Live by the West, Die by the West Page 12

  “Wherever you ride, I’ll be with you,” she told him, adding, “Darling.”

  Gage blushed all the way down to his holey socks.

  * * *

  “I’ll kill ever’ goddamn one of them!” Dooley screamed. “I’ll stake that damn Gage out over an anthill and listen to him scream.” Dooley cussed until he was red-faced and out of breath.

  “This ain’t good,” Jason said. “I’m beginnin’ to think we’re snake-bit.”

  “I don’t know.” Lanny scratched his jaw. “It gives the other side a few more guns, is all.”

  “Seven more guns.”

  “No sweat.”

  Inside the house, Dooley was still ranting and cussing and roaring about what he was going to do to Gage and to his wife. The men outside heard something crash against a wall. Dooley had picked up a vase and shattered it.

  The sons were leaning against a hitchrail, giggling and scratching themselves.

  “Them boys,” Jason pointed out, “is as goofy as their dad.”

  “And just as dangerous,” Lanny added. “Don’t sell them short. They’re all cat-quick with a gun.”

  “About the boys . . . ?”

  “We’ll just kill them when we’ve taken the ranches.”

  * * *

  “Of course you can stay here, Liz,” Alice told her. “And stop saying it will be a bother.” She smiled. “You and Gage. I’m so happy for you.”

  “If we survive this,” Liz put a verbal damper on the other woman’s joy.

  “We’ll survive it. Oh, Liz!” She took the woman’s hands into hers. “Do you remember how it was when we first settled here? Those first few years before all the hard feelings began. We fought outlaws and Indians and were friends. Then . . .” She bit back the words.

  “I know. I’ve tried to convince myself it wasn’t true. But it was and is. Even more so now. Dooley began to change. Maybe he was always mad; I don’t know. I know only that I love Gage and have for a long, long time. From a distance,” she quickly added. “I just feel like a great weight has been lifted from me.”

  “You rest for a while. I’ll get supper started.”

  “Pish-posh! I’m not tired. And I want to do my share here. Come on. I’ve got a recipe for cinnamon apple pie that’ll have Cord groaning.”

  Laughing, the two women walked to the kitchen.

  Outside the big house, Cord briefed Gage and the other men from the D-H about the outlaws’ plans.

  Gage shuddered. “Kill the women! God, what a bunch of no-goods. Well, we got out of that snake pit just in time. Cord, me and boys will hep your crew bunch the cattle.” He cut his eyes to Del. “You ’member that box canyon over towards Spitter Crick?”

  Del nodded. “Yeah. It’s got good graze and water that’ll keep ’em for several weeks. That’s a good idea. We’ll get started first thing in the morning. Smoke said him and his boys will be over at first light to hep out. They done got their cattle bunched and safe as they could make ’em.”

  “I sent a rider over to tell them about y’all,” Cord told him. “I ’magine Rita will be comin’ over to stay with her momma. Smoke’s already makin’ plans to vacate the Box T. We both figure that’ll be the first spread Dooley will hit, and Smoke ain’t got the men to defend it agin seventy or more men.”

  “No, but them men that he’s got was shore born with the bark on,” Gage replied. “I’d shore hate to be in that first bunch that tackles ’em.

  “They’ll cut the odds down some, for sure,” Del said. “You know,” he reminisced, “I growed up hearin’ stories about Pistol Le Roux and Hardrock and Silver Jim . . . and Charlie Starr. Lord, Lord! Till Smoke Jensen come along, I reckon he was the most famous gun-handler in all the West. Hardrock and Pistol and Silver Jim . . . why, them men must be nigh on seventy years old. But they still tough as wang leather and mean as cornered grizzlies. It just come to me that we’re lookin’ at history here.”

  “Let’s just hope that we all live to read about it,” Cord said drily.

  * * *

  “I think they’ll try us tonight, Smoke,” Charlie said. “My old bones is talkin’ to me.”

  “I agree with you.”

  “I done tossed my blankets over yonder in that stand of trees,” Pistol said, pointing. “I never did like to sleep all cooped up noways. I like to look at the stars.”

  “We’ll all stay clear of the house tonight,” Smoke said. “Fill your pockets with ammunition, boys, and don’t take your boots off. I think tonight is gonna be interesting.”

