Blood Bond 9

by William W. Johnstone

  “I know about them,” Smiley said. “I worked some range up north for a while, where they run some cattle. I was younger then, and more foolish. Those two had some good beeves, and some of us thought about moving in on it. A couple of my buddies got a little too enthusiastic and tried it without me.”

  “Trying to cut you out?” Ash laughed.

  “Right. Good thing for me they did. Bodine and Two-Wolves caught them in the act. My buddies didn’t have a chance. They tried to shoot their way out and were dead before they knew what hit them. I skipped out of that country, and haven’t been back since.”

  “Bad hombres, eh?”

  “If I were Petty, I’d be real concerned.”

  Ash loosened the gun in his holster and moved closer to Smiley.

  “And if I were you, I wouldn’t get any ideas about skipping out on King and me. I’ve seen you work. I know you’re probably trying to think of a way out even now. Don’t try it. You still know cattle better than anybody else, and you’re going to stick around to the end. Got it?”

  “With Bodine and Two-Wolves, the end might come a lot sooner than any of us expect.”

  Ash spit and directed his horse away from the cattle.

  “Maybe. I’m going to take a look around. If those two are anywhere near here, we’ll see how tough they are.”

  Matt was the leader of the group, which planned to steal back the cattle that had been previously stolen from the ranchers and farmers in the area around Snake Creek. He smiled as he crawled on his belly down the hill, finding it humorous that he was involved in this semilegal act after he had agreed to serve as marshal.

  His early training with Sam’s father now came in handy, as his movement barely made a ripple in the grass even though he was in one of the more open spots on the hill. He knew the others were working their way down by a less direct route, which would give them less chance of being seen. He glanced above him, to where Sam was watching. Matt wasn’t sure he liked having the boy along. Something could always go wrong and the boy could be hurt. On the other hand, as crazy as Petty was, the boy was probably as safe with Sam as he would have been anywhere.

  Matt continued several more feet, then rose behind one of the cattle. He stood in a crouch, hidden from view of any of the riders. They were situated well, with the valley entrance in front of the herd. Matt could see a silver of Derrell Brown’s shirt in a similar position as he looked for the nervous old gal he had mentioned. It probably wouldn’t take much to stampede the critters in any case, but Matt was willing to let Derrell do it his way.

  The steer in front of Matt started to walk nervously. Matt moved slowly, trying to remain hidden, when something else rippled the grass in front of the animal. Matt knew it was another snake. The steer, startled, seemed to jump straight up and sideways, leaving Matt exposed for a second.

  Matt fell to the ground to hide in the grass, but he didn’t move fast enough.

  Not a hundred yards away, Ralph Smiley looked at him in disbelief as he clutched at his gun.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Smiley felt like he had seen a ghost. Maybe it was his imagination. He had just been talking about Matt Bodine, and almost immediately Smiley had seen Bodine’s face, only to immediately disappear. The rustler, however, felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He fumbled for his gun, pulled it, then quietly put it back into the holster. There was no need to panic. Not when Bodine could outdraw him so easily.

  Bodine was there. That would mean Two-Wolves would also be present. That meant trouble . . . big trouble.

  The movement of the steer was what had caught his eye. Apparently the animal had been startled by one of the snakes that were so common to this area. If the steer hadn’t been scared, Smiley would never have seen Bodine.

  Crawford was right about one thing. He wanted to get away, and would if he could. But Ash was still watching him, so escape was impossible. He also didn’t want to sound the alarm, not yet. Maybe it was only his overactive imagination.

  Smiley stealthily loosened the gun in his holster without drawing attention to himself and walked his horse carefully around the steers to the place where he thought he might have seen Bodine.

  Nothing.

  If Bodine had been there, he had disappeared as if he had been a ghost.

  So it could have been Bodine. He was almost an Indian in his ability to blend into the countryside. If it had been Bodine, he would not have stayed around for Smiley just to walk up and say hello.

  Smiley felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He was being watched. The rustler looked around, but could see nobody. Not even Ash was in sight.

