Blood Bond 3

by William W. Johnstone

  They lost the trail cold shortly after entering New Mexico Territory. Someone had been driving a small herd of cattle and the raiders found out where the drovers were pushing the herd and got ahead of it.

  Josiah sat his saddle and sighed. “Hell with it, boys. It’d take us days, maybe weeks, to pick up the trail. Maybe never.”

  The brothers looked at him in astonishment. Josiah Finch—giving up?

  Sam put it together. “You got chewed out for crossing the Texas line last time, didn’t you?”

  Josiah smiled. “You might say that, yeah. I was told to keep my butt in Texas, for a fact. Come on, we’ll cut south. I know a little tradin’ post not too far from here. Folks keep talkin’ about there bein’ a town there someday. Damned if I can see it. Why would anybody want to build a town in New Mexico when the Texas line is only five miles away?”

  The trading post was made of adobe and rock and looked like it had been there for some years. Matt said as much.

  “Has been,” Josiah said.

  “Looks deserted,” Sam remarked.

  “Corral and stables are on the south side. This was supposed to have been a church, so I’m told. Injuns killed all the priests and the place was abandoned for years. Fellow name of Aquillo opened a tradin’ post here years back. His son runs it now. I’m told it’s nice and cool inside and the food is good.”

  They rode around the back of the place, looking it over, and pulled up short at the sight of a dozen or so horses in the corral.

  “I recognize that black,” Sam said.

  “And that mustang,” Matt said.

  “We lucked up, boys,” Josiah said with a grin. “Them raiders took a chance that we’d follow the herd and give them some breathin’ room. Then they cut back south. And here they stopped and here we are.”

  The men rode into the barn and stripped their weary mounts of saddle and bridle. A worried-looking boy helped them.

  “Bad hombres in the post, son?” Matt asked him.

  “Si,” the boy replied. “They beat up my father and I’m thinking they want to do ugly things to my sister.”

  “Did they see us ride in?”

  “No. They are concerned only with drinking and cussing and saying vulgar things to my mother and sister. They sent me out here and told me not to come back in until they called.”

  “Any other gringos in the store besides them, son?” Sam asked.

  “No, señor. Just my mother, my father, and my sister.”

  Matt gave the boy a dollar. “You rub these horses down good and give them all the grain they can eat. And you stay in this barn and out of sight, you hear me?”

  “Si, señor. Señor? There are twelve of them in there. They are very rough men, and they all smell very bad. There are but the three of you.”

  Since they were in New Mexico Territory, and Josiah said his butt still hurt from the chewing he’d received, he had taken off his Texas Ranger badge and Matt and Sam had done the same. Josiah smiled at the boy. “We’ll get your sis and your mom and dad outta this mess, son. You can count on that. You ever heard of the Wyoming gunfighter Matt Bodine?”

  Sam rolled his eyes and snickered at Matt’s sudden discomfort.

  “Si, señor! Everybody has heard of Matt Bodine.”

  Josiah jerked a thumb in Matt’s direction. “That’s Bodine right there, boy.”

  The boy’s eyes widened. He looked at Sam. “Then you must be the half-breed, Sam Two Wolves?”

  “That’s right, son.”

  Back to Josiah. “You must be famous to be riding with these men.’

  “I’m Jesse James, son.”

  The boy drew back in fear. “No!”

  “It’s the truth. But I ain’t here to rob nobody. Bodine and Two Wolves wouldn’t ride with me if I was here to do a wrong. So don’t you fret none about that.”

  “Stay in here now, boy,” Matt told him. “Keep the horses calm when the shooting starts.”

  They stepped out of the barn and slipped along, hugging the adobe of the trading post. Sam looked at Josiah and whispered, “Jesse James?”

  “The man’s got enough bad things being said about him. Might as well have something good circulatin’ too.”

  They dropped down behind a pile of stove wood as the back door opened and a man stepped out, heading for the outhouse. He walked to it without looking in their direction.

  “He saw us,” Sam said. “It’s unnatural for a wanted man not to look in all directions upon leaving a building.”

