THE DESERT SKY dominated the surrounding pastureland as it fringed the sandy wastes. Where there had once been four cattle spreads dotted around Apache Springs, now there were just two remaining. Two cattle ranches after the savage killings that the devilish Morgan Bray had orchestrated. Bray had vainly attempted to purchase his rival’s herds and land but when each of the three had rejected his attempts, he decided that there was only one thing to do. That was why Bray had hired the ruthless Leroy and Cooper to do what they were good at.
The last time they had filled their pockets with Bray’s blood money, they had managed to kill two of his fellow ranchers and an untold number of their cowhands. Now the arrogant Bray wanted the last of his rivals removed from existence. He wanted Ken Major dead and that was why he had wired for Leroy and Cooper to return to Apache Springs.
The job had to be completed.
Like an ancient Mongol tyrant surveying his empire, Morgan Bray stood in the bay window of his ranch house and surveyed the surrounding land that spread out from the solid structure. A massive barn filled with numerous horses stood beside a long single story building where Bray’s various henchman and cowboys resided.
Yet even though his was the largest cattle ranch in the vicinity of Apache Springs, it was not enough for the large Bray. As with everything else in his life, Bray was not satisfied.
The Double K spread still existed and that was a thorn in the side of the devilish man. Bray had to possess everything and even then he would find no rest. For the greed which burned inside him like a grumbling volcano ready to erupt at any moment would never subside.
His appetite could never be satisfied like that of a rational man. His hunger grew and grew as his advancing years began to quicken their pace, toward the inevitable. It was as though he was desperate to win a race that only existed in his twisted mind.
Morgan Bray sighed heavily like a caged mountain lion as his mind shuffled the cards inside his skull. He clapped his hands together in applause as though he were an audience to his own activity.
Bray turned his ample girth away from the window and walked to a silver cigar case perched atop a short legged table beside a long couch. He sat and pulled one of the cigars from the case and bit off its tip. He spat the small tobacco remnant at the large fire place where it vanished into its roaring flames.
The infamous rancher dragged a match across the surface of the table and raised its flickering flame to the end of the cigar. He puffed like an old locomotive and then tossed the spent match at the burning logs in the fire grate.
The cigar smoke encircled his head like a halo.
His plans fermented in his thoughts like rancid poison as he once again worked out how his hired killers could achieve their goal and kill the one man standing in his way.
Bray had never considered the severity of his actions. Unlike far poorer individuals, he was able to use his fortune to keep the law at arms-length.
In Apache Springs there was no actual law.
A cruel grin etched across his face as he continued to puff on the cigar as his mind finalized the plan. The grin grew wider.
With the cigar gripped between his store bought teeth, Bray sat on the plush couch with the fingertips of his hands touching in mock prayer.
But Morgan Bray had never prayed in his entire life.
As far as the rancher was concerned, there was nobody to pray to. He considered himself far superior to most of the deities that others worshipped.
It was another cavernous flaw in his nature.
One of many.
He had forgotten long ago how many actual people he had sent to meet their Maker. The death toll was beyond belief and yet to Bray it was both justified and necessary.
To even disagree with his obvious lies which he continually spewed, was reason enough to have someone marked for death. Bray could never agree with anyone else. Their point of view was totally irrelevant.
He blew a long line of cigar smoke at the table before him and then reached down and picked up a brandy bottle. He filled a tumbler almost to the brim with the golden cognac and savored its aroma.
As the rancher rested against the padded cushions of the couch he heard the hefty footsteps of one of his most loyal guards returning. Bray looked at the door as it rattled under the impact of clenched knuckles.
‘Come on in, Kodiak,’ Bray boomed.
The door opened. Kodiak Kane entered.
The heavily armed man removed his hat and hung it on a tall rack beside that of his paymasters.
Bray turned his head and watched the large man make his way toward the heart of the room. Kane had been with the infamous rancher for the previous fifteen years and had learned long ago that it never paid to argue with Bray. He simply obeyed orders and agreed with anything the rancher uttered.
‘What’s happening in town, Kodiak?’ Bray asked after sipping the strong liquor and allowing it to gently burn its way into his guts. ‘Did you do as I told you?’
Kane nodded and sat down on a hardback chair close to the low table. He looked a little puzzled as he rubbed his face free of the trail dust he had accumulated on the long ride back to Bray’s ranch.
‘I done what you wanted, boss.’ He said. ‘A few things have gotten me confused though.’
Bray lowered the tumbler from his mouth and stared at the muscular Kane. ‘What you mean?’
‘There’s something wrong in Apache Springs, boss,’ Kane stated dryly. ‘A few things which don’t add up. I can’t figure it out but it’s troubling me.’
Morgan Bray knew that his henchman was not a man to fret over trivial things but he could see the confusion in Kane’s face. He sat shaking his head staring at the floor rug.
‘Help yourself to a snort.’ Bray pointed a finger at the brandy bottle and then returned the cigar to his mouth. Smoke billowed around the rancher’s head and shoulders.
Kodiak Kane did not require a second invitation to drink his paymasters hard liquor. He filled a tumbler and swiftly quenched his thirst. The gunman then refilled his large glass.
As the fumes cleared his head he smiled at Bray.
‘Me and a few of the boys done some scouting in town for you and learned a few things,’ Kane informed. ‘We learned that a stranger rode into Apache Springs just about sundown. He’s holed up in the hotel. We also learned that one of Ken Major’s boys picked up a mighty puzzling telegraph wire and hightailed it back to the Double K. Folks said it was as if the young cowpokes tail was on fire.’
Bray pulled the cigar from his lips and leaned forward.
‘What about Cooper and Leroy, Kodiak?’ he asked.
‘They’re still drinking in the Salty Sally where you left them, boss.’ Kane bluntly answered. ‘Me and the boys asked a few questions but nobody seemed to know who the stranger is. We checked the hotel register but we couldn’t read the name he signed.’
Morgan Bray pulled the cigar free of his mouth. His expression had suddenly darkened.
‘What does this critter look like?’ he demanded. ‘Give me a description of the stranger.’
Kodiak Kane shook his head. ‘None of us set eyes on him, boss. The hotel clerk said that the man registered and went up to his room and has remained there.’
Bray stood and leaned over the henchman.
‘Did he tell you what this man looked like?’ he snarled.
Kane looked in Bray’s direction. He could see that for some reason his paymaster was nervous. Very nervous.
‘The hotel clerk said that the critter is tall. He’s well-built and has white hair. Sounds real old to me.’
‘White hair.’ Bray repeated before downing the entire contents of his glass and allowing the fiery fumes to warm his innards. ‘Old time, huh?’
‘What I thought was odd though was the fact that he’s got a long white beard.’ Kane recalled. ‘The clerk said that it was so long that this critter had it tied halfway down with a leather lace.’
This last piece of information seemed to hit the rancher like a bullet through the heart. He placed his glass down next to Kane’s and shook his head as every drop of color drained from his usually rosy cheeks.
Morgan Bray moved to the fire and tossed his cigar into its flames. He fell silent for a few moments and then glanced back at the seated Kane.
‘His beard is tied down with a leather lace, you say?’
Kane gave a firm nod. ‘Yep. That’s what the hotel clerk told us, boss. Seems kinda dumb to me. Why grow a beard so long you gotta hogtie it? Who would do that?’
Morgan Bray turned and looked petrified.
‘Uriah Moon,’ he said. ‘That’s who.’