by Keta Diablo
With a firm nod, Grange turned Belle around and rode off. Coy watched him until he was nothing more than a speck on the horizon.
Then he mounted and headed for the Torres ranch.
Chapter Six
A sentry warned of Coy's arrival before he entered the yard. The ranch house hadn't changed much in the last fifteen years. The gray-brown structure held up a sloped roof and a wide porch with white-washed plank floorboards. Sun-baked yellow shutters hung at an odd angle on both front windows, leaving little doubt in Coy's mind they'd blow away in a monsoon rain.
He recognized the spindle-legged hombre standing by an old rocker on the porch too. Mutton Chop's bushy sideburns hadn't changed either but he didn't have time to stare at the thug long. If Mutton Chop showed up, that meant his cousin Digger Newly was close by.
Coy brought Deuce to a halt in the yard and glanced toward the corral. He counted five cows, all wearing the Santos brand. A movement on the porch forced his gaze back to the men.
Benito and Domingo walked down the steps with Mutton Chop close on their heels. A black sombrero with silver trim sat atop Benito's head. A black twill jacket topped a pair of brown vaquero pants and knee-high black boots. The only color in the man's attire was a bright red patterned shirt, partially hidden by the ammo belt crisscrossed over his torso. Like his brother, Domingo wore dark vaquero pants and high black boots. He pulled the white straw hat from his head and tipped it in Coy's direction, his pockmarked face revealing a toothy smile that crinkled his dark, beady eyes. A gold and red striped poncho covered his shoulders and chest but didn't hide the pistol with an ivory handle at his right hip.
Benito spoke first. "Ah, amigo, been so long since we see you, we think you dead."
"Not hardly."
Digger hadn't appeared and that bothered Coy, but he didn't dare take his eyes off the threesome.
Domingo struck a match and lit the cigar hanging off this bottom lip. "To what do we owe this honor, gringo?"
He stiffened his legs and rose in the saddle, peering over their heads toward the corral. "Unless something is wrong with my eyesight, you got Santos cattle penned up over there."
Mutton Chop let loose a throaty guffaw. "Maybe you need glasses."
Coy patted the rifle lying across his lap. "Maybe you need a little buckshot in your leg."
"Ha, now that's funny! Guess you can't count." He glanced from Benito to Domingo. "There's three of us and only one of you."
Benito elbowed him. "Shut up, knucklehead."
"Found 'em grazing on our land." A circle of smoke swirled around Domingo's long, black hair. "Round here possession is nine-tenths of the law."
"Not when they're wearing the Ranchero Santos' brand." His calm, lethal voice drifted on the air between them. "You, Mutton Chop, go open that padlock while I keep your sidekicks entertained."
"Stay where you are." Domingo spit into the dirt near his boot and then looked at Coy with a mutinous glare, his fingers inching toward his pistol. "As my friend says, gringo, there are three of us and only one of you."
Coy raised the rifle and aimed at Domingo's chest. "Yeah, guess I am a little outnumbered, but won't make any difference to you, or your brother. Two seconds after you draw your guns, you'll be dead."
Benito's eyes glinted beneath the harsh sun. "You think you can take us both?"
"I know I can. The question is...do you want to take that chance?"
Coy heard a rifle cock near the house, and next a familiar voice near the corral. "Drop that rifle, Mister or I'll blow your head off."
Grange? What the hell is he doing here?
Standing behind Benito, Domingo and Mutton Chop, the boy walked forward with Fetch. Shoulders low, rump high, the dog crawled through the dirt, his long white fangs flashing feral. Rifle resting against his shoulder, Grange focused on someone on the roof. "Do it, Mister!"
He found Digger.
"Now, drop your guns into the dirt." Coy cocked his own rifle. "I'm not asking you again. And you, Digger, climb on down where I can see you. Oh, if you think the kid doesn't know how to use that Winchester, you'd be wrong...dead wrong."
Hatred crossed Benito's eyes before he pulled the pistol from the holster at his hip and dropped it into the dirt.
