Three Horses drew himself up straight in the saddle and gave Braddock a haughty look. He said stubbornly, "I will ride with you until we see what there is to see. Then...maybe I will wait."
That was probably the only concession he would get, thought Braddock. The old-timer's treatment at the hands of the outlaws had stung his pride so badly that he was determined to get his revenge, no matter what the cost. Braddock couldn't let that interfere with his job, but he supposed he could let it slide for the moment.
When the time came, he could tie and gag the old man if he had to, to make him stay put.
They rode on. The sun had just dipped below the horizon when they came in sight of several buildings sticking up from the plains. Braddock reined in and dismounted, motioning for Three Horses to do likewise. Out here on this flat land, the taller you were, the more visible you were.
Braddock had a pair of field glasses in his saddlebags. There was still enough light in the sky for him to see as he peered through the lenses.
The barn was the only structure built of planks, since lumber was at a premium out here on these mostly treeless plains. The main house and smaller bunkhouse were built of sod or adobe, Braddock couldn't tell which at this distance. He could see there were more than half a dozen horses in the corral next to the barn, though. That was a bad sign. The animals might not belong to Fenner and his gang, but chances were they did.
Three Horses tapped him on the shoulder. Braddock lowered the glasses and said, "What?"
The Indian pointed into the sky to the right of the barn. Braddock's eyes narrowed as he saw the dark shapes circling there, riding the gentle wind currents. He lifted the glasses again and squinted through them.
"There's something out there," he said a moment later. "Hard to tell for sure. It might be a couple of bodies, though."
"The carrion eaters will descend soon. They know death when they see it."
"Yeah." Braddock tracked the glasses back to the barn. Movement caught his eye. Two men stood in the barn's open doorway, gesturing as they talked. He saw the tiny orange specks that were the glowing ends of the quirlies they smoked. The men were roughly dressed, unshaven. Braddock knew outlaws when he saw them.
"It's Fenner and his gang, all right," he said. "They've killed a couple of people already. They dragged the carcasses out away from the barn. There are two men still there in front of the barn, probably keeping an eye on things."
"So four in the house," Three Horses said.
"More than likely." Braddock stowed the field glasses. "I need to get around behind the place and approach it from that angle. If I ride in from this way, they'll see me coming for sure." He looked at his companion. "You have to give me your word that you'll stay here."
Three Horses got that stubborn look on his wrinkled face again.
"They attacked the honor of a Comanche war chief," he said as if that explained everything.
"Damn it, Pete, if you don't give me your word, I'll—"
He didn't have to finish the threat. The old-timer raised his hand to stop him, sighed, and said, "Very well. You have my word. I will stay here and not interfere."
That was almost too easy, Braddock thought as he frowned. Maybe he ought to make sure and tie up the old fella anyway.
On the other hand, if he wound up dying this evening, Three Horses would be stuck here, tied up and unable to get away. He might be able to work himself loose eventually, but what if he wasn't? What if a rattlesnake came crawling along while the old-timer couldn't do anything about it?
And if the outlaws killed him, thought Braddock, there was a good chance they would look around to see if anyone else was in the area. They might find the Indian, and then Lord knew what they would do to him...
"All right, blast it. I'm going to have to take you at your word. I hope I can count on it."
Three Horses just folded his arms across his chest and gazed serenely at the Ranger.
"I'll come back and get you once I've dealt with those varmints," Braddock promised. "And if I don't come back, you head for Dinsmore. You can bring Deputy Bell and a posse back out here and pick up the trail again." He added grimly, "And bury anybody who needs burying."
Without waiting for Three Horses to respond, Braddock moved off to the east on foot, leading the dun. It was less likely the outlaws would spot him if he came in from that direction, rather than skylighting himself against the remaining light in the west. The edge of the Caprock was at least a mile away now, so he had plenty of room to do that.
As he moved into position, he wondered if Fenner and the others were getting curious about the two men they had left behind. Maybe, maybe not. They might not expect those two to rejoin them until later in the night or even in the morning. With their back trail covered like that, they might not be expecting trouble. Braddock hoped that was the case and that they wouldn't be quite as alert as a result.
With six-to-one odds, he would take any slight advantage he could get.
It took him about twenty minutes to get around the ranch headquarters and reach a spot half a mile north of the buildings. He left the dun there and started toward the place on foot, carrying the rifle and moving in a low crouch. He figured the outlaws wouldn't be expecting any trouble from this direction, but it never hurt to be careful.
Or rather, it seldom hurt to be careful, Braddock mused.
Sometimes a man just had to take a wild-ass chance.
Chapter 12
Braddock crawled the last couple of hundred yards, using the scrub brush for cover. This was the time of day rattlesnakes came out, but luck was with him and he encountered only a couple of the creatures. The snakes didn't coil up either time, but slithered off in disdain instead.
As far as he could see, Fenner hadn't posted any guards in back of the house. Braddock was able to crawl to within a few yards of the structure, which he could tell now was made from thick blocks of adobe. The back door was closed, but windows were on either side of it. He came up on one knee, then onto his feet and stole forward.
