Paid in Blood

by William W. Johnstone

  “You’d do that?”

  “You not fully trusting me would only bleed into others not trusting me and me not being able to trust anybody in return. What chance would that have of working?”

  “You know,” Riley said, “what you said a minute ago about anybody who don’t like the way the tune is played around here not having to stick around and listen to the music . . . that’s not exactly accurate. At least, that’s not how it’s been.”

  Buckhorn said nothing. Waited.

  “As you got a taste of on the way in, we keep this valley pretty carefully guarded,” Riley continued. “That means from the outside and also from the inside. Having this place to come to, to hide out if you want to put it that way, has been what’s allowed me to keep operating and keep the law off our backs. Should be obvious, I guess, why we want to keep outsiders out. On the flip side, letting somebody who’s seen our operation here, maybe even ridden with us for a spell, decide they want to leave and venture off on their own . . . well, surely you can see how that might not sit real well, either. Especially if said person might be leaving as the result of being disgruntled or dissatisfied in some way.”

  “I think I’m seeing the picture plain enough,” Buckhorn said.

  With what looked like a long, genuinely sad face, Riley said, “Fortunately, that kind of situation has only come up a time or two in the past.”

  These words made Buckhorn recall the talk he’d heard earlier about how Boss Dan would read over the grave of Lowe—like he’d done for others in the past—after they buried him in the morning.

  As if of its own volition, Buckhorn’s body tensed, became poised in a barely perceptible way, like a wild animal that’s been alerted to danger.

  “So,” he said, his voice a knife blade sliding down a honing stone. “What I’m hearing is that I can’t be trusted to join your outfit and can’t be trusted to leave your valley. That about the size of it?”

  Riley raised one hand, palm out.

  “Now take it easy. Don’t get all coiled tight like a rattler gettin’ ready to strike. And you can relax the hand you got half-clawed over the Colt you just got back. You think I’m stupid enough to invite you into a closed room with me and then threaten you now that you’re freshly re-armed?”

  Buckhorn let the question hang in the air. Once again said nothing, just waited.

  Riley lowered his hand and said, “As far as men not riding out of here after they’ve seen our operation, what I said was that’s how it has been. Sooner or later, you run across an exception to every rule. I’m thinking that fits you in this instance. What you did here tonight ought to earn you something. And you also alerted us to that trap waiting in the Circle D meadow and how there’s a Texas Ranger now involved. So, first thing in the morning, you’re free to ride out.” Riley paused and his gaze took on a deep earnestness. “I still don’t know exactly what your game is. I just hope to hell you don’t betray me and make one or both of us regret me taking the gamble of letting you go.”

  CHAPTER 37

  It was only a few short hours to daybreak. Buckhorn knew he had to act fast. He had no intention of waiting around until then before making his departure from the valley, nor did he have any intention of leaving alone.

  In an almost omenlike stroke of luck, when he came out of Riley’s room it was Joey who was waiting to show him where he could catch a few winks of sleep.

  “They’ve been keeping Jeff locked at night in a lean-to room just off the kitchen,” she explained. “You know, to discourage him and Eve—who sleeps upstairs, right above her father’s room—from getting together and making another attempt at running off. Also from getting together and . . . well, you can figure it out, I’m sure.” She flushed in the glow of the lantern she was holding, clearly embarrassed. “Anyway, Ulysses said I should point you back there with Jeff for what little time you have to rest before morning. He already put your war bag and bedroll in there and the room won’t be locked for tonight.”

  “Did Ulysses tell you I’ll be leaving at daybreak?” Buckhorn asked.

  Joey looked away from his gaze.

  “He said he thought that’s the way Uncle Dan was leaning, but he wasn’t positive.”

  “Well, that’s the decision,” Buckhorn confirmed. “Leastways that’s the way it’s supposed to go.”

  Joey’s eyes came back, looking up at him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m not sticking around that long. I don’t think the old man’s all the way convinced that letting me go is the smartest move, and I can’t risk waiting in case he changes his mind.”

  They’d moved away from Riley’s room and edged toward the kitchen, talking in low voices with the old house silent and empty feeling all around them.

  Joey nipped a corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, then said, “Sounds to me like you’d just be trading one risk for another.”

  “Maybe. But there’s only one of them I can plan for and control. And that’s also the only way I can make it about more than just myself.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You should. You’re the one who figured out what I came here for,” Buckhorn told her. “I was looking for information about Jeff, and like you once put it, I ended up stumbling over the actual person. Now that I found him, I don’t intend to leave without him.”

  “That will only add to your risk. What’s more, how do you know he’ll even want to go with you?”

  “If it comes to that, I’ll have to see to it he understands he doesn’t have a choice. Consider this: with your uncle’s policy about men who’ve seen and been part of this operation not ordinarily being allowed to leave, what does that mean for Jeff’s chances of ever making it out of here in one piece?”

  “I’ve thought about that, too. Worried about it. But Uncle Dan would never do that to the man his daughter is in love with!”

  “Wouldn’t he?”

  Joey chewed her lip some more.

  “What about Eve? Do you plan on taking her, too?”

