Lynn brought the beers, followed by steak and potatoes. The men ate in good-natured silence through several helpings and rounds of beers. Finally, Sam pushed himself back from the table and said, “Guess we’ve abused Lynn’s hospitality long enough.”
“Wasn’t fish, but it was good,” Matt agreed. “Now, let’s hear about this mess you got yourself into, so I can figure out how to get you out of it.”
“As always, you’re all heart,” Sam said, sipping his beer. “But I’m used to it by now. It started when I came to town to get my supplies. I stopped in at Ponder’s store. He’ll verify that I was as innocent as could be.”
Henry, getting into the spirit of the talk, quickly agreed.
“Oh, yes, Matt, I can vouch for Sam. He wasn’t looking for trouble. In fact, we talked about his planned fishing trip!”
Matt rolled his eyes to the ceiling and said, “Now I’m outnumbered!”
“But then I heard a commotion outside and I saw these thugs trying to manhandle a woman, Lilly Brandom, and her boy, Tommy. So I stepped outside to look into the situation.”
“Is she pretty?”
“Very pretty. But that has nothing to do with my helping. Unfortunately, some of the thugs pulled guns on me and I had to kill them. Turns out that the women’s husband was killed in cold blood earlier in the day by a man called King Petty. She was just trying to get some help from the city marshal. Needless to say, she didn’t succeed.”
Matt became more somber as Sam continued to talk.
“So now King Petty is out for you. He sent those others after you. That they not only failed but were humiliated will probably make Petty even more angry.”
“Jack Brandom, the man Petty killed, was just a poor homesteader,” Ponder said. “He never looked for trouble or hurt anybody. Petty’s killed a lot of people, but this may be the worst he’s ever done. He’s crazy, if you ask me. There’s lots of people in town who’ve wanted to do something to stop him, but nobody can figure out how.”
“Petty is also the reason my path crossed the Browns’,” Matt continued. “Derrell apparently thought I was one of Petty’s men who had apparently rustled some Brown cattle. He gave me a pretty good fight before Lester came along and helped us straighten it all out before somebody got killed.”
Sam leaned forward and asked, “Do you know anything about the rustling operation?”
“Petty’s in control, but he’s got some other fellow actually working it,” Brown said. “His name is Ralph Smiley. He apparently knows his cattle. He always cuts out the best of the herd. He has someplace in the hills where he keeps them, and probably sells them up north. It’s just like a regular business to him, since nobody’s going to cross him. Not as long as he’s with Petty.”
Sam glanced at Matt. “Ralph Smiley . . . we’ve heard his name in connection with other cattle rustling operations, though he’s stayed clear of us. Looks like he’s found a good thing down here.”
“Maybe. Except that I’m not sure being hooked up with a man like King Petty is ever a good thing.”
“I couldn’t just let Smiley and his men take my cattle without a fight,” Lester continued. “So I followed and found Smiley, for all the good it did me. He laughed in my face and told me to get lost. I suppose I could have fought him, but I was outnumbered and outgunned.”
“You don’t sound defeated,” Matt said. “You going to try and get your cattle back?”
“I haven’t worked this land for twenty years just to give up now. Derrell and I will think of something.”
Sam took another sip of beer. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Matt?”
Matt sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Yes, I suppose so. I didn’t volunteer to help the Browns at first because I wanted to get some fishing in. But since those plans have changed . . .”
“I couldn’t very well leave Lilly and Tommy to the mercy of Petty, in any case. And now Petty is looking for a fight. He sent those two clowns after me, and somebody trying to kill me is not something I take to kindly.”
“So why not bring the fight to him . . . and at the same time help our new friends, the Browns?” Matt concluded, “It’s been a while since I’ve punched cows, and it’s about time I reacquainted myself with the critters. How’d you boys like to go on a little cattle drive?”
Brown smiled and said, “I’d be delighted!”
“Let’s do a little planning,” Matt said. “I’d like to look around a little more, to see what we’re up against.”
