Slaughter Read online

“I don’t know yet who’s to blame,” Frank said in reply to Linderman’s question. “I’ve got a few folks I’m wondering about, but no real proof to point to any of them yet.”

  “When you figure it out, let us know,” Linderman said. “If the law won’t do anything about it, I reckon the boys and me would be glad to form an unofficial posse and lend you a hand, Morgan.”

  Frank nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. We won’t take the law in our own hands, though . . . unless we have to.”

  The three men rode around the area some more, just to make sure that none of the raiders who had been killed had been left behind. Their companions had been thorough, though. Even the horses the dead men had been riding were gone, except for the two Frank and Magnusson had used to escape from the blaze.

  Looking for the outlaws’ mounts reminded Frank of Goldy and Dog. He whistled, and sure enough, the stallion and the big cur came loping up a few moments later. Magnusson cast an unfriendly glance toward Dog, but didn’t say anything.

  Frank dismounted and handed the reins of the horse he’d been riding to Linderman.

  “This horse belonged to one of the varmints,” he told the foreman, “and so did the one Magnusson’s riding. The brands probably won’t tell us anything, but it might be a good idea to hang on to them anyway just in case.”

  “We can go through the saddlebags, too,” Linderman suggested. “But like you said, it probably won’t do any good. Those hombres are too smart to have left anything incriminatin’ in ’em.”

  Magnusson turned to Frank and asked, “What are your plans now, Morgan?”

  “Can’t track those killers at night,” Frank said, again not mentioning that he now knew the location of the gang’s hideout. He had no particular reason for playing those cards close to his vest, other than being in the habit of doing so. “I reckon I’ll go back to the hotel and try to get some rest.”

  “Why don’t you come to the ranch with us?” Linderman suggested. “It’s closer than town, and I’m sure the señora would be willin’ to put you up for the night.”

  “Morgan works for me now,” Magnusson snapped.

  “I know that. And up until today, I reckon it would’ve been plenty of reason to be plumb inhospitable to him.” Linderman shrugged. “But things are changin’ here in the valley, at least a little. Not that we’ll ever welcome those smelly, noisy contraptions of yours, Magnusson. But you’re welcome to come to the ranch, too. You look like you been put through the wringer.”

  Frank could tell it took quite an effort on Linderman’s part for the foreman to unbend from his hostile stance enough to invite Magnusson to Salida del Sol.

  Magnusson just shook his head curtly in response to the invitation. “I have to get back to town,” he said. “My sister will worry about me if I don’t show up at all tonight. I’ll just stay here with my men until your men get back with that wagon.”

  “Shouldn’t be too much longer. We’ll wait, too.” Linderman nodded toward the burning wells. “Anything we can do to help with those blazes?”

  “Just see that they don’t spread to the rest of your range. They’ll have to burn themselves out.”

  “How long will that take?”

  Magnusson shook his head. “There’s no way of knowing. The fire where the storage tank was will go out as soon as all the oil that was in there is burned up. The well fires will probably die down some overnight, but it’ll be days, maybe even weeks, before they go out entirely.”

  Linderman’s face was grim as he asked, “You mean we’ll maybe have to keep an eye on those fires for weeks?”

  “That’s right.”

  Linderman leaned over in the saddle and spat on the ground next to his horse. “One more reason we don’t want any more of those damned wells on Montero range,” he said.

  Magnusson’s face darkened with anger, and for a moment Frank thought the two men were going to start arguing again.

  But then Magnusson turned away. “I’m too tired to get into that right now, Linderman. Anyway, it’s not up to you, is it? Señora Montero makes the important decisions on Salida del Sol, doesn’t she? And she probably wouldn’t like it if she knew you’d invited me to spend the night there.”

  “I stand by what I said,” Linderman declared stubbornly. “If the señora don’t like it, that’s between her and me.”

  The oilman made a slashing motion with his hand. “It doesn’t matter. Like I told you, I’m staying right here with my men until that wagon comes to take them back to town, and then I’m going with them.”

