CHAPTER THREE
Frank Cobb, Kate Kerrigan’s segundo, was less than sympathetic. He cornered Chas Minor in the bunkhouse. “Hell, a right shoulder wound to go with the one he already had on his left. I thought you shot a sight better than that.”
“Frank, I was aiming at gun smoke,” Minor said. “I dusted a few shots into the trees. As Mrs. Kerrigan said, Jed Tillett is so skinny it’s a wonder I hit him anywhere.”
“Yeah, well now we got a problem,” Frank said. “You know who Blade Koenig is? Ever hear his name mentioned when men get to cussin’ and discussin’ around the stove?”
Minor shook his head. “Can’t say as I have.”
“You’ve led a sheltered life, seems like.”
“Could be, or maybe I don’t get around stoves much.”
“Well, anyhow, back a dozen years or so Blade made his reputation as a hired shootist out of Trinity County,” Frank said. “He was top gun in the Horrell-Higgins feud in Lampasas, did his share of killing in the Hoodoo War in Mason County and then he rode with John Larn and John Selman and that hard crowd in the Shackelford County mob war. You catching my drift, cowboy?”
“Blade Koenig is pretty good with a gun, huh?” Minor said. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Pretty good? Hell, they don’t come any better,” Frank said. “In the summer of ’70 Blade drifted into the Arizona Territory and got lucky. He gunned a hardcase by the name of Ned Titles in the town of Chloride. Shot him clean out of his seat in a Butterfield stage. Then Blade discovered that there was a bounty of five thousand dollars on the feller’s head, put there by the Union Pacific Railroad. After that, he bought land in the New Mexico Territory and started a ranch. He’s prospered ever since, him and a son he sired by a Trinity County whore when he was just a younker. The kid’s name is Seth, and he’s supposed to be a bad seed, but I don’t know about that. Last I heard Seth had killed three men, but I don’t know about that either.”
“Frank, sum it up for me,” Minor said. “I can’t see where this is headed.”
“I’ll tell you where it’s headed. If Blade Koenig has a beef with the Tilletts and comes all the way here after them, well, I know Kate Kerrigan, and she’s not going to hand them over to be slaughtered. That means a fight. Blade is a dangerous man, used to getting his own way. He has a history of stomping lesser men into the ground, and nobody has dared challenge him. That’s how he grew his ranch and his herds. He won’t let Kate stand in his way . . . at least that will be his manner of thinking.”
“This ranch can handle gun trouble, Frank,” Minor said, a stubborn set to his chin. His hand instinctively dropped to the butt of his Colt. “This here iron ain’t on my hip for decoration.”
“If Blade Koenig hired punchers that are the same stamp as himself, he’ll bring all the gun trouble we can handle and then some,” Frank said. “We have to avoid that. This is a working ranch, and I don’t want it turned into a battleground.”
“How come you know so much about Koenig?”
“Back in the day when I used my gun on the wrong side of the law, our paths crossed a few times. We were both professional shootists, and Blade didn’t push me none and I stepped wide around him. We never had it out about anything, and we were both happy to keep it that way. Since then I’ve been told a time or two how he’s prospered, but I didn’t think much about him until now.” Frank Cobb shook his head. “Hell, Chas, maybe I’m worrying about nothing. Why would a rich and influential man like Blade Koenig leave the New Mexico Territory to get even with the raggedy-assed Tilletts? Don’t make much sense to me.”
“Me neither,” Minor said. “As far as I can tell they’re a worthless bunch, fit for nothing but picking cotton.”
“They claim to have had a ranch. That’s something.”
“Not if they call a couple horses, some hogs, and a milk cow a ranch.”
“Sure don’t look like they’ve been eating good.”
“And that makes having the biggest rancher in the New Mexico Territory as an enemy all the stranger,” Minor said.
“Yeah, that sure don’t add up.”
“Sure don’t.”
“Well, we’ll wait and see what happens, but in the meantime, I don’t want anyone out on the range alone,” Frank said. “Make sure all the hands know that.”
Minor grinned. “Does that include you, Frank?”
“Especially me. I saw Blade Koenig use a gun, and the man can shade me any day of the week, any hour of the day. He’s good, mighty fast and sure on the draw and shoot, and I don’t think there’s anybody around that’s better.” Frank smiled. “But maybe I could take my hits and outlast him, huh?”
* * *
Kate Kerrigan said a rosary for Jed Tillett, not because she had any real feelings for the man, but because she thought it her Christian duty to pray for him. Her bedroom was cool, so quiet she heard the solemn tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hallway downstairs. Doctors were forever warning that night air was bad for the health, but Kate always slept with a window open. The restless West Texas wind billowed the lace curtains as she stirred restlessly, willing sleep to come.
At times her Irish gift of second sight was a curse, and this business with the Tilletts disturbed her deeply. If Frank was right, Blade Koenig was a looming threat, like thunderclouds on the horizon. By all accounts he was a violent, dangerous man and one not easily dismissed.
Kate Kerrigan finally slept, lulled by the sighing wind. Her rosary was still in her hand and her lips moved as she tossed and turned in troubled slumber.