  “I agree,” Josiah said. He picked up a piece of stove wood and waited. The man stepped out of the privy and began his walk to the post. He looked neither left nor right. Josiah stood up and tossed the chunk all in one motion. He missed the man’s head by a good two feet.

  But Sam was already up and running at the throw. Before the man could jerk iron or yell out, Sam was on him, his forward momentum knocking the raider down. Sam clubbed him on the head and dragged him back to the privy. Having nothing to tie the man up with, Sam jerked off the two-hole privy seat and shoved the man down in the pit. He landed with a thick splashing sound. Sam replaced the seat.

  “What’d you do with him?” Matt asked, when Sam slid back behind the stove-wood pile.

  Sam told him.

  Josiah grinned. “Good place for him. But be sure to tell the people here to dig a new hole and fill this one in. It’ll be ripe here ’fore long.”

  “You’re becoming very inventive, brother,” Matt said with a smile.

  “I didn’t know what else to do with him!”

  “They’ll be missin’ him in a few minutes and somebody else will be out to check,” Josiah said. “Anybody got a plan?”

  “We sure can’t go in shooting,” Sams said. “And if we try to take them out one at a time, they’ll get suspicious and hold the people hostage.”

  “That’s what they’re doin’ now,” Josiah said sourly. “But I know what you mean.”

  A bubbling, gurgling sound came from the outhouse.

  “Wait here,” Matt said. “I want to talk to the boy one more time.” He was gone only a short time. When he returned, he laid out the interior of the trading post, drawing each room into the dirt. “The raiders are all in the saloon part. The boy’s father was pistol-whipped and tossed in this small storeroom, tied up. When the boy was ordered out of the place, there was no one in the family’s living quarters, right here.”

  “That’s the window right there?” Sam asked, pointing to an open-shuttered window only a few yards away.

  “That’s it.”

  “Someone has to do it. So I’m gone.” Sam ran from behind the woodpile, reached the house, stayed close to the wall, and peeked into the bedroom. He signaled that it was empty and then disappeared into the room, crawling through the open window. Matt and Josiah followed.

  With Matt in the lead, the trio walked through the bedroom and into the hall. Sam and Josiah had guns in hand, hammers back. Matt carried a long-bladed knife for silent work. Loud talk and dirty laughter reached them, coming from the far end of the long building.

  “Come on, baby!” a man’s voice lifted above the laughter. “Dance for us. Hike up that skirt and show us some skin.”

  The sound of a brutal slap followed that, then a woman’s crying.

  “Sounds like we’re just in time,” Josiah said.

  The men flattened against a wall as a door opened and a man staggered out, sloppy drunk and careless. He fell against a wall, turned, and saw Matt only a few feet away in the dark hall. He opened his mouth to yell. The warning died in his throat as Matt’s knife buried to the hilt in his belly, the cutting edge up. Matt ripped the knife upward with all his strength, the razor-sharp edge slicing through bone and tearing into the heart. Matt grabbed the outlaw’s shirtfront with his left hand and lowered the body to the floor, wiping his blade clean on the dead man’s shirt.

  The trio moved on, silently working their way toward the rough talk and drunken laughter. They had hung their spurs
on their saddle horns and moved without a sound.

  An older woman carrying a platter of food passed by the open door and spotted them. Matt put a finger to his lips and the woman nodded her head in understanding. Matt sheathed his knife and pulled his guns, cocking them. He held up a gun and motioned that when the shooting started, the woman should get down.

  She again nodded her head and moved out of the way.

  “Take them petticoats off, baby!” a man yelled. “And I mean take it all off like right now!”

  “I’m first!” a man yelled. “I ain’t waitin’no longer. Jerk ’er down from that table and lay ’er over yonder on the floor.” The other thugs and trash began hollering and yelling obscenities as they lined up to rape the girl.

  “Now or never,” Matt said. “I’ll go straight in. Sam, you cut right. Josiah, you take the left side.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  With both hands filled with guns, spare six-shooters tucked behind their gunbelts, the trio ran toward the open archway and went in low and fast, splitting up. It took only a second for the men to find clear targets and they opened up.