"You too, Domingo and Mutton Chop."
As soon as the pistols fell and Digger joined their ranks, Coy snuck a peek at Grange. "Turn those cows loose and send them down the road with Fetch."
Grange walked backward toward the corral, keeping his eyes on the Mexicans. As soon as he removed the padlock, he shooed the dog in to round up the cows. "Take 'em home, Fetch."
"Get on your horse, Grange." Coy exchanged glances with the thieves. "Next time I find Santos cattle in your possession, I won't be so friendly."
He sent Grange on ahead, turned Deuce around and heard Benito call out over his shoulder. "You best watch your back, gringo."
When he caught up with Grange, he grabbed Belle's reins and brought them both to a halt. "What the hell do you think you were doing back there?"
"I knew you weren't hunting down no turkey."
"How do you know that?"
"I was looking for them since we left the ranch, and I would have spotted one by that prickly pear." He paused. "There wasn't no turkey anywhere in sight."
"That's not the point! You could have got yourself killed!"
"So could you!" He lowered his voice. "Besides, I told ya, I ain't standing by anymore while they steal the food from our mouths. Ma's got buyers for them cattle, and if they keep stealing from us, we won't make it through winter."
Coy shook his head. "Stupid kid."
"Stupid, huh? You didn't have any idea one was lying on his belly on that roof just waiting for a signal to shoot."
"I knew Digger was somewhere around...just didn't know exactly where."
"Then you should thank me instead of calling me stupid."
Coy dropped Belle's reins and searched the kid's face. "Guess I should. Thank you, but you shouldn't have followed me."
"You're not going to tell Ma, are you?"
He gave a slow nod. "No, but if you ever do that again, you leave me no choice."
Grange grinned ear-to-ear. "Did you see how fast he scrambled down from that roof?"
"Don't go puffing up like a rooster and don't think Digger doesn't know how to use a rifle."
"You've seen him in action?"
"Yeah, I've seen him, and unfortunately his cousin, Domingo and Benito too. The only reason they surrendered their guns was...."
"Why can't ya just say it? Because Fetch and me had your back door, right?"
"Yeah, kid," Coy said with another shake of his head. "I could have taken Domingo and Benito but Mutton Chop and Digger would have dropped me in a heartbeat after that." He lapsed into silence for a long moment while Grange studied him with his head tilted to the side. "I'm going to tell you this but don't ever want to talk about it again, hear me? So don't go asking a hundred questions like you always do. Deal?"
Grange nodded.
"I promised myself years ago I'd never draw on a man again, and I hope to keep that promise. Taking a man's life isn't a glorious thing so don't go thinking it is. A decent man doesn't boast about something like that or feel joy when it's done, ya hear me?"
Another nod.
"All right, remember that. Now let's go see how Fetch is doing with the cattle."
They didn't talk for the remainder of the ride home. Coy thought about the last time he shot a man and the same old sorrow washed over him. He left that way of life long ago and had no intention of ever going back.
But sometimes a man didn't have a choice. And he knew in his heart, Domingo and Benito would never let this go now. Domingo's words echoed in his ears, 'You best watch your back, gringo.'
Chapter Seven
The following morning, Jesse found Coy kneeling before the graves in the family cemetery. The small plot encased by a black wrought iron fence was anchored by a lone Gambel oak and a
smattering of wildflowers. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him standing over his brother's and parents' granite markers.
Without turning around, he spoke. "'Bout ready to head for town?"
"How did you know I was standing here?"
"Hard to miss that scent you wear. What is it anyway?"
She hoped he didn't turn around and see the blush creeping up her cheeks. "A combination of lilacs and rose water." Describing the scent brought back fond memories of her husband. "Cain returned from one of his trips to St. Louis and surprised me with a small vial. It's called Illusion."
"You must have held a lot of love for him."
How she wanted to see his face right now, look into the fathomless depths of those smoky eyes, but he hadn't moved a muscle. "What makes you say that?"
"Your face softens when you speak his name, and something passes through your eyes." He shrugged. "I don't know, longing maybe, sorrow."
