Lone Valley: A Fresh Start (Mountain Man Book 6)

by Nathan Jones

  Skyler grit his teeth, nearly choking with rage. “She's not a part of this, Randall! If you've hurt her-”

  Randall laughed, harsh and mocking. “It's been a temptation, I'll admit. She is a pretty thing, and you have to be charmed by how we had to drag her kicking and screaming this whole way. The boys like 'em with a bit of fight in them.” He laughed again, the noise taking an even uglier edge. “But no, we haven't harmed a hair on her cute little head . . . yet.”

  “What do you want? What do I need to do to get her back safe?”

  “Well like you said, she's not part of this. She was just the invitation to make sure you showed up to my party. And now that you're here, once you let us truss you up nice and tight we'll make sure she gets home to that little hovel of hers, none the worse for wear.”

  Skyler didn't believe that for a second. He wasn't even sure Adalia hadn't been harmed, although he desperately hoped the man was telling the truth about that, at least. However evil Randall had become, for Adalia's sake he hoped he hadn't sunk so low.

  “So what's the plan?” he demanded. “You actually want to trade cattle, or you want me dead with no profit to yourself or your men?”

  “That's a good question, boss!” one of his other men said, barely loud enough to hear at this distance.

  “That's not it at all, kid,” Randall snapped. “Compared to your dad's ranch, Hendrickson is small time. We'll cart you safely down to Utah, where Trapper will pay twice as much for you.”

  Skyler could only assume the man was just blowing smoke, trying to get him to come in willingly; if the bandits did try to get him down to Utah, not only would he do his best to find a way to escape before that, but if Randall actually tried to get a ransom out of Trapper his dad would make him deeply regret it.

  “Kind of hard to trust that, when this all started with one of your buddies shooting at me.”

  “But you're going to do it anyway, to save the girl,” the old man called back. “After all, you came on foot and unarmed, just like I told you.”

  The bandit leader's voice seemed to be getting closer. Skyler risked a glance around the rock, and saw that Randall and emerged from behind the outcropping and was sauntering forward, holding a coil of rope in one hand and casually tapping it against his leg with every step.

  The man met his gaze and grinned as he continued, voice gloating. “Either you're a bona fide martyr, willing to give yourself up to save a girl you barely know, or you don't actually think I'm the type who'd kill you in cold blood if you cooperate. Give yourself up in her place, help me get a fair ransom for you from your pops, and that'll be the end of it.”

  He actually did think Randall was that type, and the man's current expression wasn't helping. Especially since as he got close enough, Skyler noticed that there was something subtly off about it.

  He'd heard people talk about a smile not touching someone's eyes, but with the bandit leader it was just the opposite: the smile touched his eyes too much. Most folks didn't fully invest in a phony smile, because they wanted people to know that's what they were seeing. But Randall was squinting like the town drunk at noon on a cloudless day, as if he'd heard the eyes got involved in a real smile.

  Either he was trying his darnedest to look genuine when he was phony as gold-plated lead, or even more chillingly he couldn't manage the real thing and had practiced, poorly, this fake.

  Skyler couldn't recall seeing anything strange in the man's smiles as a kid, but then again maybe he just hadn't known what to look for then. Although come to think of it, he was always hearing people talk about how perceptive kids could be. And he had known Randall didn't care about him just about from the first, from the way the man pretended whenever his mom was around, but otherwise ignored him.

  Either way, the old man's expression at the moment wasn't giving Skyler any confidence that the plan really was to trade Adalia for a chance to ransom him to his dad.

  An exchange Skyler would've been happy to make. His family could afford to lose some cattle, although more likely Trapper would've found a way to stop the bandits before that. Or at least hunted Randall down afterwards and got the animals back, while at the same time making sure the man never troubled decent folk again.

  But it didn't look as if that was going to be an option, because if he trusted his gut then Randall's only goal for luring him out here was revenge. And if that was the case, once the old man tortured him or whatever it was he planned, things wouldn't bode well for Adalia.