“We’re with you, whatever you decide,” Lester said.
Ponder cleared his throat and said hesitantly, “Count me in, too. If there’s anything I can do.”
Chapter Nine
Petty was at his usual table when Hardesty and Cooper sheepishly walked in. They moved slowly, as if they were in pain. Holt, standing at the bar, started to smirk.
“Go ahead and laugh, you fool, and I’ll kill you,” Hardesty said to the marshal. “I don’t care who you think you are.”
Holt turned his attention back to his beer, but said under his breath, “Looks like Sam Two-Wolves strikes again.”
Petty looked up and growled, “What the hell happened to you two?”
“Well, Two-Wolves was a little tougher than we had thought . . .”
“Did you kill him?”
The two outlaws scraped their boots on the floor.
“We had an ambush all set up, but something happened . . . ,” Cooper said.
“Answer me. Is Sam Two-Wolves dead?”
“No . . . no. He did have a message for you. He said for you not to try anything against him again, or—”
Petty jumped up and turned the table over with a loud crash. The glasses and bottles fell and broke on the sawdust floor. He punched Hardesty in the gut, doubling him over in pain, then pivoted and kicked Cooper in the groin.
“Look at you two,” Petty said. “Send you out for a simple job, and you come back with your tails between your legs. Looks like he cleaned up the countryside with you.” He spit. “Damned, you’re piss poor excuses for men.”
“But he had help,” Cooper groaned, trying to stand. “He had another guy with him, just about as tough as he was—”
Petty’s boot tip lashed out, hitting Cooper in the chin, snapping his head back. The thug hit the floor, groaning louder than ever.
“I don’t want excuses. I hate excuses. I hate people getting in my way. You understand?”
Conn, standing at the door, called out to Petty. “Hey, speak of the devil . . . here comes that SOB now. He’s acting likes he owns the town, just riding in as pretty as you please!”
Petty stepped over the two men in pain on the floor to look down the street.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Petty said. “Looks like Two-wolves has himself some friends.”
“The old guy is Lester Brown, a small-time rancher,” Conn explained. “The one beside him is his son, Derrell. Guessing the third guy is Matt Bodine.”
“How’d you know that?” Holt asked, stretching his neck to see over the other men without disturbing them.
“Somebody’s got to keep on top of things,” Conn answered. “I’ve been asking around. Some of the boys know about Sam Two-Wolves and Matt Bodine. They’ve got themselves a reputation as troublemakers and gunfighters. King, you know how fast Two-Wolves is—you saw him in action. I’ve heard Bodine is just as fast or faster.” Conn saw Petty scowling, so quickly added, “Course, neither is as fast as you, King. You can bet all kinds of money on that.”
Petty stayed inside as the group passed by, thinking about what he should do about this new development. He wasn’t worried. The idea of somebody actually being better than him never crossed his mind. But he was getting the idea that these two could cause him more trouble than he had originally expected. He watched as Sam led the group down the street straight toward Ponder’s store.
“Looks like he’s got another friend,” Conn said. “My guess is that Henry Ponder has sided
with him, as well. Two-Wolves has been a busy man for not being in town any longer than he has.”
“You’ve done good,” Petty said. “Keep on top of things.”
He turned as some of his men flipped his table back upright and brought him a fresh bottle.
“You two, get out of my sight,” Petty said to Hardesty and Cooper. “Don’t come back until you do something right. I kind of think that’ll be more than you can handle.” The two men tried to stand. “Help that trash out of here.”
Strong hands lifted the men and carried them toward the rear exit. Holt headed for the bar, when Petty’s voice stopped him.
“Marshall Holt. It’s time you started to earn your keep, as well.”
“But, King, I went out to that widow woman’s, like you said. I done my job.”
Petty laughed. “Yeah, I bet you and Conn put some fear into that woman and boy,” he said. “But I want you to do something else. Find out what Sam Two-Wolves and Matt Bodine are up to. Use your authority—such as it is. Go ahead and mess with them if you can.”