"I miss him, that's for sure."
"Is that why you talk to him? You do, you know, out loud."
She looked away to collect her thoughts. After a short time lapsed, she spoke. "You heard me that day in the bedroom."
"Grange hears you talking to him too. I'm not judging—"
"He talks to me. At first," she paused and took a breath. "I thought it was all in my head but now, as impossible as it sounds, somehow he's still here. I think...I think he's caught between two worlds."
"The old Indian told Grange there's a ghost in the house."
She clapped a hand to her mouth. "So my brain is not pickled?"
"Not according to Kajame. Kind of sets one back on their heels, doesn't it?"
"Yes." She released a sigh. "I don't know whether to be relieved or awe-struck."
At last, he turned and faced her. "A man loving you from beyond the grave, I'd take that as the highest compliment one can give a woman."
"I suppose it is." She fisted her hands to keep from reaching out to touch him. What was it that drew her to him like a match to kindling? "Do you like it?"
His eyes narrowed. "What, that he loved...correction, loves you so much?"
She shook her head. "No, my perfume."
"Haven't found one thing I don't like about you, Jesse." He stepped toward her until they were mere inches apart. "That's why it's going to be so hard to leave."
"You don't have to." God, had she whispered the words?
She held her breath when he moved so close they were almost touching. The sun seemed to stop shining and the birds stopped their merry chirps. Everything came to a halt, no sound intruded on the insulated world shrouding them.
He took her hand, the gray eyes searching every feature of her face. Had she walked into his arms or had some magic propelled her forward? Every cell in her body wanted him. He lowered his head, that sensual mouth hovering inches above hers.
Kiss me. Kiss me.
And he did. The kiss was everything she'd dreamed of for days...and more. Their lips melded perfectly, as if they'd been searching for one another for a lifetime. Like the man himself, it vacillated between sure and possessive and then morphed into a demanding, bold assault on her senses. She couldn't recall a time Cain had ever kissed her with such passion, such feeling. All thought fled from her mind, except one; she wanted to kiss him forever. She wanted him to hold her in his arms through endless days and nights, vow to make her feel safe and sheltered, as she felt now.
A voice near the house broke the spell between them. "Wagon's ready and the horses are stomping their feet!"
"Grange," she said, taking a step back from Coy.
He looked toward the yard. "The kid has great timing." Still holding her hand, he tugged her forward. "Guess we best not keep everyone waiting."
Grange stood by the buckboard while they climbed aboard. "Keep an eye on that cow in the pen, son. This is her first calf, remember."
"I promise, Ma."
"Don't forget your chores and don't go running off to see that old Indian."
"You've said that ten times now."
Seated next to Coy, she looked down from the seat of the buckboard and smiled at her son. "Guess I'm jumpy with everything that's going on."
"Ain't nothing I can't handle while you're gone."
"All right, then. We'll see you in a few hours."
Large swaths of wilderness interspersed with sweet-smelling Ponderosa Pine, Gambel oak and juniper traveled with them during the five-mile trip to Red Butte. In the background the low-scattered mountain range provided the perfect backdrop.
Delinquent taxes and a conversation she planned to have with Sheriff Jessup occupied her thoughts, and Coy seemed content with the silence. A hundred questions about his past rambled around in her mind too, but she didn't want to press her luck. He agreed to stick around for a time, and the last thing she wanted to do was chase him away with her curiosity.
Coy hadn't said a word until they entered town and hit Main Street. "Not much has changed in fifteen years. The saloons are both still here, Los Diablos and Blue Mesa, and as busy as ever."
Jesse looked toward the shoddy structures nestled side-by-side and to the stream of traffic going in and out. She didn't fail to notice the old codgers, regulars, she assumed, engrossed in lively conversation on benches outside both establishments.
"Porter's Dry Goods and Mercantile is still here too but a new hotel went up last year down the street, The Bradshaw."
"Where to first?" Coy asked.
"The Post Office, next to the Mine-Assay building."