  “Well, it shouldn’t be much longer now.” Linderman left the good riddance part unsaid, but Frank heard it plain enough and suspected that Magnusson did, too.

  Several more minutes passed. Magnusson shifted impatiently in the saddle and asked, “Shouldn’t your men have been here with that wagon?”

  “Hold your horses,” Linderman snapped. “I’m sure it took ’em a little while to get a team hitched up, and you can’t move all that fast in a wagon, even an empty one. They’ll be along directly.”

  But as the minutes dragged by, Linderman began to frown worriedly. Frank understood the feeling. He thought the wagon should have arrived already from the ranch headquarters, too.

  The surviving drillers had sat down on the ground to rest with their shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Several of the Montero punchers looked at each other, then dismounted and walked over to the drillers. One of them reached for the tobacco pouch in his breast pocket and asked, “Want to borrow the makin’s?”

  Rattigan looked up at the cowboy with a resentful expression on his face at first, but then his grimy features smoothed out and he shrugged.

  “Don’t mind if I do. Thanks.”

  “Welcome,” the puncher said as he handed over the pouch. “Pass it around to the rest o’ you fellas if you want.”

  That was a good start toward mending the fences between these two bunches, Frank thought. He was glad to see it, but it didn’t ease his worry about the wagon.

  That worry got a lot worse in a hurry when the sound of distant shots came drifting through the night air.

  Linderman had dismounted. He jerked around toward the shots and exclaimed, “That sounds like it’s comin’ from the ranch!”

  Frank’s jaw tightened. He had done some damage to the gang during his three encounters with them, but there were still at least twenty of the hired killers roaming around the valley raising hell.

  He had thought that after the destruction of the oil wells, they would head back to their hideout, but maybe they had gone to Salida del Sol instead, to attack the ranch for the second night in a row.

  “Son of a bitch!” Linderman went on as he fairly leaped into the saddle. “We got to go see what that’s about!”

  “I’m coming with you,” Frank said as he swung up onto Goldy’s back.

  “I’m not leaving my men,” Magnusson declared. “This could be some sort of trick.”

  “Nobody asked you to,” Linderman said. He pulled his horse’s head around and spurred the animal into a run.

  Frank was right beside him, and the other punchers from Salida del Sol hurriedly mounted up and galloped after them. Linderman probably knew this range like the back of his hand, Frank thought, so he let the foreman take the lead.

  The shooting had stopped by the time the group of hard-riding men approached the ranch headquarters. An orange glow similar to the one that had lit up the sky above the burning oil wells, but smaller, could be seen up ahead.

  “Somethin’s on fire, damn it!” Linderman said as he hauled his horse around a bend in the trail. “Looks like one of the barns!”

  That was what it was, all right, Frank saw a moment later. Flames leaped from the roof of the big structure. Men ran around it, flinging buckets of water onto the blaze without much noticeable effect. They could probably keep the fire from spreading that way, but they wouldn’t be able to save the barn.

  Linderman flung himself out of the saddle before his mo
unt stopped moving, and grabbed one of the ranch hands as the man went by with a bucket of water.

  “What the hell happened here?” Linderman shouted over the crackling roar of the burning barn.

  “It was some of those damned drillers!” the man replied, sending a shock through Frank. “They snuck in and set the barn on fire, then started shootin’ at us when we came a-runnin’ out o’ the bunkhouse!”

  Frank dismounted as well and confronted the man, studying his face in the garish light of the burning barn. “Are you sure about that?” he demanded. “You know it was Magnusson’s men?”

  “We got a good look at ’em, damn it!” the man replied angrily. “They sure as hell weren’t cowboys!” He turned back to Linderman. “A couple o’ the fellas who went with you rode back in just as hell started poppin’, Pete, and they got gunned down right away!”

  That was why the men hadn’t come back with the wagon, Frank thought.

  The shocks weren’t through coming yet. “That ain’t the worst of it!” the grizzled old cowboy went on. “Some of ’em got in the house.”

  Linderman’s face twisted with fear. “The señora—!”

