Six

“What’s going on in here?” Matt demanded of the cowhand. He heaved Red away from the boy, who was stumbling around, flailing his arms, and trying to stay on his feet.

“I’ll kill that little upstart!” Red bellowed, lunging past Matt with murder in his eyes. His knife flashed.

Quick as lightning, Matt lashed out and grasped Red’s knife hand. A twist, and the knife thudded to the floor. Matt picked it up, brushed away the sawdust, and laid it on the bar.

Red glared at Matt. “This ain’t your affair, Boss.” He pointed a meaty finger at the kid. “This is between me and him.” He took a step toward the youth, who backed away, still clutching his arm. Blood flowed freely between his fingers, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Matt stepped between them. “I’ll ask you once more, Red, and I want a straight answer. What in blue blazes is going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” a deep voice said from the saloon door. Sheriff Meade elbowed his way past the onlookers and glowered at the two men in the middle of the room.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” the bloody but unbeaten lad shouted. He pointed an accusing finger at Red Fallon. “He stole my horse and supplies two days ago. I had to hoof it here without food and water.” The lad’s dusty shirt, jeans, and boots gave credence to his statement. He shook his fist at Red. “Copper’s hitched outside this very minute!”

“That’s a mighty serious accusation, son,” Sheriff Meade quietly said. “Can you prove it?”

 “Naw, he can’t prove it!” Red bawled. His nostrils flared. “I found that sorrel wandering around up near Raymond when I was going after strays the other—”

“Liar!” The boy leaped.

Matt caught him easily and steered him away from the enraged Red Fallon. “Take it easy, boy. No sense gettin’ killed over a horse. Simmer down and let the sheriff get to the bottom of it.” He looked into the kid’s battered face, “What’s your name?”

“Seth. Seth Anderson. And that ugly skunk is a lying horse thief.” He made one more attempt to get at Red, then his eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed in Matt’s arms.

Matt stared down at the unconscious youth. Seth’s face was pale and gaunt beneath the dark bruises. Matt motioned to a couple of spectators. “Jake, you and Murray take this poor kid over to Mace’s Hotel and ask Doc Brown to have a look at him. He’s lost a lot of blood. I’ll be along after a while.” He gently placed Seth’s limp body into the men’s care and rounded on his erring cowhand. “There was no call to beat up that boy. Why’d you do it?”

“Boss, I don’t take kindly to being accused of stealin’ a man’s horse and supplies. I tell you, I found that horse up in the foothills. There was nobody around.” Red shrugged and spread his range-hardened hands. “Figured some feller met his end up near the mines. Why should I let a good piece of horseflesh wander off?”

“When you found out the horse belonged to Seth, why didn’t you just give it back?” Matt wanted to know. He frowned. Something didn’t ring true with Red’s story, no matter how plausible it sounded. Or how aggrieved and innocent the cowboy acted.

“Why, Boss.” Red grinned and reached for his knife. “That wildcat kid burst in here madder’n a hornet, demanding to know who owned the sorrel gelding tied up outside. ’Course I told him it was mine.” He examined his knife and slid it carefully into the sheath hanging from his belt. “He just lit into me after that.”

“Yeah, Red. After you baited him,” Charlie Dunlap piped up from behind the bar. He mimicked Red’s voice. “Hey, fellers, any of you missin’ a sorrel? No kid like this one’s got a horse like that, ’nless he stole him. Know what we do to horse stealers ’round here?” Charlie scowled. “Sure young Anderson pitched into you. No self-respectin’ feller, kid or not, would take that guff—and I notice you took almighty pleasure in beatin’ the stuffin’ out of him!”

A murmur of assent swept through the onlookers.

The sheriff’s disbelieving snort showed his opinion of Red’s story and confirmed Matt’s suspicions. “Let’s take a look at the horse.”

With Sheriff Meade in the lead, Matt, Red, and a crowd of interested bystanders left the saloon and approached the sorrel Seth had referred to as “Copper.” The tired animal stood with drooping head, showing he’d been ridden hard. But his ears perked up and he whinnied when the sheriff laid a gentle hand on his mane.

Matt whistled softly. “Nice horse. No wonder the kid was upset to find him missing or stolen.”

Red glowered at his boss at the word stolen but kept his mouth shut. Sheriff Meade opened a saddlebag and pulled out a change of clothes. “These look like they might fit young Anderson.” He sighed. “But without more evidence, I don’t know how I can just hand this horse over to some stray kid who claims the sorrel’s his.”

