His hand was out from the front of his pants now and both hands were held out far in front of him, palms opened in a gesture of innocence.
That’s just it,’ Standish groaned as he climbed weakly to his feet, his stomach emptied of sickness. ‘We stood and watched and did nothing. We deserve what...’
His voice dried up as Edge staggered into the doorway again, the blue slits in the punished flesh of his face raking over the scene of sudden death and violence on the meadow before the house. He was still holding the rifle, but now it provided a crutch to support him on one side while he leaned his shoulder against the door jamb.
‘Relax, feller,’ he said evenly and his voice sounded better now. But the weakness and pain warned him he was a long way from recovered in other directions. ‘One good turn don’t deserve more than two others.’
Maria Oakley got slowly to her feet as Edge talked and held the apprehensive attention of the two surveyors. Then she suddenly lunged into fast movement. She raced to where the wreckage of her dress lay, snatched it up and held it against the front of her body as she went to her husband’s side and squatted. Despite the tattered dress, there was a lot of her firm, dark-hued body still displayed. But none of the men looked at anything except her face as she raised her head after checking her unconscious husband. Relief showed through the anguish as the woman’s dark eyes swept from Edge to the surveyors and back again.
‘He’s going to be all right,’ she pronounced with conviction.
‘And you, madam?’ Standish asked, his posture one of stiff attention. ‘You will be all right, too? After what you were forced to go through?’
Maria’s pretty features formed into a grimace as she glanced at the bodies of Doyle and Royd slumped across patches of congealed blood. If she was aware that spots of Doyle’s blood blemished her face, it did not bother her. ‘It is wrong what is said,’ she murmured. ‘Such a fate is not worse than death.’
‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ Standish offered. His partner seemed too terrified to speak.
‘Just go!’ Maria replied, her tone abruptly hard. ‘Get off this property.’
Finbar found his voice at last. ‘Mr. Ryan has hired us to do a survey, Mrs. Oakley,’ he said, a little pompously. ‘I really think we should—’
Maria moved quickly again - and abandoned modesty. When she lunged to the side and scooped up Royd’s Colt, she could only retain one hand hold on the tattered dress. Her movements swung the material to reveal tantalizing glimpses of her body. But again, nobody looked at the woman’s most intimate parts. This time, attention switched from her face to the gun and back again.
‘If he won’t kill you, I will!’ she snapped, with a toss of her head to indicate Edge. ‘Unless you get on your horses and ride off this property.’
‘Quite so, madam,’ Standish said, and wasted no time in mounting his mare.
Finbar got into the saddle with greater reluctance. ‘Mr. Ryan will be most annoyed,’ he said. ‘Really we should complete our work here.’
‘You saw what happened to him, feller,’ Edge muttered, nodding his aching head towards Doyle, whose unfeeling genitals were still exposed to view.
Standish nodded. ‘We saw what happened to both of them, sir.’
‘But he’s the one to get the message from,’ the half-breed supplemented. ‘So best you ride, uh? He died on the job.’
Chapter Six
THE longer Edge had stayed in the doorway, the stronger he felt. Compared, that was, to the brink of collapse he had been at when he first rose from the bed. After he had watched the two surveyors ride from sight where the trail turned between the trees and the riverbank, he was able to do away with the rifle as a crutch and stand erect without the support of the door jamb.
‘Thank you,’ Maria said suddenly, to break the silence which had followed after the hoof beats faded from earshot. ‘You owed us no debt, but I am grateful you felt that you did.’
She had not idly watched the surveyors ride off the homestead. While the half-breed’s eyes were averted, she had worked nimbly with the remains of the dress. When he looked at her now, he saw that she had fashioned a halter to conceal her breasts, and a short skirt to cover her from waist to just above her knees. Had the circumstances been different, he might have found this attire more stimulating than her former nudity. The words had drawn Edge’s attention back to her and he watched the woman as she stooped and gathered up the limp form of her husband in her arms.
