Very few ranches still allowed their herds to graze freely in fields far from home. Those which did typically employed experienced cowhands to keep an eye on them.
Most of the range fencing wasn’t used anymore and possibly never would be again.
But Red still felt bad about cutting it.
She knew that the fences she cut on a still-working ranch would be noticed within a day or two and were easily repaired.
The others wouldn’t really matter.
Still, she felt a stab of guilt every time she snipped a strand of barbed wire, for she’d been brought up to respect the property of others.
Even when there was a better than even chance the ranch owners were now dead.
Jacob had to pay very close attention in the darkness, for even with the night vision goggles, the wire was impossible to see. He had to instead watch out for the wooden posts, which stood about four feet high, dark sentries against a slightly lighter background.
Each time he came upon one he alerted Red, who crawled down off her horse and snipped the three strands of wire.
It delayed their journey for sure. And it made them ridiculously easy to track, for either their pursuers or for ranchers who might be peeved that someone was barging through their land and leaving downed fences in their wake.
But it was the safest way to travel.
Red and Jacob didn’t know that they’d entered the Twisted 7 Ranch the night before. It was a monster spread, encompassing over eighty thousand acres of north-central Texas scrubland.
And they were still on it.
They also didn’t know that several cowhands working the Twisted 7 discovered a down range fence that afternoon, while they were sleeping.
The cowhands followed the two sets of tracks for two miles until they spotted the culprits’ horses hidden in a thicket alongside a creek.
But they didn’t know what they were dealing with. So instead of confronting the pair of riders in broad daylight and risking a shootout, they instead went around them and rode back to the ranch for reinforcements.
If there was to be a battle, it would be at a time and place of the Twisted 7’s choosing.
Chapter 45
Gaines and Abbott were dreading their meeting with John Stance.
The boss wasn’t a friendly sort even on his best days.
And he didn’t take failure well. Not at all.
After dispatching Brady and Martinez north, Gaines and Abbott took four men south, following the creek where they’d lost track of Red and Jacob.
They rode carefully along both sides of the creek for almost thirty miles over the course of two full days, looking for two sets of tracks left behind when the horses finally left the water.
Along the way they were convinced they were on a wild goose chase. For no good horseman would leave his pony in the water that long. It was a good way to cripple an animal. And it slowed a rider down. Big time.
They debated how long they should go on this wild goose chase before Stance would be satisfied with their efforts and not bitch too much about them going back without their prey.
“You realize,” Gaines said to Abbott as they started their second day, “That we lost them. They knew they were being followed or they wouldn’t have entered the creek to begin with. And if they’d been in the water for so long we’d have caught up with them already.”
“I know. But I’d rather stay out here a month of Sundays than stand in front of the boss and admit defeat. Let’s hope that Brady and Martinez show up with the girl soon so we can turn around and head back.”
But it was not to be. Brady and Martinez did indeed show up just before sundown on their second day out. But they were empty handed.
“Shit!” Abbott grunted when the two familiar figures appeared on the horizon. “Looks like they struck out too.
They’d agreed to give it one more day. They were positive they wouldn’t happen across their prey. The best they could hope for was that they’d somehow missed the tracks and would find them on the way back. Perhaps when the sun was at a different angle and they could be more easily seen.
They broke camp the next morning to a stiff wind blowing in from the east.
On the plains of Texas, such winds usually foretold of a massive storm front coming.
And sure enough, by early afternoon a huge bank of ominous black clouds rolled in from the same direction.
At first the cowboys were nervous. No one likes being caught on open prairie in a lightning storm. Lightning tends to strike the highest point. And on a terrain void of structures, even of trees, the highest point can be the rider on the back of a horse.
Also, thunder makes a lot of horses skittish and antsy. A loud crack close by can spook some of them and make them buck or run. Even an experienced rider could have a very hard time getting a spooked horse under control again.
Their best bet was to find a nearby structure and take cover.
The group managed to find another farmhouse, this one also long abandoned. The barn held no treasures, but at least had a few bales of hay their horses could munch on while they waited out the storm.
The men searched the house for food and found none. They searched for valuables and found none. All the other trappings were there. Furniture, clothing, children’s toys. Other than a few dirty dishes in the sink and a thick layer of dust, the house looked lived in. It was as though the family had gone out for ice cream and never returned.
They walked outside and gathered on the expansive front porch, which ran the length of the house and faced the eastern sky. They made small talk and smoked cigarettes while watching the approaching storm clouds.
When it became obvious the storm would skirt them but wouldn’t get them wet, Abbott burst out in maniacal laughter.
Gaines asked him, “What in hell are you so happy about?”
Instead of answering Abbott assembled the men.
“Okay,” he said. “Are there any of you who think we still have a chance of catching the people who shot Stance?”
A few shoulders shrugged, a few heads shook. One of the men said, “Hell no.”
“Okay, then. Are there any of you who want to go on?”