  Randall paused about twenty yards away. “I can understand you being hesitant to give yourself up for someone else, but I wouldn't take too long building up your courage. You've probably guessed it's Lobo I've got holding a gun to your little friend's head.” His smile turned ugly. “He enjoys amusing himself with any women we happen to capture, and he's the sort who gets bored easily. If you take too long he might decide to have some fun with her . . . if he hasn't already.”

  Skyler grit his teeth. It looked as if he was going to have to buck up and walk into this after all. And hope the young woman's kin had the patience and skill to follow his instructions and get her out safely, however things ended up for him.

  Sheriff Gray had single-handedly charged a force of Sangue to distract them from slaughtering a group of freed slaves. Skyler's birth dad had faced a horrible death by radiation poisoning to scavenge in a fallout zone to provide a better life for his family. And Trapper had stood on a ridge against overwhelming odds to buy hundreds of defenseless people time to flee to safety.

  Compared to the heroism of the men he respected most, putting himself in the hands of a man who wanted him dead, while wearing body armor and surrounded by friends watching his back, seemed a pale thing in comparison.

  Raising his hands above his head, Skyler slowly stood and stepped away from the rock. “All right, Randall. You've got me, let her go.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bound

  Randall cautiously approached with the rope, although he paused ten feet away. “Doing good so far, kid. Just hope you're not planning anything when I get within arm's reach . . . Lobo's not the only one of my boys itching to get at our guest.”

  Skyler fought the urge to charge the man. Instead he dropped to his knees, not just to display his cooperativeness but also to avoid the temptation to do anything rash. “You really are the lowest sort of filth, aren't you Randall?” he grated. “Even most bandits who've earned a noose wouldn't stoop to this.”

  “That's where you're wrong, Graham,” the old man replied calmly, not seeming fazed by the condemnation. He started forward again, hefting his rope. “The world's an ugly place, and everyone does whatever's necessary to live in it. I learned just how bad it was when Trapper and the rest of you threw me out in the cold for a simple mistake. When it's a choice of wading through filth to survive, even the best man gets on his belly and crawls with the snakes.”

  “I'm sure that's what Sangue tells themselves,” Skyler said with pure contempt. “Although at least you're finally admitting it was your screw-up that got the convoy captured.”

  Randall closed the remaining distance with a snarl, cocking a fist back for a brutal punch. The next thing Skyler knew he was on the ground seeing stars, left eye and cheekbone a blaze of pain. Before he could even consider fighting back, which he wouldn't with Adalia in danger, he was rolled roughly onto his stomach and his arms wrenched behind his back.

  “My only screw-up was hiring that miserable coot to lead us all to ruin!” the old man hissed in his ear as he got to work with the rope. “And here you are, rubbing dirt in my wounds by following the mountain man's footsteps.” He yanked Skyler's arms up enough to make him grunt in pain. “Well, those footsteps are going to lead you to your grave, boy! You and your worthless stepdaddy, too, when I can get to him.”

  Skyler tried to be subtle about flexing his arms apart as Randall bound his wrists tight. It was an obvious trick that the bandit leader should've been looking out for, but either he was supremely
confident in his position or he didn't intend to keep Skyler alive long enough for him to find a few unguarded moments to free himself.

  Either way, as the old man knotted the rope and stepped away, not even bothering to search him for hidden weapons, Skyler relaxed his arms and tested the rope. He was satisfied that he had at least an inch of slack to work with.

  Showing surprising strength in his wiry limbs, Randall yanked him to his feet and pushed him towards the gully. “Good of you to cooperate, Graham,” he said with vicious satisfaction as they started forward. “Now I just need to decide whether to skin you an inch at a time before or after I force you to watch what we do to your friend.”