  The cattle were meandering around restlessly. Smiley pushed his horse through the animals, trying to find something out of place, to at least catch a glimpse of Bodine or Two-Wolves. What were they planning?

  Ash had dropped from sight. Smiley looked toward the valley opening. Maybe he could get away. Chances were not good. There were many steers between him and the opening, and there was an open space where Ash could easily shoot him in the back. At least Bodine wouldn’t shoot him in the back. He might have a better chance with Bodine.

  The cattle seemed to be getting more restless, as if they were also anticipating some kind of trouble. Smiley stood in his stirrups and stretched, looking all around the area. On the other side of the herd with two of his men, riding along as if they didn’t suspect a thing.

  And then Smiley saw the movement. It was in some brush a hundred yards from where he was riding, just outside of the circle of cattle.

  Smiley pulled his gun again and rode toward the brush.

  “What am I looking for, Sam?”

  “The main thing, Tommy, is to keep track of the enemy. You can get a good view of them from up here. Notice those two over there. They don’t suspect anything. Their eyes are only on the cattle. But that one down below? He’s suspicious. I don’t think he’s spotted any of our guys. He’s just careful.”

  Tommy raised his gun. Instantly Sam reached out and pushed the gun back down, hoping the sun hadn’t reflected off it.

  “What’s the matter, Sam?”

  “In a situation like this, you need to be very careful. You brought your gun up before it was necessary. Sunlight could hit it and reveal your presence.”

  “I’m . . . sorry.”

  “You couldn’t have known. Now you do. I know it won’t happen again.” Sam looked warily down into the valley. “I don’t think any harm’s been done.”

  Tommy tapped Sam’s arm lightly. “Down below. There’s another of the rustlers. And there’s Matt. Behind that steer. I almost didn’t see him.”

  “That’s the idea,” Sam said. The steer jumped unexpectedly, exposing Matt briefly before he again disappeared into the brush. “The ideal is not to be seen at all. Matt’s slipping a little. I’m going to have to kid him a little about that.”

  “You two kid each other a lot, don’t you? Don’t you ever hurt each other’s feelings?”

  Sam laughed softly. “Son, when you ride with a person as long as Matt and I have, you can get by with a lot, because you have the trust. We joke a lot, but when push comes to shove, we both know we’d fight our way into hell and fight the devil himself for each other . . . and our friends.”

  “I don’t see Matt anymore.”

  “Good. I’d hate to think he forgot everything I taught him!”

  “There’s Mr. Brown . . . Lester. Looks like he’s trying to sneak up on that one fellow.”

  “So, Tommy, our job is to watch and make sure nobody get a drop on our men. If trouble happens, we would have to cover our guys. We don’t want anything to happen to them.”

  “Even if it means killing the rustlers down there?”

  “If it’s them or us . . . yes. Don’t ever shoot unless you have no other choice. Killing a man is never something to be taken lightly. No matter what the fight.”

  Tommy turned his attention back to the valley.

  “Hey Sam . . . one of the rustle
rs seems to be missing. The big one that we saw at first.”

  Sam inched forward slightly to get a better view.

  “You’re right, Tommy. And I don’t like that. Keep your eyes open. If he doesn’t show up soon . . .”

  The sound of a gun being cocked suddenly sounded loudly in the afternoon air behind Sam’s head.

  Ash Crawford suspected something was wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he could feel it. Based on what he learned from town and what Smiley told him, he would lay odds that Bodine and Two-Wolves were in the area. But where? He got his answer when he spotted a quick flash of sunlight off metal from one of the hills overlooking the valley. Would that be Bodine or Two-Wolves? If so, they weren’t as smart as they were cracked up to be, revealing their presence in that way.

  Ash quietly worked his way up the hill toward where he thought he had seen the sunlight glimmer off metal. He made little noise as he moved up and around. Brush interrupted his view of the valley along the path he was taking, but he could hear the cattle starting to move noisily down below. Ash didn’t know cattle very well, but he figured something was disturbing them. Maybe those two strangers were out here to cause some trouble. Ash was ready for them. He figured they couldn’t be as tough as Smiley had suggested since Smiley himself was a weakling. Ash still couldn’t understand how the rustler could have let Lester Brown walk away a few days before. It would have been better to shoot him and be done with it. Such weakness made Ash distrustful. Who knew what Smiley would try next? Hell, he might even chicken out and hand the cattle back to Bodine and the others!

