“Douglas is just a dammed salesman,” said Tom. “It’s about time he realized that Rancho Bravo’s just about his most important client, Jay. The town has grown up alongside the ranch, and because of the ranch. But each summer we hear the same complaints from Douglas.”
“We had to take that loan, Mr. Calhoun,” Durango reminded him. “Weren’t no other way we could afford to invest in our future. Settin’ up for horse stud, repairing the line shacks … it all takes money. Anyway, I reckon we’re in good shape. Ought to be able to pay everythin’ back by the middle of next year.”
Tom had to admit that Jay was right. A ranch this size needed always money. That’s why he had decided to drive a herd north to Abilene, Kansas. The herd was sold for top dollar, and Tom had made his profit … but only so he could pay the loan off more quickly.
“We still got any outstandin’ invoices, Jay?”
“Most of ’em’s been settled, Mr. Calhoun,” Jay answered. “Fred Wilkins at the sawmill is still waiting for his money, and Seamus Growan’s last delivery hasn’t been paid yet.”
“Fair enough. See to it, Jay. We don’t owe anyone longer’n we have to—”
Just then Gus burst in, clearly agitated.
“Boss, you better come quick!” he said breathlessly. “Billy’s rounded up more than strays out there today! He’s found a wounded man, an’ he’s a-bringin’ him in right now!”
Tom scowled. “What? A wounded man … that sounds like trouble to me. Come on, Jay, let’s go see what’s happenin’.”
Chapter Three
When Billy passed the hill and rode down into the valley, he was sure that the man on the watchtower had already recognized him and relayed the news to the rancher. As Billy passed the corral and forge he saw the cowboys there gazing at him with a mixture of curiosity and astonishment. Billy was leading a second rider, who was slumped in his saddle and seemingly unconscious.
A few minutes later he reached the ranch house and reined in. His father and Jay were waiting for him. Together, Billy and Jay carried the wounded stranger over to the bunkhouse.
“What happened?” asked Tom.
“He tried to shoot me, Pa,” explained Billy.
“What?”
“I was on the way to meet up with John and the rest of the men when this here feller threw a shot at me. Lucky for me it missed. Then I got the drop on him—”
“Draw rein, boy. You got the drop on him?”
“Yes, pa. Circled around behind him and crept right up on him.”
“And … ?”
“Well, I challenged him, but he didn’t put up much in the way of resistance. Realized he was hurt, had been shot—”
“And so you brought him home.”
“He needs fixin’, pa.”
“Even though he tried to kill you, you think that?”
“Sure.”
Tom looked away, suddenly, fiercely proud. There wasn’t a mean bone in Billy. You couldn’t say that for many men.
“Did you ask him why he took a shot at you?”
“He said it was a misunderstanding.”
Jay made a chuffing sound. “I’ve heard attempted murder called a lot of things in my time,” he muttered, “but I ain’t never heard it called that before.”
The veils of unconsciousness faded slowly. In the first second he registered only colors and unknown voices around him. And then a burning pain that came in nauseating waves.
It took an eternity – at least that’s what it seemed like – until his sight cleared and he could see where he was. But he was still too weak to move. Each time he tried to raise his head he felt the brutal pain again, and the colors faded.
When his mind cleared again, he tried to take stock of his situation. He was in a room, in a bed. But that revelation only created more questions, because the last thing he remembered was being in the brasada, waiting up in some rocks for the man who had been dogging his trail. But that man – more of a boy, really – had been smarter than he expected, had gotten the drop on him. And now here he was, in this strange bed, his wound tended.
What was going to happen next?
He tried to raise his head a second time. It was exhausting, and the pain came back for a couple of seconds. But he forced himself to continue until he could see more details of his unfamiliar surroundings.
Beside the bed stood a small chest of drawers with a water bowl on top. He saw a new shirt and a pair of faded jeans draped over a chair. Outside, he heard a series of voices. He couldn’t make out any individual words, but the accompany sounds gave him an impression that he was on a ranch. The hammering of a nearby forge underlined this suggestion, as well as the whinny of a mustang from the same direction.