Holt cleared his throat.
“That might be easier said than done . . .”
“If it don’t get done, you might wind up in worse shape than Hardesty and Cooper.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“You’re the marshal. You think of something.”
Holt gulped the last of his beer and tucked his shirt back in his pants. “You coming, Conn?”
“Naw. You’re on your own this time.”
Suddenly his job didn’t seem as much fun as it had, though it was a little late to quit now.
Matt and Sam pushed themselves away from the table at about the same time.
“Hey, Lynn, the apple pie was great!” Sam called out. “We’ll be back later. Be sure to keep some for us!”
A tall man stepped out from the kitchen beside Lynn. “For you, we’ll keep the whole pie,” he said, holding out his hand. “My name’s Charlie Hacker, and I’m glad to meet you. Just got in from a business trip, arranging for some supplies. My wife said you were here. Glad you came in. Heard how you faced King Petty this afternoon. Took a lot of guts.”
“The toughest part is still to come, I think,” Sam said. “But, thanks. My compliments to your wife. She’s a helluva cook.”
“That she is,” Charlie agreed.
A man opened the door and stepped inside.
“Hello, Marshal,” Charlie said. “What brings you here? I could give you some free coffee . . . but I know you usually stick to alcohol.”
“I wanted to . . . have a talk with these strangers,” Holt said. “I don’t like roughnecks shooting up my town.”
Sam’s eyes grew hard, and he started to stand. Holt took a half-step back and continued, “You strangers look like trouble. The rest of you boys had better take warning. If I have to run them in, I might bring you all in, as well . . .”
Matt then stood up to his full height beside Sam. Holt took another half-step back.
Charles said, “Don’t go making empty threats, Holt. We all know you’re just following orders.”
“No, let him talk,” Ponder suggested. “Let’s hear what the marshal has to say.”
Holt cleared his throat. “All right. I was blowing hot air. I admit it. But this is on the straight. Charlie, Henry, I’ve known you two all our lives. Though you’ve never liked me much, I feel I owe you a fair warning. King ain’t too pleased with the way things are going, and that’s the truth. He’ll kill these two, even if they are supposed to be top guns. You know he will. And if you hang around with them, he’ll probably also kill you.”
“That warning may be the only decent thing you’ve done since we allowed you to take office—at Petty’s insistence,” Ponder said.
“Doesn’t it scare you?” Holt asked. “You’ve all seen what Petty can do. You know what he’s trying to do with that widow woman, harassing her like that—”
Sam’s hand suddenly snatched Holt’s shirt and pulled him across the table to him.
“What’s he doing to the woman?”
“I didn’t say anything. I didn’t do anything. Just leave me alone . . .”
Sam lifted the portly man off the ground and said, “As a general rule, I try not to beat up on pathetic little men such as you, but I can make the exception. What’s going on with Lilly?”
“We just paid her a little visit, is all,” Holt said. “We didn’t touch her or anything. Nobody would dare do that unless King gave the go-ahead, and he has his eyes on her—”
Sam threw Holt to the floor. He landed on his feet, stumbled, but remained standing.
“Don’t say anything to King about this, would you? He sent me over here to scare you. If he knew I failed like those other two did . . .”
“So he got my message?” Sam asked.
“He got it.”
Ponder laughed. “Not likely any of us are going to be having dinner conversation with Petty anytime soon. Why don’t you tell him that you did your job.”
“He won’t believe me,” Holt said. “Hell, I’m beginning to wish I never took this job.”
“You can always quit,” Charlie said. “There’s still some of us on the town council that’d be willing to hire a big gun to come in and clean up the town.”
“Nope, I don’t think King would let me quit. But believe me, this job is getting too dangerous for my health. I’d quit if I could. If I were you, I wouldn’t talk much about those ideas of bringing in somebody to get rid of Petty. He doesn’t need much reason to kill you.”
Holt hitched up his pants and tried to swagger out.
