Paid in Blood

by William W. Johnstone

  “Lightin’ a shuck is one thing,” said Ulysses. “But shootin’ you on the way out, Boss, can’t hardly be excused so easy.”

  Riley’s mouth curved in a rueful grin.

  “I said I wanted the kid to show some backbone, didn’t I? When I caught on to what they was up to, I came roarin’ out to confront ’em. It was half-dark, the middle of the night. I said some pretty rough things, threatened to turn Jeff into a gelding right there on the spot. Took a swing at him. As he fell back, he jerked out a gun to defend himself. Hell, I’m twice his size. I don’t think he meant for it to go off, though. When it did, I think it surprised him even more than me.”

  “Lucky it didn’t surprise you to death,” Ulysses muttered. “He shoulda put up his fists and fought you like a man.”

  “To give him his due, he didn’t bolt like a yellow dog. He stuck around and immediately went to work with my daughter to tend the wound. Might even have saved my life with their quick attention.”

  “Yeah, after he dang near took it to begin with. That don’t exactly balance the scales to my way of thinkin’. I still say we shoulda strung him up that same night.”

  Riley replied, “In case you never noticed, Ulysses, I think the milk of human kindness might be seriously curdled inside you.”

  Ulysses just grunted.

  “I guess it’s partly my own fault for sayin’ I was curious to hear more about the Danvers boy bein’ here, how he came to shoot you and all,” spoke up Buckhorn. “But we’ve drifted kinda far off the track of why I’m really here. What’s it gonna take for you to make up your mind on hiring me as part of your crew? And do you want to hear more about that outlying meadow and the surprise that’s gonna be waitin’ there for anybody lookin’ to try and make off with the herd they’ve moved in?”

  Riley regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment, then said, “You’ve got a lot of brass, that much is obvious. And, from all reports, you’re handier than average with a gun. That might be a combination I’d be interested in, but then again it might not be. We’ll let my answer to that percolate for a little while longer.

  “As to the meadow you’re referring to, I’m very familiar with the spot. Matter of fact, I tried to add the piece of land around there to Circle D range clear back when I was ramroddin’ the place. But Goetz, that tight-assed old Dutchman who owned it, wouldn’t deal. Truth to tell, when I heard last winter that he finally made the sale it galled the hell out of me that somebody else was able to get it done. It’s damn good land, and that meadow is the prize part. I figured Micah wouldn’t waste any time puttin’ some cattle in there first thing this spring.”

  “So you’ve had some of your boys keepin’ tabs on it, right? Watchin’ for the move to take place?”

  “That was the general idea.”

  “Next time you do something like that, I’d suggest you tell your scouts to be more careful about leaving sign,” Buckhorn said. He went on to explain how the fresh prints on the hogback had been spotted and how Micah had reacted.

  “Hell, that shouldn’t have come as any big surprise,” Riley said. “Did they expect that stickin’ a fresh herd in an outlying spot like that would do anything else but attract the interest of any rustlers workin’ the area?”

  Buckhorn shrugged.

  “Don’t know what they would or wouldn’t have expected under different circumstances. But in this case, with a Texas Ranger fresh-arrived in the county, they got powerful anxious to use the lure and location for settin’ a trap.”

  “And the ranger bought in?”

  “That he did.”

  Riley’s expression pulled into a frown.

  “That’s damn poor luck. Those rangers don’t miss a lick, and once they sink their teeth into a thing they stay clamped tight as a hound dog on a bone. And you don’t dare shoot one of the devils or the rest of the outfit will be on you for the rest of your born days!”

  “Since they only just moved the cattle in this mornin’,” said Ulysses, “what are the chances they’d have their trap ready to spring right away on the first night?”