  Skyler yanked free and spun, rage overpowering his good sense. He'd half expected this, but even so he couldn't believe that Randall wasn't going to at least let Adalia go. “You son of a-”

  He and Randall both flinched at a sudden storm of gunfire from within the gully, whirling to look that way. Up on their perches the two bandits covering him with their rifles dropped, although Skyler's hope that they'd been shot was dashed when their weapons began barking in response to the sudden attack.

  “Boss!” Tram yelled over the din. “The Mexicans somehow snuck up on us! They're freeing their gash!”

  The bandit leader stared blankly for a second, then turned back on Skyler in a fury. Skyler was already moving, head ducked to shoulder tackle the old man. It was an awkward move with his hands tied behind his back, but surprise made up a lot of the difference.

  Move first. Move fast. Don't give the enemy time to recover.

  They both went down hard, Skyler mostly on top. He had to rely on his legs as he thrashed to keep Randall pinned, all the while desperately working at the rope binding his wrists to get a hand free. The rough cords tore his skin, refusing to let his hands slide through, and he had to force himself to slow down, concentrate on bringing his wrists closer and changing the angle so the rope was looser. All the while trying use just his body weight to pin an enemy who wanted him dead.

  Which proved impossible. Just as he finally got one hand free the many gunshots echoing around him, from the bandits and his friends both, became much more attention grabbing as a pain like getting punched in the lower chest knocked the wind out of him and shoved him backwards, nearly dislodging his leg hold on Randall.

  He'd been shot.

  There was no time to assess whether the bullet had pierced his flak jacket, because while he was struggling to wheeze in a breath Randall suddenly heaved with surprising strength and broke free. Only for a moment, but that was all it took for the old man to jam a knee up between Skyler's legs hard enough to lift him a few inches into the air.

  The next thing he knew he was curled up on the ground, fighting the urge to throw up at the blinding pain in his groin. He was barely aware of Randall scrambling to get out from under him, although he knew he should do something about it before the man came back to bash his head in.

  Focus, Skyler. If you can't fight through the pain, you've got no business fighting.

  Trapper had told him that, not long after they'd started up their first ranch in his valley. The mountain man had been telling the story of how he'd once got attacked by a cougar, pinned and with the animal gnawing on the arm he'd raised to protect himself. Skyler had asked him if it had hurt, and his dad had given the obvious answer.

  Of course it had. Like the dickens.

  So, kid that he was, Skyler had boasted that he'd just have to get so good he never got hurt in a fight. At which point Trapper had pointed out that if he thought like that, he'd never prepare for having to fight while wounded, possibly in blinding pain. Never develop the clarity of mind needed to ignore the cougar gnawing on his arm, the panic and agony locking down his thoughts and freezing him in place, so he could draw his knife and ram it into the big cat's neck.

  Think like that, and when the time came he'd end up dead because he wasn't ready.

  It was awfully hard to train for fighting while hurt unless you were crazy enough to injure yourself to do it, which was just idiocy. But you could mentally prepare yourself. And, if you'd had to fight as often as Skyler had, including with the inevitable injuries he'd taken in spite of his childish boast, you learned how to handle it.

  That didn't mean it wasn't hard. Every time.

  He grit his teeth and forced himself to roll back to his hands and knees, just in time to keep from being pinned as Randall leapt for him. The next few seconds were a blur as they both wrestled to get on top of the other and pin them.

  Skyler was quite a bit stronger but still struggling to catch his breath and fight through the pain, and only succeeding so well. As for Randall, he was slippery as a weasel and seemed to have far more experience grappling. He kept somehow getting around behind Skyler and trying to leverage him into a pin, and only thrashing with all his strength managed to keep the man from succeeding.

  On an intellectual level he knew that if he could get a safe amount of distance between him and his enemy, his friends or a member of Hancock's posse could probably put a bullet in him. Or if he had a few seconds he could draw his concealed Glock, either shoot Randall or intimidate him into surrendering.

  Then again, he had no idea how the fight with the rest of Randall's gang was going. He'd already been shot once, and if even one of the bandits above the gully was still alive, he could put a bullet in Skyler the moment he had another clear shot.

