Sam did, too. He said, “The Springfields. Juan Pablo’s going to get those army rifles tonight.”
Matt nodded.
“Yeah, that’s the way it sounded to me, too. We’ve got to get loose and find a way to stop him. He’s gonna get a lot of people killed for no good reason.”
As if to punctuate Matt’s statement, a swift rataplan of hoofbeats sounded in the night, fading as the riders moved away.
“That’s Juan Pablo and some of his men going to take delivery on those rifles,” Sam said.
“Yeah,” Matt agreed. “And they’ll bring ’em right back here so Juan Pablo can have his little firing squad in the morning.”
One of the men who had been brought in with Sam began to stir. He lifted his shaggy head and shook it. After a moment his bleary-eyed gaze landed on Sam.
“Thought you said these Navajo were friends of yours, Sam.”
“I said they didn’t kill us and they let Matt stay here to recover from those bullet holes. That’s a big difference from being our friends.”
“Yeah, I reckon.” The man looked at Matt with his deep-set eyes. “You’d be Matt Bodine?”
“That’s right,” Matt said. “Who are you?”
“A fella who wishes we’d gotten a mite more hospitable reception. Name’s Stovepipe Stewart.”
Sam said, “And this other fella is Wilbur Coleman.” Sam lowered his voice. “They’re range detectives, Matt. They’ve been helping me track down the men who bushwhacked us and figure out what it’s all about.”
“Stolen Springfield rifles, I’m bettin’,” Matt said.
“You’d win that bet,” said Stovepipe. “How’s Wilbur?”
“He’s breathing,” Sam said, “but he’s still out. I guess they dragged the two of you out of your saddles and walloped you with clubs, too.”
“Yeah. From the way my ol’ noggin feels, they got in some good licks, too.” Stovepipe rolled his shoulders to get some of the kinks out. “Well, you boys tell me what’s goin’ on, why don’t you?”
“Juan Pablo intends to murder us at dawn,” Matt said.
“By shooting us with those Springfields,” Sam added. “Which means he’s going to get them tonight.”
“Dang it. I guess the big boss in Flat Rock decided he didn’t need to wait no longer. Or maybe this here Juan Pablo fella sent word to him that he’s got all four of us hogtied, so he’s anxious to get rid of us while he’s got the chance.” Stovepipe sighed. “I wish we had ol’ John Henry and the boys from the Devil’s Pitchfork with us again right about now.”
“All right,” Matt said. “One of you is going to have to explain all that.”
For the next five minutes, both Sam and Stovepipe filled him in on everything that had happened since the blood brothers split up, along with explaining the theory they had worked out about some gang trying to start an Indian war so they could take over after the army forced the Navajo out of the Four Corners.
“That makes sense,” Matt said when they were finished. “Do you know who’s behind it?”
“No clue,” Stovepipe said.
Sam added, “We figure they’re operating out of the settlement, but we don’t even know that for sure.”
Wilbur groaned and started to come around. Stovepipe scooted over closer to him and said quietly, “Take it easy, pard. You’re all right. We’re sorta between a rock and a hard place at the moment, but we’ll get out of it.”
“Speakin’ of rocks, I feel like an avalanche landed on top of me,” Wilbur said. “And I’m tied up, blast it!”
“We all are,” Stovepipe told him dryly.
“Well, when we get loose, we’re gonna have a heap of score-settlin’ to do, that’s all I can say!”
“You’re right about that, pard—”
Stovepipe broke off with a sharp intake of breath as he glanced toward Matt.
A second later, Matt knew why the range detective had reacted that way. He heard the shuffle of soft footsteps behind him, and then he felt the touch of cold steel against his skin.
Chapter 33
Matt’s breath froze in his throat for a second as he felt the knife press against his wrist.
Then the blade moved, and the tug that came on one of the ropes binding him told him that the keen edge was sawing through it.
The rope parted and fell away. Whoever was wielding the knife moved on to one of the others and started cutting through it.
