The Good, The Bad and The Ghostly ((Paranromal Western Romance))

by Keta Diablo

  "Have you got a better idea?"

  A mumbled groan floated up from the ground. Kneeling beside Coy, Jesse and Grange looked down on him. "I can walk with your help."

  Jesse brushed her fingers over his cheek. "Coy...you're conscious, thank God. Are you sure you can stand?"

  "Maybe not on my own but...."

  "We'll help you." Grange wrapped his arm around Coy's back and raised him into a sitting position. "Put his other arm around your neck, Ma, and on the count of three, we'll bring him to his feet. One...two...three."

  With great effort, and through a stream of grunts and groans from all, they navigated the porch steps, walked through the kitchen and into the bedroom. By the time Jesse and Grange eased him onto the bed sweat ran from Coy's forehead and streamed down his ashen face.

  Grange removed his boots and helped his mother roll him to his side to examine the wound. "You've lost a lot of blood but if the bullet didn't pass through, I'll have to get it out."

  "The Torres brothers did this, didn't they?" Grange ground the words out between clenched teeth. "They ambushed you on your way home from town."

  "They're coming. At dusk. You need to leave."

  "Right now, I'm going to get that bullet out, so save your silly talk and your strength."

  "Jesse, you have to listen." He rasped the words. "I heard them; they'll be here—"

  "Shush now I said. We're not going anywhere until we take care of you, so save it. You're wasting your breath." She shifted her attention from Coy to her son. "We have to move fast now. Grab the kettle of hot water over the hearth; bring me your grandmother's tweezers, my bone needle and lots of clean rags."

  Grange nodded and rushed from the room. While waiting for his return, she noticed a gourd sitting on the bureau. Mescal left behind by Kajame when he tended her snake bite. No one had to ask her twice to cross the room, pluck the gourd from its resting place and put it to her lips. She coughed and chortled through the first gulp, but knowing she'd need a steady hand and a cauldron of resolve to dig for that bullet, she took another swig and released a surprised gasp when it trickled down her throat without a sound.

  Returning to the bed, she knelt down beside Coy and wound an arm behind his neck. "I found some mescal, can you get some down?"

  He held two fingers up, moving them slowly toward his body. By the time he'd taken several healthy swigs, Grange had returned, his arms laden with everything she requested.

  "I'll need one more thing, son. Several long hairs from Deuce's tail so I can sew him up. Hurry now; I'll need you to hold him down once I start."

  Waiting for her son to return, she gazed down on Coy and released a thankful sigh. With help from the mescal, he had slipped into unconsciousness again. She skirted the bed and eased down onto the mattress where she could clearly see where the bullet had entered his back. Grange bounded into the room again, set the horse hair down on the night table, clasped Coy's hands together and gave his mother a firm nod.

  On the second attempt, she located the bullet and again sent a prayer skyward that it was closer to the surface than she originally thought. Right now, she needed all the help she could get. Grange gave her a wide grin when bullet met metal bowl with a clang.

  "Pour some of the mescal onto a rag, son, and pass it over."

  Grange did as instructed. "What next?"

  "The horse hair," she said, peering down at her handiwork. She took the long hair from the horse's tail and threaded the bone needle. One slow stitch at a time, she sewed the wound shut, placed the rag loaded with mescal over it as a poultice and then wrapped long strips of cotton around his torso.

  Easing off the bed, she settled into a chair near the bed and rubbed her neck. "I've done everything I can for now."

  "What will happen, Ma?"

  She shrugged. "The next few hours will tell. The bleeding has stopped, but he still could get an infection."

  "Want me to fetch Kajame?"

  "No, too dangerous. They could be watching the road."

  "You heard him. He said they weren't coming until dusk."

  "I can't take the risk of something happening to you. Now, there'll be no more talk of you leaving the ranch."

  "We're just going to sit here and wait for the Torres brothers to ride in...do nothing?"

  With a shake of her head, she glanced toward the kitchen and beyond to the door leading to outside. "Put Deuce in the barn and make sure he's given water and feed. And cover his tracks. If they do come, we don't want them to know Coy's here."

