by Abe Dancer
‘What are you trying to tell me, Price? That I should let you live? That I should let you be a real lawman?’
‘That’s all this was about: respect. Respect me and I’ll respect you.’
‘I never wanted respect from the likes of you.’ Nixon looked over to the side. ‘Carter, get into the law office and check whether this fool really did what he said he did.’
In the office Jim tensed, accepting that Price’s plan would probably not work now, but hoping the element of surprise would earn them an advantage. Barney caught on to the urgency of the situation and jumped to his feet.
‘Let me speak, Mayor,’ he said, talking quickly as he edged towards Nixon. ‘I didn’t see nothing back in your office when I was stealing your money, but I sure can—’
‘Be quiet! I’m only interested in whether this fool can be trusted.’
‘That’s what I want to talk to you about. I—’
‘Enough!’ Nixon shouted, advancing on Barney with a hand raised, making Barney cringe away.
At that moment Jim saw a shadow fall across the window. He stayed still as Deputy Carter darted his head around, looking through the broken window into the dark office.
‘Can’t see nobody in there,’ he called out.
‘I threw them in a cell,’ Price shouted back.
Carter walked past the window, moving towards the door, temporarily blocking Jim’s view of the road where Nixon walked past the cringing Barney to stand before Price.
‘Perhaps,’ he said as inside the office Jim and Isaiah tensed, awaiting their imminent discovery, ‘you might be getting that respect you wanted.’
‘Respect,’ Price said. ‘That is all I ever wanted.’
Price then raised his gun and shot Mayor Nixon in the stomach, making him fold and stagger forward a pace. A hail of bullets tore out from Nixon’s men, sending Price tumbling backwards but not before he’d planted another bullet in Nixon.
Then Carter swung the door open and took Jim’s thoughts away from what was happening in the road.
Isaiah leapt to the side to blast lead through the door. A pained cry sounded as Isaiah vaulted the shot Deputy Carter in the doorway to emerge on to the boardwalk. Jim followed him.
‘Stay here,’ he shouted at Billy, but didn’t stay to check whether Billy had followed his instructions.
He emerged outside to confirm that the men he’d thought were moving in on either side were close, but the shooting in the road had distracted them. Isaiah and Jim made them pay with rapid spurts of gunfire.
Without consulting each other Isaiah went left and Jim went right, shooting on the run.
Five men were on Jim’s side and he took out three with his first burst of gunfire, then went to his knees, reloading with a dexterity that had saved his life many times before. By the time he’d reloaded the surviving men had got their wits about them. Jim put that from his mind and ran for the hitching rail.
Splinters flew from the post and rail as Jim vaulted it, his rapid motion saving him from a shot that whined past his shoulder. When he landed he went to one knee and jerked up his gun, sighting the nearest man in an instant and blasting him in the chest. Then he swung his red-hot gun to the side to take out the remaining standing man on his side.
He glanced along and up the buildings on his side of the road to confirm that nobody was attempting to outflank him, and turned. Isaiah had already shot the four men who had been approaching from his side and was now running for the wagon where Price was lying, holed mortally, but so was Nixon.
The lack of a leader had confused the surviving men and they were looking around for instructions, some even running for safety, their indecision having let Barney roll into cover beneath the wagon.
‘Get ’em!’ Pike’s strident voice barked out from behind the wagon. The order stopped several men in their tracks. Then as one they turned to face the advancing Jim and Isaiah.
A gunshot rang out then a second, sending two men reeling. Jim noticed that Isaiah hadn’t been the one who had fired. The gunfire had come from behind.
‘Nice shooting, Billy,’ he murmured to himself.
A third shot tore into another hired gun and that left just Pike and three others. Isaiah took care of one of them before the rest scurried into hiding behind the wagon. Then he threw himself to the ground to lie flat and directed his gun towards the wagon. Jim joined him.
From there he could see three sets of legs of the men who had crouched behind the wagon and without compunction Isaiah tore lead across those legs. One man fell to the side, letting Jim plant a bullet in his chest and a second went hopping out from behind the wagon whereupon Isaiah and Billy combined to send him reeling.
