“I think Caleb rode out there tonight,” Blake said bursting through the door.
“Damn it to hell,” Johansson said. “That’s going to change things. Let’s go.” He snatched up his rifles and they all made for the barn.
The livery was alive with men saddling horses and preparing to ride. Bull pawed impatiently at the ground as Blake approached. Blake’s head pounded and his body objected to the recent exertion he was placing on it. He stopped and leaned against Bull to brace himself. His skin looked pale because of the bruising which had turned a sickly yellow-green color. Johansson strolled over and looked concerned. “You really look like buffalo shit.”
Blake inhaled deeply and blew it out. “Good, I hate to give off any false impressions.”
“Nobody would fault you for stayin’ behind.”
Blake drew himself up to full height and turned his head to Johansson, the expression on his face left no doubt in the sheriff’s mind that staying back was not an option. In fact, they would all probably be behind him.
“You got sand, Thorton,” the sheriff admired. “Let’s go get this peckerwood.”
******
Blake checked his watch, it was quarter to four, he figured about two hours to sunrise. They wanted to get there under cover of darkness and get a plan in place. Time was running short. The posse got mounted and followed Johansson at a fast gallop out of town.
“I’m takin’ a gamble he’s at his daddy’s ranch. No time to follow tracks,” he yelled to Blake.
“Works for me,” Blake called back. The horses thundered along, each with a man whose face was set with determination. The posse covered the distance quickly and Johansson brought them all to a halt and let the horses blow. “If I’m right, they’ll have a man waitin’ at the turn to warn them that we’re comin’. I’ll go ahead on foot and take him out, the rest of you come up slowly and don’t make no noise,” Johansson ordered.
“Beggin’ your pardon, suh,” Sam said. “I’s can sneaks up on him quicker than you. I’s needs to borra a knife, please.”
“I can do it,” Johansson said. “I‘ve had to kill more than one Comanche in my time.”
“Yes, suh, but I’s snuck up on a fox who was killin’ my chickens just yesterday. Kilt him dead, too,” Sam said quietly.
“Damn that’s good, son. All right, the job’s yours.”
Blake took out a ten-inch razor sharp bowie knife from his sheath and handed it to Sam. “Don’t kill him unless you have to.”
Taking the knife Sam said, “Yes, suh.” He cat footed away at a quick trot not making a sound, it was as though the night swallowed him up.
“Spooky son-of-a-gun ain’t he,” Johansson said. “The rest of you follow me and no talkin’.”
They followed silently at a walk to give Sam the time he needed. Sam padded along the trail, keeping low and moving fast. The road took a turn and he crouched down listening carefully. Up ahead he saw movement in the bushes and could see the faint glow of a quirley that the guard was smoking. Sam moved slowly and closed the gap on his prey. A rabbit hopped out onto the trail and sat munching on some grass. The guard was startled and chuckled to himself when he saw what made the noise. Sitting back he sighed heavily. It felt like a breeze in the back of his neck when Sam whispered, “You jest sits real quiet now.” He could feel the edge of a knife pressing against his throat. He started to say something and Sam whispered, “Hush now.” The guard nodded his head and, like a blur, Sam brought the hilt of the knife crashing down on the back of his head knocking him out cold. He dragged him back in the bushes and quickly bound his hands and feet. Sam removed the man’s neckerchief and gagged him. Stepping out on the road he waited for the posse to get there. Ten minutes later he heard them approaching and padded back up the trail. Keeping in the shadows he stepped out and said, “I knocked him out, suh.”
He startled Johansson who hissed, “Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat. Next time whistle or somethin’.”
Sam grinned and handed Blake his knife back. “They’s good places to hide up ahead, we is real close.”
******
“We’ll walk the rest of the way,” Johansson said in a hushed voice. Quietly as they could, the men dismounted and crept up to the bend. Blake took a pair of field glasses out of his saddlebags and Johansson got his spyglass. When they rounded the bend the ranch came into view. Blake figured they still had a half hour till sunrise. Propping himself on a large boulder he surveyed the area. The main house had several lanterns lit and two on the front porch. Blake saw Caleb’s body hanging by his hands, his shirt was torn off and Blake could see welts on his back from being whipped. He watched for a while and saw Caleb shift his weight trying to relieve the strain on his arms. “He’s alive,” Blake said quietly gritting his teeth. “Looks like they whipped him some.”
