“Reckon everybody’s that way sometimes,” Stovepipe said.
Elizabeth started to hug Juan Pablo’s wife, but the woman turned away with her face as stoic as ever.
“Thank you anyway,” Elizabeth told her. “Thank you for everything. Gracias.”
The woman relented in her stiffness enough to give her a curt nod.
Sam, Stovepipe, and Elizabeth stepped outside. Sam stiffened as he saw Caballo Rojo standing there with a grim look on his face.
The headman leveled an arm toward the canyon mouth.
“Go,” he said simply.
“That’s where we’re headed,” Sam said. “You won’t see us again after this, Caballo Rojo.”
The Navajo looked like that would be just fine with him.
Chapter 37
The more Matt thought about it, the more he knew that he had to get to Flat Rock. He couldn’t afford to wait for Sam and Stovepipe to return. The ringleader of that gang was going to try something else.
“I’m gonna take one of those horses from the wagon team and head for town,” he told Wilbur. “You can stay here and keep an eye on those rifles.”
“You’re loco,” Wilbur responded heatedly. “Stovepipe and Two Wolves told us to stay here.”
“Once it gets light, you can fort up in these rocks and keep anybody who comes along away from the guns,” Matt argued. “My gut tells me the varmint behind all this isn’t finished yet.”
“Yeah, well, my gut tells me the same thing, and you’re hurt worse’n I am. If anybody goes, it ought to be me.”
“No offense, Wilbur, but you’re not exactly a gunfighter.”
Wilbur glared at him.
“You ever notice, when somebody says ‘no offense,’ they’re about to say somethin’ damned offensive?”
Matt was already unhitching one of the horses. He didn’t answer.
“Besides, you never even been to Flat Rock,” Wilbur went on. “You don’t even know how to get there.”
“Tell me the general direction. I can find it.”
“Why should I?”
Matt looked at his companion intently and said, “Because I’m the only one who stand a chance right now of stoppin’ that bunch from raising more hell.”
Wilbur glared, but he finally said with obvious reluctance, “Oh, all right.” He told Matt how to find the settlement. “But you’re gonna be outnumbered at least three to one. Don’t come complainin’ to me when you get yourself killed.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Matt said.
He cut lengths of rein off the wagon’s lines and attached them to the bit in the horse’s mouth. Then he climbed onto the animal and set off bareback toward Flat Rock, steering by the stars that were still bright in the night sky.
He couldn’t hope to reach the settlement before the members of the gang, since they had a good lead on him, but he pushed the horse as hard as he could so that maybe they wouldn’t have time to get up to too much mischief before he got there.
After an hour or so, the eastern sky began to lighten. Matt knew dawn wasn’t too far away. If he had still been a prisoner back in the canyon, the sands of his life would be running out right about now, since Juan Pablo had intended to execute all four captives when the sun came up.
But they had foiled that idea, and Matt hoped Sam and Stovepipe had been able to rescue Elizabeth as well. He was going to worry about her until he saw her again with his own eyes.
He spotted a few scattered lights up ahead. It was too early for very many people to be up and about in Flat Rock, but clearly some of the citizens were awake. Matt pushed his horse harder, anxious to get there.
He was still at least half a mile from the settlement when he spotted the three riders. They were just shadows in the graying light at first, but then he was able to make them out better.
He recognized the big, brawny shape of the man in the lead, who was carrying something draped over the saddle in front of him. Sensing that this was trouble in the offing, Matt veered his horse to intercept them.
Even over the pounding hoofbeats, he heard a shout of alarm from one of the men. They split up, the leader angling to the north, the other two charging straight at Matt with their guns spitting flame.
The big draft horse he was riding was slow and ungainly, but the animal had sand, Matt had to give it that. The horse didn’t spook from the racket of gunshots and the smell of powdersmoke, even when he filled his hands with both of his irons and cut loose.