Glass panes were set in both windows. That probably cost the rancher quite a bit, but it made the place look nicer. Curtains hung on the inside of the glass, but they were pushed aside so that Braddock could see through. He checked the one to the left of the door first. It opened into a bedroom that was empty at the moment. Braddock could see the big four-poster bed in the dim light. The door to the rest of the house was closed.
He slid along the rear wall, past the door, and took off his hat as he edged his eye past the side of the other window.
This one gave him a view of the ranch house's large main room, which included both the kitchen and a living area. The place was furnished in what appeared to be functional but comfortable fashion, with a good-sized table that had four ladderback chairs around it, a fireplace with a couple of rocking chairs near it, and a rolltop desk with another ladderback chair. Woven rugs were scattered on the plank floor.
A dark-haired man lay on his side on one of those rugs in an awkward position because his arms were pulled behind his back and his wrists were lashed together. His ankles were bound as well. He was conscious but seemed groggy, as if he didn't quite know what was going on around him.
Braddock knew, though. He saw the four men sitting at the table with bowls of what looked like stew in front of them. They had torn hunks off a loaf of fresh bread, too, and were eating hungrily. Braddock recognized Clete Fenner right away from wanted posters he had seen. The others looked familiar as well, so he was sure their faces had decorated plenty of reward dodgers.
A very attractive blond woman stood beside the table. She wore a blue dress and a white apron, both of which were somewhat disheveled as if the men had been pawing her. Braddock didn't doubt that was what happened. She looked scared, as she had every right to be, but she looked angry, too.
The woman started to move away from the table, but the man closest to her reached out and closed his hand around her wrist.
"You know better than
that, honey," he told her. Braddock had no trouble understanding the words because the window was raised a few inches to let fresh air into the room. "You need to stay right here close in case one of us needs anything. You don't wanna be rude to your guests, now do you?"
Fenner looked up with an expression of mild interest on his lean face. He asked, "What were you about to do, Mrs. Metcalf?"
The blonde said, "I have a pie over there in the keeper. I thought you might want some of it."
"Sounds good," Fenner said. "Riggs, go with her. Make sure she's not trying any sort of trick."
"No trick," the woman said. "It's just peach pie."
The outlaw called Riggs grinned and said, "That does sound mighty good. Let's you and me get it, honey. That'll just whet my appetite for more sweetness with you later on."
Braddock recalled that Riggs was one of the men who'd struck Three Horses back in Dinsmore, just before the gang hit the bank. The woman didn't respond to the veiled threat in the outlaw's voice. With Riggs beside her, she crossed the room to a pie keeper that sat on a shelf and opened it to take out the peach pie.
For a second, Braddock thought she was about to ram the pie tin into Riggs' face, and he was ready to move if she did so. He would have no choice but to kick the back door open, go in shooting, and hope for the best.
But then the fury he had seen on the woman's face disappeared as she regained control of her emotions, and she turned placidly back to the table, holding the pie in both hands. Riggs didn't seem to have noticed what had almost happened.
Outside the window, Braddock relaxed slightly. He wouldn't have to make his move just yet, although he knew that his time was running out fast.
What he needed was some sort of distraction, something that would draw the four killers out of the house. Then he could go in fast while the woman escaped out the back, and take them from behind. With any luck he could drop a couple of them before they knew what was going on, and then he would take his chances with the others.
He was still trying to figure out what that distraction might be when one of the men from the barn appeared in the open front door and said, "Clete, you got to see this."
Fenner looked up and asked, "What is it? Are Chuck and Gardner here already?"
Chuck and Gardner—those would be the two men who'd ambushed him, thought Braddock.
The man at the door shook his head and said, "No, but it's something I've never seen before."
Mrs. Metcalf set the pie on the table as Fenner stood up impatiently. As he started toward the door, he said, "All right, but this better be worth it, Gant."
"Oh, it is," Gant said.
Curious, the other men stood up and started to follow Fenner. The boss outlaw glanced back and snapped, "Riggs, you stay here and keep an eye on the woman and her husband."
"Ah, hell, Clete—" Riggs began.
"Just do it."
Riggs shrugged and smiled at the blonde, saying, "I don't care what's out there anyway. I'd rather spend my time with you, darlin'." He ran a hand up her arm and slid his fingers along the line of her jaw before cupping her chin.
Braddock ducked down to move below the window as he eased over to the rear corner of the ranch house. He was just as curious as the others about what the man called Gant had spotted. He wasn't expecting what he saw.
Sitting out there on the back of his mule a hundred yards away, dressed in full Comanche regalia, including beaded buckskins and a tall, feathered headdress, was Three Horses. He held the Sharps carbine with the stock propped against his right thigh so the barrel pointed at the sky. With the light behind him, he was a pretty impressive figure. He would have been more impressive on a Comanche pony instead of a mule, but a fella had to work with what he had available.
The five outlaws were at the edge of Braddock's view, partially concealed by the building as they stood there staring at Three Horses. A couple of them laughed, but one man said with a nervous edge in his voice, "I didn't think there were any savage Indians still around, Clete. I thought they were all up in Oklahoma these days."