Johansson peered through his spyglass. “I think I see one on the water tower and the bunkhouse is lit up.” He felt a tap on his shoulder and Hap said, “Let me have a look.”
Johansson handed him the spyglass and Hap whispered, “One on the tower and one in each of the lofts in the barns. I see there be a bunch more scattered around them wagons and such. If’n I had to guess, they about twelve or thirteen down there, and they is forted up nice.”
“How do you want to play this, Sheriff?” Blake asked.
“I’ve brought my buffalo rifle, but need to get closer,” he replied weighing the options. “That’s seven hundred yards from here.”
“What caliber?” Hap asked.
“Forty-five ninety. Why?”
“Vernier sights?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s eight hundred twenty yards I reckon, I can make from right here,” Hap said confidently.
“You can make an eight-hundred-yard shot?” the sheriff asked disbelieving.
“If the wind is right, I can widen your peehole,” Hap smirked. “I did me some sniper shootin’ in the war. Knocked a Yankee general right out of his saddle once at fifteen hundred yards. No offense, Mr. Thorton.”
“None taken,” Blake said. “Sheriff, I have an idea if you want to hear it.” Johansson nodded his head and continued to stare at Hap. “If we can, we’ll get some men to sneak around and take out the men in the lofts. Hap can take out the one on the water tower and maybe in the yard. You and I will ride down and see if Tom will come peaceably. I’ll tie a white flag on the barrel of my rifle, if I drop it, we commence shootin’.”
The men stood around refining the plan a little and then split up. Sam, Al Conner, Joe, and Avery went with Mike Ventosa and made a wide loop to the back of the barns. Dan, Josh and the bartender circled around the other side to the back of the house and bunkhouse. Blake and Johansson waited with Hap, trying to give the men as much time as they could to get into position. The sky had the gray streaks of morning starting to show and soon the orange arc of the sun came up behind the ranch. Blake sat the whole time watching Caleb, his stomach tightened every time he moved. Blake wanted to get moving but he knew he had to wait. Finally Johansson stood closing his spyglass. “The men are in position. Let’s get this over with.”
Blake stood and walked over to Bull. “If I make it out of this, you and I are going to have a long, serious talk.” Bull shook his head and tried to nip Blake’s leg.
“You talk to your horse?” Johansson asked as he got mounted.
“Yup, I blame him for all this trouble,” Blake replied
“Someday you’ll have to explain that to me,” the sheriff said clucking to his roan. He stopped next to Hap and said, “Are you sure you can make that shot? Our lives depend on it you know.”
Hal picked up a handful of sand and let it slip from his fingers. Adjusting the sight a little, he said, “Yup.”
Blake looked at Johansson who just smiled. Without a word they started down to the ranch.
Chapter 21
In the house Troy burst into the study. “They’s comin’,” he yelled. Ian got up from hi
s chair and picked up a shotgun. He calmly checked the loads and walked confidently to the front door with Tom close behind. Les and Troy were already on the porch at either ends. Troy was closest to Caleb with a shotgun pointed at him. When Ian saw only two riders he grew concerned, he expected many more.
In the nearest barn, Sam was busy tying up the ranch hand in the loft as Joe used the butt of his rifle to knock out the man hiding below. In the barn farthest away Avery threw a rope around the neck of the man hiding up there and, pulling back sharply, he pulled from the mow to the floor below. Al Conner had slipped when he went to grab his man and they were wrestling on the floor. Avery picked up an axe handle and tried to hit him but they rolled over too soon and he knocked out Al instead. Realizing his mistake he swung again and cold cocked the right one. He grabbed a bucket of water and threw it on Al. “Good thing I came along,” Avery whispered, “he almost had ya.”
Al sat up with Avery’s help and rubbed his head, “Thanks, Pard.”