  So he kept struggling to pin the bandit down.

  “You're a frustrating man to kill, Graham,” Randall panted in his ear. “Everything comes easy to you except dying!”

  Skyler didn't bother to waste any breath talking, just clenched his jaw and kept fighting.

  Inevitably, age won out. He felt Randall's strength finally begin to flag, and at last managed to get on top of the bandit. At that point he thought the battle was over, especially when the old man abruptly went limp beneath him.

  It was luck more than anything that allowed Skyler to catch the glint of metal in Randall's hand just a moment before his enemy twisted and drove the hidden knife towards his neck. He jerked backwards at the last moment, only reflexes honed by Trapper's training and years of surviving in the wild allowing him to slap aside the blade before it opened his throat.

  Agony burned along his palm as the knife flew away, edge tinged with blood. Skyler grit his teeth against this newest source of pain and slammed Randall's head into the ground. As the man went limp again, he scrabbled at the small of his back and pulled out his 9mm, shoving it into Randall's cheek.

  The old man froze, nearer eye tracking the sleek metal. “On your stomach, hands on the back of your head,” Skyler growled.

  Randall grudgingly complied. “What now, kid? Going to have some fun before finishing me off, cut me up or burn me a bit?”

  Skyler snorted. “Trapper once told me the unwarranted assumptions and accusations someone tosses out at you is a good view into their own head. Yours seems like a pleasant place.”

  “So what is it, then? Going to drag me back to the ranch and toss a rope over a tree? Make my death a spectacle?”

  “Something like that, if you consider justice to be a spectacle. You're headed back to Lone Valley to see what the Northern League decides to do with you. Although from what I've seen they're none too gentle with bandits.”

  Skyler paused before binding Randall's hands behind his back to look around. He was relieved to see the two bandits who'd been covering their boss in clear view on the ridge above, slumped motionless with severe or fatal bullet wounds. He also saw Fernando hurrying into view from deeper inside the gully. The homesteader gave him two thumbs up, and Skyler felt the breath whoosh out of him in relief.

  Adalia was safe. It was over.

  ✽✽✽

  Randall was the only bandit captured alive.

  The two men who'd hassled Adalia in town, Tram and Nils, had been fatally shot in the firefight, while Lobo had been killed in the rescue. No one else had been hurt as
ide from Skyler, who had a hefty bruise forming on his lower chest from the shot blocked by his flak jacket, and a wicked slice along his palm. Not to mention the shiner he was going to end up with from Randall's sucker punch.

  Adalia, shaken by her ordeal but otherwise unharmed, a welcome surprise after all Randall's threats, helped clean and bind the wound at the mouth of the gully, all the while protectively surrounded by her family.

  “I'm sorry you got dragged into this,” Skyler told her quietly as she worked.

  She merely looked away, and as soon as she was done her father shooed him off. The homesteaders left not long after that, the young woman in the center of a protective circle as they hurried towards home.

  Hancock seemed pleased to have his and his friend's horses and property returned, and the bandits dealt with. He agreed to take Randall back to town and hold him until the League could come dispense justice.

  “The old man expressed an interest in talking to you before I stuffed a gag in his mouth,” the trader told Skyler as they prepared to head out.

  Probably to vent more bile, maybe insult his parents some more. Skyler had already heard enough from the poisonous old snake to last him a lifetime, which he supposed wouldn't be long if that lifetime was Randall's.

  “Guess he'll have to get used to disappointment,” he said.

  Hancock chuckled. “Dunno, he doesn't seem like the type to face hardship with equanimity. Hence the gag.”

  The bandit leader was slung unceremoniously over the back of one of the reclaimed horses, and with a final round of handshakes and well-wishes all around the posse set off back to town.

  Skyler didn't have any particular desire to stick around this place, but while Uncle Bob had already brought the horses and was mounted up to leave, Lisa had settled down on a rock at the mouth of the gully and was staring off into nothing.