  "What do you mean?"

  "If they ambushed him, we want them to think he didn't make it back to the ranch." She shuddered. "Or that he died. If they are coming, we need every break we can get."

  For the third time, Grange left the room leaving her to watch over Coy. She put her head back in the rocker, willed her tight muscles to relax and closed her eyes. She'd done everything she could for now, could only pray he'd pull through. Soon, she'd have to decide what to do when the Torres brothers rode in at dusk.

  * * *

  Through a haze of pain, Coy opened his eyes and tried to acclimate to his surroundings. No one had to tell him he'd been shot. He recognized the agony of a bullet carving a path through your body, remembered his encounter with Benito, Domingo and the guttersnipe riding with them. Panic washed over him remembering their words, 'We wait until dusk. Soon the Santos ranch will be up for sale and I will be the new owner.'

  He must have groaned, not necessarily from the pain but from the thought of the carnage about to unfold. When he tried to sit up, Jesse was beside him, gently easing back onto the bed. "Whoa, cowboy. Take it easy."

  "Got to get outta this bed; they're coming."

  "You want to bust open that wound, start bleeding again?"

  "Blast it woman, you have to listen to me! Won't make any difference whether I bleed to death or not once they ride in."

  "Coy—"

  "Ma, he knows what he's talking about and you best listen." Grange had entered the room and glanced from his mother to Coy. "Tell us what we need to do."

  "For starters, go down to the cellar and empty all those jars."

  Wide-eyed, Jesse held his gaze. "Toss the food out?"

  "Food won't do you any good if you're dead."

  "I can do that, Coy." Grange searched his face with an expression of anxiety mingled with hope. "Then what?"

  Coy drew a tortured breath and waited for the spasm of pain to flee before he uttered the next words. "Fill 'em with kerosene and do it away from the house and barn."

  "What are you planning to do with them?"

  "Blow the Torres brothers to smithereens when they ride in, Jesse. If we don't, they kill us. If you believe nothing else, believe that."

  Jesse issued a firm nod. "While Grange is emptying jars and then filling them with kerosene, what can I do?"

  "That red paint on the barn looks fresh."

  "Cain painted it the year before his accident, why?"

  "Do you have any left over?"

  Jesse nodded. "I believe we have some stored in the bunkhouse."

  "Good. Find some good sized rocks and paint 'em red."

  "How big?" Jesse asked.

  "Big enough for me to see 'em one hundred yards out from the front porch."

  Grange rushed from the room and several moments later, they heard his footsteps on the cellar steps.

  "I don't know where you're going with this, Coy, but if you think you're strong enough to get out of the bed and shoot a rifle from the porch, you're out of your mind."

  "We still have several hours before they come." He gave her a stern look. "You have a better idea?"

  "No!" She lowered her voice after that word rushed from her mouth. "No, I don't, but I'm not a good enough shot and neither is Grange, so that leaves you." She sat down beside him on the bed and cupped his face. "We can ride out of here. Put you in the back of the buckboard and leave."

  "What happened to, 'I'm not giving up the land or the ranch', J
esse?" Coy brought a hand up and placed it over hers. "Huh? One of the first things you told me after I rode in is that you're not giving up on the land or the ranch. You said you'd never let Domingo and Benito run you off."

  "That was before...."

  "Before?"

  "I fell in love with you." A tear ran down her cheek. "I don't want the ranch without you. I know what I said but that was before I knew the Torres brothers were willing to kill to get what they want."

  Coy closed his eyes. "Wait. Can you repeat that first part?"

  "What?"

  "The in love with you part?"

  "I'll repeat it a thousand times if it makes you get in the back of that wagon and leave here."

  His eyes fluttered open. "Listen to me, Jesse. I'm done running, all right? I feel as if I've been running away from something all my life. Now that I found something worth staying for, worth fighting for, no one's taking it away from me. Tell me you understand."