  “What difference does it make whether they do or not?” Riley grumbled. “Either way, we ain’t ready to take action on such short notice.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Ulysses countered. “We still got two or three hours of daylight. Then another stretch before midnight. Ain’t like we’ve never wide-looped a bunch of beef before. We put our heads together and do some hurry-up thinkin’ and plannin’ I don’t see why—”

  “No,” Riley said with a firm shake of his head. “Our way ain’t ever been to rush into a thing half-cocked. That’s why we’ve been successful and never got caught. We ain’t gonna change that now, especially with a Texas Ranger in the picture.”

  Ulysses’s nostrils flared. He clearly wanted to argue his point some more. In the end, though, he held his tongue.

  “But what we are gonna do,” said Riley, “is put our new friend here to the test.” He jerked a thumb to indicate Buckhorn though his eyes stayed on Ulysses. “Once it’s full dark, take a couple men—men who know how to move like shadows and have eyes like hawks—and go check out that meadow. See what’s waiting there in case we would have tried something tonight.”

  “What about him?” Ulysses asked, gesturing toward Buckhorn.

  “As long as he’s unarmed, he’ll be all right to stay here where we can keep an eye on him,” Riley answered. “I’ve got my brace of Navy Colts right here by my bed, and the gals can give a holler if he tries anything funny. Tell the other men to keep an eye on the house but not to interfere unless they’re certain of trouble. I don’t think there will be, though. I haven’t made up my mind yet exactly what this bird is up to, but it’s something more elaborate than just marching in here and shooting up the place.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Buckhorn muttered.

  Now the wounded man’s eyes swung to Buckhorn.

  “Don’t get too cocky, mister. After I’ve heard what Ulysses finds in that meadow, then I will make up my mind about you. But it’s not a done deal yet.”

  CHAPTER 33

  With the darkness of evening descending outside, Buckhorn took supper with Joey, Eve, and Jeff Danvers. In his weakened condition, the afternoon’s discussions and activity had exhausted Dan Riley to the point where he’d nodded off as soon as things quieted down. Choosing to let him rest, Eve had prepared a plate and set it aside for him to eat when he woke later on.

  Ulysses Mason also left Riley undisturbed when he, along with two men of his choosing, had faded off to go check out the Circle D meadow.

  Conversation during the meal was minimal and somewhat strained. When they were done eating, the women shooed Buckhorn and Jeff away while they cleared the table and did the dishes. The two men made their way outside and found themselves faced with the first opportunity for just the two of them to talk without anyone hovering in close proximity.

  That didn’t mean they weren’t still being watched, however. Buckhorn had felt eyes upon him, either directly or covertly, every second since he’d arrived at this place. It wasn’t those whose presence he could discern openly that bothered him—not Riley or his daughter or Jeff, not Ulysses or even the two lassoers from the pass—but rather the shadowy observers who hung back inside the murky recesses of the old farm’s other buildings. Buckhorn had caught furtive movements, heard more than a few soft bootscrapes of sound. He knew they were there, had no doubt about it. He just couldn’t tell how many there were or why the need for such ghostly behavior.

  “It’s creepy, ain’t it?” said Jeff, as if reading his mind. “Knowing they’re there, knowing they’re watching your every stinkin’ move. That’s how they did me at first, too. I think it’s like a game. Meant to unnerve you, keep you on edge . . . What made the game all the more fun for me was the thought that for every set of unseen eyes there was a hangman’s noose dangling and eager to tighten around my neck.”

  “Thanks for painting that cheerful pictur
e,” Buckhorn said. “I hadn’t been thinking anything about a hangman’s noose.”

  They’d each lowered themselves to take seats on the edge of the porch, leaning back against gray, weathered posts.

  “You’re probably safe from worrying about a noose,” Jeff said. “Me, I’m the dummy who showed up aiming to seduce away the boss’s daughter and ended up shooting him in the attempt. You, you’re just lookin’ to get hired on as part of the gang.”

  “Yeah, but if I do get hired, I didn’t figure that lurking around like some damn ghost would be part of the job.”

  Jeff grunted and said, “Still might be a chance for me to end up a lurking ghost, too—only I’d be the real deal.”