"Now there's one place I thought would be out of business."
"The Assay office? No, there's still miners around, hoping to find something thousands left behind. Cain always thought the Torres brothers wanted the land...our land," she corrected herself, "because of the old mines on the property."
"And picking off the cattle is one way to make sure you leave."
"Starve us out without rousing suspicion in an all-out war." The buckboard came to a halt in front of the Post Office. She jumped down from the seat and said over her shoulder, "I'll just be a minute."
Inside, Jesse asked the clerk behind the window if he had any mail with her name on it. When he returned with a letter from the P.S.I. Agency her hopes rose like sails on a ship. Envelope in hand, she returned to the wagon, climbed aboard and tore open the seal with trembling fingers. She skimmed over the words in a rush, glanced at the other document behind the letter and then held it to her chest.
"I'm going to assume by that smile on your face, you have good news there?"
"Oh, I do, Coy. For the first time in months, I have something to smile about." She passed him the letter. "Read it out loud in case I'm dreaming."
He snapped it open.
30 June 1885
Dear Mrs. Santos,
It is with deep regret we note the passing of your husband, Cain. He was a wonderful man and one of our finest agents. His colleagues in St. Louis took up a collection. A bank draft in the amount of five-hundred dollars is enclosed.
We know this doesn't compensate for your loss but it's our fondest hope the funds will help in some small way.
We also hope you take comfort in knowing how much he will be missed.
Faithfully yours, Nat Tremayne
P.S.I. Agency
Coy returned the letter. "Guess it's time for me to eat crow."
"I won't ask you to do that but I will ask you to drive me to the bank." She clapped her hands in a small show of glee. "Oh, do you know what this means? I can pay the back taxes on the ranch now."
Jesse paid the taxes at the bank and took the remaining two-hundred dollars in cash. After she paid her outstanding bill at Porter's, she'd still have enough money to purchase all the supplies on her list. On the way to the mercantile and lost in thought about her good fortune, she didn't see Sheriff Jessup walking toward them until Coy's body tensed beside her.
Niall Jessup twirled his long handlebar mustache and then tipped his Stetson toward her before addressin
g Coy. "Heard you were back in these parts."
Jesse didn't miss the sarcasm in Coy's voice. "Word sure travels fast around here."
"One of my deputies said he heard a rumor, that's all."
"Well, here I am in the flesh, Niall, so guess it's no rumor."
"Now don't get all riled up, son. I just want to make sure you're not packing any trouble along with the gun at your hip. I run a peaceful town here, want to head things off before—"
"You know, my ma always said a man can never outrun his past."
The Sheriff put his hands out at his side, palms up. "That's not fair, Coy. When I heard about that little problem you ran into in Tucson, I wrote to the Governor...and the prison warden on your behalf, told them I've known you since you were knee high to a grasshopper. I vouched for you, did everything I could to get you an early release from that hell hole."
Did he say warden? Prison? Dear God, Coy was in prison? Next to her, she felt the muscles in his thigh clench, saw his jaw twitch.
His anger came hard and fast. "I didn't ask you to."
"I know you didn't, damn it. I did it for your ma and pa, did it because I knew you got a raw deal."
Coy looked away from the man.
"Look, I just want what's best for you, want to make sure you don't do anything foolish and end up back in Yuma."
"I don't have any plans to do anything foolish, but if that changes, Niall, you'll be the first to know."
"Fair enough, son. If there's anything I can do, you know where to find me."
"I know one thing you can do, get to the bottom of why the Torres brothers can steal cattle from Ranchero Santos and get away with it."
The Sheriff caught and held her gaze. "Like I told Mrs. Santos, you bring me proof of their cattle-rustling, and I'll toss their sorry asses in jail. Without it, my hands are tied."
"Man catches another man in the act of stealing his cattle he has every right to protect his property."
The Sheriff flicked his gaze back to Coy. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Like I said, you bring me proof and I'll take care of it. You got that, Coy?"
"Yeah, I got that." He clucked to the team and backed them up. "You have a nice day, Sheriff."