Bullets sang around his head as he thundered toward the two would-be killers. His Colts roared and bucked. One of the outlaws suddenly cried out and slewed around in the saddle before toppling off his mount. The other rocked back as one of Matt’s slugs drove into his chest but stayed upright and kept firing. Matt triggered again as they swept past each other, and this time the man’s head jerked as a bullet tore through his throat and angled up into his brain. He had to be dead when he hit the ground.
Matt wheeled the horse and looked after the leader. He didn’t know if his horse could catch up to the man.
But then the boss outlaw’s horse broke stride, and as the dawn light spread over the landscape even more, Matt realized there were two people on the horse, not one.
And those two people were engaged in a desperate struggle.
Matt started after them, urging the horse underneath him to surrender every bit of speed and strength it possessed. The animal responded gallantly. As Matt closed the gap between him and his quarry, the second figure on the other horse suddenly broke free and either fell or jumped off.
The leader of the gun-runners hauled his mount around, but instead of going after the person who had escaped from him, he drew his gun and threw a shot at Matt. As Matt leaned forward over his horse’s neck, he barely took note of the fact that the person on the ground was a woman. Her long auburn hair was in disarray.
The boss outlaw fired again. Matt’s horse stumbled. He didn’t know how badly the animal was wounded, but the horse didn’t go down. It charged ahead, and now Matt straightened from his crouch with both Colts leveled.
The guns roared as he emptied them, and the hammerblows of the bullets striking the ringleader of the gang drove the man out of the saddle. He hit the ground hard, rolled over a couple of times, and lay still.
Using the makeshift reins, Matt pulled his horse to a stop and slid down from its back. He saw the crease on the horse’s shoulder and was glad that the animal wasn’t hurt any worse than that.
His right-hand Colt was empty, but the left-hand gun still had one round in it. Out of long habit, Matt had kept track of the shots he had fired. He pouched the right-hand iron but kept the other one ready as he approached the fallen ringleader.
The man wasn’t a threat anymore. He had dropped his gun, and the front of his shirt was sodden with blood from several bullet wounds. He pawed feebly at the crimson flow as he gasped for breath.
The man looked up at Matt and managed to say, “Who ... who ...?”
The two of them had never seen each other before close-up, Matt realized.
“I’m Matt Bodine,” he said. “Who’re you?”
“King ... king ...”
Matt thought that was the dying man’s name.
But then he said, “King ... of the ... Four Corners ...”
“Not hardly,” Matt said as the man’s final breath rattled in his throat.
Matt left the body there and turned back toward the woman. She ran to meet him, but before she could get there, his strength abruptly deserted him. His guns slipped from his fingers, and he fell to his knees.
“My God!” the woman exclaimed. “Are you hurt?”
Matt looked up at her, thinking that she was beautiful even in her disheveled state, and said, “You’ve got ... a British accent.”
“That’s because I’m from England.” She leaned over to take hold of his arm. “Let me help you, sir.”
“I like the way ... you folks talk.”
“That’s all well
and good, but you seem to be injured—Oh!”
Her startled exclamation was the last thing he heard before the dawn light went away and darkness closed in around him.
When Sam, Stovepipe, and Elizabeth reached the wagon and found Wilbur there alone, Sam left the others behind and raced on into Flat Rock, arriving there at mid-morning.
Practically the first thing he saw was Matt sitting on a bench in front of the Buckingham Palace Saloon with Lady Augusta Winslow.
Matt grinned as Sam pulled up at the hitch rack and almost leaped from his saddle.
“Figured you’d be along directly,” Matt said. “Take it easy, I’m all right.”
“Yes, other than being addlepated for going off after that bunch by yourself,” Sam said. He nodded to the woman. “Lady Augusta. Good morning.”
“Yes, it is, thanks to your friend Matt,” she told him with a smile. “He rescued me, you know. Zack Jardine and two of his henchmen had kidnapped me.”
“Zack Jardine,” Sam repeated. He didn’t know the name.