Pike, though, had the sense to roll over into the wagon where he lay flat and out of sight. For long moments they waited for him to show himself, but when he didn’t Jim risked casting his gaze across at the devastation in the road. As far as he could tell Pike was their only opposition, but he was also the most formidable of Nixon’s crew.
With hand signals he debated their next move with Isaiah, getting confirmation that Isaiah would cover Jim while he got closer to the wagon. So Jim got to his feet, then doubled over, made his quick and snaking way over to the wagon.
He stopped five feet from the backboard, where he ran his gaze over the wood, looking for a gap in the boards and a sight of his quarry.
Pike stayed down and out of sight, forcing Jim to pace slowly around the wagon. Jim glanced at Barney, who was lying beneath the front of the wagon and raised his eyebrows. Barney pointed towards the back but then roved his finger from side to side saying he wasn’t sure of Pike’s exact position.
With each sideways pace Jim raised his head slightly. More of the wagon came into view, letting him see the seat. He concluded that Pike must be lying flat. He also saw that there were numerous knotholes along the back boards….
He dived to the ground, his action saving him from the slug that spewed from the gun barrel poking through one knothole. Jim rolled, scrambling himself along towards the wagon to come up underneath it.
As Pike’s ill-aimed shot had let him judge where he was lying, on his back he fired upwards then twice more, each shot two feet apart. The third shot hit its target, making Pike grunt in pain and jerk away, but that only put him into Isaiah’s view.
Twin shots rang out making Pike clatter to the base of the wagon. He rolled over the side to come to a halt on his back in an explosion of dust beside the wagon. He lay for a moment, then raised his gun towards Jim, but Jim had already aimed at him.
‘Like Barney tried to tell you,’ Jim said. ‘Men like you just get to die and be forgotten.’
He fired, holing Pike’s forehead. Then Jim looked at Barney and raised his eyebrows.
‘Glad something I said stuck in your mind,’ Barney said.
‘It sure did,’ Jim said, and swung his gun into his holster. ‘But now that this is over, take some advice. Get yourself a gun before you find a problem that mouth of yours can’t talk its way out of.’
Barney shook his head, so Jim rolled out from under the wagon. He stood, brushed the dust from his knees and found that there was only one man standing in the road: Isaiah Jones, also known as Isaiah McGuire.
Jim started to thank him for his help, but the words died on his lips. Isaiah had adopted the posture of a gunslinger, his legs splayed apart and his hand dangling beside his holster.
‘We’ve dealt with Nixon,’ Isaiah said, ‘so now, like I promised, you’ll tell me why you call yourself Jim McGuire. Then I’ll kill you.’
CHAPTER 15
‘I used to be fast,’ Jim said, letting his hand drift towards his holster. ‘I reckon I still am. If I go for my gun, I’ll kill you and I don’t want that to happen.’
‘I’ll take that chance. Speak, then die.’
Jim shrugged. ‘If you’re that determined, I won’t draw. I’ve got no reason to kill you, and the truth is there was nothing personal between me and Jim McGuire �
� your brother, either. I was a manhunter and I’d been hired to kill Blaine Jameson, Billy’s father. Your brother just got in the way.’
‘You killed Billy’s father! What kind of twisted animal are you?’
‘The kind who realized he’d made a mistake. The kind who’s spent the last nine months trying to make amends. The kind who risked his life to save Billy from the gallows.’
Isaiah sneered. ‘To ease your conscience.’
‘Sure, but that doesn’t change the good I’ve done. Once you’ve killed a man you can’t change what’s happened. You can only make things right from then on. That’s what I’ve been trying to do.’
‘Is that all the excuses you’re going to give me?’
‘Yup.’ Jim raised his hand away from his holster. ‘I’ve got nothing else to say so you might as well kill me, but it won’t bring back your brother and then you’ll have to be the one who tries to do what’s right for Billy.’
‘Is that your way of pleading for your life?’
