Buckhorn Read online

  Buckhorn grunted. “Not if you keep going around shooting at people. You won’t stay alive that long. Now, I’ll ask you again, how old are you?”

  She looked down at the rocky ground and muttered, “Fourteen.”

  “That’s old enough to know better. Where’s your horse? Or did you walk here?”

  She pointed to a stand of scrubby pines about fifty yards away and told him, “I got an old ridin’ mule tied over yonder in the trees.”

  Madison was still firing the rifles down in the canyon. Buckhorn turned his head and shouted, “Madison! Hold your fire!”

  Boot leather scraped on rocks. Buckhorn looked back toward Lorna McChesney and saw that the girl was scuttling away, trying to escape. She was headed for the trees where, according to her, she had left her mule.

  Buckhorn cursed, slid the Colt back in its holster, and took off after her. He needed only a few strides to catch up enough that he could reach out and grab the straps of her overalls where they crossed on her back. He yanked her to a stop, making her yell again.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, not being any too gentle about it.

  “Listen to me,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I do want to know why you were shooting at us.”

  He saw tears shining in her eyes, but she seemed to be trying to hold them back. He figured her wrist probably did hurt pretty bad where he’d hit her, and she had to be scared, too. Most kids would have been crying by now, if for no other reason than trying to arouse sympathy. She struck him as being way too stubborn and proud to resort to that.

  “I told you, I just wanted to scare you,” she insisted. “The whole damned bunch of you. I thought maybe you’d turn around and leave Gunsight Canyon.”

  “Why would that matter?”

  “You work for that bastard Dennis Conroy, don’t you? If he can’t build his damned old railroad through here, maybe he’ll give back my pa’s ranch that he stole!”

  Buckhorn drew in a sharp breath. He let go of Lorna McChesney’s shoulders, moved back a step, and said, “I reckon you’d better tell me about it.”

  “I don’t have to tell you nothin’. You’re the enemy. If Conroy told you to, you’d probably shoot me!”

  “I don’t shoot kids,” Buckhorn said.

  “I told you—”

  Buckhorn stopped her with a curt gesture.

  “Let me guess. Conroy wants to bring his railroad through your pa’s ranch.”

  “That’s right. He wasn’t satisfied just workin’ out a right-of-way deal, though. Pa might’ve done that, because we sure could’ve used the money. No, Conroy decided he had to own the whole blamed spread. So he bought up the note Pa had at the bank in Fletcher’s Crossin’, as well as all the notes the other ranchers in these parts have. He’s just grabbin’ everything he can get his hands on, the damned range hog!”

  “Sounds like good business to me.”

  She sneered at him.

  “You would think that. You’re just one of Conroy’s . . . toadies!”

  Buckhorn laughed. He couldn’t help it. He’d been called plenty of bad names in his life, but as far as he could recall, that wasn’t one of them. This girl was trying to act older than she really was, and cussing was just part of that pose.

  “What did your pa do when Conroy called in the note?”

  “He tried to pay it. What else could he do? We rounded up the whole herd to sell it off. That would’ve left him busted, but at least he’d still have the land. Then Conroy would have to pay him to run those rails across our range. But then night riders hit the herd. Scattered it hell west and crosswise. Rustled some of the bunch, and there wasn’t no chance we could gather the stock that was left and sell it off in time to meet Conroy’s deadline.” For the first time, Lorna’s lower lip trembled a little as she added, “That wasn’t the worst of it. Pa was guardin’ the herd when those varmints raided us. He caught a bullet.”

  Buckhorn frowned and said, “They killed him?”

  “No, he ain’t dead. But he’s laid up and he will be for a good long while.”

  “You got any brothers?”

  Lorna shook her head.

  “Nope. It’s just me and Pa. Has been since my ma died a few years ago.”

  “What about your ranch hands? You’re bound to have had some riding for you.”

  She shrugged and said, “Half a dozen vaqueros. Good hands, but they weren’t drawin’ fightin’ wages. They didn’t want no part of any more ruckuses, so they pulled out. Said they’d be back later, if things ever settled down. They’ll go to work for Conroy once he takes over, that’s what they meant.”