  A flood of tears streamed from her eyes. "I don't want to lose you. That's all I know."

  "Shush now. We have a chance if you listen to me. Promise me now you'll do what I say, follow my instructions and we have a chance. Swear it, Jesse."

  A sob escaped her lips. "I promise."

  "Good girl. Now go find those rocks, paint 'em red and line them up in front of the porch one hundred yards out and ten feet apart."

  She wiped her nose with the sleeve of her dress. "What do you want done with the kerosene jars?"

  "Tell Grange to bury one by every rock, two inches to the right. Got that, Jesse? Two inches to the right of the rock."

  She nodded and held back another sob. "Promise me you won't try to get out of bed while we're doing your bidding?"

  Coy removed his hand from hers and eased back onto the pillow, the conversation sapping a lot of his strength. "I promise to rest, stay right here until you come back and tell me everything is done." He held her eyes. "Go on now, woman. I'm counting on you."

  Jesse came to her feet, crossed to the door and snatched one more look at him before she left the room.

  Coy closed his eyes and allowed blessed sleep to claim him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Outside the bedroom window, an angry horizon began its descent. Coy glanced at the clock on the bureau and realized he'd been out again for three hours. Which also meant if Grange and Jesse followed through on his instructions, the kerosene in the glass jars had ample time to gather heat.

  He also realized the mescal shared a corner of the bureau with the clock. If he intended to carry out his plan, he needed to drag his battered body from bed. And save enough strength to convince Jesse and her son to leave the ranch. He figured the second task would be more difficult than the first.

  Pain pedaled through every cell as he made his way to the bureau. He clung to a handle of a dresser drawer with one hand, and used the other to put the gourd of liquor to his lips.

  Grange walked in as he set the mescal down. "Ma's burying the last jar, two inches from the red rocks."

  Coy formed a picture in his mind of the stretch of land they'd booby-trapped. "That should cover the entire front of the house if they come down the long drive, and I expect them to do just that."

  When Coy turned to face the boy, Grange scanned him shoulders to waist. "You shouldn't be up and about. Ma said you could bust open that wound."

  "I'm done bleeding now and not as lightheaded." Coy slanted his head to the side. "Kid, you know what's about to happen, right?"

  Grange nodded. "They'll ride in soon as the sun sets."

  "That's what they said, and I'm going to take 'em at their word. They were already up to their ears in whiskey so I doubt they backtracked to see if I was still where they left me."

  "Cowards," Grange spat the word with a mutinous gleam in his eye. "Shoot a man in the back and leave him to die in the desert. Men don't get much lower than that."

  "That's why I'm about to make sure they can't harm anyone else." He made sure he grabbed and held Grange's eyes. Of all times, the boy needed to listen to him now. "You need to get your mother on that wagon and ride away from here."

  "No." He shook his head. "No, I'm not leaving, you can't take four of 'em on and live to tell about it, not in your condition."

  "Don't make me go into how many times I've taken on that many before and lived to tell about it. We don't have time now. "

  "I don't care about what you've done in the past. I'm not leaving you to fight alone."

  "You want your ma to live, don't you?"

  Grange shoved a hand out before him. "Oh, no, that's not fair."

  "It's not about being fair; it's about living or dying. If you don't go, she'll never leave. If she stays, there's a good chance she'll die." Coy delivered the next words slow and deliberate. "I don't have to tell you what they'll do to her before they kill her."

  "Argh!" The kid ran a hand through the hair at the sides of his head and paced a small area at the end of the bed. "This is so unfair! You knew if you told me she might die, I'd have no choice."

  From the doorway, Jesse's voice drifted into the room. "Have no choice for what?"

  Grange and Coy looked at her at the same time but Coy spoke up. "There's only one chance to save the ranch—and you and Grange—and that's for you two to hightail it into town right now and get the sheriff."

  Tears brimmed in her eyes. "No, you don't mean that! You don't expect us to abandon you when we know they'll ride in soon."

  "I'm good with the rifle and Ma can—can help you."

