Ralph Compton Ride the Hard Trail

by Ralph Compton

  Chancy supposed he should be grateful that the good citizens of Mason were not taking a hand. The way his luck was going, they would probably side with Bass, and then where would he be?

  From the other side of the street came a scraping noise.

  Chancy held the Colt with both hands to steady his aim, but no one appeared. Maybe Lute Bass was trying to draw him into the open.

  “Can you hear me, boy?”

  The shout came from off to the left, from the vicinity of a pair of ramshackle cabins.

  “Can you hear me?” the killer asked a second time.

  “What do you want?” Chancy responded. He suspected Bass was in a cluster of trees between the cabins.

  “To offer you a chance to give up.”

  “Don’t hold your breath!” Chancy yelled.

  “I do not want to be at this all night, boy. Throw out your pistol, and come out with your hands over your head, and I will let you live.”

  “You must think I have no brains at all,” Chancy said.

  “I am doing you a favor. We both know it is only a matter of time before I give you what you gave Rufus.”

  “You will try.”

  A string of oaths amused Chancy. A man in Bass’ trade had no business being so temperamental.

  “Listen to me, youngster. I am an old hand at this. I could carve seventeen notches on my revolvers if I wanted, but I have always thought that is too showy.”

  “You are a saint,” Chancy responded.

  “I am practical. I do not want anyone to try and make their reputation at my expense. I go up against enough lunkheads like you without inviting more.”

  “‘Those who live by the gun die by the gun,’ “Chancy quoted what someone had once told him.

  “I would rather do what I am doing, living as I damn well please, than live to old age under the heel of someone else. I have my principles.”

  It had never occurred to Chancy that hired assassins might have scruples. “Next you will tell me you go to church,” he scoffed.

  “I did when I was little,” Lute Bass said. “Ma made me. She made all of us. We did not have shoes or socks, but she would line us up, single file, and march us to church as if we were soldiers going off to war. During the sermon she would say ‘Amen!’ with the rest of the congregation and smack those of us who did not do the same.”

  Chancy could not understand why Bass was telling him all this. He did not give a good damn about Bass’ childhood.

  “I was more black and blue after a church service than I was after most of the fights I have been in,” Lute Bass went on. “My ma never was bashful about hitting us. On the street, in the general store, in church, whenever she felt we deserved it, she hauled off and walloped us.”

  “Too bad she did not use an ax,” Chancy hollered.

  Lute Bass laughed. “She would have done you a favor, huh? But for all her faults, our ma cared for us. How about your ma? Did she look out for you?”

  Chancy almost smacked his ears to be sure he was hearing right. What on earth did Bass care about him and his mother? “Are you drunk?”

  “It takes more than half a bottle to put me under the table,” Lute Bass bragged.

  Chancy was trying to spot Bass in the trees but couldn’t. He decided to keep him talking. Cupping a hand to his mouth, he said, “How about if I do you a favor?”

  “This should be interesting. I am listening.”

  “Holster your pistol and ride out, and there will be no hard feelings,” Chancy said. “I will let you live.”

  “You will let me live?” Lute Bass roared with mirth. “Damn, boy. You are the funniest pup I have ever had to rub out. I thank you for the offer, but this is to the death.”

  “Are you as agreeable when you smother kittens?” Chancy taunted. But he did not feel as lighthearted as he let on. Something was bothering him. A vague worry gnawed at the back of his mind, a sense that all was not well. He scanned the street but did not see anyone.

  “Still there, boy?”

  Chancy did not answer.

  “Bryce?” Bass shouted urgently. “Answer me!”

  Chancy’s vague worry grew stronger. He rose from behind the barrel and backed toward the corner. He was so intent on the trees that he did not pay any attention to the darkness close at hand. Suddenly it disgorged a shambling apparition that tittered like a lunatic.

  A revolver spat flame and lead, and a searing pain speared through Chancy. He fired back.

  It was Mort! But Mort was dead, Chancy thought. He had seen him fall with his own eyes.