  “How long do you have before that happens?”

  “Before Conroy takes over?” Lorna drew in a breath. “We’ve got another week, that’s all. Then we got to be off the place, and Conroy’ll take it, lock, stock, and barrel. I . . . I don’t know where we’ll go. That’s the only place we’ve got.”

  Buckhorn stood there quietly for a long moment, thinking. Then he said, “If everything you’re telling me is true, Conroy hasn’t broken any laws in his dealings with your father.”

  “But it ain’t right!”

  “I didn’t say it was right, I said it was legal.”

  “But I think he was behind those night riders scatterin’ the herd the way they did.”

  “You don’t have any proof of that, though, do you?”

  Lorna glared at him for a second before she shook her head and admitted, “No, I don’t.”

  “So you and your pa are up Salt Creek, girl, and trying to kill innocent men isn’t going to do you any good.”

  “I’m a damn good shot,” she said, her voice surly. “If I wanted any of you dead, you’d be gettin’ cold by now.”

  “Did you really think you could force Conroy to change his plans by ambushing his surveyors?”

  “I thought maybe they’d refuse to keep on with the survey. I was hopin’ they might even quit. That way Conroy would have to find somewhere else for his railroad to go, and he wouldn’t need my pa’s spread anymore.”

  “Have you taken any shots at them before today?”

  “You reckon I’d tell you if I had?” she snapped.

  “I don’t see what difference it makes now,” he said. “You’re already caught. You already drilled that hombre down in the canyon. You can’t get in any more trouble than you’re already in . . . unless he’s dead. That’d make you a killer.”

  She turned pale under her tan and asked, “You don’t think they’d . . . hang me?”

  “That’s usually what they do with murdering bushwhackers.”

  “I didn’t . . . I never took any shots at those surveyor fellas or anybody else before today! I swear I didn’t, mister. You got to believe me.”

  “I don’t have to do anything except my job,” Buckhorn said.

  From down in the canyon, Madison called, “Hey, Buckhorn! You all right up there?”

  “Buckhorn,” Lorna said. “That’s your name?”

  “Joe,” he said. “That’s what my friends call me. You aren’t one of them.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Buckhorn. I . . . I wish I could do something to make this right.”

  Buckhorn pointed a finger at her and said, “Stay right there. Don’t move an inch, you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, nodding. “I won’t try to run off this time, I swear.”

  Buckhorn wasn’t sure he believed her, but he left her there and walked over to the rim to look down into the canyon. Madison had stepped out where Buckhorn could see him and was looking up. Neal Drake was with him, too, having emerged from the boulders when the shooting stopped.

  “How’s the fella who was wounded?” Buckhorn asked.

  “He’ll be all right, I think,” Drake replied. “He’s got a hole in his shoulder, but I don’t believe the bone’s broken. We’ve got the bleeding stopped.”

  Buckhorn nodded and called, “It’s safe for all of you to move around.
The bushwhacker’s gone.”

  “Damn it, you let him get away?” Madison exclaimed.

  “Yeah, he was just too slick for me,” Buckhorn said. “I’ll climb back down.”

  “I’m disappointed in you, Buckhorn.”

  “I suppose I’ll just have to live with that.”

  He turned and walked back over to Lorna McChesney, who was staring at him in disbelief.

  “You told that fella I got away,” she said.

  “That’s right. I wouldn’t have, though, if that man you shot had died. You’d have had to answer to the law then.”

  “I’m mighty glad he didn’t, and not just because you’re lettin’ me go. I . . . I didn’t want to kill anybody.”

  “Get on your mule and go home,” Buckhorn told her. “Forget about trying to scare Conroy and his men. It won’t work, and it’ll just get you in real trouble.”

  She started looking stubborn again.

  “So Pa and me are just supposed to give up and get off the ranch?”

  “You said you’ve still got a week before Conroy’s deadline.”

  “Yeah. So what?”

  “So a lot can happen in that much time,” Buckhorn said.

