Blood Bond 9

by William W. Johnstone

  “Can’t stop them,” Lester hollered over the noise. “We can gather them later.”

  “I have a better idea!” Matt yelled back. “They want to run . . . let’s let them run. And deliver them to King Petty’s doorstep!”

  “Town’s not that far away . . . why not?” Lester grinned and whooped. “That’s a message I’d like to deliver to Petty!”

  He yelled, waved his hat, and rode after the herd, urging them to continue on rather than slowing down.

  Matt rode along the other side of the herd, also making noise and pushing the cattle on. In minutes, Derrell, Sam, and Tommy caught up, riding their own horses.

  “What’s going on?” Sam yelled, riding beside Matt.

  “We’re delivering a message to King Petty!”

  A smile of understanding spread across Sam’s face. “By golly, we might make something of you yet!” he said, motioning to Derrell and Tommy to join him in helping to move the herd.

  A time or two the animals threatened to slow down, but the group fired their guns and generally raised enough hell to keep them moving quickly until the outskirts of town were in sight.

  Holt found the bottles he had stashed and sneaked out of town for a good, long drunk. That’s all he felt like doing after being beaten so badly by Matt and Sam, seeing Hardesty and Cooper get killed, and knowing how Petty would react to the news that the city council had appointed Matt as marshal. If he had anyplace else to go, he would have gone. Unfortunately, he had spent his entire life in Snake Creek and had no money or talents to go elsewhere. So he got drunk instead.

  Now he felt really bad. He woke up facedown in the dirt near the creek, when he had fallen down in a stupor. He was muddy. His head throbbed. He felt sick to his stomach. Holt held the bottle up to the light and found it empty. And that had been his last bottle.

  The former marshal rose unsteadily to his feet. What could he do now? All he could do was return to town and hope that Petty might take pity on him. Maybe Petty would settle for giving Holt a beating and then give him another bottle. It was really the only choice open to him.

  He walked unsteadily back into town. He felt sick, and it took longer than he had planned. He wondered how long it had actually been since he had started his drunk and how Petty had reacted to the news about Matt. Surely, somebody would have told him by now? Maybe he would have had a chance to get over his mad and wouldn’t be too harsh with Holt. He could only hope.

  Holt made his way with shaky steps into the Black Bull Saloon, where King was sitting at his usual place. He growled at Holt and said, “About time you made it back. You’ve been out drinking again? Should have known. Hardesty and Cooper were killed. But that’s no great loss. Thought maybe you had joined them.”

  “You know about Hardesty and Cooper,” Holt said. “So you know about Bodine?”

  “He brought the bodies in,” Petty growled. “What else is there to know?”

  Holt took a deep breath and blurted out, “Apparently the town council found some gumption from somewhere and fired me. They appointed Bodine in my place.”

  Petty jumped up so fast that he turned his chair over. He yelled, “Those sons-of-bitches! I’m going to kill them! I’m going to kill them all!” He started for the door. “And I’ll start with the damned Henry Ponder—”

  Before he got to the door, however, a roar started to fill the air. Conn looked out the window and said, “King! You won’t believe what’s coming down the street!”

  Petty could hear shots, and men yelling, and then he realized the roar was being made by over a hundred stampeding cattle. He stuck his head out the door in time to see the cattle rushing down the street, Matt and Sam in the lead, directing the cattle . . . to the saloon!

  “Damn!” Petty said. “Out of the way!”

  The first old cow that was in the lead set foot on the wooden front step of the saloon, and broke through. It bellowed and kept coming, pushing through the door, splintering it on its hinges. It came on in, knocking down the tables and chairs. Suddenly cattle were everywhere, filling the air with their bellows, feet crashing through the floor, horns splintering the bar and the walls.

  Petty and the others hurried out of the way. Petty ran down the wooden sidewalk. Conn jumped through the window. The others made their way out the best they could.