Matt’s hands had gone numb from being tied so tightly. As the blood began to rush back into his fingers, he felt like they were being stabbed with thousands of tiny pins.
Painful though it might be, it was a good feeling.
“I don’t know who’s back there,” he said in a half-whisper, “but I’m sure obliged to you for turning me loose.”
“I think it’s Juan Pablo’s wife,” Sam said. “I couldn’t see very well in the shadows, but it certainly looked like a woman.”
The last of the ropes came loose. After the ordeal of that long, blistering day he had gone through, he almost fell without their support.
He caught himself and half-turned, reaching out to grasp the stake to which he had been tied. Bracing himself with that grip, he looked into the stolid face of the Navajo woman who had fed him and tended to his wounds.
“Gracias,” he told her. Maybe she would understand his gratitude if he expressed it in Spanish. He waved his free hand toward the other prisoners. “Can you cut my friends loose, too?”
Before Juan Pablo’s wife could even take a step in their direction, Sam said, “Matt, somebody’s coming!”
Matt bit back a curse. He straightened and grabbed the knife away from the woman. She let him take it, willingly.
“Better get back in the hogan,” he said. “You don’t want them knowing you helped us, whoever it is.”
She might not have understood the words, but fear was universal. She turned and scurried into the earthen dwelling, the long skirt rustling around her legs as she moved.
Matt heard voices coming closer. There wasn’t time to cut Sam, Stovepipe, and Wilbur loose from their bonds before the men got there.
So, clutching the knife, Matt broke into a shambling run that carried him around the hogan and out of the circle of light cast by the fire.
He leaned against the hogan to catch his breath. Even that momentary burst of action had winded him.
As he stood there, he heard startled yells from the returning guards when they realized he was gone. The men shouted what sounded like questions at Sam and the other two prisoners, who didn’t respond.
At any moment now, they would come searching for him, Matt thought. He drew himself deeper into the shadows behind the hogan and waited.
The angry voices split up, which was a lucky break for Matt. As weak as he was, he couldn’t have fought two men at once. He knew he’d be doing good to deal with one of the guards.
His fingers tightened on the handle of the knife as one of the men came around the hogan toward him. They probably thought he had fled, abandoning the others, and wouldn’t expect to find him lurking so close by.
The man’s footsteps thudded on the ground. Matt saw him loom up out of the darkness.
He struck without warning as the guard stepped past him, bringing down the butt end of the knife’s handle against the back of the Navajo’s head. The blow drove the man to his knees. Matt kicked him in the back and sent him sprawling. His rifle clattered on the ground.
Matt sprang forward and grabbed the weapon. A shot might rouse others along the creek, so he used the stock to knock the guard out cold.
Panting from the exertion, Matt turned from the unconscious man just in time to see the other guard charging at him from the shadows.
He still had hold of the rifle, so he thrust it out in front of him like a spear. The second Navajo’s momentum carried him into the barrel, which dug deep into his belly and doubled him over. Matt stepped forward and brought his knee up, catching the man under the chin.
Matt fell against the hogan. Battling the two men had taken every bit of his strength.
But he had to summon up more from somewhere, he told himself, because Sam and the two range detectives were still prisoners. With a groan, Matt pushed himself away from the hogan and started around it at a shambling run.
He emerged into the firelight and was almost at the entrance when Elizabeth Fleming ran out of the hogan and almost collided with him. She grabbed his arm to steady herself and exclaimed, “Oh!”
“Are you ... all right?” Matt asked, still breathless and dizzy.
“Yes, Josefina just untied me.”
Matt had to think for a second to remember that Josefina was the name of Juan Pablo’s wife. He had heard it used only occasionally.
From the ground nearby, Sam asked, “Matt, what happened to those two guards?”
“They’re both ... knocked out ... for now.”
“Better cut us loose while you got the chance,” Stovepipe said.
“Give me the knife,” Elizabeth suggested. “You look like you’re about to fall down, Matt.”