  CHAPTER 10

  Climbing back down the canyon wall was just as hard as climbing up it had been, if not more so, and Buckhorn was tired when he reached the bottom.

  By that time, the wounded man had been placed in the back of the wagon on several bedrolls stacked up to make a pallet. Some of the surveying equipment had been shifted around to make room for him. He was pale from pain and loss of blood, but he was conscious and seemed relatively alert.

  “What did you see up there?” Madison demanded of Buckhorn. “Did you get a good look at the bushwhacker?”

  “Not really. He was a big fella, dressed all in black. Slick and fast on his feet. I tried to get the drop on him, but he made it into some trees. He had a horse tied in there. He lit a shuck and was long gone before I could do anything.” Buckhorn shrugged. “I didn’t have a mount to go after him.”

  “No, I suppose not,” Madison said with a frown. “At least you spooked him into running before he killed anybody. Dodd’s hurt bad enough that he needs a sawbones, though. Closest one is in Fletcher’s Crossing. One of the men will take him there in the wagon, then bring it back tomorrow. We’ve already unloaded the tents so Drake and the other men can make camp here the way they would have if we hadn’t been ambushed.”

  “You and I will stay and stand guard the way we planned?”

  “That’s right. That damned bushwhacker could come back and try again. Four men will be headed out here to relieve us about sundown, and from now on I think I’m going to keep four men out here all the time.” Madison turned his head and spat in the dirt. “The farther the survey crew makes it, the more desperate to stop them Thornton is going to get.”

  Buckhorn didn’t say anything about how Hugh Thornton hadn’t had anything to do with this attack on the surveyors. Ultimately, Conroy’s own high-handed tactics in seizing the ranches he wanted for the spur line’s right-of-way were to blame for what had happened today.

  Madison didn’t need to know that, though.

  Drake picked out which member of the survey crew he could spare the most and sent that man back to Fletcher’s Crossing with the wounded man. As the wagon rolled out of sight, headed south out of the canyon, Drake complained, “I was already shorthanded. I can’t really spare any of the men, let alone two of them.” He looked speculatively at Buckhorn and Madison.

  “Hey, don’t go getting ideas in your head,” Madison said. “I’m no surveyor. My job is to keep you fellas safe.”

  “Yes, I’m sure Dodd appreciates that.”

  Madison’s right hand clenched into a fist, but if he wanted to take a swing at Drake for that comment, he suppressed the urge. He knew getting into a fight wasn’t going to help anything.

  “I might be able to give you a hand,” Buckhorn said. “I don’t know anything about surveying, but I can stand in a certain spot and hold a stick, if that’s what you need me to do. I should be able to keep an eye out for trouble at the same time, too.”

  Madison grunted. Buckhorn heard the derision in the sound. His lips tightened slightly, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I appreciate that, Buckhorn,” Drake said. “Come along and I’ll show you what to do.”

  Buckhorn spent the rest of the afternoon lending a hand to the survey crew any way he could, while at the same time watching the rimrock. It wasn’t likely that Lorna McChesney would return and try to ambush the surveyors again—but that didn’t mean somebody else couldn’t show up with bushwhacking in mind.

  The hours passed without any more trouble, however, and late that afternoon, when the sun had almost dipped below the western wall of the canyon, four more of Conroy’s hired guns rode in, ready to take the place of Buckhorn and Madison.

  “It’ll be pretty late before we get back to Crater City,” Buckhorn commented as they mounted up.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Madison said. “The Irish Rose never closes, and neither does Miss Quinn’s, if some female company is what you’ve got in mind.”

  After nearly getting a knife in his back the night before, Buckhorn wasn’t in any hurry to return to the whorehouse, but he didn’t say anything about that to Madison, either.

  The trail to Crater City wasn’t hard to follow, even after dark, and anyway, Madison had covered the route plenty of times and knew where he was going. Eventually the lights of the settlement appeared in the distance, glittering like the stars that floated in the ebony sky overhead.