Blake and the sheriff trotted up to the house. Blake was holding his Winchester rifle resting on his leg with the barrel pointed straight up in the air. A white rag was tied on it and waved gently in the breeze.
Ian stood on the porch like a statue, legs apart, hand on his hip and the other holding his shotgun over his shoulder. His face looked like it was chiseled from stone. Tom leaned against the doorway with a cocky grin on his face. Caleb weakly spun towards Blake with the slightest trace of a smile. Johansson spoke first. “Ain’t no use dancin’ around it,” he said plainly. “I’m here to take Tom in on charges of assault, attempted rape and murder.”
“Aye,” Ian replied, “my son has told me the tale, but he won’t be leavin’ till he has a lawyer.”
“He will get a fair trial, but he’s coming with us. I can’t take the chance of him runnin’ off.”
“He has given his word that he will stay,” Ian said firmly.
“His word means shit,” Blake growled. “You can’t protect him anymore.”
“He is my only son, I will do what is necessary to makes sure he comes to no harm,” Ian growled back. “Be on your way.”
“Last chance, MacIntyre,” Johansson said firmly.
“No.”
Blake smiled casually and lowered his rifle barrel. A second later Troy Palmer lurched back, smashing against the house and fell dead face first on the porch. The boom of the buffalo rifle was heard a second later. Ian started to bring down his shotgun so Johansson drew and fired, hitting him high in the shoulder. Blake brought his rifle up and snapped a quick shot at Tom who was diving inside the door. Both Blake and Johansson dived from their horses as Les Palmer leveled his pistol and took aim at the sheriff. A forty five caliber slug from the buffalo rifle smashed into the post spraying splinters in his face causing him to jerk the trigger. The slug burned across Johansson’s thigh. Les stood disoriented and stepped away from the post and a second later his head exploded. Gun fire erupted around the ranch. Lead was buzzing around like angry bees.
Blake jumped up, drew his knife and, leaping up the steps, he cut the rope holding Caleb, lowering him to the ground. Johansson pushed him away. “Go get Tom!” he yelled,” I got the boy.” The man on the water tower screamed as another slug from Hap bored its way into his chest. He fell from the tower dead.
Josh Dooley nodded to Dan as he made his way to a window of the bunkhouse. He ripped open the shutter and shot one of the ranch hands in the upper arm while Dan kicked in the front door leveling his pistol. The two remaining men turned and Dan said, “I wouldn’t if I were you.” They dropped their guns and held up their hands.
Gun fire became more sporadic and Mike Ventosa yelled from the loft, “Any man who doesn’t want any part of this can leave, just chuck your guns out and show yourselves.” The men who were alive threw out their guns and came out slowly. Three of them were wounded and being helped by the others.
Johansson had pushed Caleb under the porch and hobbled up the steps to help Blake. Caleb reached down and pulled the knife Blake had given him and stuck in a wood post blade up. He began sawing at the ropes holding his wrists. Inside Blake was moving cautiously through the house. Johansson came in and worked his way from room to room. Blake stopped and called out, “You see them?”
“Nope,” said Iver darting into another room. As he poked his head around the corner he saw Ian with a crazed look in his eyes. Ducking back, Johansson yelled, “It’s over Ian, c’mon out.”
“He’s my boy,” Ian yelled back, “you’ll not have him.” He fired a shotgun blast into the wall where Johansson had been standing. Johansson fell into the door way and shot at Ian, hitting a kerosene lamp on the table. Fire erupted from the spraying oil and onto Ian’s clothes. Ian screamed loudly and Johansson shot him again, finishing him. Back in the kitchen Tom hid as Blake poked his head around the doorway. Tom snapped a quick shot at him and ran for the backdoor. Bits of plaster stung Blake’s eyes and he tried to clear them as he made his way to the door. Tom ran down the side of the house and spotted Caleb crawling out from under the porch. Tom grabbed a handful of his hair and stood him up. Jamming the barrel under his chin he yelled, “I got the boy, I’ll kill him!”
The members of the posse gathered around all pointing guns at him. Tom backed up against the burning house. Smoke poured from the windows and the fire raged inside. Blake came around the corner holding his pistol and Johansson came out the front door. “Nowhere to go, Tom,” he said calmly. “Turn the boy loose.”