‘You owe us nothing now, that is certain,’ she said as she approached the doorway. ‘And I need the bed for Danny.’
Edge nodded and stepped out of her path. Her only sign of strain was the heavy sheen of sweat coating her blood-spotted face. ‘Glad you see it that way, ma’am. If you’ll tell me where my stuff is, I’ll be moving on.’
‘Danny put everything in the barn,’ Maria called from inside the barn. ‘Your clothes, too. I am a clean housekeeper for my husband.’ The door started to close. ‘No offence.’ It closed.
Oakley was not the only one to benefit from Maria’s belief in cleanliness. The first things Edge saw when he entered the barn were his shirt and undershirt hung and dried after being laundered.
The feeling of returned strength was proved to be false as he undertook the simple task of dressing. The bulkiness of the bandages made the familiar clothing a tight fit, but Edge seldom lied to others and never lied to himself. He could manage a short, slow walk in the noonday sun without trouble. Anything more than this required a major effort from his tortured body.
But his honesty was matched by his determination. It took him thirty sweating, grunting, cursing minutes to saddle the big gelding Wood row Ryan had provided for him. But he did it, and a sense of grim satisfaction was not all he got out of the exercise. He was rested and he was patched up. Use of his muscles took the stiffness out of his limbs. Thus, as he buckled on his gun belt and checked the Colt, then the Winchester, his actions were smoother and more agile. Then he looked in the saddlebags and abruptly reached the fullest extent of recovery that was humanly possible so soon after the beating.
The horse had not been his last night. But the saddle and other gear that was carried along with the senseless rider to the Oakley homestead had always been the half-breed’s. So Plan’s hands had taken the trouble to let him keep what belonged to him - with a single exception. A stack of bills totaling more than three thousand dollars was missing.
After he had completed a second search of both saddlebags, the tall half-breed sensed even more strength surge through his lean frame. But he had been fooled again. When he tried to mount, he fell back hard to the straw-covered floor of the rich-smelling stable and almost stumbled over onto his rump. The dark eyes of the black and white gelding gazed at the man with disdain.
‘We all have our off days,’ Edge growled, showing the animal a grim frown, then taking more care with his second attempt to mount.
He got astride the big horse this time and sat there, unmoving and allowing the world to get back onto an even keel. He knew what had happened: he had confused will power with the physical kind. Already firmly resolved to avenge the beating he had been given, that determination had been manifoldly strengthened when he discovered his bankroll gone. But his body could not yet deliver what his mind demanded. And that could be a dangerous fault when he met up with the Ryan hands he intended to find.
But time would pass before that happened.
‘You’re not strong enough to ride yet, mister,’ Danny Oakley called as Edge eased his horse out of the stable.
The half-breed had been blind and deaf to everything but his own actions and feelings since making it to the stable from the house. Now he saw that he was not the only beaten man to be back on his feet and painfully active. The young homesteader, the crown of his head heavily patched with a wad of white dressing, was in the process of tying the body of Jamie Royd to the dead man’s horse. Doyle was already lashed across his own saddle.
Oakley�
�s freckles were more prominent than ever against the paleness of his skin. And he winced each time he moved his bandaged head.
‘I am sorry I told you to leave. I did not mean to say such a thing. I was upset by what happened.’
Maria was standing on the stoop. She was modestly dressed now, in what was probably her Sunday best. A gown of white satin trimmed with blue lace at the arms, neckline and hem. Her pretty face was washed clean of blood and dirt. Her hands trembled only slightly as they held a tray on which were three cups of steaming coffee. She started and coffee slopped over the rims when her husband yelled and delivered two open-handed blows to the rumps of the horses burdened with dead men. The animals snorted and plunged into a gallop, scattering sheep and frightening the milk cow as they angled across the meadow to the trail where it went from sight around the timber stand.
‘But I guess you’re set on leavin’,’ Danny allowed with a sigh. ‘Be happy, though, if you’d share some coffee with us. Maybe a bite to eat if you’ve got an appetite.’
