by Jake Henry
Fear filled Hunter’s eyes as Savage raised the Remington.
“No, wait!” Hunter screamed, raising a hand to ward off the shot. “It wasn’t me who did it.”
Savage squeezed the trigger and the room filled with the crash of gunfire one last time.
“You murderin’ son of a bitch,” he heard a cowhand grate.
Savage faced him and said, “He should have thought of the consequences before he joined up with an animal like Carver.”
“You’re a liar, Savage,” the same cowhand challenged.
“I don’t give a damn what you think,” Savage snapped. “I’m leavin’.”
A few of the Bar-H hands moved to block his way.
“Let him go,” a voice snapped.
From behind the bar, the barkeep produced a sawed-off greener, both hammers on full cock.
“Any of you fellers try to stop him I’ll empty this here coach gun at you,” he warned. “And you Mister, get the hell out of here.”
“He killed Chase, Zeke,” the cowhand protested.
“He got what he deserved,” Zeke snapped.
There was a moan of pain as Harper stirred on the floor.
“What about him?” Savage asked.
“I’ll take care of him, now get. Once Byron Hunter hears about his son, he’ll hunt you down to hell and gone.”
“You tell him what his son did,” Savage snarled. “And tell him that if he comes after me I’ll bury him too.”
“I’ll tell him. Get on your horse and go.”
“He’s wounded, Zeke,” a whore pointed out.
“He’ll be a lot more than that if he stays here.”
Without another word, Savage walked stiffly from the saloon and rode out of Presidio.
Twelve
AN ASHEN-FACED Byron hunter stared down at his son’s corpse that lay on the mortician’s table. He still couldn’t believe that his son was dead and furthermore, that the men had allowed the culprit to ride out of town.
“Is there anythin’ you want special for the stone Mr. Hunter?” the hollow-faced John Clemson asked.
Hunter looked at the undertaker and shook his head. “No, just make it good.”
“I’m sure I can take care of it while you’re gone.”
“See that you do,” he said grimly.
Hunter walked outside and stood somberly on the rough-plank boardwalk. He looked at the ten riders who waited patiently on their horses. He stepped down into the dusty street and went to mount his bay horse.
“Byron, wait,” a voice halted him as he was about to climb aboard.
Standing on the boardwalk was a rail-thin man with a badge pinned to his chest.
“What do you want Henry?” he asked as he turned to face the Presidio sheriff.
“Let him go, Byron,” Henry Bunting ordered. “It wasn’t Savage’s fault. Chase fired first.”
A fire blazed in Byron Hunter’s eyes. “He shot him while he was unarmed. In my book that’s murder and he’ll pay.”
“Chase was no good, Byron,” the Presidio sheriff said plainly. “The apple didn’t fall far from that tree.”
“Shut your mouth,” Hunter snarled.
“I was talkin’ to Harper,” Bunting continued. “Your kid and his friends hit a bank in Summerton on the way south. They killed a passel of folk and took a woman. Savage’s wife. They raped and murdered her. Ever heard of Carver’s Raiders? Chase was with ’em when they hit Texas. He shot first and wounded Harper and killed Stanley. If he weren’t dead I’d have him locked up myself. Like I said, let Savage go.”
Hunter ignored Bunting and climbed into the saddle, the soft creak of leather the only sound. He then looked the Presidio sheriff in the eye and snarled, “He was still my son.”
With a chorus of shouts and rebel yells, eleven men rode out of Presidio with murder in mind.
~*~
“I can tell by the look on your face that it didn’t go so well,” Harper observed when Bunting entered the small, well-lit hotel room where the ranger was recuperating.
“Stupid old fool won’t hear a bad word about his boy,” Bunting explained. “He rode out of town with ten of his men. If they catch up to Savage, I’d hate to think what would happen.”
“I’d be more afraid for them, Henry. I have a feeling that Savage can take care of himself.”