“Feel like it ... too.” He pressed the knife into her hands. “Be careful, but ... don’t waste any time.”
As Elizabeth took the knife and knelt beside Sam, Matt saw movement from the corner of his eye and turned to look toward the hogan’s entrance. He saw the woman emerging from the dwelling with her arms full of gunbelts and holstered revolvers.
“Son of a gun!” Matt said as he recognized his own twin Colts. “They were ... hidden in there ... the whole time!”
The woman practically dumped the weapons into his hands. He staggered a little under their weight.
When Matt turned toward the prisoners again, he saw that Elizabeth had succeeded in freeing Sam. His blood brother leaped to his feet and flexed his hands a few times to get the blood flowing in them again.
“Give me my gun,” he said as he came over to Matt.
Sam took his gunbelt and strapped it around his hips. Stovepipe was free by then, and he hurried over to retrieve his revolver as well, followed by Wilbur.
Matt felt strength flow back into him as he buckled on the pair of Colts. It might not be real—the return of his guns had buoyed his spirits, and that could account for the fresh energy—but for now he would take it.
“I’m not sure what’s goin’ on here,” he said, “but it sure does feel good to be free again.”
“You can thank Josefina for that,” Elizabeth said. She still clutched the knife, which Matt now recognized as Sam’s bowie. “It was her idea to cut you loose and to untie me.”
“Why would she betray her husband like that?” Sam asked as he took the knife from Elizabeth and slid it into the sheath attached to his gunbelt.
With a grim little smile, Elizabeth said, “It was either that or cut my throat, and don’t think she didn’t consider doing that instead.”
“But why?” Matt asked.
“She freed us so you can take me out of the canyon and get me far away from Juan Pablo.”
“Oh,” Matt said as understanding dawned on him.
“What’re you talkin’ about?” Wilbur said. “You mean—Oh, shoot!”
His face was already red in the firelight. It became more so as he flushed.
“Yes, he was going to take me as a second wife once his armed uprising succeeded. Josefina doesn’t want that. So she thought that if she turned you loose, you’d escape and take me with you.”
“She was right about that,” Matt said. “Where are our horses?”
Elizabeth took hold of his arm.
“Come on, I’ll show you.”
The group hurried along the creek for a quarter of a mile, then Elizabeth led them to a brush corral where a number of horses milled around. It was dark away from the fire in front of Juan Pablo’s hogan, but Elizabeth had been here in the canyon for months and knew her way around, even when she had to navigate by starlight.
“Our horses still have the saddles on them, Matt,” Sam said, “but I don’t see yours.”
“That’s all right,” Matt told him. “I can ride bareback if it means getting out of here.” He paused. “We have to stop Juan Pablo, Sam. If he gets his hands on those rifles, innocent folks will die.”
“I know,” Sam agreed. “But I’m not sure where we’ll find the place the gang plans to deliver them.”
Stovepipe said, “I reckon if it was me, I’d head for the spot where they planned to turn ’em over to the Navajo the first time ... that bluff where you two boys got bushwhacked to start this fandango.”
Matt and Sam exchanged a glance and nodded to each other.
“It’s worth a try,” Sam said. “Let’s get mounted up. Elizabeth, you can take one of the saddled horses. I’ll ride bareback, like Matt.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” Sam told her with a grin. “Remember, I’m half-Cheyenne. I was riding without a saddle almost before I could walk.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Matt said.
The horses inside the corral were nervous, but Sam, Stovepipe, and Wilbur were adept at handling them. They moved the brush gate aside and led out the animals they wanted, and a moment later all five riders were mounted.
“We’ll have to get past the guards at the mouth of the canyon,” Sam said. “They’re not expecting trouble from in here—”
As if to give the lie to his words, shouts of alarm suddenly rang out, echoing back from the canyon walls. The two guards Matt had knocked out must have regained consciousness.
“Blast it!” Matt exclaimed. “I should’ve cut their throats, or at least gagged them!”