  Buckhorn shook his head. “She’d never come, not with her father still needing care for his wound. The only way would be to knock her unconscious and drag her, and that I don’t have the time or patience for.”

  “But you think Jeff will somehow be more persuadable?”

  “Jeff’s got more reasons for wanting to break free from here than just to save his own skin,” Buckhorn said. “Once he takes care of some things on the outside, he can always come back after Eve.”

  “And you’d be the one to help him do that, wouldn’t you?” Joey said, peering intently into his eyes.

  “Only if the money was right,” Buckhorn said. “Don’t try to read more into me than what’s there, gal—I’m a hired gun, plain and simple, not somebody willing to stick my neck out simply for the sake of doing a good deed.”

  “I think there’s more of that in you than you’re willing to admit,” Joey insisted.

  “Go ahead and think that all you want, but you’ll be thinkin’ wrong.” Then, softening his tone, Buckhorn added, “Only that doesn’t mean I’m not hoping there’s some good deed doing left in you.”

  “What are you getting at?” Joey wanted to know.

  “Look, you’ve been covering my tail ever since you led me down into this valley. I’m not exactly sure why, especially considering the rough start we got off to. But I think—particularly after you guessed what I was really up to—it’s because you want to see the romance between Eve and Jeff get a fair shake, have a chance to work out. You could have burned me more than once, but you didn’t. For that, like I already told you, I’m grateful . . . but now I need to ask you for even more.”

  * * *

  “Can’t I even say good-bye to her?” Jeff Danvers asked.

  “No,” Buckhorn said bluntly. “We can’t take time for that and we can’t risk the fuss she might put up. After we’re gone, Joey will explain to her why you had to take off so suddenlike, that I’m forcing yo
u. Later, once we’ve seen to what needs taken care of on the outside, you can come back for her.”

  “If she’ll want me to come back,” Jeff said as a gloomy expression covered his face.

  “If she doesn’t, then she wasn’t ever the right gal for you to begin with. But, in the meantime, there’s another gal who for sure wants and needs you to come back—your ma. She badly needs to know you’re alive and safe. And, no matter how painful it might be for her, she deserves to hear the truth about Dan Riley and the hand Micah played in it.”

  “I’ve been avoiding even thinking about those things. Instead, I’ve been leaning on the excuse of not knowing how I could escape from here to try and do anything about them, no matter how bad I wanted to.”

  “Well, the time for excuses and avoiding what has to be done is over,” Buckhorn told him. “We need to ride hard outta here and start setting some things straight.”

  This conversation had been taking place in the cramped, shadowy lean-to room where Jeff had been confined each night. Buckhorn had barged in and wasted no time laying things on the line for the tormented young man. Overcoming his initial surprise and reluctance, Jeff was now showing signs of being up to seizing the opportunity and subsequent test that was suddenly being thrust upon him.

  “You’re right. It’s time for me to grow up,” he said with sudden resolve in his voice.

  Buckhorn snapped a quick nod.

  “Good. Joey should have the horses ready by now. Let’s go join up with her.”

  * * *

  They walked the horses a couple hundred yards out from the farm buildings before climbing into their saddles. The long day, the natural letdown after a high peak of excitement, and the prospect of having only a short amount of sleep available left everybody in their wake slumbering deeply. This worked to the favor of those slipping away as far as being able to do so without raising any alarm, but there was no sense failing to take reasonable precautions.

  Also working to their favor was the dimming of the moon and stars that came with the approach of dawn. The floor of the valley was awash in gray murkiness. They made their way across it slowly but steadily, sticking to the higher grasses and frequent stands of brush so as to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible.

  As they neared the gap that would give them passage up to the rim and beyond, Joey said, “Best let me ride ahead a little bit, so I can give the signal.”

  “Signal?” Buckhorn questioned.

  “That’s right,” she replied, smiling somewhat sheepishly. “The one I didn’t give the first time I brought you through. It’s a whistling sound, a quick series of notes that lets the guards on duty know that a friend is approaching.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Buckhorn muttered under his breath.

  Only a couple minutes later, as they started their ascent up through the narrow pass, Joey emitted a shrill whistle that tapered off in an odd way at the end. It was promptly answered, and then, a couple minutes after that, two men stepped out to block the way of the trio on horseback. One of the men held up a lantern; the other held a Winchester at the ready.

  “Name yourselves,” said the man with the lantern in a gruff, sleepy-sounding voice.

  “It’s Joey Riley,” Joey answered. “One of the men with me has been badly injured and Uncle Dan sent us to get him to a doctor.”

  “At this time of night?” said the man with the Winchester.

  “Accidents don’t necessarily wait for a convenient time to happen,” Joey said tersely. “Now this man is hurt bad so we can’t afford a lot of chin wagging over it. Let us by so we can get him some help.”

  “I’d better have a look for myself,” said the man with the lantern as he stepped toward Jeff, who was sagging convincingly in his saddle to sell the appearance of someone who’d been hurt. “What the heck happened anyway?”

  When the man was right beside him, lantern held high, Jeff suddenly straightened up and shoved the barrel of a previously concealed six-gun practically against the tip of the lantern-bearer’s nose.

