by Nathan Jones
✽✽✽
“Might as well make yourself comfortable,” Robert Hancock cheerfully told the bandit hogtied in his storeroom. “You'll be here for a while. Thrashing around's just going to dig those ropes into your skin and make things worse.”
Lobo grunted through his gag, no doubt trying to say all sorts of pleasant things. Chuckling, Robert closed and locked the door, heading back for his storefront and his usual place behind the counter.
Mrs. Longley had come around just an hour or so ago to feed the bandit lunch and tend his wounded leg, but in spite of that Robert didn't think he was checking in too often. He couldn't in good conscience force the poor woman to deal with helping the man relieve himself, or even worse cleaning him up if he soiled himself, so he popped in regularly to see if Lobo needed a trip to the latrine out back.
And also, if he was being honest with himself, to check the man's bonds and make sure he wasn't trying to wriggle out of them. Having a dangerous bandit trussed up in his store didn't do much for his ease of mind, especially trying to sleep at night.
He hadn't mustered up the courage yet to tell Mila about Lobo, mostly because she hadn't come around last night. Probably a late shift at the Watering Hole had left her too tired to do more than crash in the room she still kept with a couple of her friends.
Although lately she'd been sleeping over at his apartment above the store more and more, which he certainly had no objections to.
Robert had a feeling she was seeing a ring in their future, a thought that simultaneously thrilled and terrified him; after so long on the road working in trade convoys, it was hard to picture himself as the settling down sort.
Although his lady love might run for the hills if she found out he was using his store as a prison, with a gang of bloodthirsty bandits still lurking around to spring their buddy. He must've been crazy to agree to it in the first place, but it had been impossible to say no to that poor kid standing out in the dark trying to do everything at once.
And also, more cynically, it never hurt to have wealthy ranchers owing you a favor.
He just hoped Graham and the Hendricksons were doing okay up north with all that, and that hope wasn't cynical. Although he had to admit part of it was that if they took care of the bandits on their own, Lone Valley would have one less problem to deal with.
Hopefully the League would swing around sooner rather than later to take Lobo off his hands, and if it was still needed sort out the rest of the bandits, too.
Also Robert needed to restock, so there was that. Speaking of which, he'd just settled down behind the counter when the bell over his door jingled merrily as customers came in.
Or not.
He prided himself on his ability to read people and situations, and he sniffed trouble the moment he spotted the three ragged men shuffling through the door, looking surly and footsore. “Welcome, gentlemen!” he said cheerfully, while subtly shifting behind the counter to bring his hand closer to the .44 revolver he kept in a nook there. “How can I help you?”
The old man at the head of the small group, with hints of dark red among the gray of his hair, smiled disarmingly as he started towards the counter. “Hey there. We're here to pick up a prisoner.”
Son of a . . . Robert had been afraid that's what this was about. “Hate to tell you, gents, but this is a store, not a prison,” He gave the old man, who had to be one of Lobo's bandit buddies, his best smile in return.
The old man chuckled. “So I've noticed, my friend. Still, lacking anything better a sturdy storeroom will do in a pinch.” His smile abruptly vanished. “Do yourself a favor and don't try to play dumb, we know our friend is here. We don't want trouble, we just want to get him and go.”
Robert cursed inwardly. All three men were holding guns, ready for trouble while obviously trying and failing to not look menacing; even if he got his .44 out and managed to bring one bandit down before the others raised their weapons, he'd be dead moments later.
His counter was reinforced, with a slit he could shoot through if needed, but the last thing he wanted was a shootout in his store. He doubted it would end well for him, and even if he did manage to chase these SOBs off, his stock would be damaged and people would become afraid to frequent his establishment. To say nothing of how Mila would react; he'd been proud to have his store and his apartment above it be a welcoming and safe place for her.
A place she could eventually call home.
Besides, he wasn't about to risk his life for his prisoner. He'd warned Graham what would happen if Lobo's friends came for him, and while he didn't like the idea of letting the bandit go free, he liked the idea of being a corpse even less.
So he took his hand away from his gun and gave the three men a polite nod. “This way, gentlemen.”
There'd been some uncomfortable times in Robert's life. Putting his back to three armed men as he led them to their friend he was keeping prisoner definitely fell into that category. He struggled to keep his posture nonchalant and not show any signs of rushing, or even worse dawdling, as he unlocked the storeroom and threw it open.
The old bandit behind him looked a few shades less friendly when he saw his man hogtied and bound to a shelf to keep from rolling around. “We've tended his wound and given him regular meals,” Robert hastened to assure him. “Take him to the latrine out back when he needs it, too.”
“Well aren't you the soul of charity?” one of the other bandits said sarcastically. “Regular hotel, this place.”
He flushed and shut up, moving out of the way as the bandits shoved into the room. They wasted no time untying their friend, the old man checking his wounded leg at the same time. Then they hauled Lobo to his feet, giving him support as he swayed wearily.
“Thanks for the save, boss,” Lobo said as he awkwardly stretched, looking relieved that he was finally free of his bonds. He rubbed gingerly at his wounded leg. “Not sure how you found me, but I sure wasn't looking forward to spending weeks in this musty hole waiting for wheatcoats to show up with a noose.”