  The young girl was naked, except for a few rags the men had left on her as they ripped her clothing away. She was screaming in terror and thrashing on the floor, pleading with the men.

  Josiah shot the man who was forcing the girl’s legs apart through the head. He fell to one side, part of his head gone. The mother grabbed her daughter and dragged her against the wall under a table.

  The walls seemed to tremble as the guns of the Rangers thundered out frontier justice and retribution. Standing tall, the Texas Rangers held court in the old trading post; the Colts in their hands were the judges and the juries and the lawyers, dealing out death sentences in smoke and fire and lead.

  One big thug managed to clear leather and fire, the slug blowing Matt’s hat off his head. Matt shot him twice in the belly. The man’s boots flew out from under him and he pitched backward, dying with his head stuck in a spittoon.

  Sam’s .44’s roared, belching fire, the slugs finding their targets—two more crud would exit this world.

  Josiah shifted his Peacemakers and nailed one outlaw trying to leave the post and shooting a second man just as he was coming up with a rifle. The first slug hit the rifle and exploded several rounds, mangling the man’s hands and bringing a scream of pain. His second slug stopped the screaming.

  A raider dressed only in his filthy longhandles, but with his hands filled with .45’s faced Matt. Matt fired, and splotches of crimson dotted the underwear. The outlaw sat down in a chair and died, his chin on his chest and his hands by his side, still clutching his pistols.

  “We yield!” a man yelled, dropping his guns and flinging his hands into the air.

  “Not damn likely!” the mother said, holding a dead outlaw’s pistol in her hand. She shot the would-be rapist in the belly and doubled him over.

  “Now that there’s a hell of a woman!” Josiah said, admiration in his voice. He leveled his Peacemakers and began the final act of clearing the saloon of human crud.

  The saloon fell silent, only an occasional moan touching the quiet. The men fanned at the thick gray smoke. Sam began propping open windows to help clear the air of gun smoke. Josiah tossed the mother a serape to cover her daughter’s nakedness.

  “I’ll get the man,” Matt said. “Sam, check for wounded, will you?”

  “Personally, I hope we don’t find any.”

  “As much lead as we slung around, I doubt it,” Josiah said.

  The trading-post owner was awake and mad clear through. His jaw was swollen where he’d been hit with a pistol, but other than that, he was all right. He was cussing in Spanish as Matt untied him.

  “Two alive, so far,” Sam called.

  “I’ll get a rope,” the owner said, and Matt did not disagree. Mad as the man was, he’d be awful hard to talk out of a hanging.

  In the body-littered saloon part of the post, the man turned to his wife. “Maria, get our daughter out of here. Take her to the bedroom. I have work to do.”

  “We will witness it,” Maria said. “It is only right.”

  A hard smile appered on the man’s bruised face. “As you wish, Maria.”

  Two of the outlaws, with only minor wounds, stared at Josiah. “You’re a Texas Ranger. You cain’t let this greaser hang us.”

  “I’m Jesse James,” Josiah told him. “Personally, I think hangin’s too good for you. Ought to turn you over to the ’Paches.”

  “You ain’t Jesse James!” the other one hollered.

  “The hell I ain’t. Now, you best be makin’ your peace with God. ’Cause you ain’t got long for this world, scum.”

  Sam and Matt were busy dragging bodies out the back door.

  “You cain’t let him do this to us! It ain’t right,” the first raider bellered.

  “I ain’t got no authority to stop him neither,” Josiah said. “I’m a wanted man myself, remember?”

  “I’ll see you in hell!” the second gunhand screamed.

  “I don’t imagine you’ll be lonely there,” Josiah told him. “I’ll wave at you as I climb them golden stairs.”

  The outlaw cussed him as the post owner tied his hands behind his back and pushed him out the door.

  “Where’re you puttin’ the bodies?” Josiah asked Matt, as he returned for another load.

  “In the outhouse pit. I guess we’d better help them dig another pit and move the privy.”

  “That would be the neighborly thing to do,” Josiah agreed.