  “From the look and sound of things, I think you’re pretty well past that threat. Riley says he likes men with backbone, men willing to fight for what they want. I’d say you showed that kind of grit by shooting him. Plus you happen to have a pretty little ace up your sleeve in the form of the daughter he adores and who, in turn, seems plenty adoring of you.”

  “I sure hope so,” Jeff said. “The way I’ve botched things up, I wouldn’t blame her if she changed her mind about her feelings for me.”

  Thinking, among other things, of how his own situation wasn’t taking shape exactly as hoped for, Buckhorn said wryly, “You’ve hardly got a patent on botching things up, kid. You can take my word on that.”

  “I hope you’re right on that score, too. I’ve got to admit that, if I can come out of it alive, there’s been some things I ran across here that I don’t all the way regret. I’ve had my eyes opened to stuff that . . . well, are a lot different than I believed before.”

  Buckhorn’s eyes blazed. He was intrigued to know what the young man meant by that. He wanted to press him hard for the answer. At the same time, though, he knew he had to approach it with the right amount of caution.

  “Hey,” he said. “I’m angling to try and join this outfit. Remember? I know they’re outlaws and all, so that hardly makes me some lily-pure soul who’s shy about mixing in a little rough business. But if their game is something too far on the rotten side, that might be good for me to know before I get—”

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” Jeff interrupted. A thin, lopsided smile touched his mouth. “Comes to that, they’re just common grade rustlers and robbers. Involved in standard ‘rough business,’ as you put it. What I ran across, the stuff I’m talkin’ about . . . well, it’s more of a personal nature.”

  Once again Buckhorn wanted to pounce on that statement and hear more about what was behind it. But, as before, he knew he had to handle it just right, not appear too eager.

  He said, “I only worked for your ma for a short time. But it was long enough to see that—apart from her immediate concern for you and your safety since you’ve gone missing—she’s still deeply troubled and bitter about the way Riley turned on her and the Circle D. If you found out something that would ease her mind about that, at least allow her to understand it better, you’re right about that being something not to regret.”

  Jeff’s expression turned forlorn.

  “That’s just it. I can ease her mind about why Big Dan did what he did. But in order to do that, I’d have to hurt her, break her heart, in a whole different way. One that’s sure to be even harder on her.”

  Buckhorn stayed quiet. Waiting. Hoping that the young man would continue on without prodding.

  Thankfully, he did.

  “The night I shot Dan, you see, he said some things right afterward that hit me almost as hard as my bullet hit him. It happened at his brother’s ranch, the Slash-Double R. That’s where him and Eve were staying, where I’d gone to fetch her. I didn’t even know about this place—we didn’t come here until two or three days later, when it seemed safe to move Dan and he insisted on being brought here to recuperate.

  “But that first night everybody thought his wound was worse than it was. Even Dan. There was so much blood and pain he thought it might be mortal. That’s when he grabbed me by the shirtfront and told me some things he said I needed to know and needed to tell my mother. Back when he got driven off the Circle D, he swore he’d never done any of the things he was accused of. He insisted he was set up. And, although he wasn’t able to prove it—not then, not since—he’s convinced my brother Micah was behind it all.”

  In his gut, Buckhorn immediately believed what Jeff had just said. Believed what Jeff was claiming, believed the accusations by Riley that were behind it. Micah. Snake mean and ruthless beyond reason.

  But, to avoid the appearance of buying in too easily, the gunman said, “That’s quite a story, kid. Only thing is, and I hate to break this to you, but practically every hombre who’s ever gone down the owlhoot trail has some kind of excuse or sad tale of woe about why he made his bad turn.”

  Jeff shook his head vigorously.

  “No. Not in this case. Don’t you see? This was practically the same as a deathbed confession—the kind of thing that would stand up even in a court of law. Dan genuinely thought he might be dying. Before he did, he wanted me to know the truth.”

  “And you believe him? About your own brother?”