Suddenly he heard steps outside the door. A few seconds later it was opened. A man of around fifty years of age with a gray beard entered the room.
“You’re awake,” he said. “Good. ’Cause you’ve got some questions to answer.”
“I … got some questions … to ask,” the man replied croakily.
He groped for his shoulder, where the bullet had hit him.
“How long did I sleep?” he murmured.
“My son Billy found you yesterday at noon and brought you to my ranch,” replied Tom Calhoun. “We took the bullet out, patched you up, let you sleep off the narcosis. You been sleepin’ ever since. Now … you ready to answer those questions?”
“I guess.”
“All right. Let’s start off on the right foot. I’m Tom Calhoun, and this is my spread, Rancho Bravo.”
“Name’s Sam Wilcox,” replied the man in the bed.
Tom knew the name, knew of the man, but all he said was, “Okay – so now we know each other. Next question – how’d you come to get shot?”
“Before I answer that,” said Wilcox, “I’ll ask another one of my own.”
“Go ahead,” said Tom.
“You know me, don’t you?” said Wilcox.
“I know of you.”
Wilcox nodded. “Thought so. Could see it in your eyes. What is it you know of me, Mr. Calhoun?”
“I know what I read in the newspapers. That you’re a cold-blooded gunman. ’Course, that doesn’t make it so, just ’cause it’s in print. But you did try to shoot my youngest son, Billy. And for that I think the least you owe me is an honest explanation.”
“If I took a shot at your son, all I can do it apologize.”
“Apologize!”
“I know it ain’t much, but it’s all I got,” said Wilcox. “Someone was layin’ for me, Calhoun. I don’t who he is or why he’s after me, but he was out there. He shot me and I fell out of the saddle. I went crabbing into cover, and what I did then was return fire.”
“—on an innocent boy.”
“I didn’t know that at the time. I was shot, hurting … ”
“Well, you just be grateful my boy’s still alive,” Tom said with feeling, “because if anything had happened to him because of you, I’d have had you strung up.”
“And you’d have had every right.”
Tom went over to the window and peered out. “Did you see anything else?” he asked. “Which direction this bushwhacker of yours took when he lit out?”
“I have it in mind that they lit out west, but like I say, I was wounded, not thinking clearly.”
“My cowboys have been working in that area,” said Tom. “If they’d seen any tracks out there, I’d have heard about it. I haven’t.”
“So maybe I was wrong,” said Wilcox. “I don’t have any answers for you, Calhoun. I wish I did.”
“Well, for the time being you’re safe enough here. You’re welcome to stay as long as you have to. But I got one more question before I’m finished with you.”
“Which is … ?”
“Are you wanted by the law for anything?”
“Would you believe me if I said no?”
“I’d trust you to be straight with the man who just saved your hide.”
“Well, I’m st
raight, all right. No, Calhoun, I’m not wanted by the law. For anything.”
“All right. Rest, get your strength back. I’ll have someone fetch over some coffee and eats, if you’re up to it. Then tomorrow maybe you can get out of that bed and try to move around a little. In the meantime, if you need anything, there’s a bell on the cabinet right beside you. I’ll always have a man in earshot.”
“Thanks, Calhoun. I appreciate it.”
But as soon as Tom had left the room, Wilcox’s face clouded. He wouldn’t really feel safe at all until he was back on the move.
Chapter Four
They met in the big living room, Tom, his sons and Jay Durango, and the rancher recounted his conversation with Wilcox.
“Sam Wilcox?” Billy couldn’t believe what his father had just said. “Sam Wilcox, the gunfighter? I always thought that he ... ”
He stopped because he could not find the right words.
“I guess you figured he’d be ten feet tall and spitting fire like a devil from hell, is that it?”
