock of pigeons flew from the barn. The rider toppled, falling from his horse. Roan took cover behind a tree, and Duel dove into the brush. The second rider whirled and galloped into the woods.
“Did you see where the shot came from?” Roan asked, scanning the area for movement.
“Nope. I was watching the two riders.” Duel removed his hat and lifted his head for a look.