“What about this?” Matt asked from the other side of the horse. He held up a wrinkled and faded photograph. “It might be a picture of his family. One of them is a good likeness of Seth. The others. . .” His voice trailed off as he gazed at the faces of two women. One was an older woman who clearly resembled Seth. The other—

Matt held his breath at the picture of the. . .girl? No. Not a girl but a young lady. She was seated next to the woman he decided must be their mother. Matt was struck by the girl’s clear, steady gaze and the look of quiet honesty on her young face. A pretty face. Innocent with a look of fun and laughter waiting to be set free. Not beautiful, but Matt had no interest in beauty. “Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain. . . .” He’d learned that the hard way from Lydia Hensley a few years back. Quickly he passed the photograph to Sheriff Meade.

The sheriff gave the photo a brief glance and announced his decision. “Appears to me this sorrel belongs to Seth Anderson.” He caught Red’s baleful gaze, held up a weather-beaten hand when Red started to speak, and said, “Don’t get your back up, Red. I want to hear the boy’s side of this before I make any final judgment. He ain’t up to talking and probably won’t be for a while. I’m gonna overlook the beating you gave the kid—for now. But if that boy’s injuries prove serious, I’m taking you in. This is the third cutting scrape this month, and I’ve had enough. Ben Hoder’s still in jail waitin’ trial for carving up Joe Mova so bad he died. You’ll be joining him if you’re not careful.”

Red’s face turned livid. “You can’t arrest me for—”

“That’s what you think.” Sheriff Meade strode off, his boot heels clumping heavily on the wooden sidewalk outside the saloon.

“Get back to the ranch,” Matt barked, “before I decide I’d rather go shorthanded this season than put up with your shenanigans.”

“Ain’t got no horse,” Red whined. “Sold him when I got the sorrel.”

“A shame.” Matt shook his head, not sorry in the least. “I suggest you go buy him back. Then get out to the ranch.” He raised a warning finger at the man. “And I don’t want this incident brought up again, is that clear?”

A curt nod was all Matt got for a response. The big cowhand turned on his heel and took off down the street.

A sigh of relief whispered through the crowd. The interested bystanders went about their business. Matt made sure Seth would be all right then mounted Chase and headed back to the Diamond S—thanking God he had chosen to ride into town this morning. His thoughts kept time to the rhythmic beat of the buckskin’s hooves on the parched ground. Who was Seth Anderson? Where had he come from? Judging by his ragged, dusty clothing, he’d been on the trail for some time.

Were the woman and girl in the picture really the young man’s mother and sister? Matt laughed. “Why should I care, Chase?” The gelding flicked his ears but didn’t change his stride. “I do though. He’s a game kid, just like Robbie.” A pang went through Matt. “God, I miss Robbie so much. I don’t know why he had to die so young.” He forced his thoughts back to the present. “I hope Seth will be all right. I’d hate for anything to happen to him. He must be a pretty good sort, with a mother and sister like that. Looks like he could use some help. If he pulls through, I’ll see what I can do.”

Long before Matt reached the Diamond S, he had spun dreams of bringing Seth Anderson to the ranch and teaching him the tricks of the range—the same way he had once taught Robbie. Matt smiled. “Lord, if I’m a good judge of character—and I am—this tenderfoot kid will take to life on the Diamond S like Chase to a water trough on a hot day. He’s as spunky as Dori, and with her off at school, it will be good to have someone like him around the place again.” Stirrings of anticipation brought a laugh. “Oh boy, when she comes home, those two will liven up the ranch like fireworks on the Fourth of July!”

❧

Eighteen months later, Matt knew it had to be the good Lord who’d literally dropped Seth Anderson into his lap that dusty fall afternoon. After hearing from Doc Brown that the lad’s injuries were not life threatening but merely a temporary annoyance, Matt had offered to free Captain Mace from having to care for the young stray. The tourist season was in full swing, and the captain had plenty to oversee. His hotel was crowded with guests waiting to take the Yosemite Stage and Turnpike Company’s ninety-mile trip up ten thousand feet to enjoy the awesome grandeur of Yosemite Valley. In addition, the captain and his crew provided a hearty supper for the southbound passengers of the Southern Pacific Railroad when it stopped in Madera each evening. It was too much to ask the generous hotel proprietor to care for a boy who would need vigilant attention over the next few weeks. The Diamond S was the perfect place for Seth to recuperate.