Once again, a few shoulders shrugged, a few heads shook. The same man said, “Hell no. My ass is already sore and it’s a long way back.”
“Okay. This storm is doing us a favor. We’re thirty five, maybe forty miles from Stance. He has no idea the storm front didn’t hit us.”
Gaines asked, “So what’s your point?”
“We head back after the storm passes and the horses settle down. And we tell Stance the storm hit us head on. That it was vicious. That his shooters left the creek and we were tracking them, but that the heavy rain wiped out their tracks. We lost them. We tried like hell to find their tracks again, but there was nothing but mud for miles in any direction.”
The man with the sore ass smiled. The others looked at one another.
Abbott went on.
“But for this to work, everybody has to agree to hold their tongue. I don’t want anybody ratting me out to the boss, saying it was my idea. I want each of you to swear right here and now that this is just between us.”
One by one, each man nodded.
“Good. From the looks of that front, it’ll be two or three more hours before it passes us by. Until then, there’ll be lightning and thunder in the distance loud enough to spook the horses. Might as well camp here tonight. There’s enough beds and couches in the house to let everybody get a comfortable night’s sleep.
“We’ll head back at first light.”
Chapter 46
Gomez and Duncan looked at one another, as though sharing the same thought.
The fat man sitting across the desk from them was getting ready to offer them some kind of work. Probably something illegal, possibly something for which they’d be well compensated.
Neither man saw the harm in hearing him out.
Gomez pulled a fat cigar from the breas
t pocket of his vest and lit it up, not knowing or caring whether Savage approved of smoking in his office.
Savage reached into a desk drawer and produced an ash tray, sliding it across the oak desk to Gomez. At that moment, he felt oddly subservient to the man. But he didn’t panic. Not just yet. He still felt he was in control, and didn’t realize the tables could turn on him at any time.
Duncan asked, “What exactly do you need done, Chief?”
“I want this woman stopped before she makes it into town. Once she’s here it may be too late. She may come directly to me and shoot me in the back. I want her stopped out there,” he said while making a vague directional gesture with his hand. “I want her dead before she has a chance to step foot in Blanco again.”
Gomez asked, “I assume the best way to Lubbock is the highway just outside of town?”
“Highway 281, yes. It’s the only way to Lubbock from here. I don’t know when she’ll be coming back, but she’ll come from that direction. Would you be amenable to setting up camp on the highway a few miles north of town to watch out for her?”
“Depends.” Gomez held the cards and he knew it. “How much does it pay?”
“I’ll pay you each fifty dollars in gold coin per day while you’re waiting. And when she comes along, I’ll pay you each a thousand to deal with her.”
“By dealing with her, you mean kill her?”
“I thought I made myself clear, Mr. Gomez. If she makes it to Blanco she will kill me. My killing her first is self-defense and nothing more.”
“Well, my understanding of the law may not be up to par with your own, Mr. Savage. I mean, you being a lawman and all. But I believe it’s only self-defense if she’s in front of you brandishing a weapon and threatening to kill you. I don’t think it counts if you have someone else kill her before she meets with you.”
The wind suddenly went out of Savage’s sails and his face showed it.
Gomez laughed.
“Oh, don’t look so sad, Mr. Savage. I didn’t say we wouldn’t kill her for you. I was just stating a point, that’s all.”
“So you’ll do the job?”
“Yes, but only if we can come to terms. The fifty a day is acceptable for camping on the highway and waiting for her. We have nowhere we need to go that’s pressing.
“But the thousand apiece for killing her, that’s just way too low. The going rate for contract murder these days is ten thousand. Five thousand apiece. Of course, you being a banker and a lawman and a respectable citizen, I’m sure you didn’t know that, and didn’t intentionally try to shortchange us.”
There was something in his voice. A hint of a threat, maybe, or of hostility well masked. Whatever it was, it made Savage shudder just a bit.
“I… I didn’t know it was so expensive. But yes. Yes of course. That price is acceptable to me.”
“Good. Now that we’ve come to terms we’ll need half the hit fee up front.”
“Half up front? Are you serious?”
“That’s standard procedure, Mr. Savage, for business arrangements such as this. Half up front. And we’ll visit you every three days to collect for the waiting fees.”
Savage knew quite well he’d be expected to pay half the hit fee up front. Despite his protestations to the contrary, we was well versed in the way hitmen operated.
And despite his belief to the contrary, he wasn’t fooling anyone. Gomez and Duncan knew quite well he was a dirty lawman who’d had people killed for him before.
“But how do I know you just won’t take off with the money and leave me high and dry?”
Gomez fought hard to control his temper.
“Actually, Mr. Savage, you don’t know. But then again, how do we know we won’t kill this woman for you, and then you turn around and arrest us for murder? You are the law after all, and we are both taking a certain risk in this endeavor.”
Savage may have underestimated the danger involved in meeting with such men alone, late at night. But he wasn’t stupid, either. He had absolutely no intention of opening his bank’s vault in their presence.