  “Nothing compared to what’s going to happen to you, mister, if you don’t quit yapping so much and do exactly as you’re told.”

  Lightning-quick, Buckhorn had his Colt drawn and aimed at the man with the Winchester, who’d made the mistake of relaxing and lowering the rifle’s barrel because he was trying to also gawk at the injury when it fell within the illumination of his pal’s lantern.

  “Same goes for you, hombre,” Buckhorn said. “That rifle barrel raises one twitch, your head’s gonna make a lumpy, bloody mess rolling down the trail after I blow it off your shoulders.”

  To make it clear he understood and had no intention of trying anything, the rifleman dropped his Winchester and let it clatter to the rocky ground.

  “Good.” Buckhorn waggled his Colt. “You and your partner get over there against the rocks, keep your hands where I can see ’em plain. You, Missy”—he motioned to Joey—“get down off that horse and get over there, too, now that you’ve served your purpose.”

  Joey did as instructed, putting on the act of firing one of her famous glares at Buckhorn as she did so.

  “My uncle will get even with you for this, you can count on that,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Ignoring her, Buckhorn said to Jeff, “Take charge of that lantern and then strip the men of their guns while I keep ’em covered. Give anything you find a good fling off into the rocks. We’re in no hurry to have them found again.”

  “What are you gonna do to us?” asked the former lantern bearer after he’d been disarmed.

  Buckhorn swung lightly from his saddle and walked over to stand close to the man.

  “Turn around and face the rocks, all three of you,” he ordered. When that was done, he said, “Now, as far as you guards, I’m gonna do you two big favors—I’m gonna let you live and I’m gonna give you permission to take a little nap while on duty.”

  So saying, he swung two rapid strokes with the butt of his Colt and knocked each of the men unconscious. They crumpled into heaps on the rugged ground.

  Re-holstering his gun, Buckhorn said, “Okay, it looks like we got away with it. We’re pretty much in the clear now.”

  “What about me?” Joey asked.

  “Without your help we never could’ve pulled it off, that’s what about you,” Buckhorn told her. “You know how beholden I am. If you don’t, I haven’t got the words to say more.”

  “I don’t mean that,” Joey said, shaking her head. “I mean what about the condition you’re going to leave me in? If we’re going to finish selling the notion that you forced me this far—and I’ll be in a tight spot if we don’t—then you’re going to have to make it look good by knocking me out, too.”

  “Aw, come on,” protested Jeff. “We can’t do that.”

  Buckhorn scowled and said, “No. She’s right. We have to do it . . . for her own good.”

  “Yes, you do.” Joey squared her shoulders, lifted her chin. “But first, there’s something I need to do.”

  Abruptly, she took a step closer to Buckhorn, reached up and placed her palms on either side of his face, then pressed her lips hard against his. When the kiss was over, she let her hands slip away and took a step back.

  “What the hell was that for?” Buckhorn asked, feeling a little stunned, as if somebody had just walloped him on the head with a gun butt . . . although the kiss was a lot nicer than that.

  Joey smiled coyly and said, “I’ve been wondering what it would be like, that’s all.”

  Buckhorn was clearly a bit flustered.

  “And?”

  “It could use a little work. If we had more time, I’m sure we could get the wrinkles smoothed out. But, for now, there are more important things to take care of.” She lifted her chin again. “So go ahead and do what you have to. I know you’ve already got the wrinkles smoothed when it comes to knowing how to knock somebody out . . .”

  CHAPTER 38

  “Well, that was a long, cold nigh
t wasted,” grumbled Dave Millard as he slumped wearily in his saddle.

  “You can say that again,” chimed in Hank Boynton, riding along beside him.

  “No, he can’t,” Micah Danvers snapped irritably from where he rode just ahead of the pair. “I heard enough bellyachin’ out of the two of you all through the night. More than enough to last me for a good long spell, so knock it off with any damn more.”

  The three men, along with Ranger Menlo, Sheriff Tolliver, his deputy Bud McKeever, and three more Circle D wranglers were on their way back to Circle D ranch headquarters. The sun was less than an hour old in the eastern sky.

  All of the riders sat their saddles with an exhausted slump to their shoulders and an air of frustration about them. The long night’s vigil over the remote meadow had been fruitless as far as catching even a whiff of rustlers in the trap they’d been primed to spring.

  The other hombres who’d manned the trap with them—a handful of wranglers from neighboring ranches and a few men from town who’d been willing to come out and lend a hand—had branched off separately and were also on their way back home. Four relief men from the Circle D had shown up to take over standing watch just after daybreak. No one expected a full-on rustling raid to be attempted during the daytime hours.

  “You don’t suppose we could be wrong about that, do you?” said Thad Tolliver abruptly. “About the rustlers tryin’ something today, I mean. I know it’s never usually done that way, but the surprise factor might be exactly what some wide-loopin’ scoundrel decides to count on.”

  “By ‘wide-looping scoundrel’ you mean Dan Riley, right?” said Micah.

  “Sure, that’s who we’re figurin’. But it could be anybody in the rustlin’ business.”

  “How many rustlin’ gangs you figure you got operatin’ around here, Sheriff?” asked Ranger Menlo somewhat sourly.