Edge turned the gelding to head him towards the front of the house as Oakley made for the same destination. The homesteader made it first and took a cup from the tray. Maria picked up her coffee and extended the tray towards Edge. The half-breed accepted the drink with a grim-faced nod, noting that he was honored with the only cup that was not chipped and cracked.
‘Got no appetite for food,’ he said, blowing on the surface of the steaming, dark black liquid and relishing the aroma that rose with the vapor. He drew his Colt without haste and rested his wrist on the saddle-horn as he cocked the hammer and aimed the gun at Maria. Neither his expression nor his tone changed. ‘But I’m real hungry to get back the money that was stole from me.’
Maria gasped and took a backward step. She started to turn. Edge, his movements almost lazy, swiveled the Colt, squeezed the trigger, and cocked it again as he returned to cover his original target. Maria’s index finger was still hooked through the handle of the cup. The rest of the crock was in a hundred pieces, flying across the stoop in a deluge of scalding hot coffee.
‘Be obliged you stayed where you are, ma’am,’ the half-breed said softly. ‘If you want, you can pray I’m going to believe what your husband tells me.’
Edge concentrated his attention on the woman. But he could see the shadow of Danny Oakley. When the shadow moved, the half-breed sighed. Then:
‘Don’t be crazy, feller! Me and the lady already agreed we don’t owe each other a thing. I’ll kill her as easy as you butcher a sheep when you need the meat’ His thin lips curled back and the twinge of pain he experienced made the smile colder than ever. ‘And one man’s meat is another man’s money.’
The shadow of Danny became as unmoving as the slender body of his wife. His voice sounded a sliver away from cracking and the half-breed’s glittering blue eyes expressed grim satisfaction. The Oakleys were near the ends of their tethers and all the fight had been drained out of them.
‘I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, mister! Me and Maria didn’t touch nothin’ of yours ‘ceptin’ to get to where you was hurt and to tend to your horse.’
‘Three thousand dollars, give or take a few,’ Edge insisted.
‘We are not thieves!’ Maria snapped, showing a little spirit. But she held her frozen posture.
‘You can search every square inch of the farm,’ Danny offered.
‘Ain’t got energy for that feller. Nor the time.’
‘Where was the money?’ Maria asked, a little desperately.
‘Saddlebags.’
‘In the barn,’ the woman said with a vigorous nod of her head. ‘The two men who . . . who you killed. They went into the barn for awhile. The others as well, maybe. I am not sure.’
‘No, not the surveyors,’ Danny said definitely. ‘Not before I was hit on the head, anyway.’ He shrugged. ‘And Royd and Doyle did not go beyond the doorway. I was watchin’ them.’
‘Are you sure you had the money after the men who beat you tied you to the horse?’ the woman asked. She turned now, to face Edge squarely. Fear had gone from her dark eyes and she gave the impression of being intently anxious to help. Somehow, the fact that her life depended upon the whereabouts of the missing money seemed unimportant to her.
Edge looked away from her and met the steady gaze of Danny. The freckled-faced youngster wore a look that was something akin to disgust. The half-breed gave a slight nod and slid the Colt into its holster. Both the Oakleys waited for him to say something, but he merely sipped at his coffee and glanced over his shoulder to where the surveyors and the dead gunmen bad gone from sight.
‘You’re goin’ to try to get your money back?’ Danny asked at length.
Edge shook his head. ‘Gonna do better than try, feller.’ He shrugged. ‘Or maybe worse. I’m gonna get it back or I’m gonna die.’
The coffee tasted as good as it smelled. He thought it had probably scalded his throat, but he had very little feeling there. He rolled a cigarette one-handed as he finished drinking, then extended the empty cup towards Maria. The liquid swilling around in his empty stomach reminded him that it was a long time since he had eaten. When he sucked the acrid tobacco smoke deep inside him it emphasized his need for food. But he didn’t want anything more from these people.
‘We heard about the three men who tried to hire you,’ Oakley said. His voice seemed to come from a long way off. Yet the young homesteader was standing less than a dozen feet from where Edge sat astride the gelding. ‘Seems they had to die afore they got what they wanted.’
