9
Between the promise of a noose and the pressure of the Colt’s barrel, the wounded man suddenly became very talkative. “That French bastard ain’t nothin’ but another god-damned robber. He stole from some dangerous people and now he’s got half the outlaws in this part of the country on his heels. Hell, he’s even got some Mexican soldiers out for his blood.”
“What did he steal?”
“Gold, money, silver, you name it.” As he spoke, the man’s eyes twitched nervously between Slocum and the rifleman. “The Mexicans claim he took some diamonds and more from one of their shipments being run along the Rio Grande. The point is Surret and his men have been stealing from the wrong folks for a good, long time. One of them found out and word is spreading among all the rest of them.”
“How could he get so much from so many people?” Slocum asked.
“It wasn’t like he stole it all at once. He’s been taking a little here and there over the last few years. First, he got a bunch of crooks to trust him to transport their money, then he took some for himself.”
“He worked for crooks?”
The man nodded. Since the younger rifleman wasn’t in sight just then, he kept his eyes on Slocum and quickly explained, “If someone robbed a train, Surret would take the load and transport it somewhere so the robbers could hide out without dragging around some goddamn safe or a bunch of heavy strongboxes. He kept a piece for himself and arranged to have the shipment waiting in the proper spot so it could be picked up by its rightful owner.”
“Rightful owner?” Slocum grunted.
“Well, whoever owned it after stealin’ it. He arranged for a load of silver to stay hid for months after a bunch of crazy banditos killed half a dozen men south of the border to get it. The banditos split up and lived in a bunch of caves or in separate villages while Surret took the silver and sat on it for a while. After that, he did plenty of similar jobs for plenty more bad men. Then, one of them men found out Surret was shaving some off of those shipments and keeping a lot more than his commission. He gets a percentage, but he started taking more and explaining the losses by sayin’ he needed to bribe some lawman or grease the palms of some other politician to move the shipment. Once it became known that he was just skimmin’ more than his share, tempers started to fray.”
Slocum looked over at the younger rifleman. He’d found a rope and was hobbling back. Not only that, but a few other men were riding in from other corners of the spread. More than likely, they were coming to check on the shots that had been fired.
“What about this ranch?” Slocum asked. “What’s Surret doing here?”
“He’s only been holed up here for a little while. McCree and the rest of us just found him a few days ago. We think he’s getting ready to move out all these—”
The man was cut short by another shot. Although the rifle’s bullet whipped past Slocum as it had before, it didn’t just clip a horse’s ear this time. The round hit the wounded man’s forehead with a wet slap and sent his skull snapping back with enough force to bounce it off the ground. Every one of his limbs went limp and the life drained from him in a single wheeze.
Slocum stood and wheeled around to face the younger man.
“He’s done enough talking,” the rifleman said.
For a moment, Slocum wasn’t sure if that rifle was going to go off again or not. Smoke still curled from the barrel, and the young man behind it gazed along the sights as if he was still weighing his options.
Using the same skills he might need to bluff at a card table, Slocum looked down at the dead man as if he was looking at some scraps that had been discarded from the dinner table. “There’s only so much begging a man can stomach,” he said.
“That’s what he was doing?”
“What the hell else would you expect? He knew he was about to get strung up, so he spouted off all sorts of threats, and when those didn’t work, he offered to buy you and me off with everything from cash to silver.”
The lie flowed from Slocum’s lips with ease, connecting several of the various subjects that had been broached during the real conversation. That way, even if the rifleman had overheard some of it, Slocum’s version might hold a bit of water.
“Didn’t you hear him begging?” Slocum asked. “I thought you would’ve gotten a laugh out of it at least.”
But the younger man wasn’t laughing. He didn’t even smirk. Instead, he had the look of a man that was about to add one more notch to the stock of his rifle. “That ain’t what he said. It’s too bad I can’t let that pass. I won some real good money when you busted open Mick like that.” Suddenly, a twitch worked its way across his face. A split-second later, Slocum heard the crunch of feet against the ground.
“John?” Val asked in a tired gasp from a few yards away. “Are you . . . hurt?”
In the space of a second, Slocum could read a volume of bad intentions in the rifleman’s face. Behind those young eyes, there was the cold, steely resolve of someone who’d not only decided to kill one more man, but add a woman to the list as well.
“Don’t,” Slocum said.
But that wouldn’t do a bit of good. Slocum could tell he was going to be shot before he could draw his next breath. The rifleman pulled his weapon in a little tighter against his shoulder, focused his sights upon his target, and twitched his finger against his trigger when Slocum leapt to one side.
Slocum’s sudden movement, along with the other man’s twitching trigger finger, sent the rifle’s bullet into the dirt a foot or two past Slocum’s right shoulder. Rather than allow the man to take his next shot properly, Slocum took a quick shot of his own. The moment his Colt bucked against his palm, he knew he wouldn’t hit anything, but the shot was enough to drop the rifleman to one knee.
“John! Are you all right?” Val screamed.
“Get down and stay put!” Slocum shouted at her.