“Wilcox is just another man, Billy, just like you and me,” said John. “But he’s a killer, and there’s the difference.”
Jay nodded. “I seen him a couple years ago in Arizona, taming a whole town. He’s harder than steel, and you’d do well to keep out of his way, Billy. Man like that’s not good to be around.”
As he spoke, however, Jay remembered his own past. There had been a time when he himself had faced violence and death many times. The bloody War Between the States was long over, but sometimes the memories came back. Even Tom Calhoun didn’t know everything that Jay had done during the war. All he knew was that Jay had been a Confederate.
“Well, at least we know one thing for sure,” said Billy. “It wasn’t me he was after killin’. That was just a mistake.”
“But that’s about all we know for sure,” fretted Tom. “I’m havin’ a hard time trustin’ that man.”
“That’s because he has a reputation,” said John. “Look beyond that, Pa, and what have you got? A man who was bushwhacked and out to protect himself. Maybe we should give him the doubt.”
“Oh, I’m willin’ to do that,” said Tom. “Every man has the right to that. I just get the feelin’ he hasn’t told us the whole of it.”
“Maybe he will, given time. Maybe he needs a little time to trust us.”
“Trust us!” Tom shook his head. “We took him in and saved his life, Billy. If that don’t earn a little trust, I don’t know what does!”
“Well, he ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while,” said Billy. “Let’s just see how it pans out.”
“We will,” Tom agreed. “But I think we’ll tell Marshal Clayburn in San Angelo, just in case. Next time one of us rides into town.”
It was noon the next day when Sam Wilcox finally left his bed and took his first cautious steps since being wounded. He washed, then dressed and felt the better for it, but when he looked at himself in the mirror above the chest of drawers he saw a face that was almost shockingly pale and exhausted.
His body was covered with many scars and gave ample evidence of his rough and dangerous life. His longish hair had also lightened prematurely.
He tried to put on his cotton shirt. The pain in his right shoulder had eased off, but it was still a difficult task. The holster with the .45 Peacemaker had been left on a chair. He took it, buckled it on and felt somehow safer, whole. He stood before the mirror and tried to draw his gun as quick as he could, but the pain in his shoulder slowed him down appreciably. He hated that feeling of vulnerability.
He was so deep in thought that he didn’t hear the approaching steps. Seconds later the door was opened, and Wilcox turned, startled, his hand again swooping for the butt of his Colt. Only when he recognized the young cowboy who had brought him to the ranch did he stop the move.
“What do you want, boy?” he asked. “And while we’re at it, never come up on me unannounced again, you hear?”
The words were like slaps to Billy. He hadn’t expected the gunman to treat him so harshly. “Sorry, Mr.Wilcox,” he answered. “But I heard that you feel better this morning, so I thought to pay you a visit. I see that it was wrong to disturb you and...”
“You didn’t disturb me,” interrupted Wilcox and tried to smile. “I should be thanking you for what you’ve done for me. You’re Billy Calhoun, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Billy confirmed. “I see you’re regaining your strength.”
“Uh-huh,” Wilcox agreed. “I’ll be leaving soon. I ’spect you’ll all be glad to see the back of me, and I don’t blame you.”
“It’s not that way at all.”
“I think it is, far as your pappy’s concerned.”
“A man needs help, Pa gives it to him.”
“No matter what others say about him?” Wilcox asked skeptically.
Billy made no reply.
“Haven’t you got chores to do, boy?”
“I reckon. This afternoon I’ll be helpin’ a couple of the men to repair one of our line shacks. But I thought I’d come say howdy to you first.”
Wilcox didn’t like the way Billy looked at his gun, in its black holster. The boy had an unhealthy admiration for him, or his kind, and he hated it.
“Well, if you’re at a loose end, maybe you could show me round this place.”
Billy grinned, pleased to be his guide. He opened the door and Wilcox followed him, his movements slow and careful. The descended a wide staircase and headed for the front door.
“Where is everyone?” Wilcox asked.