“Kind of sad, isn’t it?” Matt said, when Holt was out of hearing range down the street.
“He used to be the town drunk,” Charlie said. “Petty picking him for marshal was his way of thumbing his nose at us . . . as if all the murder and mayhem he committed wasn’t enough.”
“Hope he stays out of the way when the shooting starts again,” Matt said. “Don’t think he’d last very long in a real fight.” He turned to Sam and continued, “Think maybe we should pay a visit to your friend and her son?”
“The sooner, the better,” Sam agreed. “I don’t much like Holt’s talk.”
“We’ll figure out tomorrow what to do about Brown’s cattle,” Matt suggested as he pulled and check his gun.
“Thanks for the meal, Charlie,” Sam said, tipping his hat. “Next time, we’ll pay.”
“When are you coming back?”
“Do you serve breakfast?” Matt grinned.
After Matt and Sam had left, the others remained sitting around the table, talking among themselves.
“Those two are quite a pair,” Charlie said. “Sam’s already stood up to Petty. Matt looks like he’d be willing. Think they’d be interested in official jobs?”
“You mean like replacing Holt with Matt or Sam?” Ponder said. “A nice thought, but I don’t know if they’d be interested or not. I imagine they’ve done some law officer work in their day, though they don’t look like the usual lawman material. I know they would never run from a fight.”
“They’re hard to figure,” Lester agreed. “Maybe they have their own code that they follow. Matt seemed hesitant to help me and Derrell at first, but now I think he’s scrapping for a fight with Petty. Sam and Matt beat the crap out of King’s men that shot at them. But Derrell also had a brawl with Matt, and now he acts like we’re long-lost friends. I’m not sure what to make of them.”
“Of course, we did apologize and offered to fry up some fish for them,” Derrell suggested
Ponder laughed. “Hell, maybe that’s the secret! If we want to hire one of t hose boys, don’t offer them money or appeal to their nobler instincts! Instead, give them all of Lynn’s cooking they want! That might keep them around town for a while!”
Lester also laughed. “You know, that’s crazy enough it might just work!”
Sam and Matt were always careful no matter where they travelled, but now their
senses were even more alert than usual. They knew they had challenged Petty and that the killer would want to add their notches to his gun. As always, though, they rode easily, as if they hadn’t a care in the world.
“Do you think we’re a little on the crazy side?” Matt asked.
“No doubt of it,” Sam agreed. “Especially in your case.”
“You get us into this mess and you can say that about me?”
“Well, look at it logically. You give up a perfectly good fishing day to wrestle a bull . . .” Sam laughed and slapped his knee. “I sure as hell would have liked to have seen that! And then you become friends with a fellow that at first tried to beat the crap out of you, and now you offer to chase down some rustlers! Does any of that make any sense?”
“At least the Browns fried up supper for us . . . until you made your dramatic entrance!”
“True.” Sam tipped his hat back and looked at Matt. “On the other hand, the person I helped is at least a pretty woman!”
“You do have me there!” Matt admitted. Then, more seriously, he added, “We’ve run across a lot of hard cases in our time, but sounds like this King Petty is about as bad as they come. These people really do need our help.”
“I agree. A person would have to be a little crazy to get involved. But nobody ever said we had good sense!”
“It helps keep life interesting.”
The two blood brothers rode quickly, though they did not seem to hurry. Matt and Sam noticed the green grass, the clear creeks, the fields that had started to be plowed.
“This is some decent land,” Matt observed. “I’d rather run cattle than farm it, but to each his own. This area could handle just about anything you want to do.”
“I think this is Brandom land,” Sam said. “I only rode Lilly part of the way home. I probably should have made sure she was safe . . .”
Matt and Sam stopped abruptly as they came to the top of a small hill where a freshly dug grave overlooked a farmhouse. It could have been a pretty picture, with the house and trees in the front yard under the stars. The grave, however, was a grim reminder of the troubles facing the woman and her son.
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