"That's not a savage Indian," Fenner said disdainfully. "That's just a crazy old man. In fact...Riggs, come out here. I think that old redskin from Dinsmore must have followed us."
Braddock whirled back to the window. He had wanted a distraction, and Three Horses, despite breaking his word, had given him one. If Riggs would just leave the woman inside, Braddock could get in there, free her and her husband, and then hell could go ahead and start to pop.
Riggs wasn't going to leave the woman, though. He grasped her upper left arm to drag her along with him as he said, "Come on, honey. Killin' an old Injun ought to be some good sport. Get me nice and worked up for you later on."
They had taken a couple of steps when the blonde reached under her apron with her free hand, brought out a small pistol from somewhere, and jammed the barrel against the side of Riggs' head as she pulled the trigger. The gun went off with a little pop, not loud at all, and Riggs staggered. Braddock knew a small caliber slug like that would bounce around inside a man's skull and turn his brain into mush.
Around on the other side of the cabin, Three Horses kicked the mule into a run, let out a high-pitched whoop, and charged through the dusk.
Chapter 13
Since Braddock was closer to the door than the corner, he booted it open and ran inside. Riggs had collapsed to leak blood onto the floor from the bullet hole in his head, but Mrs. Metcalf was on her feet and swung the little revolver in her hand toward the stranger who had just burst into her house.
"Texas Ranger!" Braddock called out so she wouldn't shoot him, too. "Stay with your husband and stay down!"
He reached the doorway in time to see the other five outlaws starting to scatter as startled exclamations came from them. They clawed out their revolvers, but Three Horses was still out of range of the handguns.
The outlaws weren't out of range of the Sharps, though. Somehow the old-timer found the strength to fire it on the run, its heavy boom rolling through the twilight. Braddock knew the shot wasn't going to hit anything—
That thought had just gone through his brain when an outlaw's head flew apart like a dropped pumpkin. Lucky shot or not, the man was just as dead either way.
With everything that was going on, the remaining desperadoes hadn't noticed Braddock yet. Normally he would have called on them in the name of the State of Texas, ordering them to drop their guns, elevate, and surrender.
But with all the blood these men had on their hands, he didn't hesitate to bring the Winchester to his shoulder and open fire.
Sharp cracks split the air as he drilled two of the outlaws and sent them spinning off their feet. Fenner and the remaining man were triggering at the still charging Three Horses, who continued to whoop madly as he galloped toward them.
Three Horses was in range now, and he jerked back as lead found him. He couldn't stay on the mule. He slid sideways and then pitched off.
Braddock planted a slug between the shoulder blades of the fifth man, knocking him forward onto his face, where he landed in a limp sprawl.
That left Fenner, and he moved with the speed that had kept him alive for this long in his perilous career as a badman. He whirled toward Braddock and got a shot off, coming close enough that Braddock felt the heat of the bullet as it whipped past his ear.
Then Braddock slammed three rounds into Fenner's chest as fast as he could work the Winchester's lever and the outlaw went over backward. With his arms outflung, he writhed in the dust for a second, arching his back, then died with one leg drawn up and the knee cocked at the sky, where stars were beginning to appear against the deep blue in the east.
Braddock levered another cartridge into the Winchester's chamber, just in case, then slowly lowered the rifle. He looked at the bodies scattered all around.
"Are...are they all dead?" Mrs. Metcalf asked from the door behind him.
"I'm pretty sure they are," Braddock replied. "But pretty sure isn't good enough."
He went from body to body, making certain that they were, indeed, corpses. He was tempted to put a few more bullets in them, just for good measure, but he figured he would have enjoyed that too much. He looked at Mrs. Metcalf and nodded instead, to let her know she was safe now.
She looked at the pistol in her hand and said, "I carry it for snakes."
"I'd say that's how you used it," Braddock said.
"I'm surprised none of them found it while they were pawing me. I guess they were too careless. Or they weren't meant to find it."
Things like that were beyond Braddock's reckoning. He told the woman, "Stay here and take care of your husband," then started walking toward the fallen figure of Three Horses.
By the time he got there, he was running.
He slid to a stop, dropped to one knee, and rolled the old Indian onto his back. There was a dark stain on the buckskin shirt, high on the right side.
Three Horses grunted and said, "Be careful. I've been shot."
"I can see that," Braddock said, surprisingly grateful to find that the old man was alive. "You gave me your word you'd stay out of this."
"Old Pete gave you his word. Three Horses, the last war chief of the Comanche, did not." He sighed. "Are our enemies all dead?"
"Every last one of them."
"This is good. The honor of the Comanche people has been avenged, at least this one last time." Another sigh came from the old man. "I see stars above me. They welcome me to the realm of the spirits. It is a good day to die."
Three Horses' eyes closed.
"Die, hell," Braddock said. "Unless all your blood's dried up so that you don't have any to spare, you'll be fine. Looks like that bullet went straight through without doing much damage."
Three Horses opened one eye and said, "Really?"
"Really," Braddock told him. "Let's get you on your feet. If you can walk to that ranch house, there's a lady there who I'll bet can patch you up. She's got some peach pie, too."
The Last War Chief (Outlaw Ranger Book 4) Page 5