“Maybe, but he was wounded when he rode out of Presidio,” Bunting explained. “He may even still be carryin’ the lead in him.”
Harper sighed loudly. “Damn it.”
He swept back the covers and grimaced as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
“What the hell are you doin’?” Bunting asked Harper.
“If that feller is wounded like you say he’s goin’ to need a hand against that Bar-H crowd.”
“Hell Harp, you’re wounded yourself,” Bunting pointed out. “Plus you have no idea where to go.”
“I’ll just track Hunter and his men. If they find him then I will too. Now, if you want to help me, get my horse and chuck a saddle on it.”
The sheriff shook his head. If there was one thing he knew about Harper, it was that he was a tough sonuver. And if anyone could stop Hunter, it was him.
~*~
The first days of his journey were filled with burning pain as the wound in Savage’s side opened and closed as he rode hard to put distance between himself and Presidio. He did the best he could to keep it clean but the inevitable happened and infection set in.
From then on, everything was a blur of Creosote, grass, pinyon, and juniper. Of rock and sand and rattlers and direction.
Which was why, when he awoke, Savage had no idea where he was.
The first thing he noticed was the soft bed he was in. The second was the piercing sunlight that fell through the window to his right and almost blinded him when he opened his eyes.
His immediate reaction, apart from snapping his eyes closed, was to raise his right hand in an attempt to block the glare with his arm. His actions only succeeded to send a bolt of pain throughout his wounded side.
Savage reflexively jerked at it and made his side hurt more. He hissed at the pain and became still, as he waited for it to abate. The moment gave him a chance to look at his surroundings.
The room was small, neatly furnished , and very clean. A woman’s touch he presumed.
To his left there was movement and Savage looked to see a small boy, maybe five-years-old filling about a quarter of the large doorway. His lad’s eyes widened and he turned to run away. As he went, Savage heard him call out.
“Ma, he’s awake,” he shouted. “Ma, he’s awake. He looked at me.”
The boy’s excitement was followed by the soft tones of a woman’s voice then she appeared in the doorway that the boy had just vacated.
“Jeremy said you were awake,” she said smiling. “How are you feeling?”
She was tall, around six feet, and was slim built. She had long black hair tied back off her finely featured face. She wore a gray dress that had been cut off just above the floor and a stained, homespun apron.
“I hurt,” he croaked.
She smiled knowingly. “I’m not surprised. You had a nasty wound and a nasty infection to go with it. The doctor did what he could and said the rest was up to you. I guess you’ll live.”
“Where am I?” Savage asked.
“You’re on the O’Reilly spread about five miles from Boulder Spring,” she informed him. “I’m Maddie O’Reilly.”
“I’m Savage.”
“I know,” she smiled again, this time, her face glowed with warmth. “You talked a lot.”
Savage felt a flush of embarrassment touch his cheeks and he tried to divert it by asking, “How long have I been here?”
“Five days.”
Silence followed and then Maddie asked, “Are you hungry?”
At the mention of food, Savage realized that he could eat and nodded. “Yeah, that would be great. I think.”
“I’ll fix you so
mething to eat.”
He watched her go and then he closed his eyes and attempted to piece together past events but it was all too foggy.
“Hello.”
Savage opened his eyes and saw the small boy.
“I’m Jeremy,” he said by way of introduction. “Who are you?”
“I’m Jeff.”
“Hey, your name starts with a J too.”
Savage smiled at Jeremy’s genuine excitement. “I suppose it does.”
“What happened to you?”
“I had a little trouble.”
“My Pa always said you should steer clear of trouble.”
Savage smiled. “He’s a wise man. Where is your Pa, I’d like to talk to him.”
Jeremy’s face fell. “He died. He was shot too.”
Savage cursed inwardly. “I’m sorry son. So who looks after the ranch?”
“Ma does.”
“All by herself?”