“My brother John has left for San Angelo,” explained Billy. “There’s some stuff he had to do there. Pa’s down by the corrals.”
“Your mama?”
“I don’t have one, Mr. Wilcox. She … she died a while back.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She was a fine woman.”
“I bet she was, at that. So, uh … what’s this stuff that takes your brother into town?”
“Oh, just ranch business.”
“Is it far to San Angelo?”
“Maybe a two-hour ride.” Billy glanced at his companion. “Why do you ask?”
“There’s a lawman in San Angelo, right?”
“Sure—but you don’t have no need to worry about that.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not wanted for anything,” Billy said simply. “You told Pa.”
“And he believed me? That’s not the impression I got, Billy.”
“Well, I believe you.”
They stepped outside. Rancho Bravo was bigger than he had imagined. His gaze dropped to the bottom of the hill, where a few cowboys were occupied with taming mustangs. Tom Calhoun was watching them, occasionally calling advice or orders.
Following his gaze, Billy said, “The army needs fresh horses, Mr. Wilcox, and Colonel Meynard at Fort Concho knows that we can provide the best. Uh, Mr. Wilcox?”
“Boy?”
“You all right. You look a little … pained.”
“I am a bit. Let’s walk.”
“Are you really the cold blooded killer all the newspapers are writing about?” asked Billy after a moment.
“I hope I’m not the same man, not inside. Be a terrible burden, boy, to tote that kind of notoriety around with you.”
He paused momentarily, then continued, “A couple of years ago I had tame to wild town in Arizona. All the newspapers in the region wrote about that. How the great Sam Wilcox, the legendary gunfighter, blew his enemies away. You think that made me proud, to know that?”
“You could be proud that you tamed that town.”
“And proud of all the men I had to maim and cripple and kill to do it?”
Billy thought briefly, said, “It was a price that had to be paid, I guess.”
Wilcox shook his head sadly. “You’ll learn, in time. I hope. When these people needed me, they knew where to find me. When I’d done what they asked of me, they couldn’t wait to see the back of me,
because they didn’t want ‘my kind’ of person in their town any more. So I rode out, went someplace else. Took maybe two days for word to get out as to who I was. Then it started all over again. The men who challenged you to get what was yours—a reputation they had no idea you didn’t really want. More killin’, more postin’ out of town. That’s about all it’s been for me, boy. Ain’t been nothing else, a wife, kids, a place to call my own.”
Billy’s face clouded. “I didn’t think it could be like that.”
“Well, it is. And never let another man tell you any different.”
Billy nodded. “Still wish I could see you in action, though.”
“Do you, now?” Wilcox thought momentarily, then said, “You see that little branch over there on the Palo Verde tree? The smaller one on the left side?”
“I see it.”
Wilcox drew his gun so quickly that Billy didn’t even see it happen. The entire thing took perhaps two seconds, certainly no more. Wilcox hit the branch, which snapped and fell to earth.
Billy whistled. “That was a good shot, Mr. Wilcox!” he breathed. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen one better!”
Wilcox only shrugged. “I’m still weak, and that shot proved it. Too damn’ slow.”
He searched his pocket until he found a small coin, which he showed Billy.
“This is a real target for me,” he continued. He put the gun back into leather and handed the coin to Billy. “Throw the coin, boy! Come on—right now!”
Billy did. And as he threw the coin, drew his gun and fired—quicker than the first time.
The shot racketed across the warm morning air and the coin landed several yards away with a telltale tinkle. Billy trotted over to get it. Wilcox’s bullet had struck the coin and bent it out of shape.
“Yee-haw!” the boy cried in excitement.
The excitement was short-lived, however, for in the very next moment Tom Calhoun came storming over the rise of the hill.
“What the hell’s going on here?”
“I was just showin’ Billy here a trick,” Wilcox replied evenly. “No harm done.”
“Well, I’d sooner you keep tricks like that to yourself!”
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