  Bob was in the loft of the barn. Spring and Pat stayed in the bunkhouse, both of them armed with rifles. Lujan was in the barn, lower level. Pistol, Silver Jim, Charlie, and Hardrock were spread around the house. Smoke elected to stay close to the now-empty corral. The horses had been moved away to a little draw; Ring was with them. Beans had slipped into moccasins and was roaming. Parnell was in the house with the women. Rita and Fae were armed with rifles. Parnell refused to take a gun.

  About a quarter of a mile from the ranch complex, Beans knelt down in the road and put his ear to the hard-packed earth. He smiled grimly, then stood up. “Coming!” he shouted to Silver Jim, who was the closest to him. “Sounds like a bunch of them, too.”

  Silver Jim relayed the message and then settled in, earing back the hammer on his Winchester.

  Beans was the first to see the flames from the torches the gunnies carried. “They’re gonna try to burn us out!” he yelled.

  Then the hard-riding outlaw gunslingers were thundering past Beans’s position. At almost point-blank range, Beans emptied his six-shooter into the mass of riders, then holstered his pistol and picked up his Winchester. He put five fast rounds into the outlaws, then shifted positions when the lead started flying around him.

  Beans knew he’d hit at least three of the riders, and two of them were hard hit and on the ground.

  Silver Jim got three clean shots off, with one outlaw on the ground and the other two just hanging on, gripping the saddle horn. Not dead, but out of action.

  Bob took his time with his Winchester and emptied two saddles before Lujan hollered, “Another bunch coming behind us, Bob. Shift to the rear.”

  Smoke stood by the corral, a dim figure in the torchlit night, with both hands full of long-barreled Colts, and picked his targets. His aim was deadly true. He knocked two to the ground and knew he’d hit several more before being forced to run for cover

  A rider threw his torch through a window—only two windows were not shuttered, front and back, giving the women a place to fire from—and the torch landed on the couch. The couch burst into flames and Parnell went to work with buckets of water already filled against such an action. He managed to keep the fire confined to the couch.

  The barn was not so lucky. While Lujan and Bob were fighting at the rear of the barn, a rider tossed a torch into the hayloft. That action got him a bullet from Smoke that cut his spine and shattered his heart, but there was no saving the barn. Bob and Lujan fought inside until it became too difficult to see and breathe and they had to run for cover amid a hail of lead.

  The small band of defenders of the Box T were now having to fight against range-robbers on all sides. One outlaw made the mistake of finding the horses and thinking he was going to set them free.

  One second he was in the saddle, the next second he was on the ground. The last thing he would remember hearing on this earth was a deep voice rumbling, “I do not like people who are mean to nice people.”

  Huge hands clamped around the man’s head and with one quick jerk, Ring broke the gunny’s neck and tossed him to one side, his head flopping from side to side. Ring got the rifle from the outlaw’s saddle boot, made sure it was full, and waited for some more action.

  The area around the ranch house was now brightly lighted from the flaming barn; too bright for the outlaws’ taste, for the accuracy of the defenders was more than they had counted on.

  “Let’s go!” came the shout.

  No
one bothered to fire at or pursue the outlaws. All ran into the yard to form a bucket line to wet down the roof of the house so sparks from the burning barn could not set it on fire. The men worked frantically, for already there were smoldering spots on the roof.

  It did not take long for the barn to go; soon there was nothing left except a huge mound of glowing coals.

  The men sat down on the ground where they were, all of them suddenly tired as the adrenaline had slowed.

  “Fae!” Parnell said. “Give up this madness. Let us leave this barbaric country and return to civilization.”

  Fae walked toward him, her gloved hands balled into fists. Her face was sooty and her short hair disheveled and she was mad clear through. When she got within swinging distance she let him have it, giving him five in the mouth and dropping him to the ground.

  Parnell lay flat on his butt, blood leaking out of a busted lip, looking up at his baby sister. He wore a hurt expression on his face. He blinked and said, “I suppose, Sister, that is your quaint way of saying no?”

  Smoke and the others burst out laughing. The laughter spread and soon Fae and Rita were laughing. No one paid any attention to the bodies littering the yard and the areas all around the ranch complex.