“Very well, gentlemen. We have a deal.”
He stood up to reach across the desk and shake their hands.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a safe here in my office. It seems rather unnecessary when there’s a high security bank vault just thirty feet away. The bank vault is on a time lock and cannot be opened until nine a.m., but if one of you wants to come by in the morning, I’ll have your halves ready and waiting for you.”
There was no time lock. The bank had been in the same location on Blanco’s Main Street for seventy years, and still used the same Bradley Vault Company vault that had been installed when it first opened for business. The vault door used a standard four-number combination spin dial and could be opened anytime day or night.
But Gomez and Duncan didn’t know that.
If Savage had opened the vault he suspected he’d likely have been killed instantly so the men with him could loot the vault at their leisure.
And he might have been right.
But then again maybe not. Gomez was the smarter of the two, and Duncan generally followed his lead. And Gomez was serious about doing the contract work that Savage had asked them to do. Later, they might take Savage out and clean out his vault. But for now they would be contract killers and play everything else by ear.
Chapter 47
“Um, Red?”
It was just after two a.m. and Jacob was highly alert, his horse slowly making its way across a patch of prairie more mesquite and cactus than grass.
Red had been trudging along behind him on her own horse, letting the horse’s movement rock her half to sleep in the saddle.
Jacob’s words jarred her awake.
“Yeah?”
He came to a dead stop, and Red’s horse followed suit.
“I don’t want to alarm you, Red. But we may have trouble.”
She pulled the horse’s reins to the left and came up beside him.
“What do you mean?”
She peered in the same direction as Jacob, but was blind in the dark night.
He explained.
“Directly ahead of us, about three hundred yards. It looks like men on horseback, just standing there. Four of them. Tell me what you think.”
He took the goggles off his head and handed them to her.
She put them on and said, “Hold on just a minute while my pupils adjust.”
Then, “You’re right. Cowboys. Four of them. Just standing there. It looks like a cowboy convention.”
“Why do you think they’re there?”
“Shoot. I don’t know. Probably range riders looking for strays or checking their fences.”
“Range riders don’t mend fences or gather strays at night, Red.”
“Good point. Maybe they’re rustlers. Or even worse, maybe they’re friends of the men we tangled with at the ranch. Maybe they somehow found us and got ahead of us. One thing’s for darned sure. They don’t seem to be in any hurry to go anywhere.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“Let’s just sit here for a bit and wait. If they break up their little meeting and go their separate ways, we’ll just press ahead.”
“And if they don’t?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that part through yet.”
It was a Mexican standoff of sorts. Neither party budged. Neither party seemed willing to make the next move.
“Maybe they’re waiting for somebody.”
“Maybe they’re waiting for us.”
“How you figure?”
“Maybe they’ve been following our tracks and passed us by. Maybe they’re lying in wait for us to come by so they can ambush us.”
“Maybe. But it would have been smarter to ambush us in the daytime. A shootout in the dark is never a good idea. You’re just as sure to shoot you own guys as somebody else.”
“True. So you think it’s just a coincidence that we happened upon this gro
up of men, directly in our path, as big a state this is and as few people still occupy it?”
“Nope. I don’t believe in coincidences. Let’s turn and head due south. See if we can skirt them.”
“Sounds good. Beats sitting here all night.”
She handed him back his night vision goggles and he moved out without a word. She followed close behind.
After they’d moved a quarter of a mile, he whispered loudly over his shoulder.
“They’re on the move, Red. They’re moving the same direction we are.”
“Okay. Hold up.”
He pulled back on the reins and both horses came to a dead stop.
“Watch them, Jacob, and tell me if they keep going.”
“Nope. They stopped also.”
“That’s not good.”
“No duh. But what does it mean?”
“It means they’ve got night vision goggles too. It means they’re watching us. And it means they’ve got the upper hand.”
“Meaning?”
“They’re adjusting their pace according to ours. They’re keeping pace with us to stay three hundred yards ahead of us, until the sun comes up. That’s when they’re making their move.”
“Why then?”
“Because that’s when they’ll have the advantage. They’ll attack us at daybreak, with the rising sun at their backs. That way they can pick us off, but we can’t see to shoot back. The sun will blind us when we try to aim our rifles. It’s an old Apache tactic.”
“So what do we do?”
“We outsmart them.”
Chapter 48
John Stance was fit to be tied. The only known surviving surgeon in Lynn County was on his personal payroll. He’d told Doc Martin to save his arm or suffer the consequences.
And Doc Martin had told him, in all honesty, “All I can do is remove the bullet, sew up your wound, and keep it from getting infected. It’s up to God to determine the extent of your healing.”
Stance didn’t believe in God, or the Bible either. He made a mental note to blow the good doctor’s brains out for his insolence. Later. Now he needed him.
A Lesson Learned: Red: Book 3 Page 14