  After several minutes, the cattle slowed their pace and started to wander aimlessly through the trashed building. In the street, Matt, Sam, and the Browns were laughing hysterically at the sight. Petty was also surprised to see the Brandom boy with the group. He was sitting farther back, behind the others, but was also laughing.

  “Hey, Petty! What do you think of this?” Lester taunted. “Got my cattle back! Just wanted to let you know that!”

  “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all!”

  Lilly hear the fuss, as did the rest of the town, who came out to see what was going on. A crowd quickly formed as word spread about the incident at the Black Bull. Lilly knew she was supposed to stay out of sight, but she rushed out of the store, hoping to see her friends and son safe. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Tommy sitting straight and tall—and apparently unhurt—on his horse, with Derrell close beside him.

  The woman who laughed when she saw what the group had done to King Petty’s hangout.

  Sam got off his horse and stood in front of Petty. “If you want to kill somebody, try me,” he said. “You seem to like going after unarmed men, women, and children. Let’s see how you do against somebody who’s as big as you are.”

  King stood motionless, his hand a safe distance away from his gun. “I understand this town has a new marshal. I want to file a complaint. My property’s been destroyed and I’m being assaulted by this man!”

  Matt drawled, “Well, I am wearing the badge now, and I don’t see anything wrong. True, these cattle got a little out of hand, but it’s no crime for cattle to run. And Sam is just carrying on a polite conversation. No law against that!”

  “So what’s it going to be, Petty?” Sam continued. “Are you really a coward?”

  The crowd watched expectantly, waiting to see what Petty would do. He couldn’t just stand and do nothing. So he lashed out with a vicious right. Except that Sam was no longer there. He stepped to one side, caught the fist, and twisted. The pressure forced Petty to the ground.

  Petty freed himself from the hand clasped around his arm and rose slowly to his feet. He stood with feet slightly spread, started to reach for his gun, but stopped when he saw the look in Sam’s face and his hand dropping toward the Colt.

  Petty took a deep breath. “Not now,” Petty said. “But your time is coming, Sam Two-Wolves. Your time is coming.”

  “I’ll waiting,” Sam said. “Be sure to send me an invitation.”

  Petty dusted himself off, and turned his back to Sam as he led his men down the street. Holt lurched along behind them.

  Lilly ran out into the street. Tommy slid off his horse into his mother’s arms.

  “I told you we’d bring him back safe and sound,” Sam said. “The little show here was thrown in for free!”

  The small group had turned into a larger group as they had dinner at Charlie’s restaurant.

  “This is a great day!” Charlie said. “Matt, I’ll make my promise good. Your meal is on the house—and so are the meals for all our friends! The stranglehold that King Petty had on this town is broken!”

  The others muttered agreements, but Matt held up his hands to silence the group.

  “We’ve put a crimp in Petty’s style, but he’s not defeated yet. Not until he’s dead. I thought for a moment this afternoon that he was going to go for his gun against Sam, only he decided to live a little longer. It is only a matter of time before Petty tries something, and then we’ll nail him. You can bet it’ll be something sneaky and underhanded. So everybody shouldn’t let their guard down. Charlie, that’s especially true for you, Henry, and other members of the council. It took a lot of courage to go against him that way.�
�

  “It wasn’t us. We had faith in you. And Sam.”

  “I know you won’t shoot Petty in cold blood, though he deserves it,” Lilly said. “That’s not your way. But why not arrest him? He’s surely committed enough crimes to put him away? And you now have the authority.”

  Matt spooned another piece of pie onto his plate. Sam said, “Hey, pass that down here before you hog it all!”

  “I’m the marshal,” Matt pointed out. “That gives me a certain amount of privilege!”

  Sam responded by cutting a bigger piece of pie and slipping it onto his plate.

  Matt explained, “Petty’s committed more crimes than I could count, but it would take time to collect evidence and go through the proper judicial route. And there’s no guarantee he wouldn’t get out of jail and come back for you and the others. What we’re doing is giving him some rope so that he can hang himself, solving the problem once and for all.”