That command, combined with the gunfire, was all the convincing Val needed. She hunkered down into a defensive ball that was almost small enough to disappear completely from Slocum’s line of sight.
In the time it took for Slocum to warn Val, the rifleman had turned back around to face him. Since he no longer had the drop on Slocum, he pulled his trigger and worked the lever as fast as he could. The shots weren’t very accurate, but they came in a quick enough flurry to force Slocum to heed his own advice.
He dropped down and lay flat on his belly. One of the shots from the rifle hissed a foot or so above him. Before the younger man could pull his trigger again, Slocum rolled to the side and fired once he came to a stop. He aimed low and sent a round through the rifleman’s torso. It couldn’t have been much of a wound, because the younger man had more than enough steam to run toward Val. By the time Slocum climbed to his feet, the rifleman had already gotten to her.
The rifleman aimed his weapon at her and snarled, “On your feet!”
Slocum stood and took a few cautious paces toward them.
“Anyone even thinks about doing another damned thing and this bitch is the first to die!” the younger man bellowed.
“What do you want?” Slocum asked.
“Set your pistol down first.”
“You’re getting all worked up over nothing.”
“Do what I said!!”
Pointing the Colt toward the sky, Slocum lowered the gun until it was directly over his right boot and then let it fall from his grasp. “There,” he said. “Let her go and we can have a friendly talk.”
“You sure do like to talk,” the rifleman said. “If you didn’t talk so damn much, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“You mean what I was saying to the asshole that tried to kill you? That was just to keep him busy until you could put the rope around his neck. Isn’t that why I sent you over to my horse?”
“I heard what he was sayin’,” the rifleman warned.
Slocum nodded. “Right. That’s what he was saying. What the hell’s that got to do with me?”
“You didn’t talk like one of us. You sounded more like a law dog.”
When Slocum laughed, he didn’t have to try very hard to make it convincing. “You think I’m a lawman? Now, that’s funny.”
“I know what I heard. You were trying to wring all you could outta that hired gun, and you wanted to do it so I couldn’t hear. Only you don’t know that I got ears like a hawk. That’s why I’m the one watching the herd. That’s how I heard that asshole tryin’ to sneak up on me, in time for me to keep from getting my head knocked off.”
“Ears like a hawk?” Slocum asked. “Maybe you did get knocked on the head a little too hard. You’re still bleeding. Maybe we should all just—”
“No,” the rifleman snapped. He tightened his grip upon his weapon and pointed it squarely at Val’s face. “Since you’re so sweet on this one, I’ll give you one chance to save her life. Tell me who the hell you are and what the hell you’re doin’ here or I’ll blow her head off. After that, I drag you in to Mr. Surret so he can cut you up until you squeal. I seen him do that before, mister. You might as well tell me the truth right now.”
“I’m not the law,” Slocum said. “I came here for a job that pays well so I can square away some debts.”
The rifleman looked somewhat confused by the truth he saw in Slocum’s eyes. “What about what you were saying to that dead man?”
“Just trying to keep him talking.”
The moment he said that, Slocum worried if he’d tried to push his luck a bit too far. If the rifleman had heard more than Slocum wanted, then he already knew there was more going on than that. Slocum got the confirmation he needed when he saw the flicker of rage go across the rifleman’s face.
Lowering his aim to Val, the rifleman tucked his stock against his shoulder and prepared to fire.
“Hey!” Slocum barked. “Your problem’s with me. Keep her out of this.”
“Fine,” the rifleman said as he swung his weapon toward Slocum.
The moment Val was out of the line of fire, Slocum snapped his right leg up to pop his Colt into the air. He brought his hand down to pluck the six-shooter from where it hung and then fired from the hip. He never took his eyes from his target, and even though his shot was too hasty to be perfect, it was accurate enough to punch a hole into the rifleman’s belly.
Gritting his teeth as blood rushed up to fill his mouth, the rifleman tried to lift his weapon and bring Slocum to hell right along with him. One more shot from Slocum’s pistol saw to it that the younger man took that trip all by himself.
Slocum emptied the spent bullet casings from his cylinder and replaced them with fresh rounds from his gun belt. Keeping his eyes on the horizon, he said, “Val, listen to me.” She was still huddled on the ground and rocking back and forth, so Slocum snapped, “I need you to listen!”
Val looked up at him as if she’d just been splashed with cold water.
“There’s more men coming,” he told her. “They’ll be here any second, so this is what happened. That first man that was killed opened fire on all of us and killed that one right there. You understand?”
She looked at McCree’s dead associate and then to the rifleman lying in the mud formed by his own blood mixing with the dirt beneath him. Forcing herself to look away from the grisly sight, Val nodded. “I understand.”
“You need to look frightened and back that story up.”
“The first part won’t be a problem.”
“I know. Come over here to me.”
She couldn’t run to Slocum fast enough. Val almost knocked him over when she wrapped her arms around him so she could press her face against his shirt. When she tried to push out some hysterical tears, all she got was a series of dry, heaving sobs.
