Blood Bond 3 (16 page)

Sam's .44's roared, belching fire, the slugs finding their targets—two more crud would exit this world.

Josiah shifted his Peacemakers and nailed one outlaw trying to leave the post and shooting a second man just as he was coming up with a rifle. The first slug hit the rifle and exploded several rounds, mangling the man's hands and bringing a scream of pain. His second slug stopped the screaming.

A raider dressed only in his filthy longhandles, but with his hands filled with .45's faced Matt. Matt fired, and splotches of crimson dotted the underwear. The outlaw sat down in a chair and died, his chin on his chest and his hands by his side, still clutching his pistols.

“We yield!” a man yelled, dropping his guns and flinging his hands into the air.

“Not damn likely!” the mother said, holding a dead outlaw's pistol in her hand. She shot the would-be rapist in the belly and doubled him over.

“Now that there's a hell of a woman!” Josiah said, admiration in his voice. He leveled his Peacemakers and began the final act of clearing the saloon of human crud.

The saloon fell silent, only an occasional moan touching the quiet. The men fanned at the thick gray smoke. Sam began propping open windows to help clear the air of gun smoke. Josiah tossed the mother a serape to cover her daughter's nakedness.

“I'll get the man,” Matt said. “Sam, check for wounded, will you?”

“Personally, I hope we don't find any.”

“As much lead as we slung around, I doubt it,” Josiah said.

The trading-post owner was awake and mad clear through. His jaw was swollen where he'd been hit with a pistol, but other than that, he was all right. He was cussing in Spanish as Matt untied him.

“Two alive, so far,” Sam called.

“I'll get a rope,” the owner said, and Matt did not disagree. Mad as the man was, he'd be awful hard to talk out of a hanging.

In the body-littered saloon part of the post, the man turned to his wife. “Maria, get our daughter out of here. Take her to the bedroom. I have work to do.”

“We will witness it,” Maria said. “It is only right.”

A hard smile appered on the man's bruised face. “As you wish, Maria.”

Two of the outlaws, with only minor wounds, stared at Josiah. “You're a Texas Ranger. You cain't let this greaser hang us.”

“I'm Jesse James,” Josiah told him. “Personally, I think hangin's too good for you. Ought to turn you over to the 'Paches.”

“You ain't Jesse James!” the other one hollered.

“The hell I ain't. Now, you best be makin' your peace with God. 'Cause you ain't got long for this world, scum.”

Sam and Matt were busy dragging bodies out the back door.

“You cain't let him do this to us! It ain't right,” the first raider bellered.

“I ain't got no authority to stop him neither,” Josiah said. “I'm a wanted man myself, remember?”

“I'll see you in hell!” the second gunhand screamed.

“I don't imagine you'll be lonely there,” Josiah told him. “I'll wave at you as I climb them golden stairs.”

The outlaw cussed him as the post owner tied his hands behind his back and pushed him out the door.

“Where're you puttin' the bodies?” Josiah asked Matt, as he returned for another load.

“In the outhouse pit. I guess we'd better help them dig another pit and move the privy.”

“That would be the neighborly thing to do,” Josiah agreed.

“Halp!” the hired gun hollered as the noose was put around his neck.

“Maria will probably cook us up some fine vittles,” Josiah said. “And I do like Mexican food.”

The horse was slapped out from under the raider and he dangled and jerked.

Sam looked at the remaining raider. “You're next.”

The man cussed him.

Matt poured a drink and held up the shot glass. “To your health,” he toasted the raider.

The trused-up outlaw tried to kick him.

The post owner came in and jerked the outlaw to his boots. “Son of a
puta!”
he told him. “Child rapist. Let's see how well you die.”

The outlaw spat in the man's face.

“Let's find some shovels and get this over with,” Josiah said. “I'm hungry.”

The men worked on into the evening, digging a new pit and slinging the dirt from that hole over into the pit that contained the bodies—among other things.

