Blood Bond: Deadly Road to Yuma Read online

  “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, all right,” Ed said as he nodded. “Already got guards up there, does he?”

  “You bet. One man on top of the bank, one on the hotel. Nobody’s gonna sneak up on us now.”

  “Well, knowin’ that’ll make me sleep better at night while I’m in town.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” Archie frowned. “You’d better be careful, roaming around the countryside like you do, Ed. You might run right into that bad bunch.”

  “I sure wouldn’t want to do that. I figure if I ever saw that Joshua Shade, I’d plumb die o’ fright right then and there.”

  As if just talking about the infamous outlaw leader made him nervous, Ed’s hand shook as he raised the mug to his lips and drank down the rest of the beer.

  Matt had paid just enough attention to follow the conversation between the bartender and the old prospector, although he had been somewhat interested in the talk about posting lookouts on the bank and the hotel. That sounded like a good idea to him, too, although it didn’t matter all that much to him since he and Sam would probably only be in Arrowhead for one night.

  At that moment, Sam and Amelia came in through a door in the rear of the barroom. Sam looked vaguely embarrassed but happy, and Amelia had a big smile on her face. Matt grinned and lifted his mug of beer in a salute to them.

  Sam said something to Amelia, who came up on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek. Then he walked over to join Matt at the bar.

  “Ready to go get something to eat?” Matt asked.

  “Yeah, I am. Fact of the matter is, I’m pretty hungry.”

  On the other side of the bar, Archie chuckled and said, “What’d I tell you?”

  Sam frowned. “What’s he talking about?”

  “Never mind,” Matt said. “We’re goin’ to Hernando’s.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Place with the best steaks in town.”

  “Sounds good,” Sam said. “Lead me to it.”

  Hernando’s turned out to be a narrow, hole-in-the-wall sort of place, but the smells that filled the air had the blood brothers licking their lips as soon as they went in. Hernando was a little fella with a lush, luxuriant mustache that curled up on the ends, and he greeted them with a big smile.

  There were only three tables in the café and two of them were occupied, so Matt and Sam grabbed the empty one while they had a chance and ordered steaks with all the trimmings. When Hernando brought the food, they found that it was as good as Archie had said it would be.

  Matt saw what the bartender meant about the spices, though. The steaks had a definite kick to them.

  Once they were finished with the meal, they paid Hernando and promised that they would be back before they left Arrowhead. “Come back in the morning for my huevos rancheros, señores,” he told them with a big smile. “The best you ever had!”

  “We’ll just have to see about that,” Matt said with a grin of his own.

  As they strolled back toward the hotel, Matt asked, “You want to stop at the saloon again for another drink?”

  Sam stifled a yawn. “Actually, I think I’d rather turn in. We rode quite a ways today.”

  “Yeah, I reckon you’d be tired, all right, after that long…ride.”

  “Damn it, Matt—”

  Matt dug an elbow into his blood brother’s ribs. “Take it easy. I’m just joshin’ you.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “And it could be that I’m just jealous. Amelia’s a mighty pretty girl after all, especially for a soiled dove.”

  “She’s just doing that for now, until she makes enough money to go to San Francisco.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “You don’t believe her?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  A rueful smile crept over Sam’s face. “Yeah, she was probably just telling me the same thing she tells everybody who goes with her. But maybe it was true. You never know.”

  “You sure don’t,” Matt agreed. “Anything can happen.” He pointed with his thumb. “Here’s the hotel.”

  They went inside, claimed their keys from the desk clerk, and headed up to the second floor. On the way, Matt told Sam about how Sheriff Flagg had posted sentries on the roof, as well as on top of the bank.

  “Good idea,” Sam agreed. “I hope Joshua Shade stays far away from this town, though.”

  “At least while we’re here,” Matt said. “You know how we love to avoid trouble.”

  Chapter 5

  The man on top of the hotel was named Charlie Cornwell, and he was having one hell of a time staying awake. It seemed like he had to yawn every few seconds, and each yawn just made him sleepier.