“Big fella who was the leader of the bunch tryin’ to start a new war with the Navajo,” Matt explained. “Don’t worry, I didn’t know his name, either, until after I shot him.”
“He’s dead?”
Matt nodded.
“And so are the other two who got away when we busted up their attempt to deliver those rifles to the Indians.” A worried look appeared on Matt’s face. “You got Elizabeth away from Juan Pablo all right, didn’t you?”
“She’s fine,” Sam assured him. “And Juan Pablo won’t give any more trouble. His wife will see to that, along with Caballo Rojo.”
“Can’t help but think maybe it would’ve been better to shoot him,” Matt said. “I don’t cotton to somebody tellin’ me I’m gonna be shot at dawn. But I guess if they can keep him settled down, that’ll be all right.”
“Now the only one we have to worry about is poor Noah Reilly,” Lady Augusta said.
Sam’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“The little fella who runs the general store?”
“That’s right,” the Englishwoman said. “He was found unconscious in front of the store early this morning. I think he must have seen Jardine and his men come into town and gotten suspicious of them. He may have confronted them before they came up the back stairs of the saloon and abducted me. Mr. Reilly appears to have been struck with a pistol.”
Sam shook his head.
“Poor little fella. Where is he?”
“I had him taken up to my room and put to bed there, in hopes that he’ll regain consciousness and recover.”
“Well, when he does wake up, he’ll be in a good place,” Matt said.
“Hush, Mr. Bodine,” Lady Augusta said with a smile. “You’re in no shape to be flirting with anyone. You only regained consciousness yourself a short time ago.”
“I was just a mite tired, that’s all. You said yourself those bullet holes in my side look like they’re still healin’ up just fine, ma’am.”
“Yes, but you’re going to need a great deal of rest before you’re back to normal.”
Matt might have had something to say about that, but before he could, one of the bartenders stepped through the batwings and told Lady Augusta, “Ma’am, that girl you had keepin’ an eye on Reilly just came down and said he’s awake. He’s all agitated, though, so I reckon you ought to go up there.”
“Of course,” she said as she got to her feet.
“I’ll come with you,” Sam said. “Noah was one of the first folks I met here in Flat Rock.”
Matt stood up.
“I’ll come, too. I want to hear what he’s got to say about what happened.”
The three of them went upstairs to Lady Augusta’s suite. They found Noah Reilly sitting up in bed, looking impatient while one of the saloon girls wiped his forehead with a wet cloth.
Reilly’s eyes widened for a second when he saw Sam.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. His eyes flicked toward Matt. “And who’s this?”
“Don’t worry about that, Noah,” Sam said. “Are you all right? You got clouted pretty hard on the head, it looks like.”
Reilly closed his eyes for a second and winced.
“Yes, I ... I’m fine. I can’t believe those savages didn’t scalp me, or at least cut my throat.”
“Savages?” Matt repeated with a frown.
“Yes, the Indians I caught skulking around early this morning when I got to the store to open up. They looked like they were going to try to sneak into the saloon.” Reilly swallowed and looked up at Lady Augusta. “Are you all right? I knew your life would be in danger when I saw those Navajo.”
Matt and Sam exchanged a quick look. Sam said, “You’re sure it was some Navajo you saw, Noah?”
“What? Why, of course I’m sure! I’ve seen plenty of them around town in the past. I know a Navajo when I see one.”
Matt said, “And you got a good look at them?”
“I was close as I am to any of you. I had to be, for them to have hit me and knocked me out the way they did.” Reilly lifted a hand toward Lady Augusta. “Dear lady, did they harm you? How in the world did you escape from those red savages?”
Lady Augusta looked confused.
“I don’t understand, Mr. Reilly,” she said. “It wasn’t the Navajo who carried me off. It was Zack Jardine and two of his men.”
Reilly stiffened in alarm. Matt saw him start to reach for something under his coat. One of Matt’s Colts seemed to appear in his hand as if by magic.