It was well after dark before they finished and could take a very welcomed hot bath and then chow down. And eat they did, with Maria fixing a feast for them. After the boy had been put to bed, the post owner looked over at Josiah and smiled.

“I have seen pictures of Jesse James, sir. Not that it matters, for you all are saviors, but you are not Jesse James.”

“But the boy don't have to know that,” Josiah told him. “We're Texas Rangers, just slightly out of our jurisdiction.”

“Jesse James it is, then, señor. I understand, knowing how little boys love to brag of their adventures.”

“He wouldn't have had time to do much bragging,” Sam said. “That bunch didn't have plans to leave any survivors behind when they left.”

“They would have killed a child?” Maria asked.

“Just as quick as they'd kill anything else,” Matt told her, then explained why the three of them were on their trail.

“Monstrous!” the woman said. “To attack a funeral and shoot and kill innocent people. If I felt any guilt at all for killing that one and enjoying seeing the others hang, it is gone now.”

“No point in feeling guilty about what happened to that bunch,” Josiah told her. “They was born to meet it.”

 

 

Just to be on the safe side, Josiah crossed over what he believed to be the line and got back into Texas. “Some of them got away,” he said. “But we cut the numbers down a goodly bit, I'd say.”

“I'll add that the survivors will probably think twice before returning to Texas,” Sam said.

“That's the way I like it,” Josiah said with a smile.

Several days later, they swung down from their saddles in the yard of the Circle S. They had picked up a frame at the trading post and used one of the spare mounts as a pack horse, bringing in a lot of rifles and pistols from the dead outlaws. The horse didn't much like it, but after a few miles, he settled down.

“Any word from Jimmy?” Matt asked Jeff Sparks as he stepped out to greet them.

“Not a peep. The boy's either dead, or he's found him a deep hole and is just waiting' for John Lee to come into gunsights.” He eyeballed the rifles and pistols Josiah spilled onto the ground. “You boys look like you hit pay dirt. In a manner of speaking,” he added drily.

“Close to thirty, if my tallyin's right,” Josiah said. “What was the final count here?”

“Nine, includin' the two we hanged.”

“What's the word on John Lee?” Sam asked.

“Still hirin' any gun that'll ride for him. He's got him an army, for sure.”

“He's also spendin' a lot of money,” Josiah mused aloud.

“He's got it to spend, Josiah. John Lee is a very wealthy man.”

“Pitiful,” the Ranger said. “Some type of man gets some money, he seems to go crazy about wantin' more. How's that foolish boy of his?”

“Crazier than ever. He was always vain about his looks, just like his father. But Matt fixed John's looks and Sam did the same to Nick. I'm told they're both a sight to see and listen to with no front teeth. And by the way, Bam and Pen are doing an excellent job as lawmen. I think they've finally found their callin'.”

“They're both pretty good ol' boys,” Josiah said. “They just was ridin' down the wrong trail for a time. And they both knew it.”

“You boys get cleaned up. Conchita will have supper ready in a little while.”

 

 

The next day was Sunday, so Matt and Sam were informed by Lia and Lisa, and they were all going into town for church.

“We are?” Matt questioned.

“We are,” Lia settled it, and gave Sam a dirty look when he snickered at the expression on his brother's face. Lisa was spending more and more time with Noah, and that suited Sam just fine.

The hands would stay at the ranch. Conchita was a Catholic and wouldn't dream of setting foot in any Baptist church, so Dodge was staying behind too.

“I hope he's a good preacher,” Josiah said. “I like one that makes sense, not none of them pulpit-poundin', fire-and-brimstone spoutin' fools. They make me want to shoot 'em.”

“There will be no carryin' of guns in the house of the Lord,” Jeff said sternly.

“Then I ain't a-goin',” Josiah said.

“Me neither,” Matt and Sam said together.

“Well, pooh on you all,” Lia said. “You can just stand outside the church and listen, then.” She flounced off to get gussied up for the buggy ride into town.