“I’m glad you didn’t kill them,” Elizabeth said. “Juan Pablo is leading them into trouble, but they’re not bad people at heart.”
Stovepipe said, “No offense, ma’am, but I reckon they’ll ventilate us if they get half a chance.”
“We’ll have to try not to give them a chance,” Sam said. He urged his horse into a gallop. “Let’s go!”
Chapter 34
Zack Jardine tossed back the glass of whiskey and thumped the empty onto the table.
“Angus should have been back by now,” he said with a dark scowl. “Something happened out there.”
Dave Snyder, Joe Hutto, and Doyle Hilliard were sitting at the table with Jardine. Hilliard, who was Braverman’s best friend, leaned forward and with a worried frown on his face asked, “You want me to take a ride out to that mesa, Zack? I can find out what’s goin’ on.”
Jardine considered the suggestion for a moment, then shook his head.
“No. The cattle don’t matter that much. We’re gonna get those rifles in the hands of the Navajo tonight, and by this time tomorrow, the war will be started and nothing can stop it.”
Hilliard, Snyder, and Hutto looked surprised. This was the first they had heard about delivering the rifles to the Indians tonight. They had to be wondering how the arrangements had been made, since Jardine had been right here in Flat Rock all day.
Jardine smiled faintly at that thought. He liked to keep a few of his cards close to the vest, and one of them was the fact that he had a partner in this enterprise, a partner none of the other men knew about.
That partner was the one who had ridden out and met with Juan Pablo earlier today, after Two Wolves had formed that unlikely alliance with the Devil’s Pitchfork crew.
When Jardine had heard about that, he had known that it was time to make their biggest move yet in this game. Being cautious was all well and good, but at some point decisive action was needed.
This was that point.
“Go down to the Mexican’s place and get the wagon ready,” Jardine went on. “Bring it to the alley behind the saloon, and we’ll go get the guns.”
His men didn’t know where the rifles were hidden. Only Jardine and his partner knew that, because they had unloaded the crates af
ter the first attempt to deliver the rifles to the Navajo.
The time for secrecy was over, though.
“All right, boss,” Snyder said. “Do we get all the other fellas who are in town together?”
“That’s right. We’ll all ride out with the wagon.”
That was only seven or eight men. The other members of the gang were either wounded or out at the mesa with the rustled cattle.
But that ought to be enough, Jardine told himself. Nobody knew what was really going on here, so they couldn’t prepare for it.
The three men hurried out of the Buckingham Palace. Jardine poured himself another drink and leaned back in his chair to enjoy it. His gaze roamed across the room and lingered on the beautiful Lady Augusta Winslow, who stood at the bar talking to one of the bartenders.
Jardine’s eyes narrowed. Once he was the King of the Four Corners, that lovely but stuck-up British bitch would be his for the taking. She wouldn’t dare turn him down. He had made a few advances already, only to be politely rebuffed.
She would learn, he thought. He would do the teaching, and it would be a lesson Lady Augusta would never forget.
He’d intended to sip the whiskey this time, but thinking about what he would do with the Englishwoman made him swallow the fiery stuff fast. He stood up and went out the side door, then along the alley to the back of the building.
His men showed up with the wagon about ten minutes later, with Hilliard at the reins. Jardine climbed to the seat and took over the team, forcing Hilliard aside. He was the only one who knew where he was going.
He drove along the back alley behind the buildings along Flat Rock’s main street. When he came to one of the larger buildings, he brought the vehicle to a stop and got down. The building was made of boards freighted in from Phoenix. The floor sat on piers, so there was a crawl space underneath it.
Jardine went up some steps to a small rear porch and knocked on the door there. A moment later it opened and a man stepped out.
“It’s time,” Jardine said. “Let’s get those rifles out.”
“Of course,” Noah Reilly said. “I’ll be glad to get them out of here.”
Blood Bond: Arizona Ambush Page 19