  “They took her, Pete! Carried her outta the house kickin’ and screamin’, threw her on a horse with one o’ the bastards, and rode off into the night with her!”

  Chapter 28

  Linderman looked like he’d just been walloped over the head with a sledgehammer. Once again, Frank got the impression that there was more to the relationship between Dolores and Linderman than that of ranch owner and foreman.

  But that didn’t matter at the moment. Other things were much more important.

  “Was she hurt?” Frank asked the cowboy who had just broken the shocking news to them.

  “Not so’s you could see. Like I said, she was fightin’ like a wildcat.”

  “Well, damn it, didn’t you try to stop ’em?” Linderman burst out.

  “Of course we tried! Run right into a hail o’ lead from those skalleyhooters, though. There’s two boys a-layin’ dead in the bunkhouse right now from tryin’ to stop ’em!”

  “Sorry,” Linderman muttered. “I know you wouldn’t just let anybody take the señora without puttin’ up a fight. I just can’t believe those blasted drillers would do such a thing!”

  “They didn’t,” Frank said.

  Linderman and the cowpoke turned to glare at him.

  “You heard what Sammy told us,” Linderman said. “They saw the drillers.”

  “Yeah, and they was mighty hard to miss in them oily clothes!” Sammy put in.

  Frank shook his head. “You saw men dressed like drillers.” He turned to Linderman. “I’d bet a hat they were really the same men who set fire to Magnusson’s wells earlier tonight.”

  Linderman rubbed his jaw and frowned in thought. After a moment, he said, “Yeah, I reckon it could’ve been at that.”

  “Don’t listen to this no-account gunfighter, Pete!” Sammy urged. “You heard him say yourself that he’s workin’ for Magnusson now. Of course he’s gonna claim Magnusson didn’t have nothin’ to do with kidnappin’ Señora Montero!”

  “I don’t know,” Linderman said slowly. “Somebody blew the hell outta three of Magnusson’s wells tonight, as well as a big storage tank full of oil, and it wasn’t us. I think Morgan’s right. Somebody else is tryin’ to keep trouble stirred up between us and those drillers.” He looked at Frank. “But what do they hope to gain by carryin’ off the señora?”

  Frank had to think about that question for a moment. Finally, he said, “They don’t know that we’re on to them. They think each side is still blaming the other for what’s going on. That’s why they were dressed like cowboys when they attacked Magnusson’s wells, and that explains why they changed in drillers’ outfits before raiding the ranch.”

  “I reckon that makes sense,” Linderman allowed. “They figured by kidnappin’ the señora, it’d finally push us into tryin’ to wipe out Magnusson’s bunch once and for all.”

  “No, what they really want is for both sides to wipe each other out. It’s what they’ve been after all along.”

  Linderman’s eyes widened as understanding sunk in on him. “With Magnusson and the señora both out of the way, somebody could come in here and grab up the best ranch and the biggest oil drillin’ operation in the valley!”

  “That’s the way it looks to me,” Frank agreed with a nod.

  “Then they’re gonna kill Dolores!”

  The fear that Linderman felt made him slip and forget to refer to her as the señora as he usually did, Frank noted, but again, he didn’t care whether or not Linderman had romantic feelings toward Dolores Montero.

  “They won’t hurt her, at least not right away,” Frank said. “They’re smart enough to know that they may need her for leverage. Anyway, if their plan is to blame Magnusson for the kidnapping, you’re liable to get a phony ransom note with some clues pointing back to him, just to cinch the deal.”

  “But if they realize that you’ve figured out what’s goin’ on, they’re liable to get rid of her just so she can’t ever testify against them.”

  Frank nodded again, this time with a grim expression on his weathered face. “That could happen all right,” he admitted. “That’s why I’ve got to get her away from them as quick as I can.”

  “You mean, why we have to go after her,” Linderman corrected.

  Frank shook his head this time. “This is a one-man job, Pete, and since I’m the one who’s got a pretty good idea where they took her, it looks like I’m elected.”