  As if the killer could read Chancy’s thoughts, he said, “Always be sure, boy, or you will regret it.” He squeezed off another shot.

  Chancy was hit again. He responded in kind and had the satisfaction of seeing Mort crumble for the second time that night. He moved toward him to be sure, but rapid footfalls bore down on him from the rear. Chancy whirled, or tried to, but his legs would not cooperate.

  Lute Bass had a Remington in each hand. Both became slug-spewing thunderbolts.

  Hot pokers seared Chancy’s body. He squeezed off a shot. Squeezed off another. The Remingtons echoed his Colt. Lute Bass seemed to be falling in slow motion. Chancy extended his arm to take aim, but the world was fading. He felt himself strike the ground.

  Then there was nothing—nothing at all.

  The children were asleep. The house stood quiet under the stars. Except for the occasional yip of a coyote and the low of a cow, the ranch was as peaceful as could be.

  Etta June did not feel at peace. She sat in the rocking chair on the porch, a rifle across her legs, and slowly rocked. This was one of her favorite times of the day, after the kids were tucked in, when she had precious time to herself—when she could relax and think and plan. Although tonight, as with every night since Lin had left, she could not relax no matter how she tried.

  She rocked and stared and hoped, and marveled that she hoped. Her wonder was natural, given that she was not the sort given to romantic whimsy.

  Etta June prided herself on having a clear, level head. When she fell in love with Tom Sr., she fell in love in a levelheaded way. He appealed to her practical side because he was practical himself. Even his courting was practical. He never brought her flowers, and only once took her to a church social. After they were married, he indulged in intimacy once a month and only once a month. Again, that was his practical side showing itself in his wish to have a family.

  But this was different. Lin stirred Etta June in ways she had never been stirred. She thought of him when she was not with him. She daydreamed of doing things with him she never daydreamed of doing with Tom.

  It was all the more surprising because Etta June had known him such a short while. She had known Tom for years before he proposed. Yet already she was thinking of how it would be to have Lin in the empty rocking chair next to hers, rocking at her side.

  A sound stiffened her.

  Etta June half rose, then sat back down. Hooves slowly clomped toward her—a single horse and rider. She put her hand on her rifle. A round was already in the chamber and the hammer was pulled back, so all she had to do was snap it to her shoulder and fire.

  The man and the animal came out of the night, so plainly exhausted that when the man drew rein, both looked fit to collapse.

  “Mrs. Cather.”

  “Have you forgotten already? It is Etta June and only Etta June.”

  Lin stiffly dismounted and came up on the porch. “I have been in fear for you. I am glad you are all right. If that is too bold, I apologize.”

  “You know how I feel. How can it be bold?”

  “I have some notion,” Lin said. “But we have never said the words, so I cannot be sure.”

  Etta June leaned the rifle against the rail. She got out of the chair, walked up to him, placed her hands around his neck and kissed him full on the lips. She kissed him long and she kissed him hard, and when she was done, they were both breathing heavier. “Does that settle it in yo
ur head for once and for all?”

  “It does, and I thank you.” Lin enfolded her in his big arms and asked into her hair, “Are the children all right?”

  That was when Etta June let herself think the word her heart had already formed. Her tongue felt thick as she said, “You are a fine man, Lin Gray.”

  Lin trembled slightly. “Bryce.”

  “How is that again?”

  “My real handle is Lin Bryce. I am wanted by the law for killing two men down Cheyenne way.”

  Etta June barely hesitated. “I do not care.”

  “A banker came to repossess our ranch, and my brother started shoving, and one thing led to another.”

  “Again, I do not care. What is past is past. We are now.”

  “I thought you should know,” Lin said softly. “It is the first and only lie I will ever tell you.”

  “I am grateful,” Etta June said, choking up.

  “That is not all. I have had to kill again. Seth Montfort did not take kindly to your message.”

  Etta June listened to his recital of events. Her eyes moistened and she said in heartfelt sorrow, “Pat and Sue?” When he was done, she clasped his hand and brought him over to the parlor window so the light from within spilled over his face. She saw what they had done, and her love swelled until it was boundless. “I will kill him myself if he comes here.”