  He worked as a hostler at the livery stable and also as a part-time deputy for Sheriff Flagg, and he had put in almost a full day’s work before the sheriff came by the stable and told him to go home and take a nap because he was going to hold down the night shift on lookout duty at the hotel.

  “What lookout duty?” Charlie had asked, not having heard anything about it before that very moment, and the sheriff had explained that from now on, guards were going to be posted atop the hotel and the bank to keep an eye out for Joshua Shade and his gang…at least until Shade was caught, tried, and hanged like the no-account buzzard he was.

  Cyrus hadn’t given Charlie any choice in the matter, and since Charlie needed the money from the deputy job to go along with what he earned at the stable, he’d said sure. He had long since given up on the idea of ever making enough so that his wife would actually be happy, but he didn’t see any reason to make things worse than they already were.

  He wasn’t used to going to sleep at five in the afternoon, though, so he hadn’t really gotten much rest before going to the sheriff’s office to get a Winchester and a pocketful of shells, then climbing up here. So by midnight, it was all he could do to stay awake.

  The roof was flat, with a little wall about two feet high that ran all around it. Charlie figured that if he could sit down with his back propped against that wall, he could catch some quick shut-eye.

  But Sheriff Flagg had warned him specifically about that very thing. “Don’t you go sittin’ down and dozin’ off, Charlie,” he’d said. “Remember, the fate o’ the whole town could be in your hands.”

  Charlie sighed, yawned, and looked north and east. Down at the bank, on the other side of the street at the far end of the next block, Harlan Eggleston was watching to the south and west…although Charlie didn’t know what the hell Cyrus Flagg expected them to be able to see in the dark like this. A little moonlight spilled over the landscape, but not much.

  Anyway, as far as Charlie could remember, Joshua Shade and his gang always attacked a town in broad daylight. They weren’t going to be showing up here tonight. Still, he would do what Cyrus told him. He always did.

  The ladder that leaned against the back wall of the hotel rattled a little as someone started up it. Charlie turned toward it, frowning a little. The sheriff had told him that he’d be up here until four o’clock in the morning, when somebody would come to relieve him. It wasn’t anywhere close to four yet.

  But whoever was coming up the ladder called softly, “Hey, Charlie! You up there?” so it had to be somebody who knew him. Maybe Cyrus had changed his mind and was sending his relief early.

  That would be just fine with Charlie. He could still get home and get a few hours of sleep before he had to get up and go to work at the livery stable.

  Carrying the Winchester slanted across his chest, he walked over to the ladder and looked down. All he could see in the moonlight was a hat rising toward him as its wearer climbed the rungs.

  “Yeah, I’m here,” he said. “Who’s that?”

  “Sheriff sent me to take over for you,” the man replied without really answering the question, and Charlie was so glad to hear that, he didn’t really think about it. He just let the rifle hang at his side in his left hand and grinned.

  “I’m mighty glad to hear that,” he said
as the man reached the top of the ladder. “I’m so sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open, and Cyrus said we have to stay alert. Here, lemme give you a hand.”

  He stepped closer as the man seemed to struggle a little getting over the wall around the edge of the roof. Charlie’s hand was out to help.

  But then the man looked up, revealing his face under the broad-brimmed hat, and Charlie realized he’d never seen the hombre before. He wasn’t from Arrowhead or one of the nearby ranches. Even in the dim light, Charlie could tell that. This fella had a bushy black beard and squinty eyes and didn’t look friendly at all.

  Before Charlie could ask him who the hell he was and what he was doing here, the man’s arm whipped up and around, and Charlie stepped back with something hot and wet suddenly flooding down his chest. He tried to yell, but no sound came out.

  He dropped the Winchester and reached for his throat with both hands. Blood cascaded over them. He felt it pumping out through the huge slash his fingers found.