  Linderman and Sammy stared at Frank for a long moment before Linderman turned to the puncher and said, “Go throw that water on the fire.”

  Sammy looked like he didn’t want to leave, but the boss had given him an order. He hurried off to carry it out.

  Linderman said to Frank in a low voice, “You know where their hideout is, don’t you?”

  “I figured you’d tumble to that, but there was no way around it. Yeah, I trailed them there earlier today. Or rather, Dog did. I probably couldn’t have done it without that educated nose of his.”

  “Damn it, tell me where it is,” the foreman demanded. “I’ll get every man on the ranch and we’ll ride in there and wipe those bastards out!”

  “That’s the last thing you need to be thinking about doing,” Frank said. “For one thing, you’d lose at least half your men getting into the hideout, and for another, the first thing those varmints would do if you attacked the place is kill Señora Montero. You don’t want that.”

  Linderman grimaced. “No, I sure as hell don’t. But you can’t be serious about goin’ in after her by yourself.”

  “Sometimes a job is cut out more for one man than an army,” Frank pointed out. “This is one of those times.”

  Linderman regarded him with an intent stare for a few seconds, then said, “What about two men?”

  “Meaning you and me?”

  “Damn straight.”

  Frank pondered the suggestion for a long moment, then slowly nodded.

  “Two men might be able to get in where they’ll be taking the señora. I’m not sure it would be a good idea to tell the crew where we’re going, though. They might not be able to resist the temptation to come after us.”

  “And that could ruin everything if the situation’s as dangerous as you make it out to be, Morgan. I don’t like the idea of nobody else knowin’ where the hideout is, though. What if you and I don’t come back?”

  “That’s a good point,” Frank agreed. “If you’ve got a man you can trust, I’ll write down the directions and seal them up, with orders that the note should be turned over to Stafford if you and I don’t come back by tomorrow morning.” He shrugged. “If we’re not back by then, it’ll probably be too late for Señora Montero anyway, so the sheriff can take a posse in and clean out that rat’s nest.”

  “And if the sheriff won’t do it, I know a bunch of cowpunchers tough as whang leather who will.” Linderman no
dded to show he was willing to go along with Frank’s plan. “I’ll give the note to Jeff for safekeeping.”

  That brought a slight frown to Frank’s face. “That young hothead?”

  “You’ve got him all wrong, Morgan. He was upset about Lonnie, sure, but he’s a top hand, and he knows how to do what he’s told.”

  “I’ve wondered if he bushwhacked me my first night in Los Angeles. Somebody sure did.”

  “It wouldn’t have been Jeff,” Linderman insisted with an emphatic shake of his head. “That boy’s no murderer.”

  “You sound like you know him pretty well.”

  “I ought to. He’s my nephew. I’ve known him since he was knee-high.”

  Frank hadn’t been aware of that. If he trusted Linderman’s judgment, then it raised even more questions in Frank’s mind. Something was missing from the picture when he thought back over everything that had happened since his arrival in southern California. He had overlooked something, or just didn’t yet know something, that would have made the whole thing make sense.

  However, he could ponder that later. For now, he was more concerned with getting Dolores Montero out of the hands of those hired killers.

  “All right. If you’ve got pen and paper in the house, I’ll write out the directions to where we’re going. And then we’d better get started.”

  Linderman nodded. “The sooner the better.” His voice caught a little as he added, “If those bastards have hurt one hair on that lady’s head . . .”

  “Don’t think about that,” Frank said.

  But the same thoughts were going through his brain, despite the advice he had given Linderman, and they made a chill go down his back, too.

  Frank wished he had Stormy with him so he could switch horses. Goldy had already done plenty today.

  But Stormy was back in Los Angeles, Goldy was young and strong, and Frank decided that he’d rather have the stallion under him than borrow a horse from the Montero remuda. At least, Goldy had gotten to rest a spell while Frank and Linderman were talking and while Frank wrote the note to leave with Jeff.

  Linderman called the young puncher into the hacienda and handed him the sealed envelope.