  “I don’t want to be a prisoner here for the rest of my life,” Lilly said. “No offense, Clarissa—you’ve been wonderful!”

  “No offense taken.”

  “As good as Clarissa and Henry have been to me—as good as all of you have been to me—I still want to go home. I want to get on with my life, and there’s lots of work that needs doing out there.”

  “You need to be someplace safe,” Sam cautioned.

  “I’ll stay with her and Tommy,” Derrell said. “I admit I’m not the best fighter or shooter, but between the three of us we could probably hold our own. I doubt if much could happen without you and Sam knowing about it, since you’re staying in town to keep an eye on Petty. If he tries something, I know you’d also be out at Lilly’s place in a flash.” Derrell turned to Lilly. “That is, if that would be all right with you?”

  “You’re always welcome out there,” she responded.

  “Great!” Tommy said. “Could Mr. Brown ... Lester ... come too?”

  “I’ve got to take care of our own place—now that we got our cattle back,” Lester said. “But I’ll also be close by, if needed. Don’t you worry about that!”

  “Then it’s settled,” Lilly said, folding her hands in her lap. “I’ll be going home after dinner!”

  Matt forked out another piece of pie, cleaning out the pan. “Well, the lady’s spoken!” he said. “I’ve learned never to argue with a lady. So guess the matter’s settled!”

  Later, after Matt and Sam had quietly made sure that Derrell, Lilly, and Tommy were safely on their way back to the homestead, the two brothers talked softly among themselves as they watched the saloon where King Petty had moved his operations.

  “Lilly’s still not out of danger,” Sam said.

  “I know,” Matt said. “But they’ll probably be as safe at home as anywhere. Derrell will take good care of her and the boy.”

  Sam chucked. “Yeah. He’s taking a personal interest in them. It’s like he’s already part of the family.”

  “Can’t blame him,” Matt said. “It might be nice to be a part of a family like that.”

  “Maybe,” Sam agreed. “Let’s make sure that we take care of Petty so that they can live happily ever after.”

  “You’ve got that right. Petty will make his move soon. But what will that crazy sonofabitch try next?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  King Petty threw his glass across the room, hitting Holt in the face. This building was not as nice as the Black Bull Saloon had been. This had faded wood, a warped bar, a dirty mirror behind the bar. It was located almost outside of town. It was as if the outlaw gang was being forced out of town, and it was making Petty crazy.

  The whiskey glass shattered, cutting Holt. He screamed in pain, clutching his bleeding face. Petty leaped up from the table and pushed the other man out of his way to the floor.

  “Damn Two-Wolves and Bodine! Damn this whole town! Damn all of you! And especially damn that bitch and that stupid kid.” He stomped around the room, kicking Holt from time to time as he went by. The others watched in morbid fascination, hoping that his anger wouldn’t be directed next at them. “Well, am I right? Or am I wrong?”

  The others looked silently at each other, not wanting to be the first to talk.

  Petty yelled, “Well, what is it? Am I right? Answer me!”

  Conn, his tall body leaning against the bar, was the only one that dared to answer. He said, “I’d say you have good reason to be pissed. Those two yahoos come marching into town and try to take over. Stealing your cattle and stampeding them through town and into the Black Bull that way. And the townspeople are just as bad, removing your man—such as he is—from office and making Bodine the marshal. And damned if the first thing Bodine does is to allow Two-Wolves to attack you in front of the whole town, just because we threatened the boy. That whole bunch needs to be taken down some notches.”

  “Damned right! They can’t treat me that way!”

  Holt, on the floor, had managed to crawl out of the way. Petty’s kick this time missed its mark.

  “Here’s an idea,” Conn suggested. “If we really wanted to, we could probably take down Bodine and Two-Wolves. When they’re gone, you can take care of the rest of the turncoats in this town at your own pace. But that’s probably too good for them. They really need to be strung up and left for the vultures.”