  “No, you will not. I will spare you that burden.” Lin paused and gazed toward the stable. “Where is my brother? He is supposed to be looking out for you.”

  Etta June squeezed his hand tighter. “You are not the only one who makes mistakes. I was afraid he would go to Montfort’s and get himself killed, so I sent him into Mason to take his mind off his worry.” She paused. Something did not feel right about his hand. She raised it into the light. “Lord, no,” she breathed. “They did this, too?”

  “The butler mistook me for a chicken.”

  “Oh, Lin,” Etta June said, and kissed him again. Afraid she would burst into tears, she remarked, “Your brother should have been back by now.”

  “He is a grown man,” Lin said. “Or almost.”

  “We can go into Mason ourselves if you want.”

  “Not with Montfort about to move on the Dixons. I gave them my word I would be there to help. I head out at dawn.”

  “We head out,” Etta June said. “And you will sleep in an extra hour and have breakfast before we go.”

  Lin grinned. “A man steps into your loop and all of a sudden you are bossing him around.”

  “I am female,” Etta June said. “And I thank you for the step.”

  They shared their third kiss, the longest yet. When the ardor passed, Etta June rested her cheek on his broad chest. “Are you sure about this? I demand a lot from my men.”

  “You are worth the demands.” Lin kissed her forehead. “I am a simple man. You are getting the worst of the bargain.”

  “No more talk like that, ever,” Etta June said. “And you must make me a promise.”

  “Anything.”

  “Do not die on me. It is new for us, but it is strong, and it would crush me if you died.”

  “If I can help it, I will go on breathing for you.” Lin coughed. “I suppose I should bed down my horse.”

  “Bed yourself down,” Etta June said. “I will see to him.”

  Lin grinned down at her. “Will you always take this good care of me?”

  “Until the day I die.”

  Lin went in.

  Etta June took her rifle and led the buttermilk toward the stable. Midway there she looked up at the heavens. “Thank you,” she said.

  Chapter 31

  Lin was awake, but he did not open his eyes. He felt too good, too wonderfully comfortable and warm, and he did not want to spoil the feeling. He was happy, truly happy for the first time in years. He could not remember the last time he had felt this good. Grinning, he nuzzled the pillow, his stubble rasping on the cover.

  Then someone coughed and a small voice said, “Are you awake yet? Ma sent us to fetch you.”

  Lin’s eyes snapped open.

  They were over by the door, brother and sister, smiling a trifle nervously.

  “Ma says you should wash up and come down to breakfast,” Beth told him.

  “She says you can take your time,” Tom Jr. added. “And that you can put on some of Pa’s clothes if you want.”

  “Thank you,” Lin said.

  They turned to go, but Beth looked back and hesitated. “Are you going to be our new pa?”

  “Yes,” Lin said. There was no doubt, not after last night.

  “Will you treat us like our pa treated us?” Tom asked.

  “He was awful nice,” Beth added.

  “I can never be him,” Lin said. “But I promise you I will be the best pa I can be.”

  They smiled and departed.

  Lin smiled too. He was on the threshold of a new life, of having a wife and kids and a ranch, everything he had ever truly wanted. All he had to do was live long enough to step over that threshold. Casting off the blanket, he sat up and scratched his chin. Yes, he definitely needed a shave.

  The aromas of eggs and bacon and coffee greeted him when he made his way downstairs. He had washed and used his razor, but he wore his own clothes. He did not feel entirely right wearing Tom Sr.’s. Not yet, anyway.

  They were at the table, waiting. The chair at the head had been pushed back for him. Lin sat and saw Beth reach for a fork. “Grace first, don’t you think?”

  Etta June was radiant. She did the honors, then passed him a bowl heaped with scrambled eggs, a plate piled high with bacon and another heaped with toast.

  “Land sakes,” Lin said. “Do you always eat this much?”

  “We have healthy appetites.”

  “A year of this, and I will be a hog,” Lin joked. “You can take me to market and sell me for top dollar.”