  Ash moved slower now, listening carefully. He heard voices just ahead, speaking so softly that they were barely noticeable. Perhaps if he hadn’t been listening, he wouldn’t have even heard the whispered talk. As it was, he still couldn’t understand what was being said, even though he was only a few feet away.

  Ash slipped to the ground and crossed the remaining few feet on his belly, holding his gun in front of him. He moved the brush out of the way to reveal a dark-haired man and a boy looking into the valley. Ash looked cautiously around, but saw nobody else. Maybe it was just these two. It had been careless of them to be caught so easily.

  Ash cocked his gun and stood.

  Sam turned his head slowly. The smile that had been on his face was replaced with a frown.

  “So which one are you?” Ash asked. “Bodine? Or Two-Wolves?”

  “My name’s Sam Two-Wolves. I’m surprised you had to ask. Most people don’t get me and my partner mixed up. I’m the handsome one.”

  “Smart-ass, huh? I’ve been told that you and your partner are two tough guys. I don’t see much. Where’s Bodine.”

  “Hell if I know. I’m not my brother’s keeper.”

  “Yeah. You think you’re tough. What are you doing up here?”

  “Sight-seeing. I’ve heard the view is spectacular this time of year.”

  “Go ahead and joke. It’ll be the last joke you every made. We’ll see who laughs last.”

  Ash lifted his gun, but the sound of a gunshot came from the valley below. Other shots followed, and then a deafening roar as the cattle started a mad rush toward the valley entrance. Ash watched as Matt took out two of the rustlers and then as Smiley mounted his horse and raced for the entrance.

  “Damn, I warned him about trying to get away before the job’s done!” Ash said. Without even blinking an eye, he turned his gun and shot toward the racing figure. Though it was a long shot, the bullet apparently found its target. Smiley fell forward into the saddle.

  Smiley knew there was somebody behind the brush. He had gun in hand as he approached.

  “I know you’re there,” he said. “Come on out!”

  Suddenly a head popped up, but it wasn’t Bodine or Two-Wolves. Instead, it was the old rancher—Lester Brown!

  “I’ve waited a long time for this!” he yelled. “I’m going to get my cows back . . . and pay you back!”

  He ran and grabbed Smiley, pulling him from his horse. He brought the gun in his hand down in a fierce blow. Smiley was temporarily dazed. He staggered backward, gun still in his hand.

  “Ash was right . . . I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Smiley said.

  “And you need to be hanged, you two-bit rustler!”

  Smiley shook his head to clear it, then rushed at Lester, pushing him back and to the ground. The steers moved around them even more fidgety than before, not liking the commotion going on around them. The other riders, realizing something was wrong, started to approach.

  “Hold it right there!” Matt called out, his gun pointed at them. “Stop and throw down your guns!”

  The rustlers instead of stopping spurred their horses forward and pulled their guns, firing them at the blood brother. He dived behind the bushes, spraying the air with bullets. One hit the nearest rider in the face, sending him falling to the ground. Matt kneeled and shot again, hitting the other rider in the shoulder. He kept riding past where Matt was hiding, unable to stop his horse with his shattered shoulder.

  The shooting stopped the outlaws, but also had an unexpected result. The cattle, already nervous, panicked at the sound of bullets exploding so near them, and they started running. The panic spread, and in seconds a stampede had started.

  The animals were heading for the valley entrance . . . and nothing was going to stand in their way!

  Smiley instantly realized what was going on. The damage was already done, so he pulled his gun and shot at Lester. He missed, but the rancher hit the ground to dodge the bullet. Lester shot back, also missing. Smiley ignored the shot, rushed to his horse, and raced toward the entrance, trying to stay ahead of the crazed cattle. It would be almost impossible to turn the animals by himself; but it was a small herd, and he was going to give it a try.