  Parnell sat up and rubbed his jaw. “I, for one, fail to see the humor in this grotesque situation.”

  That caused another round of laughter. They were still laughing as Ring walked up, leading several horses, one with the body of the neck-broke outlaw draped across the saddle.

  “Crazy folks,” Ring said. “But nice folks.”

  SIXTEEN

  “This ain’t worth a damn!” Jason summed up the night’s action. “Nine dead and six wounded. Couple more nights like this and we might as well hang it up.”

  “Shore got to change our plans,” Lanny agreed. “We should have hit McCorkle first.”

  “Well, you can bet they all is gonna be on the alert after this night,” No-Count Victor said. “Hell, let’s just go on and kill that stupid Dooley and his sons and settle for this spread.”

  “No!” Lanny stopped that quick. “It’s got to be the whole bag or nothing. Think about it. You think Cord and Smoke would let us stay in this area, on this spread? And what about Dooley’s wife; you forgettin’ about her?”

  “I reckon so,” Cat said sullenly.

  Both Jason and Lanny had been admiring Cat’s matched guns since he’d arrived. They were silver-plated, scroll-engraved, with ivory grips. Smith & Wesson .44s, top break for easier loading. They both coveted Cat’s guns. Both of them had thought, more than once: When this is over, I’ll kill him and take them fancy guns.

  Honor extended only so far.

  A wounded man moaned in restless unconsciousness on his bloody bunk. Before he had passed out, he had drunk a full bottle of laudanum to ease the pain in his chest. Pink froth was bubbling past his lips. Lung shot, and all knew he wasn’t going to make it.

  “You want me to shoot him, Jason?” Nappy asked.

  “Naw. He’ll be gone in a few hours. If he’s still alive come the mornin’, we’ll put a piller over his face and end it thataway. It won’t make so much noise.”

  * * *

  Smoke stepped out before first light, carrying his rifle, loaded full. It had come to him during the night, and if it came to the range-robbers, the small band of defenders would be in trouble. They could starve them out; a few well-placed snipers could keep them pinned down for days. He hated to tell Fae, but Smoke felt it would be best to desert the ranch and head for Cord’s place. If they stayed here, it was only a matter of time before they were overrun.

  He looked around the darkness. Before turning in, they had stacked the bodies of the outlaws against a wall of a ravine. At first light, they would go through their pockets in search of any clues to family or friends. They would then bury the men by collapsing dirt over the stiffening bodies. There would be no markers.

  Smoke smelled the aroma of coffee coming from the bunkhouse, the good odors just barely overriding the smell of charred wood from the remnants of the barn. Smoke walked to the bunkhouse, faint lantern light shining through the windows.

  “Comin’ in,” he announced just before reaching the door.

  “Come on,” ol’ Spring called. “Got hot coffee and hard biscuits.”

  Before Smoke poured his first cup of coffee of the day, he noticed the men had already packed their war bags and rolled their slim mattresses.

  “You boys read my mind, hey?”

  “Figured you’d be wantin’ to pull out this mornin’,” Hardrock said, gumming a biscuit to soften it. He had perhaps four teeth left in his mouth. “What about the cattle?”

  Smoke took a drink of the strong cowboy coffee before replying. “Figured we’d drive them on over to Cord’s.”

  “Them no-goods is gonna fire the cabin soon as we’re gone,” Silver Jim said. “After they loot it.” He grinned nastily. “We all allow as to how we ought to leave a few surprises in there for them.”

  Smoke, squatting down, leaned back against the bunkhouse wall and smiled. “What you got in mind?”

  Hardrock kicked a cloth sack by his bunk. The sack moved and buzzed. “I gleamed me a rattler nest several days back. ’Fore I snoozed last night I paid it a visit and grabbed me several. I figured I’d plant ’em in the house ’fore we left, in stra-teegic spots.” He grinned. “You like that idee?”

  “Oh, yeah!”

  “Thought you would. Soon as Miss Fae and that goosy brother of her’n is gone we’ll plant the rattlers.”

  Smoke chewed on yesterday’s biscuit and took a swallow of coffee. “You reckon any varmits got to the bodies last night?”