  Sol came out to take their horses when they reached the livery stable. Evidently the one-eyed hostler didn’t sleep much. Buckhorn had heard that folks slept less and less as they got older. He figured that wouldn’t be a problem for him, since the chances of him reaching an advanced age were slim.

  “Everything quiet in town?” Madison asked.

  “Yep,” Sol replied. “Really quiet. Ain’t heard a gun go off all evenin’.”

  As they left the stable, Madison jerked his head toward the saloon and said to Buckhorn, “Come on. We’ll let the boss know what happened and then have a drink.”

  “I think I’ll pass on the drink, but I don’t mind talking to Conroy with you. He’s liable to want a firsthand report about that bushwhacker.”

  “Not that you can tell him much,” Madison said. Buckhorn just shrugged.

  They were walking toward the Irish Rose when Madison nudged Buckhorn with an elbow. He nodded toward the dark mouth of an alley. Buckhorn didn’t know what the gunman was up to, but he stepped into the shadows with Madison.

  “What the hell’s this about?” he asked quietly as they stood there waiting.

  “Just watch,” Madison said. “You see that hombre getting into the buggy parked up by the bank?”

  Buckhorn wasn’t sure exactly where the bank was, since he hadn’t had a chance to fully explore the settlement, but he saw a man climbing into a buggy about a block and a half away. The man picked up the reins, turned the horse hitched to the vehicle, and sent it trotting toward them. Buckhorn and Madison stayed where they were, out of sight in the alley, as the man drove past them.

  The street was bright enough from the light that came through windows in some of the buildings for Buckhorn to get a fairly good look at the man in the buggy. He was well dressed, probably in his forties, with fair hair under a black hat. He didn’t even glance in their direction.

  Once the buggy had gone by, Madison said, “That was Hugh Thornton. He owns the bank, too. I guess he was checking on something.”

  “With everything that’s going on around here, I’m surprised he didn’t have a handful of bodyguards with him.”

  “Thornton’s proud. He’ll hire Gratton and the others because he has to, but he doesn’t want them hovering around him. I figure he thinks he can take care of himself in a fight.” Madison laughed. “That pride’s liable to be his undo
ing one of these days. Probably won’t be too much longer, either.”

  “You think a showdown’s brewing?”

  “I think Conroy’s going to get tired of biding his time. The boss really isn’t a patient man, no matter how much he tries to act that way sometimes.”

  Lorna McChesney and her father could confirm Conroy’s lack of patience, but again, Buckhorn didn’t say anything about that.

  They walked on to the saloon. When they came in, Alexis Conroy had the usual crowd of admirers on the other side of the bar from her. Buckhorn watched her smiling and playing up to them. She was good at her job. Some of the men might work for Thornton, but nobody could tell that from the way Alexis treated them.

  Madison caught her eye, and Alexis made her excuses to the men clustered in front of the bar and moved along the hardwood to where Madison and Buckhorn waited for her.

  “We need to talk to your father,” Madison told her.

  “He’s upstairs.”

  Madison looked at Buckhorn and said, “Stay here.”

  Buckhorn’s eyes narrowed. He said, “I thought we were going to talk to him together.”

  “I can handle that.”

  Madison turned and weaved through the crowd as he headed for the staircase. Buckhorn stayed where he was, with his left hand resting lightly on the edge of the bar.

  “You just got sent to the woodshed,” Alexis said. “What did you do to put a burr under Yancy’s saddle?”

  “Let a bushwhacker get away, I guess,” Buckhorn said.

  A frown appeared on Alexis’s face as she asked, “Was there trouble out at the canyon? Was anybody hurt?”

  “One of the surveyors got a bullet through the shoulder. He’ll live.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Did you and Yancy bring him back to town with you?”

  Buckhorn shook his head.

  “Neal Drake sent the wagon to Fletcher’s Crossing with him.”

  “That’s going to cost them some time.”

  “Not much. Drake and the others were able to carry on, and the man he sent with the wagon will be back tomorrow. I gave them a hand today.”

  “Oh, so you’re a surveyor now as well as a gunman?”