“I'll stand outside, all right,” Josiah said. “Outside the saloon. That Willowby feller is too pompous a windbag for my tastes.”

The ride into town was uneventful, except for the heat and the dust. Summer was on the land in full force, and even early in the morning it was hot, just plain hot.

“Like hell must be,” Lia said, looking at the Rangers. “For those who don't go to church.”

“That woman's got marryin' on the mind, Matt,” Josiah said. “You best walk light around her or 'fore you know it she'll have a nose ring on you and be leadin' you around like a hog.”

“It would serve him right,” Sam said with a smile.

The trio escorted the family to church and then adjourned to the saloon for coffee. It was too early in the day for beer to appeal to them. Gene wanted to go with them, but his mother and father and sisters gave him hard looks, and he went on into the church.

“The path to hellfire and damnation is littered with the souls of those who choose strong drink over the words of the Lord!” Willowby stood in the door and shouted at the Rangers.

“Go pee up a rope,” Josiah muttered.

“Have you been saved, brothers?” Willowby thundered.

“Saved from havin' to listen to the likes of you,” Josiah said darkly.

“Heathen!” Willowby roared.

Sam and Matt grabbed Josiah before the man could turn around and direct a few well-chosen words in the preacher's direction.

“That Willowby's a pest,” Pen Masters said. The men sat at a window table in the saloon, drinking coffee. “He's about to bore me to death about bein' saved. But I tell you what: them boys who was at the funeral when the raiders hit say he's hell with a rifle and they ain't no back-up in the man.”

“I'll give him that much,” Josiah admitted. “The Broken Lance riders ever come into town?”

“A few at a time,” Bam said. “They haven't caused no trouble, though. They have a few drinks, buy their tobacco and so forth, and leave.”

“How's the prisoner?”

“Gettin' fat. I got a letter from a judge said he'd be over this way in a month or so. It's costin' the town a lot of money to keep him, and the merchants are complainin' about it. They tell me either try him, hang him, or cut him loose.”

“Matt and Sam can write out depositions, and one of your boys can take him on the stage down to Fort Stockton. Let them worry with him for awhile.”

“There ain't no stage on Sunday,” Bam said, “but I can load him up tomorrow and be back the next day.”

“We'll get pen and ink and write it out,” Matt said.

“Take your time,” Josiah said. “I got a hunch Willowby is gonna preach for about half the day. One of them ladies will get tired of it and wave a basket of fried chicken under his nose. That'll shut him up.”

The brothers wrote out their depositions and Bam took the papers back to the office. At Josiah's orders, he did not tell Gruen he was to be moved. He did not want the outlaw to tell some midnight visitor—and he'd been having a few—and then have the stagecoach stopped at gunpoint in an escape attempt.

The Reverend Willowby droned on, his voice carrying all the way to the saloon. Josiah just shook his head. “I don't see how people go back for that every week. Once a year ought to be plenty.”

“Riders pulled in at the livery,” Sam said, after returning from the outhouse. “About a dozen of them.”

“You recognize any of them?” Matt asked.

“No. But they don't look like they're here to attend church.”

Boots sounded heavily on the boardwalk and the batwings pushed open, the saloon swelling with a dozen riders, dusty and trail-worn and all of them packing two guns. A big man in the lead looked over at the table and smiled.

“Pen. When'd you start totin' a star?”

“Cannon.” Pen acknowledged the greeting and ignored the question. “You're a long way from Utah.”

“Man goes where he can find work. I hate to see that badge on your chest.”

“You'll like it even less if you break the law,” Pen said shortly. “You know Bam, don't you?”

Cannon's eyes narrowed. “Bam Ford wearin' a damn badge too. What's the world comin' to?”

Bam ignored the man and looked square at another long-rider. “Riggs. When'd you get out of prison?”

“That ain't none of your concern, Bam. I done my time and it's over.” He walked away from the group and up to the bar, ordering a whiskey.

Josiah turned his chair and eyeballed the group. One rider tensed at the sight. “Pate,” Josiah said.