Mick and one of Owen’s other cowboys were the first to arrive. They thundered to a stop with their guns already drawn, looking around for a target.
“What the hell happened here?” Mick asked. “Is Pete dead?”
“I escorted Miss Hawes out here and that man over there bushwhacked us,” Slocum explained. Although he didn’t recognize the other man who’d ridden out with Mick, Slocum could tell he was taking his lead from the big blond fellow.
Mick’s face was battered and bruised from the fight. The thick, meaty hands wrapped around his reins were bound up in several layers of blood-soaked bandages. Compared to how he’d looked during the fight, however, Mick seemed downright peaceful as he assessed the situation. Finally, he looked over to Val and asked, “Is all that true?”
The terror in her eyes would have been impossible to fake. The tremor in her voice only added to her claim when she said, “It’s true. We were almost killed.”
Mick shifted in his saddle and then nodded to the other man who’d ridden out with him. That one jumped off his horse and scrambled over to check on the rifleman who must have been Pete. Slocum held his breath for a few seconds, but Pete was just as dead as he looked. Mick’s partner looked up and gravely shook his head.
Pointing at the man Pete had killed, Slocum asked, “Do you know who that is?”
Mick nodded. “Yeah. He works for a cattle rustler named McCree. He’s one of the assholes that attacked her daddy’s wagon.”
Val turned away from the carnage.
“If rustlers have gotten in this far, then maybe we should keep extra watch over the herd until we leave,” Slocum said.
“That’ll just be in a few hours. Mr. Surret doesn’t want to take any more chances. But you won’t be the one to watch over the herd,” Mick added. “Not tonight, anyhow.”
“Fine with me,” Slocum said. “I’d prefer to sleep in a bed while there’s still one around.”
“There ain’t. You’ll sleep in your bedroll like everyone else.”
“Fine.”
“You’ll also give Pete a proper burial. If he died to keep you two alive, it’s the least you can do for him.”
Without pause, Slocum said, “Of course.”
Perhaps Mick saw something genuine in Slocum’s face, because he nodded to his partner and said, “You’ll help him. I won’t have a lady digging a hole when she’s so distraught.”
The other man started to grouse, but cut himself short the moment he caught sight of Mick’s warning glare.
“There’s more men on their way,” Mick said. “I’ll tell ’em what happened. Mr. Surret will want to hear about this from you, Slocum. Pay him a visit when you’re done here.”
“I’ll be sure and do that.”
Mick moved his horse a little closer to Val and then extended a hand down to her. “Why don’t you come with me, ma’am? I’ll take you back to your pa.”
“No,” she said quickly. “I’ll stay here with John.”
“It’s getting dark and it’ll get colder out here, ma’am. You can warm up by a fire and have something to eat.”
“Go on,” Slocum said. “I’ll be along shortly.”
Although he didn’t think she would be in any danger with the big blond fighter, Val didn’t seem to share that opinion. “I don’t want to ride with . . . I mean . . . I don’t need to ride with anyone. My horse is right over there. Or perhaps John needs—”
“Don’t worry about me,” Slocum said. “I can bring Pete’s horse back to camp.”
She didn’t have any trouble spotting Pete’s horse. The animal with the nick in its ear had taken a liking to Slocum and hadn’t strayed too far from him. “You sure you’ll be all right?” she asked.
“Just go.”
Mick tried to talk to her as she went to collect her horse, but Val wasn’t having any of it. She climbed into her saddle as quickly as she could and gave him a good race back to where her father was waiting.
That just left Slocum and Mick’s partner to deal with the bodies. The other man wasn’t anxious to introduce himself and barely seemed willing to tolerate Slocum’s presence until it came time to put McCree’s man into the ground.
“This prick got what he deserved,” Slocum said. “And Pete gave it to him.”
The other man looked at Slocum and asked, “Is that a fact?”
“It sure is.”
“Well, all right, then,” he said approvingly. “Pete always was real good with that rifle.”
“I bet he could shoot the ear off a moving horse.”
It was a risky joke, but the other man didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy reverently taking away Pete’s gun and checking it over. He even smelled the barrel, presumably to make certain it had been fired recently. Nodding at the acrid scent of burned powder, the man said, “He sure could.” He then lowered the rifle and asked, “Were there any more of those rustlers about?”
“Not that I could see.”
“Well, McCree’s boys have tried this a few times before. They send in a scout to creep around and do any damage he can while sticking his nose into our business. This is the third man to die in an ambush like this.”
“That’s an awful lot of trouble for rustlers to go through,” Slocum said. “You sure they weren’t after anything else?”
“They’re after the herd. That’s all we need to know. After the blood that’s been spilt, that’s all I give a damn about.”
The tone in the man’s voice was unmistakable. He either didn’t know any more than that or wasn’t about to offer anything else. Either way, there wasn’t any need for Slocum to pursue it. He helped bury the two men and then rode Pete’s horse back. Every second of that ride, Slocum expected to be shot like a target in a shooting gallery.