  “Doubtful,” Charlie said. “Ring stayed out there, close by. Said he didn’t much like them people but it wouldn’t be fitten to let the coyotes and wolves chew on them. Strange man.”

  Pistol looked toward the dusty window. “Gettin’ light enough to see. I reckon we better get to it whilst it’s cool. Them ol’ boys is gonna get plumb ripe when the sun touches ’em.”

  The men put on their hats, hitched up their britches, and turned out the lamps. “I’d hate to be an undertaker,” Hardrock said. “Hope when I go I just fall off my horse in the timber.”

  “By that time, you’ll be so old you won’t be able to get in the saddle,” Silver Jim needled him.

  “Damn near thataways now,” Hardrock fired back.

  * * *

  They kept the outlaws’ guns and ammunition and put what money they had in a leather sack to give to Fae. Then they caved in the ravine wall and stacked rocks over the dirt to keep the varmints from digging up the bodies and eating them. By the time they had finished, it was time for breakfast.

  Fae and Rita had fixed a huge breakfast of bacon and eggs and oatmeal and biscuits. The men dug in, piling their plates high. Conversation was sparse until the first plates had been emptied. Eating was serious business; a man could talk anytime.

  After eating up everything in sight—it wasn’t polite to leave any food; might insult the cook—the men refilled their coffee cups, pushed back their chairs, and hauled out pipes and papers, passing the tobacco sack around.

  “We’re leaving, aren’t we?” Fae asked, noticing how quiet the men were.

  “Till this is over,” Smoke told her. “It’s a pretty location here, Cousin, but it’d be real easy for Hanks’s men to pin us down.”

  “They’ll destroy the house.”

  “Probably. But you can always rebuild. That beats gettin’ buried here. Take what you just absolutely have to have. We can stash the rest for you. Spring, you and Pat stay here and keep a sharp eye out. We’ll go bunch the cattle and start pushing them toward Cord’s range. We’ll cross the Smith at the north bend, just south of that big draw. Let’s go, boys.”

  The cattle were not happy to be leaving the lush grass of summer graze, but finally the men got the old mossyhorn lead steer moving and the others followed. Smoke and Hardrock rode back to the ranch hous
e. Hardrock went to the bunkhouse to get his bag of goodies for the outlaws. Ring had bunched the horses and with Pat’s help was holding them just off the road. Spring was driving the wagon. Both Rita and Rae were riding astride; Parnell was in his buggy. He had a fat lip from his encounter with his sister the night past. He didn’t look at all happy.

  “I’ll catch up with y’all down the road,” Hardrock told Smoke.

  “What is in the sack?” Parnell inquired.

  “Some presents for the range-robbers. It wouldn’t be neighborly to just go off and not leave something.”

  Parnell muttered something under his breath about the strangeness of western people while Smoke grinned at him.

  The caravan moved out, with Smoke riding with his rifle across his saddle horn. Smoke did not expect any trouble so soon after the outlaw attack the past night, but one never knew about the mind of Dooley Hanks. The man didn’t even know his own mind.

  The trip to the Smith was uneventful and Spring knew a place where the wagon and the buggy could get across with little difficulty. A couple of Cord’s hands were waiting on the west side of the river to point the way for the cattle. Smoke rode on to the ranch with the women and Parnell. Cord met them in the front yard.

  “The house and barn go up last night?” he asked. “We seen a glow.”

  “Just the barn. I imagine the house will be fired tonight.” He smiled. “After they try to loot it. But Hardrock left a few surprises for them.” He told the ranch owner about the rattlesnakes in the bureau drawers and in other places.

  Cord’s smile was filled with grim satisfaction. “They’ll get exactly what they deserve. Your momma’s in the house, Rita.” He stared at her. “Girl, what have you done to your hair?”

  “Whacked it off.” Rita grinned. “You like my jeans, Mister Cord?”

  Cord shook his head and muttered about women dressin’ up in men’s britches and ridin’ astride. Rita laughed at him as Sandi came out onto the porch. She squealed and the young women ran toward each other and hugged.

  “The women been cleaning out the old bunkhouse all mornin’, Smoke. It ain’t fancy, but the roof don’t leak and the bunks is in good shape and the sheets and blankets is clean.”