  "Help me with what, Grange?" The sun had dropped again, leaving its faint glow of amber dancing across the floorboards. "I need my rifle from the barn." Coy's gaze traveled to one of the posts holding up the bed. "My pistol is here but I'll need that ammo belt in my saddlebag."

  "You know by the time we get back here with Niall...." Jesse brought her hand to her mouth and choked on a sob. "It will be too late."

  "Thank you for the vote of confidence." Coy offered several slow nods with pursed lips. "We don't have much time now. It's the only way, Jesse. I can hold 'em off until you return with Niall. He'll help you, I know he will."

  She ran to him and flung her arms around his neck. "Who are you to demand we leave and let you orchestrate your own death?"

  He eased her back and cupped her face with one hand. "Who am I? I'm the man who loves you. I don't plan on dying, but with you and Grange heading into town for help, I know one of us will live. That's all that matters now. You and Grange must live and return to the ranch when this is over. Niall will make sure you don't lose the ranch."

  She gave her head a vigorous shake. "No, no, you can't ask me to do this. I'm signing your death warrant if we ride out now."

  "You're signing all our death warrants if you don't. Grange, grab that rocking chair, put it in front of the kitchen window and fetch my rifle." He flung an arm around Jesse's shoulders. "Help me to the other room and then bring me my pistol."

  Tears fell from her eyes, but Coy assumed she swallowed the sobs in her throat as they limped and dragged their way to the kitchen. He slumped into the chair, took the handle of his pistol and smashed the lower panes of glass.

  He watched Grange sprint across the yard with Fetch in close pursuit. He carried his rifle in the crook of his arm and next to it, Coy's.

  The boy came to an abrupt halt under the kitchen door and glanced from his mother to him. "I hitched Mae and Maude." He leaned Coy's rifle and ammunition belt up against the side of the chair. "The wagon is all set and waiting in the barn."

  "Good boy. Go on now, and take the back road, that old Indian path that winds around the mountains. You'll come out on the other side near Red Butte." He felt Jesse's hands on his shoulders. "Don't make this harder than it has to be, woman. Take your boy and get outta here while there's still time."

  Grange walked to his mother, tugged her arm and urged her toward the door. He glanced over his shoulder, his words echoing in Coy's ears. "This is bullshit and you know i
t!"

  "Jesse," Coy said and wondered if he was looking at her for the last time in his life. "What is your full name? I mean...what name were you born with?"

  "You are the damnedest man I've ever met." She swiped a tear away. "Jezebel, my birth name is, I mean was, Jezebel Lucia Devine."

  He allowed the name to swirl through his head like a sonata and then smiled.

  "You should know, Coy Santos, just because you're all shot up and acting like a complete jackass, that doesn't give you the right to call me Jezebel. No one has ever called me that except...."

  "Except?"

  "Cain." She sniffled. "He knew I didn't like it but I also knew he used it in a loving way. He always said, 'my precious Jezebel.'"

  "I'll make you a promise."

  "What's that?"

  "You come back and hang on to the ranch like you always wanted, and I'll never call you anything but Jesse."

  "Deal," she said and turned away and walked down the steps, but not before he saw her eyes fill with fresh tears. He watched them through the window as they rode from the barn in the wagon. They stopped long enough for Grange to jump from the seat, close the massive barn door and scramble up beside his mother again.

  He heard Jesse holler to the team, "Hyah!"

  Sorrow wrenched his heart before they disappeared beneath the setting sun.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes passed before Coy heard a horse whinny in the distance. Hooves pounded the ground and then a large cloud of dust rose on the periphery of the property. It had to be the Torres brothers and their sidekicks. They were coming in fast and hard.

  Coy checked the ammo in his pistol, his rifle and then aimed the barrel of the latter through the empty window pane. With any luck, they wouldn't see him from this distance...or would be too drunk to care. Aware of the constant throb of pain radiating through his back and up his neck, he focused his attention on the red rocks one hundred yards from the porch. And he counted them. Like Grange said, there were ten, their shiny metal caps the only part emerging from the ground.