  The others in the room murmured agreement, but nobody stepped forward to volunteer.

  “Hanging’s too good for them,” Petty yelled, even louder, slamming his fist on the table. “I really want to hurt them.”

  “Then let’s hit them where it hurts the most,” Conn continued, rolling a whiskey glass between his palms. “That Brandom woman apparently thinks the world of her kid. And for some reason Two-Wolves and Bodine have also taken a liking to him. Why don’t we make an example of him.”

  Petty stopped his pacing and glared at Conn. “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s string the boy up.”

  Holt, on the floor, could barely believe his ears. He had seen Petty kill men for little or no reason, but never a boy. Somehow that seemed different. The room grew silent, but Petty’s eyes grew bright.

  “Hell, why didn’t I think of that?” he said, suddenly calm. He spoke in a normal tone of voice, and he almost seemed cheerful. “I still plan to have that woman—after all the trouble she’s put me through. I damned well deserve it! But it would sure teach her and her friends a lesson before they die.”

  “I don’t have any love lost for that boy, myself,” Conn said. “He was riding with the bunch when they attacked us and stole your cattle right under Smiley’s nose and destroyed the saloon.”

  “But he’s just a kid!” Holt said, trying to stand. He was holding on to the bar, pulling himself up.

  Petty pulled his gun, stepped over to Holt, and put the barrel to his head. The former marshal closed his eyes tightly, trying not to shake. Petty cocked his gun. It sounded very loud in the small, dingy room.

  The seconds seemed like an eternity, until Petty laughed.

  “I’ll be damned. You’re not begging me for your life. Will wonders never cease?” Petty uncocked the gun and hit it against the side of Holt’s head. He collapsed to the floor in a daze. “No never mind to me how old that brat is. Just like I don’t care about you, Holt, or anybody else in this damned town. I’m King Petty, and I’ll do what I want. Don’t you or anybody else ever forget that!”

  “Want me to get the boys together?” Conn asked.

  “Get to it. We’ve got some business to attend to!”

  Clarissa Ponder paused at the front door of the store, ready to open it to start the day’s business, and waved to Matt as he walked down the street. It was rather odd to see a real law officer in town again after all the years of King Petty running the show and with a succession of men like Holt in the marshal position. So far, he and Sam had managed to stay on top, but Petty wasn’t like most men. He was crazy. But Matt and Sam could do the job if anybody could.

  She wished them luck, and not just f
or the town’s sake. In the short time she had known the two men, she had grown to like them, and she hated the thought of something bad happening to them.

  Clarissa felt rather than heard movement behind her, but it was a welcome presence. She turned her head slightly and said, “Good morning, Sam.”

  “And good morning to you, Clarissa.”

  “What brings you out and about so early?”

  Sam followed the woman into the store. She picked up her apron from behind the counter and put it on. Sam said, “I need some . . . coffee.”

  “Already used up what you bought the other day?” Clarissa smiled. “That’s all right, Sam. You can never have too much coffee.”

  Sam laughed softly. “You’re a pretty smart woman. I guess I mainly just wanted to come by and visit awhile. I’ve been thinking about how you took care of Lilly the other day, and that tea you made. It reminded me of something my mother used to make, that she learned from—”

  Clarissa touched Sam gently on the arm.

  “I’ll share something with you that nobody in town knows about, except for my husband. I am part Cherokee. I learned some of the old ways when I was a kid . . . before I chose to join the white man’s world.”

  “You ever regret it?”

  “Not often. I made the decision, and then I met Henry. I’ve had a good life. I suppose if we would have had children, I might have wondered how much of my Indian heritage I wanted to pass down. But the only child we had died when he was a baby, so it was never really a question.”

  Sam leaned against the counter, looking thoughtful.

  “That’s the thing about life. The trick is to live the best life you can. But sometimes it’s tough knowing what’s the right thing to do.”

  “I don’t intend to stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong, but I think doing the right thing is very important to you. Is that why you jumped in and helped Lilly?”