Robert was sort of wondering how the bandits had found him as well. He certainly hadn't told anyone he didn't trust, at least enough to not rat him out to scum preying on Lone Valley. And it didn't seem likely the kid would tell his enemies where they could find their captured buddy.
Unless of course the bandits had gotten their hands on Graham or the Hendricksons and somehow tortured the information out of them. Not a comfortable thought.
Or maybe some nosy Lone Valley resident had noticed the kid dragging a prisoner to Robert's store and rumors had started. He supposed how didn't matter much now that his storeroom was full of armed thugs.
They robbed him, of course. But thankfully they were in a hurry, skittish about operating in the center of town with only four men. So after pawing through the storeroom and grabbing a few useful or valuable items, they wasted no time forcing him to open the lockbox he kept behind the counter for the small amount of precious metals, mostly silver, he had on hand for making purchases from the few people willing to take that in trade. While their leader was focused on that, the other three rushed around the store shoving nonperishable food and valuable items like ammunition into bags.
The loss of all that would be a serious blow, but one Robert could recover from. If they'd taken longer searching the storeroom they would've found things he couldn't afford to lose, and if they'd gone up and spent time tearing apart his apartment above the store they might've found his stash of gold and silver hidden behind a wall.
And he shuddered to think what might've happened if Mila had taken an unexpected break from her shift at the Watering Hole and was up there.
To his further relief, as the bandit leader shouted for his men to pack it up and get moving, he showed no sign of wanting to kill Robert to keep him from sending a posse after the gang. Of course, that might've been because they were trying to figure out how to get out of town without being pursued, and gunshots certainly wouldn't help them there.
; “He's not getting far with his leg like this, boss,” the bandit helping Lobo towards the door said. “He needs a horse.”
“So I see,” their leader growled. He turned to Robert. “You've got at least one, right? A prosperous trader like you?”
He did in fact have a good team of draft horses to pull his wagon. Although with regular League trade convoys coming through, he hadn't used it for much besides renting out to other people since setting up shop in Lone Valley.
Not that he was about to admit any of that. “Afraid you'll have to look at the livery stable in town, gentlemen,” he said in his best apologetic voice; his team was there and the bandits might take them, but he hoped they'd go for the more suitable riding horses instead.
It wasn't like he was throwing his buddy Todd to the wolves by sending the bandits his way. The stable was just down the road, impossible to miss. In fact, he'd probably save his friend's life by going along and talking the man into giving these men what they wanted without a fuss.
He didn't even have to suggest that, since the bandit leader waved him towards the door with his gun. “Lead on then, trader.” His voice hardened. “And keep it casual. Hate to have to shoot you because you tried to get us all caught.”
“No worries, gentlemen, I intend to cooperate fully.” Robert took a moment to lock up his store out of habit, not blind to the irony of doing so after already being robbed, then led the way down the street towards the livery stable.
Thankfully, the streets were mostly empty. He nodded in greeting to a couple residents of the shanty town coming the other way, uncomfortably aware of the bandit leader crowding his side and the barrel of a pistol pressed to his back. The new settlers passed him without a second glance, busy with their own worries, and then he and the others were at the stable.
Todd looked pissed once he realized what was happening, but thankfully raised no fuss as he led the bandits to look at the horses.
Only three were deemed suitable by the gang's leader, none of which were Robert's draft horses. The bandits forced him and Todd to saddle the beasts at gunpoint, then stowed what they'd stolen from his store in saddlebags. Lobo and one of the other bandits then led the beasts outside to mount up, while the gang leader and his last man remained to tie up and gag Robert and his friend.
“Not worth the trouble that would come from putting a bullet in your skulls,” the old man said idly as he checked the knots and stepped back. “You come after us, though, and we'll make you wish we'd killed you quickly here.”
Warning given, the two outlaws slipped outside to join their friends.
Robert immediately got busy working at the ropes binding his wrists, all the while listening to the racket of the bandits mounting up and then the sound of their hoofbeats fading. His attempts to dislodge his gag proved fruitless, which was a shame since they were in the middle of town and could've called for help. Which just left struggling at tight bonds and hoping to get free sometime before dying of thirst.
Todd grunted. He was still working on his gag, seeming to feel that getting it out and calling for help was the better option. Well, probably good that they were each trying something different, increasing their chances of one of them making something happen.
How likely was it that someone would stumble across them in here? The feed and tack room of the stables also doubled as a rudimentary storefront, and with the potential of horse thieves everyone knew Todd kept the animals in the stable itself locked up tight. The most they could hope for was someone knocking at the door, maybe calling to see if he was there, before wandering off again.
The man wasn't married and didn't keep regular employees, either, so no hope of anyone coming around looking for him. As for Robert, he had little hope Mila would think to look for him here first out of all the other possibilities of where he could be. Although that wouldn't happen until she was done with her shift after dark anyway, so even if she looked for him here it would be a long wait.