‘Nope, just making a request of the kind Billy’s father made before I killed him. Try to do the best for young Billy. Give him as good a start in life as you can.’
‘I’ll do that.’ Isaiah narrowed his eyes. ‘But I’d appreciate a word of regret from you first.’
‘I could give it, but the man who killed Jim McGuire was a different man from the one standing before you. That man was a cold-blooded killer. This man thought he was good enough to wear the name Jim McGuire.’
Isaiah looked around, taking in the townsfolk emerging to look at Nixon’s dead body. Excited chatter was building up and people were already laughing and smiling, suggesting that nobody would complain about the devastation that had been brought about.
‘If I let you live,’ Isaiah said, lowering his voice as his hand moved away from his holster, ‘what will you do?’
‘Try to explain myself to Billy, try to help him if he wants that help.’
Isaiah looked over his shoulder to see that Billy was edging his way out of the law office. The kid was watching them, his brow furrowed and confused. Isaiah relaxed.
‘Don’t tell him the truth,’ he said, ‘yet. Wait until he’s old enough to handle it.’
‘He knows too much already.’
‘Not too much. I can still tell him a story to explain what happened.’ Isaiah offered a brief smile. ‘Can’t I, Brother?’
Jim returned that smile. ‘You can. I’ve always trusted my elder brother.’
‘And,’ Barney said, stepping up to join them, ‘if neither of you can spin a tale to keep Billy happy, I’m sure I can do it.’
‘I’m sure you can,’ Jim said ruefully.
‘But remember this,’ Isaiah said, ‘I ain’t that taken with you yet, so I intend to stay in White Ridge. If I see you aren’t doing the right thing by Billy….’
‘I know.’ Jim moved round to stand beside him so that they could greet the approaching Billy together. ‘But if you’re staying, does that mean you’re still standing for mayor?’
‘I reckon White Ridge would welcome having an honest mayor for a change.’ Isaiah glanced at Jim. ‘And a worthwhile lawman, if you’re interested.’
‘That’s an …’ Jim trailed off as Billy stomped to a halt before them.
‘Now tell me everything,’ Billy demanded, settling his stance. ‘Who are you? What happened to my pa?’
‘I’ve already told you everything,’ Jim said in a low and reasonable voice. ‘I’m Jim McGuire and I had some trouble, now resolved, with my elder brother. There’s nothing for you to know about your pa that I haven’t already told you a hundred times.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Billy looked at Isaiah, who was smiling, then at Barney, but when Barney started to open his mouth to comment, Jim paced forward and looped an arm around Billy’s shoulders. He walked him away from the wagon.
‘But I do have something important to tell you. I’ve finally found the right job for you, one that would have made your pa proud, one you’ve proved you’re ideally suited for, and one where your boss will never fire you.’
‘What’s that?’ Billy murmured, some of his truculence fading away.
‘I’m to be White Ridge’s new sheriff,’ Jim said. ‘How would you like to be my deputy?’
Rio Bonito
Abe Dancer
Rio Bonito
Joe Kettle possessed the grit and fighting blood of his father, and his father before him. And he needed it, for Wilshaw Broome – once a loyal foreman of the Standing K ranch – was using hired gunmen in his effort to seize the Kettle domain.
Supported by an ageing Hector Chaf and Ben McGovren, Joe sets out to win back his birthright. But each of the three men had his own special reason for going up against overwhelming opposition, and it wasn’t all to do with property and livestock.
To overcome Broome’s force, they would play a waiting game, take advantage of the hidden trails and scrub thickets along the Rio Bonito. Then, when the time was right, they would not hesitate to meet force with force and guns with guns.
By the Same Author
Ironhead
The Landbreakers
The Frightened Valley
Borderline
Death Song
Shot Gold
Punchers Creek
Hog-Tied
Freighter’s Way
Brevet Ridge
The Bull Chop
Wolf Hole
Copyright
© Abe Dancer 2009
First published in Great Britain 2009
This ebook edition 2011
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.halebooks.com
The right of Abe Dancer to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
Thank you RMB, and for the use of that name.