  Charlie’s knees hit the rooftop as his legs folded up underneath him. He finally managed to gurgle a little as he swayed there. The night was warm, almost hot, but he felt cold now as he struggled to accept the fact that his throat had just been cut wide open by the bowie knife clutched in the stranger’s hand.

  The struggle was a short one. With another gurgle, Charlie toppled forward and died.

  Ed Callahan had thought about going the other way when he left Arrowhead with his mule earlier that night, instead of returning to the foothills of the Gilas north of town.

  But Joshua Shade had warned him about that, putting an arm around Ed’s shoulders and saying in that soft, persuasive voice, “Now, you don’t want to be led astray by any foolish ideas, Brother Ed, like not coming back to tell me what you find out. If you do that, I’ll have to come looking for you, and you know the Lord will lead me right to you.”

  Ed didn’t doubt it for a second. Shade was downright spooky, the way he seemed able to peer right through a man. Like he knew everything the other fella was thinking and feeling.

  “So you find out anything you can that you think will help us, and you come right back here and tell me. Will you do that?”

  And God help him, he’d nodded and said, “I s-sure will, Rev’rend. I’ll be back.”

  He had kept his word. He had spent several hours hanging around Arrowhead, talking to folks. He’d found out about the guards Sheriff Flagg had posted on top of the bank and the hotel. He’d even seen Charlie Cornwell and Harlan Eggleston climbing up on those buildings to take the night watch.

  Nobody seemed to notice when he left town and headed for the foothills. No one in Arrowhead had ever paid him much mind to start with, and this evening was no different.

  When he got back to the spot overlooking the town where he’d left Shade and the rest of the outlaws, he didn’t see anybody. At first, he had thought that he was lost, that he’d come to the wrong place.

  Then, like phantoms, they had materialized out of the shadows, surrounding him and making his blood run cold. Joshua Shade stepped forward, rested both hands on Ed’s shoulders, and said, “Tell me, Brother Ed, what have you found out?”

  Ed spilled his guts, of course. What else was he going to do? Lie to this outlaw, this…demon? Run the risk of having Joshua Shade pursuing him like a hound from Hades for the rest of his life?

  Hell, no!

  And when he was done, Shade had squeezed his shoulders and said, “Good work, my friend. The Lord will be pleased that you’ve provided so much assistance to His humble servants.”

  “Wh-what are you gonna do now?”

  “Bring God’s message to Arrowhead, of course. Help the sinners to repent and put the things of this world aside.”

  Ed bit back the groan of despair that tried to well up his throat. He knew good and well what Shade was going to do. He and the rest of the gang were going to raid the town, looting and raping and killing. They might even burn it down.

  There was nothing Ed could do to stop them, so he might as well save his own life, he told himself. He clung to that thought as he sat down on a rock and waited. Shade didn’t want him to leave yet.

  “You should stay, Brother Ed,” he’d said. “Stay and witness the fruits of your handiwork.”

  That was just about the last thing Ed wanted to see right now, but Shade didn’t give him any choice.

  A couple of men rode off toward Arrowhead, and after what seemed like forever to Ed, a light suddenly flared to life and moved back and forth three times. Somebody had lit a match and signaled with it.

  Mere seconds later, the same sort of signal was repeated from the other end of the settlement. Shade put his hands on his hips and said, “Excellent! The sentries have been taken care of.”

  Murdered, that was what he meant, Ed thought, and again he struggled to keep from groaning.

  Shade turned toward him and motioned for him to get up. Ed stood and swallowed as the outlaw leader approached him.

  “We’ll be going now,” Shade said. “Would you like to accompany us, Brother Ed, or would you rather receive your reward now?”

  “R-reward?” Ed repeated. “You didn’t say nothin’ about no reward.”

  “You didn’t think the Lord would allow your work to go unrewarded, did you?”

  Ed rasped calloused fingertips over his beard-stubbled jaw. He felt bad about what was about to happen to the folks in Arrowhead, mighty bad, but…well, since there was nothing he could do about it…he might as well get something out of the deal, hadn’t he?