  Jeff looked away and said, “You don’t understand. There’s always been a dark side to Micah. Twisted and cruel for no good reason. Devious, too.”

  “And what about all this?” Buckhorn said, gesturing. “This hideout valley and the gang of rustlers and robbers he’s got gathered around him . . . Is this all staged by Micah, too? Piling on the evidence to keep making Riley look bad?”

  “The way Dan explains it,” Jeff answered, “once his name had been dragged through the mud and pretty much ruined, he decided to hell with it—if people were so willing to believe he’d turned outlaw, then he’d by-God be one.”

  “And so that’s what he’s been working at ever since.”

  “I guess that’s the size of it.”

  Further discussion of the subject was interrupted by Eve and Joey emerging from the house. It was full dark by now, and the air, still damp from the afternoon rain, carried a deepening chill. Both women were wrapped in shawls and Eve was carrying a candle.

  For the first time, Buckhorn noticed there were traces of lantern and candlelight starting to show in some of the other buildings, thin seams of illumination leaking out around what he took to be pieces of burlap covering the windows.

  “Brrr. It’s cold out here,” Eve said. “I think I changed my mind about sitting out here with y’all for a spell. Let’s go back inside, maybe even throw a couple logs on the fire. I’d better check on Father, too. He’ll be needing an extra blanket.”

  Jeff rose to his feet.

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  But Joey lagged.

  “I think I’d like to stay out here and enjoy the fresh air for at least a little while,” she said. “If Mr. Buckhorn is willing not to leave me all alone, that is.”

  “Wouldn’t think of abandoning you that way,” Buckhorn assured her. “Pick yourself a slice of porch and have a seat.”

  “Do you want me to leave the candle?” Eve asked, looking somewhat reluctant to proceed with her departure now.

  “No, that’s okay,” Joey told her. “The moon is on the rise. And we won’t be all that long.”

  “Very well. Please don’t overdue it. You’ll catch your death in this damp air.”

  Eve and Jeff disappeared inside.

  As soon as they were out of sight and earshot, Joey laughed softly and said, “She is such a little worry wart. She told me that she thinks you are an incredibly menacing desperado, and I can tell she is officially horror-stricken at the thought of leaving me out here alone with you. I predict it won’t be five minutes before she finds some excuse to pop back out to check on us.”

  “Maybe she’ll bring hot cocoa and a blanket.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me a bit. The really silly part, of course, is thinking she’s leaving me alone with you when she knows darn well that there are a half dozen or mo
re of Uncle Dan’s thugs watching your every move. Furthermore, most of them are cut from cloth exactly the same as you. Well, maybe not exactly, considering you could probably shade any two of them. Except maybe for Ulysses. You want to talk about a menacing hombre? I don’t think you’d have to look much farther.”

  “Yeah, I sorta noticed that, too . . . especially during the time he was waving that sawed-off scattergun under my nose.”

  “Which came after I led you into the pass where I knew some of Uncle Dan’s men would be waiting. That’s the part you’re leaving unsaid but surely must be thinking. Right?”

  Buckhorn gave a one-shouldered shrug.

  “Now that you mention it . . .”

  “I was just doing what you wanted. What you more or less insisted on. Keep that part in mind, too. And, if you got a little scuffed up as a result, well, I hadn’t forgot that you’d done your own share of scuffing up a couple of our boys back at the ranch.”

  “Not denying that,” Buckhorn said. “And I’m not complaining about you leading me into that pass. We had to get down here somehow and, like you said, it’s what I wanted.” He paused, grinned a little. “Besides, it was an improvement over when, not so much earlier, you were threatening to blast my spine in two. Way I saw it, we were making pretty good progress.”

  Joey showed her own smile. A three-quarter moon had crested the horizon, and the faint silvery light it cast played across her features in a very flattering way.

  “You take a surprisingly optimistic view of certain things.”

  Buckhorn rolled his head on the porch post and fixed a direct gaze on her.