“I want a horse, or I’ll blow his brains out,” he cried.
Tom was too busy watching all the guns on him to see Caleb pull his knife. With all the strength he could muster he buried it deep in Tom’s thigh and pulled up sharply. Tom dropped his pistol and grabbed his leg. Caleb jerked himself free and dove to one side. Bullets from nine guns slammed into him. The scales of justice tipped in favor of the righteous once more.
******
Blake helped Caleb off the ground and examined his back. “We need to get the Doc to take a look at you.”
Caleb shook his head and stared at the ground. “I’m sorry for w-what I said.”
Blake patted him gently on the shoulder. “Aw, hell boy, you’re talkin’ to the king of saying stupid things.”
They all moved away from the house because the heat was getting intense. Hap rode down the hill leading a couple of the horses. He handed Johansson back his rifle. “Shoots a little left,” he said smiling.
“Damn, Hap, why didn’ you tell me you shoot like that?” Avery blurted out.
“You was so busy bein’ the boss, you never asked.”
Johansson looked around. “Is anybody hurt, besides me that is?”
Al Conner rubbed the back of his head, “I got a knot on my head from the fella I was wrestlin’ with. Lucky for me, Avery was there. He hit him with an axe handle when we were rollin’ around.”
Josh looked confused, “If you were rolling around, how did he score a good enough hit to knock you out?”
“Well that’s how Avery said it happened,” Al said thinking about it, “Hey what really happened, Avery?”
All eyes turned to Avery and he turned beet red. “Are you gonna worry ‘bout nitpickin’ details? I likes to think of end results,” he blustered.
“You hit me, didn’t you?” Al said as he started toward Avery.
“Now, Al,” Avery said backing up. “You was rollin’ ‘round an…” He gave up and just ran.
They all laughed as they watched Al chase Avery around the barn and back again. Suddenly, the roof of the house caved in and sent ashes into the air.
Johansson wrapped his neckerchief around his thigh, stood and looked at the remaining ranch hands. “Well, I might as well get this over with.” He limped over to where they were standing and said, “You men were defending your brand and I admire that, I’m truly sorry about your dead pards, but it had to be done. The only one I want is Jimmy Rocco; he needs to answer for his cr
imes.”
“He was on the water tower when he got shot,” the oldest of the bunch claimed.
“Blake, you knew what he looked like right?” the sheriff asked.
“Yup, I’ll check him out,” Blake said and headed for where the man fell.
“The rest of you can stay, if you want. I’ll send the doc out to tend to your wounded. I’m guessin’ the ranch falls to MacIntyre’s daughters. Where are they?” Johansson asked.
“He sent them to Sweetwater last night,” the older man replied.
“Send word to them and tell ‘em what occurred,” Johansson said with remorse. “I don’t know what will happen, it’s up to them.”
Blake came back red faced. “It wasn’t him.”
Johansson glared at the man who lied to him. “Where is he, you lying bastard?”
The man hung his head. “He went to Sweetwater with the girls. We rode together; I don’t want to see him swing.”
“If I catch you lying to me again, you’ll both swing,” Johansson said in a deadly voice. He turned to his posse. “Go get the rest of the horses, and let’s go home.”
Chapter 22
Three weeks after the assault at the ranch, Blake was in his room getting ready for church. Any bruising he had was gone and he felt strong and healthy once again. Things had been quiet around town and he could hear freight wagons trundling up the street and the sounds of people going about their day.
Bonnie wasn’t injured the night Tom attacked her. She seemed mostly back to normal, but she would still wake some nights screaming from nightmares. The doctor said they should pass with time. Blake hoped they would because she had been through so much.
Caleb suffered no lasting effects from his torture at the ranch. He was turning out to be a fine young man. His skills grew every day in the forge and he had developed strong arms and a broad back. His stutter all but disappeared that night, and now he carried himself like a man. Combine that with his natural good looks, blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, he attracted many of the young ladies in town. Unfortunately for them, his heart belonged to Bonnie and hers to him.
The Blacksmith Page 25