“No, not all by myself,” Maddie said from where she was standing in the doorway. “I have hands that work for me. Is there something wrong with that?”
Savage noticed the defiant look in her eyes and said quickly, “No, ma’am. No problem at all. I meant nothing by it.”
“Good,” she said brusquely. “Jeremy, come and leave Mr. Savage alone. Let him get some more rest.”
The boy was about to protest but the look on his mother’s face prevented it. Instead, he hurried from the room.
“I’m sorry …” Savage started to apologize but Maddie cut him off.
“Your food will be ready shortly,” she said curtly and walked away.
~*~
“Smells good,” Savage said, startling Maddie as she stood at the stove.
She whirled and looked at him. “My Lord. What are you doing out of bed?”
Savage shrugged. It had taken a little effort but he’d managed.
“I see you found your clothes.”
“Yes, thanks for fixin’ ’em up.”
“You’d better sit down before you fall,” Maddie said and pulled out a chair at the polished dining room table.
The room was large and like the bedroom, it was spotlessly clean. The aroma of the frying food permeated it.
Savage moved forward and was about to sit down when Jeremy came running inside. The screen door crashed back as he burst through the doorway.
“There’re riders comin’ in Ma,” he said excitedly. “Strangers I think.”
A worried expression passed over Maddie O’Reilly’s face.
Savage walked across to the window and peered out. There were eleven riders in all and out front he recognized the familiar form of Byron Hunter.
He turned and faced Maddie. “Where are my guns?”
“Why? Who are they?”
“They’re after me,” Savage said hurriedly. “The feller leadin’ ’em is Byron Hunter. I killed his son.”
“You what?” Maddie blurted out as her voice rose.
“Maddie, I need my guns,” Savage said with authority. “Trust me when I say there was no choice. His son was bad. He was part of a bunch of outlaws that …”
“Amy?” Maddie said as a piece of the puzzle from Savage’s delirious ramblings fell into place.
“Yes, my wife,” Savage confirmed.
“Jeremy get Mr. Savage his guns. And then hide in your room and don’t come out until I call you.”
The boy scurried off and Savage said, “What about your hands?”
“They’re out working the Shallow Creek range,” Maddie told him. “They’re too far away to be of any help.”
Jeremy returned with the holstered Remington and the Yellow Boy. He gave them to Savage and disappeared again.
Maddie walked towards the door.
“What are you doin’?” Savage asked.
“I’m going out there to talk to them,” she answered.
“What?”
“I have a little boy in the other room who is all I have left in this world,” she explained. “If I can stop this before it starts then I’m more than happy to try.”
Before Savage could protest further she was gone.
He made sure the Winchester and Remington were loaded and moved over to the doorway where he remained out of sight and waited to see what would ensue.
~*~
The riders halted in the center of the O’Reilly ranch-yard amid a cloud of dust and a cacophony of stamping hoofs and loud snorts. One of the riders broke off from the group and went across to the corral near the barn.
Maddie stepped down confidently from the veranda and walked towards them.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” she asked.
“Is your husband around?” Byron Hunter asked abruptly.
“No, he isn’t Mr. …?”
“The name’s Hunter,” he told her impatiently. “Seein’ as your man ain’t around you’ll have to do. We’re lookin’ for a murderer by the name of Savage. Have you seen him?”
“There is no one here by that name, Mr. Hunter.”
“I guess we’ll see won’t we,” he said looking across at the lone rider.
Alarm shot through her when she realized that the sorrel was still in the corral.
“I’ve told you what you want to know now get off my land,” Maddie snapped.
“We’ll leave when we’re sure that he’s not here,” Hunter snapped. “And not before.”
Maddie grew even more nervous as she looked at the grime-covered men on their horses. Then she turned her attention to the lone cowhand who was now coming back.
“His sorrel is in the corral, Mr. Hunter,” he said. “I’d know it anywhere.”
Hunter turned his gaze on Maddie who could see that his face was a mask of anger at being lied to.