Edge shook his head and his vision blurred. But the distortion was caused neither by tears of pain nor the sweat of exertion. ‘I’m going back up the valley on my own business, feller.’
He wheeled the gelding slowly, and felt himself sway in the saddle. He had to press his feet hard against the stirrups to right himself.
‘You go against Ryan and his men and that’s everybody’s business in this valley!’ Danny Oakley called.
His voice was coming from an immense distance away now. And it had an echo that repeated the words and added a shriller note. Yet Edge had moved the gelding no more than a few paces. The sun on the river turned the water to a dazzling silver that caused the half-breed to crack his eyes almost closed. The trees were swaying this way and that. Yet the heat remained as high as ever, with not a breath of cooling air.
‘I’ve gotta be crazy,’ he muttered, and saw the gelding’s ears prick to the sound of his voice.
‘Please stay a while longer!’ Maria called from behind him. She sounded a lot closer than her husband had. ‘It’s not safe to ride out like that.’
Astride the gelding which moved at an easy walk, will power could compensate for lack of physical strength. Edge ignored the tricks which his punch-drunk mind was playing on him and recalled every lesson he had ever learned about survival. He thought about the pain of the beating. About the humiliation of being helpless in front of witnesses, while the three men lashed at him with fists and booted feet. He started to count dollar bills, aiming to reach three thousand.
But the sparkling river continued to dazzle him and the trees didn’t stop swaying. The heat rose and he could feel his clothing sticking to his flesh by sweat. He trusted the Oakleys not to cause him harm, despite his dumb move of accusing them of theft and threatening the woman. But the Oakley farm was the scene of a setback for Woodrow Ryan. Ryan would not let it pass without extracting retribution of some kind. So Ryan men would return to the Oakley place: and the young couple were no match for the kind of backing the rich rancher could command.
To be found on the place by Ryan men would be no picnic for Edge. To be found there unconscious...
The half-breed was halfway across the meadow. The sheep looked at him from one side and the milk cow watched him from the other. All the animals were chewing rhythmically on mouthfuls of the lush grass. He was too far away from where the Oakleys stood to hear what they said to each other.
‘I put something
in his coffee, Danny,’ Maria revealed,
‘You did what?’
‘You need time, Danny.’
He thought about this, then he nodded. ‘I guess I can try.’ He stared out down the sloping meadow to where Edge was sagging in the saddle and swaying like a drunken man. ‘What did you use?’
‘The powder the animal doctor gave us for when the cow calves. The cow never goes right to sleep. So I gave the stranger twice the amount.’
‘Good God, Maria!’ Danny exclaimed. ‘It could kill him!’
He stared at his wife and saw an expression which he had never before seen on her pretty face. Grim resolution which was completely lacking in compassion. A feminine variation of the look which he had seen on the battered face of the half-breed. The lines into which her features were formed seemed to add ten years to her age.
‘To us it makes no difference, Danny,’ she said heavily. ‘Gone from here or dead it is the same. He serves no purpose.’
‘I’ve never seen you like this before, Maria!’ the man rasped.
‘I’ve never been like this before, Danny,’ his wife answered.
Both stared down the meadow as the half-breed finally swayed too far to one side and toppled out of the saddle.
‘What a time to drop out,’ he muttered, or thought, just before he thudded to the grass and plunged into unconsciousness-again.
Chapter Seven
IT was night when he came out of it and his return to awareness was better than the last time. The pains did not spring from so many parts of his body and there was less sharpness to them. Total recall was slower in coming to a mind that felt dazed in a head which seemed to be twice as large and four times as heavy as usual. Edge had experienced two massive drinking jags in his life. Once during the war and again after the brutal death of his wife. Now as he raised himself to his feet in the bedroom of the Oakley house his feelings were identical to the hangovers he had gone through in the distant past.
Edge: Vengeance Valley (Edge series Book 17) Page 8