  The kids laughed, and Etta June’s eyes mirrored the depths of her affection. For a while all was well with Lin’s world. He ate until he was fit to burst and washed the food down with hot black coffee. When he was done, he smacked his lips and sat back. “A man could get used to this.”

  “A woman hopes so,” Etta June said.

  “Do you want me to get the buckboard ready, Pa?” Tom Jr. asked. “Ma told us we are going to visit the Dixons.”

  “I am not your pa yet,” Lin said. “So Lin will do for now.”

  “Mr. Bryce,” Etta June corrected him. “I will have manners and common courtesy.”

  “Yes, Ma,” Tom said.

  “And I would rather ride than take a wagon,” Lin mentioned. For Etta June’s benefit, he noted, “The faster we get there, the better.”

  Etta June smiled at her offspring. “Why don’t you two scoot to the stable, and I will be there in a minute? I have something to say to Mr. Bryce.”

  Dutifully, they scampered out.

  Lin refilled his coffee cup to hide his unease. “Did I say something wrong? I am new at this.”

  “You told them you will be their new pa.”

  “I am sorry. That was yours to do, wasn’t it?”

  “When?” Etta June said.

  “When what?”

  “When do you intend to become their new pa? We should set a date.”

  Lin was flabbergasted. “You do not let any grass grow under you, do you? How about a year from now? I will court you and we will get engaged and have a church wedding with all the trimmings.”

  “I was thinking next week.”

  “What?”

  “All right. Two weeks, if you want, but no more than that. And a justice of the peace will do.”

  “What?”

  “Why do you keep saying that?”

  “Two weeks!” Lin exclaimed. “That is hardly any time at all. Won’t folks talk? We should do it proper.”

  “Do you want me or not?” Etta June asked.

  “More than anything in the world,” Lin confessed.

  “I would do it
tomorrow, but we have this Montfort business to settle. As for folks talking, which folks are you talking about? Abe Tucker and those in Mason? Abe is nice enough, but the rest I do not know, and what any of them think counts for less than a cow patty. As for proper, when you are in love, love is all the proper you need.”

  “You sure have a way of putting things,” Lin marveled.

  “If I am wrong in any respect, dispute me.”

  Lin reached across the table, she did the same and their fingers entwined in the middle. “I will do what you want, when you want. Forgive me if I am rattled. I have not done this before.”

  “I have had one husband, but I am as bewildered as you,” Etta June said. “I never thought the miracle would happen twice. It is the same and yet it is different, if that makes any sense.”

  “Two weeks,” Lin said again, quietly.

  “We can make it two weeks and a day if you are scared,” Etta June teased.

  “What about after?”

  Etta June blushed. “Now, that was bold. Don’t expect me to be any less nervous than I was on my first wedding night.”

  “No, no, no,” Lin said, and grew warm with embarrassment. “That is not what I meant. Newlyweds do something special, don’t they? I could take you to visit the geysers and whatnot.” He had heard that was a popular pastime.

  “We have a roundup to finish and cattle to ready for market,” Etta June said. “Geysers are not as important as keeping our ranch afloat.”

  A longing filled Lin, a longing such as he had never known. She had said “our.” “You will not regret this.”

  Etta June grinned. “I better not. I own a rolling pin.”

  “You will be a handful,” Lin predicted, grinning. He did not want to let go of her hand, but he did.

  “I better get to the stable,” Etta June said, rising. She set down her napkin and looked into his eyes. “About after the vows.” She blushed again. “I am not prissy.”

  “Oh, my,” Lin said. He watched her walk out, gladness filling his heart, and his eyes started to moisten. Coughing, he shook himself and gulped a mouthful of coffee. “If this is what love is,” he said to the cup, “it is glorious.”

  He had not worn his Colt to breakfast; he did not think Etta June would think it fitting. Now he went back to the bedroom and strapped it on. As he turned to go, he caught his reflection in the mirror. “I should pinch myself to see if I am dreaming,” he told his image. But he didn’t. If it was a dream, he preferred the dream to the reality.