  Amidst the deafening roar of the stampede, the pop of a gun in the distance was almost lost. Then he felt the sudden pain in his gut and the warmth of blood soaking his shirt. He knew he had been shot as he fell face forward into the saddle.

  He continued to ride, shooting his gun to try and turn the herd, but it was a losing battle. Apparently the bullet had cut an artery, for he was losing blood fast. It was now soaking his shirt and saddle making it slippery. His mind was growing fuzzy, and he found it difficult to stay in the saddle.

  The gun slipped from his hand. He used both hands to try and hold on to the saddle horn, though he no longer had any feeling in his arms or legs.

  The stampeding animals kept coming closer and closer as his grip loosened on the saddle horn, and he toppled to the ground. The earth shook as he lay, trying to move, but his legs failed him.

  The last thing he thought as he saw the animals rushing toward him was, “Guess I’ll never get that ranch now.”

  Sam was angry at himself for allowing Ash Crawford to sneak up on him. He had gotten a little too self-confident and was paying too much attention to Tommy and not enough to the dangers surrounding them. The problem now was how to correct the situation.

  Ash provided the answer when he turned his attention to the activity in the valley. Sam couldn’t believe his eyes as the outlaw actually turned his gun away from Sam and the boy and fired into the valley! It was an opening a mile wide. Sam didn’t need any other invitation. To his credit the boy also saw it.

  Tommy turned and shot at Ash. His aim was slightly off, and the bullet went through the outlaw’s shirt, grazing his chest. It still made Ash howl. He whirled and pointed his gun at the boy.

  Sam grabbed Ash’s arm as he fired. The shot went wild. Sam kept the arm in an iron grip and twisted with a force that could have bent an iron rod. Ash howled in pain and dropped the gun.

  Ash punched at Sam with his free arm. It hit a glancing blow off Sam’s shoulder, which was enough for him to loosen his grip. Ash slipped away, but not before Sam kicked out, tripping him up. He sprawled on the ground near Tommy. He reached out for the boy, grabbed him by the leg and tried to pull him near. Tommy hit the arm wi
th his gun, breaking the grip. The gun fell, then bounced down the hill. Sam leaped and fell on the outlaw, knocking him with one blow after another.

  Ash was strong and managed to shrug off the blows. With a mighty shove, he pushed Sam off him toward the edge of the hill. Ash kicked Sam in the head and pushed him closer to the edge. Sam grabbed the outlaw and pulled him along. Ash clutched at the ground, trying to stay away from the edge.

  Below, the shots had started a stampede. The cattle looked like a black river flowing through the sea of green grass.

  Ash pulled his bowie knife, kicked loose from Sam’s grip, and stood. Sam’s legs were sticking awkwardly over the edge. Ash took a step closer, to be sure that he could not miss with his attack.

  “So, Two-Wolves, you think you’re good? This time you’ve lost. Goodbye to an overrated wise-ass—”

  Sam suddenly rolled and pulled his own knife. He reached up and grabbed Ash’s shirt, pulling him toward him. Ash, off balance, started to fall forward. Sam thrust his knife into the outlaw’s belly as he fell. The blade went through the body and exited through the back in a grisly stream of red. Sam continued to roll, throwing Ash over the hill into the stampeding cattle below, pulling out the knife as he fell.

  Sam stood, and looked down the hill as the cattle pushed their way through the valley entrance, leaving behind the mangled bodies of Ash Crawford and Ralph Smiley.

  Sam said, “Let’s get back to our horses. The trip out should be a lot easier than the trip in.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Matt had recognized Ralph Smiley as a small-time rustler, but was still astonished as Smiley mounted his horse and raced in front of the stampeding cattle. Surely he didn’t think he could turn the herd by himself? Matt was shocked when the shot was fired from the hill, striking Smiley and sending him to his death.

  Matt didn’t have time to think about it. He grabbed one of the rustlers’ horses and started after the cattle, which were already streaming through the valley entrance. In minutes, he was also through. Lester was there, too, mounted on another of the rustlers’ horses.