“Whatever you’re reachin’ for, you’d better leave it right where it is, mister,” Matt said. “And while you’re at it, you can start explainin’ why the story you’re trying to tell us doesn’t match up with any of the facts.”
“Why, I ... I ...”
Sam sighed and shook his head. He had liked the little storekeeper.
“You should’ve kept your mouth shut and claimed you didn’t know what happened, Noah,” he said. “You probably would’ve gotten away with it, then. Now, though, it’s pretty obvious that you cooked up this whole deal with Jardine. Were the two of you partners?”
Reilly’s face hardened.
“Partners, hell!” he spat with such concentrated venom that it seemed impossible it could have come from such a mild-looking hombre. “The entire thing was my idea! And if we had pulled it off, I would have been the ruler of the whole Four Corners!”
Matt shook his head.
“This is America, mister. We don’t have kings.” He glanced at Lady Augusta and smiled. “No offense, Your Ladyship.”
“None taken, I assure you. Why do you think I came to America in the first place? I didn’t want a bloody king, either!”
By that evening, another wagon had gone out to pick up the crates of guns and returned with them. They were locked up at the moment in the back room of the now-closed general store.
Matt, Sam, Stovepipe, and Wilbur sat on the bench in front of the saloon and watched the day’s light fade, taking with it some of the scorching heat.
The four of them had been over the whole thing, hashing out what they knew and what they could guess, and they were convinced that they had a pretty accurate picture. Noah Reilly hadn’t offered any sort of detailed confession after the things he had said that morning, but he was locked up, too.
A rider had carried word to Fort Defiance, and Matt and Sam expected an officer and a cavalry detail to show up in a day or two and take charge of everything, including the lone surviving member of the gang.
“Here’s what I can’t believe about the whole thing,” Wilbur said. “You weren’t in on the end of it, Stovepipe. I’m used to you bein’ the one who rounds up the head varmint.”
“I reckon I did my share,” Stovepipe said. He looked at Matt and Sam. “Couldn’t interest you boys in a job, could I? You seem to be good at gettin’ to the bottom of things. The Cattlemen’s Protective Association could use you.”
“Not a cha
nce,” Matt said with a smile and a shake of his head. “Sam and I don’t cotton to workin’ for wages.”
“You just gonna keep on driftin’ like a pair of fiddle-footed cowboys?”
“That’s the plan,” Sam said.
“But not just yet,” Matt added. “I’m gonna go call on Miss Elizabeth Fleming and take her to supper at that café you fellas told me about.”
“And I’m gonna go talk to Lady Augusta,” Wilbur put in.
“You’ll get so tongue-tied and start sputterin’ so much she’s liable to think you got the hydrophobia,” Stovepipe told her partner.
“Dang it, there you go again, always tryin’ to interfere in my love life!”
“I’m just tryin’ to keep you from gettin’ your feelin’s hurt. Anyway, you can’t go makin’ calf-eyes at that gal. Soon as the army gets here and takes charge of them guns, you and I got more work to take care of.”
“More work? Where?”
“I dunno,” Stovepipe admitted. “We’ll have to find us a telegraph office and check in with the boss. But you know how it is, Wilbur ... hell’s always poppin’ somewhere.”
That was true, Sam thought. Hell was always popping somewhere, especially wherever the blood brothers went.
But that’s the way it was with brothers of the wolf.
And brothers of the gun.
Turn the page for an exciting preview of
SAVAGE TEXAS
An explosive new Western series by
William W. Johnstone
with J. A. Johnstone
America’s leading Western writer captures the most violent chapter in frontier history—in the saga of a Yankee with a rifle, an outlaw with a grudge, and a little slice of hell called ...
SAVAGE TEXAS
For renegades and pioneers, there is no place like Texas—as long as you have a gun and the guts to use it. Now, the Civil War is over. Carpetbaggers and scalawags rule Austin. Soldiers return to pillaged homes. Longhorns roam the wilds and the state is in a state of chaos. Especially a town called Hangtree.
Arizona Ambush Page 22