  “If it’s all right with you, Rev’rend, I’ll, uh, take whatever you got for me and go on my way. I don’t care how much it is neither. I’ll take whatever you want to give me.”

  Shade shook his head. “Oh, it’s not money, brother. It’s a heavenly reward.”

  With that he brought his hand up and plunged a bowie knife into Ed’s belly. Ed cried out in agony as he felt the razor-sharp blade being tugged across his stomach, opening him up so that the coils of his guts spilled out through the wound as Shade stepped back. Ed tried to stuff them back inside, but failed. They slipped out of his hands and uncoiled onto the dirt at his feet. He staggered, fell, lay there gasping as his life ran out.

  The last thing he was aware of was Joshua Shade’s voice.

  The son of a bitch was praying.

  Chapter 6

  Matt Bodine’s eyes snapped open in the darkness. He didn’t know what had awakened him, but he had a feeling it couldn’t be anything good. His instincts wouldn’t have roused him from slumber otherwise.

  He sat up in bed. A little moonlight filtered in around the curtain over the hotel room’s single window. The window was open to let in some fresh air, and the curtain swayed in and out with the currents of the night breeze.

  Before turning in, Matt had hung both gunbelts over the back of the chair next to the bed, so that the holstered Colts were within easy reach. He swung his legs out of the bed and stood up, plucking one of the irons from leather at the same time.

  In bare feet, wearing only the bottoms from a pair of long underwear, Matt padded over to the window and used the Colt’s barrel to ease the curtain aside so that he could look out.

  His room was at the rear of the hotel, as was Sam’s next door. The windows looked out on an alley.

  Nothing was moving in that alley, Matt saw as he peered down from his window. He judged that the hour was after midnight, and the town was quiet and peaceful.

  Well, maybe not so quiet or peaceful, he thought a second later as he heard a gurgling sound from somewhere overhead. It was followed by a thump on the roof.

  That wasn’t right. Matt stuck his head out the window.

  To his right, no more than a couple of feet away, a ladder leaned against the hotel. That would be the ladder used by the lookout Sheriff Cyrus Flagg had posted up there.

  Sam’s window was on the other side of the ladder, and at that moment, Sam poked his head out, too, and looked toward his blood brot
her.

  “You hear something?” Sam asked in a half whisper.

  Matt nodded and gestured with the thumb of his free hand toward the roof. Sam brought his right hand into view, holding a six-gun. He gestured with the barrel, pointing upward.

  Matt nodded and swung a leg over the windowsill.

  His brain was working swiftly. Given the fact that something was going on up there on the roof, it made sense that what he had heard that woke him up was somebody climbing the ladder, since it was right outside his window.

  That in itself wasn’t suspicious; someone sent by the sheriff could have been going up there to relieve the man on duty and take over as lookout.

  But coupled with the noises he had heard, the choked gurgle followed by a thump, the situation didn’t seem near that innocent.

  In fact, it was downright ominous, Matt thought as he clung to the edge of the window with one hand and reached for the ladder with his foot.

  With the lithe agility he’d been blessed with since birth, he swung over to the ladder. In absolute silence, he started climbing toward the roof. As he looked up, he saw a flare of light. Someone had just lit a match. He smelled the faint tang of brimstone from the lucifer.

  Matt smelled something else, too, a metallic, coppery scent that he recognized.

  That was the smell of freshly spilled blood—and a lot of it.

  Matt’s head rose above the level of the short wall that ran around the roof. He saw a man standing several yards away with his back turned, holding a lit match over his head that he moved back and forth three times.

  Between Matt and the hombre with the match lay another man, facedown in the middle of a dark, spreading pool.

  Matt didn’t need anybody to explain to him what had happened here. The varmint with the match had cut the throat of the other man. That was the only thing that would have produced so much blood.

  The dead man had to be the guard Sheriff Flagg had posted up here.

  Which meant the killer, in all likelihood, was one of Joshua Shade’s men…