1
The overpowering heat of the New Mexico sun pressed down. It pierced prickly pear and chaparral thickets, made the water simmer in the Rio Bonito. At the eastern end of Hoope Kettle’s land, the rays seemed to be concentrating off one corner of the big corral where two boys had been engaged in a ham-fisted, but passionate fist fight.
One, the younger by two years, was the taller by inches, and he had longer arms. His adversary on the other hand was more stockily built. He was by far the strongest, and when his punches landed, they stung the most.
‘Your pa would be givin’ you a fat ear for comin’ home after a scrap like that,’ Ben McGovren said with an understanding smile. ‘If he ever found out, that is.’
‘Judd was spoilin’ for a fight. A larrupin’ from Pa would be worth it,’ Jasper answered back.
‘Why were you fightin’?’ Ben asked.
‘He called me a little raggedy-assed foot-soldier. He said I ought to be inside bakin’ biscuits.’
Ben nodded. ‘It is kind o’ peculiar not totin’ your own saddle, Jasper,’ he returned understandingly. ‘We ought to see about gettin’ you some sort o’ cow pony. Meantime, get cleaned up, ’cause your pa’s comin’.’
‘Them boys o’ mine been fightin’ again?’ Hoope Kettle asked of his ’puncher.
‘Yeah. I guess young Jasper can only stand so much raggin’,’ Ben answered. ‘But in that, he kind o’ reminds me o’ someone,’ he added, after a little thought.
‘Seems to me the boy’s got a dose o’ snake bile in him,’ another voice chimed in. It was Wilshaw Broome the foreman who had closed in behind Kettle.
Another of Kettle’s cowboys called Hector Chaf, unfolded his long legs. He eased himself down and stood alongside the high pole fence of the corral. ‘The snakes around here only anger when you disturb ’em,’ he replied. ‘An’ they rattle before they bite you,’
Broome smiled thinly and shook his head. ‘Jasper smacked Judd on the nose. An’ that was Judd strikin’ back at the funny side of it.’
> Ben hopped down from where he’d been sitting beside Hector. ‘Judd’s been ridin’ his little brother for many moons,’ he told him. ‘I don’t reckon he figured on Jasper yet havin’ the sand to hit back.’
‘It’s mostly what young uns do,’ Kettle said, good-naturedly. ‘It’s a way o’ gettin’ their range. This ain’t Philadelphia, ain’t even Oklahoma City. There’ll be a proper time for ’em to learn etiquettes an’ the like.’
‘Let’s get you lazy roosters goin’,’ Broome addressed Ben and Hector. ‘Get down to the stock, like Mr Kettle wants, or he’ll be watchin’ me kick the bejasus out o’ you two.’
‘Listen, Broome,’ Hector snapped back, ‘if the boss wants me an’ Ben to do somethin’, he’ll say. We don’t rise to your bark, an’ we never will.’
Broome cast a sharp glance at Hoope Kettle. But there was no support, and with a dark scowl he started to walk away.
‘Hey, Broome,’ Hector said quietly, striding after him. ‘Are you ridin’ into Lemmon tonight?’
The foreman paused and looked doubtfully at the tall cowboy. ‘Why? What’s it to you?’
‘I’m curious o’ the company you been keepin’ there,’ Hector said. ‘Sounds like it might be where you got acquainted with that bile you mentioned.’
Anger distorted Broome’s harsh face. He thought of retaliating, but the look of challenge in Hector’s eyes checked him. He turned away but Hector continued to bait him.
‘I know for some devious reason you’ve been makin’ up to Judd,’ he said. ‘But neither of ’em are much more’n weaners, so don’t go usin’ ’em to score points off. An’ don’t try to divi ’em up. I’m watchin’ you real close, mister.’
Close by, Hoope Kettle shook his head as he looked his boys up and down. ‘How the both o’ you were bred from the same stock, is one o’ them marvels o’ nature,’ he grated. ‘I’m thinkin’ if I put you both out to pasture, maybe you’ll come back more forbearin’, not with an outright likin’ for each other.’