“Finch,” the man said. “Didn't know the Rangers had a hand in anything around here.”

Josiah smiled and jerked a thumb. “Meet Matt Bodine and Sam Two Wolves. They joined up with the Rangers.”

Several of the men exchanged glances. Josiah Finch was bad enough, but Bodine and Two Wolves put a whole new light on the situation.

“Heard of both of 'em,” another man said. “Two-bit gunnies from up Wyoming way. I ain't seen none of their graveyards.”

“I have,” Pen said quietly. “From Montana to Texas. They swing a big loop, Giddings. Don't get caught up in it.”

Giddings snorted contemptuously and turned his back to the man, walking to the bar to stand beside Riggs.

Another of the men studied Matt out of cool eyes. Matt returned the stare. He knew him, but couldn't put a name to the face. Finally it came to him. “Hallett. Last time I saw you you were on trial for horse stealing up in Wyoming.”

Hallett flushed, clenching his hands into fists, and managed to keep his temper in check. “You got a big mouth, Bodine. I was acquitted of them charges.”

“Only after two of the witnesses turned up dead,” Sam pointed out. “Shot in the back. Probably by one of your buddies there.” He looked at the two men standing shoulder to shoulder by the man.

“You know them two?” Josiah asked.

“Perry and Striker,” Sam said. “Two-bit rustlers and horse thieves.”

“I don't take that kind of talk from no goddamned Injun!” Perry said.

Sam stood up. “Then by all means, do act upon your words, Perry.”

Cannon stepped between them. “Not now, not here,” he told the man. “Let it alone.”

Cannon looked at the five lawmen seated around the table. “We're here to ride for the Broken Lance. Nothin' more than an honest day's work for good pay. That's all.”

Pen Masters busted out laughing. When he wound down, he said, “Oh, that's a good one, Cannon. You never done anything honest in your life. And as far as you bein' a puncher, I seen you try to rope a steer one time. You dabbed the loop over another puncher and damn near strangled him. The only thing you can do with a cow is steal it.”

This time it was Cannon who was held back. The man was mad clear through.

“You better hold on to him, Clint,” Bam said. “The sun ain't never rose on the day the likes of him could take Pen Masters.”

“They'll be a day of reckonin', Bam,” another rider said.

“Not from you, Wheeler. Not unless you shoot me in the back.”

One man who had yet to be heard from pushed through the batwings and shoved his way through the riders to face the lawmen.

Josiah looked up at him. “Waco Mason,” he said. “I run you out of Texas once, Waco.”

“I come back, Finch. You got no warrants on me, and neither does any other law office nowhere. And speakin' for myself, I ain't gonna take your crap. That tin badge don't mean nothin' to me. I come in here for a drink, and that's it.”

“Nice little speech, Waco,” Josiah told him. “I'm impressed.” He smiled at him. “So go have your drink. There ain't nobody stoppin' none of you.”

The other four around the table looked at each other. Josiah wasn't acting right to cave in this easy. Waco cocked his head to one side and squinted his eyes. All could tell he was confused by Josiah's easy manner.

Waco turned around and headed for the bar. Josiah pushed back his chair and stood up, a slight-built man whose eyes had turned as mean as a rattlesnake. “But if you ever talk to me again like that I'll kill you!”

Waco turned, facing the Ranger. The guns of both men were loose in leather. “You made sport of me like baitin' a bear back then, Finch. I swore I'd kill you, remember?”

“I remember. You had a gun then, Waco. Why didn't you use it?”

Waco stared hatred at the smaller man.

“Big brave boy like you,” the Ranger taunted the man. “You boys know why I run him out of Texas when he got out of jail, don't you?” Josiah asked the crowd of gunnies.

They waited.

“He pistol-whipped the woman he was robbin'. Wasn't any need for it; he had her purse. He just wanted to hurt someone. Messed her face up real bad. I just go no use for a man who'd do somethin' that low.”