In retrospect, he probably should've helped round up a posse to go after the bandits the moment Mrs. Hendrickson came around begging for help for her ranch. Sure would've been better for him and his friend, considering what had just happened.
Or, alternatively, he could've sent the kid packing when he came around with Lobo. Stayed out of this mess entirely.
No good deed went unpunished.
✽✽✽
“You spent some time with the kid,” Simon said idly to Lobo, who he was supporting in the saddle in front of him, as they rode away from town. He'd just finished filling him in on everything that had happened to the gang after Graham had caught him and dragged him into ignoble captivity in that store. “Hear anything useful that'll help us beat him?”
Tram and Nils both guided their newly acquired horses closer to hear the answer. Lobo hesitated, looking reluctant. “I don't know, boss. Maybe. He's a mouthy SOB, likes to talk a lot of nonsense about history and things he claims he and his dad have done. Wouldn't guess anyone who spends that much time thinking about that sort of stuff would be any good in a fight.”
“But?” Simon demanded.
“But the little hija de puta gives me the heebie jeebies.” Lobo snorted and shook his head. “I can almost believe he really did fight the bloodies.”
Your friends? he thought with dark amusement. He'd never confirmed one way or another that the man was a Sangue deserter, but given what he knew of him it seemed more than likely. “Really?” he said flatly.
“Really,” Lobo agreed, dead serious. “I could even believe they started calling him Lobo Solitario, like he claims.”
“The Lone Wolf?” Simon couldn't help but laugh. “He tell you that before or after he heard your name, Lobo? You're going to believe that just because Mountain Man Jr. knows how to sneak around shooting people in the back, the hardened soldiers of an invading army learned to fear him at fourteen?” He shook his head, laughing even harder. “Lone Wolf is the sort of nickname a kid might give himself to sound impressive, don't you think?”
His man scowled and gestured to his wounded leg. “You can laugh, but he's been wiping the floor with all of us since we picked a fight with him, no? Chased Franco and most of our buddies off, stole our horses, killed and wounded a few of us in fights where we should've stomped him flat.”
“He's got a point, old man,” Tram said. “I don't like losing, especially when it means missing out on a fortune in cattle and horses, and I want revenge on those miserable cowpokes.” He paused significantly. “But that kid you're feuding with is an unholy terror. If we want to get that livestock we need to account for that.”
Nils nodded, expression dark. “If we could get our hands on that pretty little rancher girl we'd have some leverage, squeeze the kid.” He licked his lips, expression turning ugly. “I could personally thank her for putting a bullet in Tony, too.”
Much as Simon hated Graham and the Hendricksons, and even though they'd been directly responsible for ruining his life, part of him still felt queasy at that line of thinking. He could still remember Lisa as the innocent child, tiny as a doll, struggling determinedly to push her family's handcart on the road to Newpost.
He'd actually been kind of fond of the little squirt. More than of her best bud Skyler, definitely.
But he couldn't ignore the last ten years of ignominious living he'd endured because of those people. Or the fact that the Hendrickson girl was all grown up and murdering his men. If he had to toss her to his boys to keep them happy, so be it; her family had tossed him to the wolves first.
Although in consideration of that wide eyed little girl she'd been, he'd try to put a bullet in her during the fighting to spare her that fate. Her mom too, if it came to it; there were things no woman should have to go through, let alone twice.
In any case, it was all a moot point. He wanted to kill Graham, maybe Hendrickson if he had the chance, and his men wanted the cattle. Once they had those things they could be on their way.
So he cleared his throat sharply
. “We're not taking anyone from that ranch, it's locked down tight. But you've got the right idea about getting some leverage on the kid.”
“Exactly what leverage?” Tram demanded. “Graham's new to this place, same as us. He has no ties outside of that ranch.”
“None?” Simon asked, smiling slyly. “Have you already forgotten the other pretty little lady he rushed to protect?”
✽✽✽
The gully was deserted.
In fact, after hours of careful scouting around every single hiding spot within miles of the ranch, none of which seemed to be occupied by Randall's gang, Skyler was starting to feel slightly optimistic. He'd followed the tracks of most of the gang as they hoofed it out of Lone Valley, heading southwest along the mountains. A few others had gone a different way, south towards town, but maybe that was just to pick up supplies before leaving for good.
There was no cause to lower his guard, not until either enough time had passed for him to be sure Randall really had finally realized he couldn't win and left, or the Northern League finally showed up to scour this area and either drive off or capture the bandits.
Still, he could admit he was breathing easier.
He wasn't the only one. In the early afternoon they risked sending Fernando down to the homestead to bring Adalia back to look over Jared again. After cleaning around the wound and putting on clean bandages, she'd come outside and gathered them all into the yard from sentry duty, reporting that there was still no sign of infection in the wound. On top of that, color was starting to return to the ranch hand's cheeks, and he was awake and alert, even eating broth with help.
“He'll be bedridden healing for a long while yet,” she said as she tucked a stray wisp of dark hair behind her ear. “But he's got a strong fighting spirit and no intention of giving up. I think we can be optimistic about his chances moving forward.”