  “Halp!” the hired gun hollered as the noose was put around his neck.

  “Maria will probably cook us up some fine vittles,” Josiah said. “And I do like Mexican food.”

  The horse was slapped out from under the raider and he dangled and jerked.

  Sam looked at the remaining raider. “You’re next.”

  The man cussed him.

  Matt poured a drink and held up the shot glass. “To your health,” he toasted the raider.

  The trused-up outlaw tried to kick him.

  The post owner came in and jerked the outlaw to his boots. “Son of a puta!” he told him. “Child rapist. Let’s see how well you die.”

  The outlaw spat in the man’s face.

  “Let’s find some shovels and get this over with,” Josiah said. “I’m hungry.”

  Chapter 16

  The men worked on into the evening, digging a new pit and slinging the dirt from that hole over into the pit that contained the bodies—among other things.

  It was well after dark before they finished and could take a very welcomed hot bath and then chow down. And eat they did, with Maria fixing a feast for them. After the boy had been put to bed, the post owner looked over at Josiah and smiled.

  “I have seen pictures of Jesse James, sir. Not that it matters, for you all are saviors, but you are not Jesse James.”

  “But the boy don’t have to know that,” Josiah told him. “We’re Texas Rangers, just slightly out of our jurisdiction.”

  “Jesse James it is, then, señor. I understand, knowing how little boys love to brag of their adventures.”

  “He wouldn’t have had time to do much bragging,” Sam said. “That bunch didn’t have plans to leave any survivors behind when they left.”

  “They would have killed a child?” Maria asked.

  “Just as quick as they’d kill anything else,” Matt told her, then explained why the three of them were on their trail.

  “Monstrous!” the woman said. “To attack a funeral and shoot and kill innocent people. If I felt any guilt at all for killing that one and enjoying seeing the others hang, it is gone now.”

  “No point in feeling guilty about what happened to that bunch,” Josiah told her. “They was born to meet it.”

  Just to be on the safe side, Josiah crossed over what he believed to be the line and got back into Texas. “Some of them got away,” he said. “But we cut the numbers down a goodly bit, I’d say.�
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  “I’ll add that the survivors will probably think twice before returning to Texas,” Sam said.

  “That’s the way I like it,” Josiah said with a smile.

  Several days later, they swung down from their saddles in the yard of the Circle S. They had picked up a frame at the trading post and used one of the spare mounts as a pack horse, bringing in a lot of rifles and pistols from the dead outlaws. The horse didn’t much like it, but after a few miles, he settled down.

  “Any word from Jimmy?” Matt asked Jeff Sparks as he stepped out to greet them.

  “Not a peep. The boy’s either dead, or he’s found him a deep hole and is just waiting’ for John Lee to come into gunsights.” He eyeballed the rifles and pistols Josiah spilled onto the ground. “You boys look like you hit pay dirt. In a manner of speaking,” he added drily.

  “Close to thirty, if my tallyin’s right,” Josiah said. “What was the final count here?”

  “Nine, includin’ the two we hanged.”

  “What’s the word on John Lee?” Sam asked.

  “Still hirin’ any gun that’ll ride for him. He’s got him an army, for sure.”

  “He’s also spendin’ a lot of money,” Josiah mused aloud.

  “He’s got it to spend, Josiah. John Lee is a very wealthy man.”

  “Pitiful,” the Ranger said. “Some type of man gets some money, he seems to go crazy about wantin’ more. How’s that foolish boy of his?”

  “Crazier than ever. He was always vain about his looks, just like his father. But Matt fixed John’s looks and Sam did the same to Nick. I’m told they’re both a sight to see and listen to with no front teeth. And by the way, Bam and Pen are doing an excellent job as lawmen. I think they’ve finally found their callin’.”

  “They’re both pretty good ol’ boys,” Josiah said. “They just was ridin’ down the wrong trail for a time. And they both knew it.”

  “You boys get cleaned up. Conchita will have supper ready in a little while.”

  The next day was Sunday, so Matt and Sam were informed by Lia and Lisa, and they were all going into town for church.