“It would seem that you are not tellin’ us the truth,” he said harshly. “Where the hell is he?”
“He’s not here,” she responded defiantly.
“I asked you a question damn it,” Hunter roared. “Tell me where he is.”
“I don’t know.”
Byron Hunter came off his horse with eyes blazing with fury. He crossed the short distance to Maddie O’Reilly ad grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip as she turned to run.
“Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”
“Let her go, Hunter,” Savage’s voice cracked across the yard.
The rancher looked across to where Savage stood on the veranda, holding the Yellow Boy.
“So we’ve finally caught you,” Hunter sneered. “Put the rifle down or I’ll have my men shoot you where you stand.”
“You do that,” Savage shot back. “You, however, won’t get the satisfaction of seein’ it. ‘Cause you’ll be the first person to die. You may not be the last either.”
“Are you willin’ to take a chance on the woman’s life Savage?”
“She ain’t got nothin’ to do with it, Hunter,” Savage told him. “Leave her be. Your quarrel is with me.”
“I tell you what, if you put down the rifle then I’ll let the woman go. If you don’t then she dies.”
With a swift movement, Hunter ducked in behind Maddie and drew his Colt from its holster. He pressed it hard against the side of her head.
Hunter smiled coldly. “Your choice.”
Thirteen
SAVAGE WAS BEATEN and he knew it. He didn’t have a clear shot and even if he tried, he would be condemning Maddie to death and Jeremy to a life without parents.
He looked into her eyes and saw her silent plea.
There was no other option.
The rifle clattered onto the veranda as Savage let it go. “There, you got what you wanted. Now let her go.”
“The six-shooter too,” Hunter ordered.
Savage unbuckled the gun belt and let it fall.
“Now step forward into the yard.”
Once he was out in the middle of the yard, Hunter gave his men a signal and they came off their horses and closed in around him.
“I guess it don’t me
an much to you boys that Chase shot Stanley down, huh?” Savage commented.
“That was an accident,” Hunter snapped.
“And Harper?”
“The same.”
“And the fact that he was a yellow dog and murderer who rapes women?”
“He was my son!” Hunter raged.
“He got what he deserved!”
“Somebody get a rope,” the rage-crazed rancher snapped. “We’re goin’ to hang the bastard right now.”
“No!” Maddie cried.
Hunter released her and pushed her away. She staggered briefly then hurried to stand in front of Savage.
“You can’t do it. It’ll be murder.”
“It’s no less than what he did to my son,” Hunter barked. “Now get out of the way.”
Maddie felt Savage’s hand on her shoulder. “It’s OK. Go inside and take care of Jeremy.”
She whirled around and stared into his eyes. “I can’t.”
“If you don’t, they’ll kill you too. What will Jeremy do then?” Savage said gently.
Maddie held his gaze for what seemed like an age. He saw the pain of being powerless in her pale-blue eyes. Then she stepped around him and walked towards the house.
“Right, get him up on a horse and …” Hunter looked about until he found what he wanted. “And get the rope over the arch above the gateway.”
Five minutes later a cowhand known as Scott settled the noose over Savage’s head and drew the knot up snug.
“Any last words, Killer?” Hunter asked with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
Savage remained silent, staring straight ahead.
“No?”
“I do,” a voice boomed across the ranch yard. “The law takes a mighty dim view of lynchin’ an innocent man.”
All eyes turned to stare at the man who’d appeared from around the corner of the plank-walled barn holding a leveled Henry rifle.
“What do you want here Harper?” Hunter challenged. “You’re interruptin’.”
“I’ll start shootin’ if you don’t cut Savage down from there right pronto,” Harper warned them.
Hunter turned scarlet. “He killed …”
“A murderin’ son of a bitch,” Harper said scathingly. “Now cut him down.”
Scott reached over and took the noose from around Savage’s neck. After which he cut the bindings from his wrists.