Logan's Word: A Logan Family Western - Book 1 (Logan Family Western Series)

by Donald L. Robertson

  “Pat, I don’t know. It just depends when Ruffcarn attacks. If he attacks early, we won’t make it. But we’ve got to rest these horses, or we won’t make it at all.”

  “Aye, ‘tis hard on the animals. Being the honest man that I am, I must admit that it’s a tiny bit tough on these old bones.”

  “Don’t think it has much to do with age, Pat. I’m sore myself. Why don’t we get these horses back up the bank and get them on some grass for a short while. At least give them a little to eat.”

  After the horses finished drinking, the men led them into a small meadow under the trees. They staked the horses out on ropes and pulled some of the doughnuts from the sacks that Mrs. Diehl had given them. Pat took a bite and said, around the doughnut he was eating, “That Mrs. Diehl is a fine lady. She cooks like an angel. Seldom it is I’ve had the pleasure of doughnuts this often. And I’m glad that she and Mr. Diehl are there to watch over Fianna. Don’t think anything would happen to me sister in town, but it still gives a man comfort.”

  “I’m sure it does, Pat. With Mr. Diehl having been a ranger, you’ve got to be pretty confident that Fianna will be alright.”

  The two talked a few more minutes as the horses grazed, then they tied up their sacks, rounded up the horses, and started off again. They walked the horses in the timber for a ways and Pat said, “I’m happy we have at least a wee bit of a moon. If we’re crazy enough to race around at night, at least we’ve some small light to see by.”

  The men stopped when they reached the edge of the trees to make sure they didn’t have unfriendly company waiting for them, then they rode out. The clock was ticking. What time would Ruffcarn attack the ranch? Would it be early or later? Would they be close enough to help? Josh didn’t know. All they could do was keep riding.

  Ruffcarn and his men had camped three miles from the ranch. They were confident that surprise would tilt the battle in their favor. They broke camp as the sun was slipping over the ridge to the east. The warmth was cutting the chill of the early morning. As they swung into the saddles, Bull asked Ruffcarn, “What’s your plan, Mr. Ruffcarn?”

  “We’ll go to the ridge north of the ranch house. I want some men behind the house and on the south ridge. As soon as we see cowhands out in the open, we’ll hit ‘em hard. That’ll take the fight out of them, then we’ll just take care of the rest.”

  “What about the women?”

  “Bull, I don’t want any witnesses who can testify against us. Do you understand?”

  “Yes sir, I surely do. But I think there are some of the boys who might get their back up at just plain killing—specially women.”

  Ruffcarn turned his horse so that he faced the riders, “Have I paid you men well?”

  Heads nodded in the affirmative, and a few “yes sirs” could be heard.

  “You hired on to fight. Are you ready to take the Nance ranch?”

  Again, he received the same response.

  “There’ll be a bonus in it for every one of you. But I want you to understand, I want no living witnesses. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  There was some murmuring, then one of the hands spoke up. “You saying you want everyone kilt—including the women?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  The gunman turned and spit. “Well I ain’t never kilt no woman nor murdered no man, and I ain’t a startin’ now, no matter how much money you pay me. Don’t know if you other boys want to be known as woman killers or not. But I’ve got me a hankerin’ to see Montana.”

  With that the speaker slipped the thong from his revolver and sat tall in his saddle, staring at Ruffcarn. After a few moments, he slowly turned his horse around and headed north, for Montana. Three of the other men had loosened their revolvers in their holsters while the gunman was speaking. Without saying a word, they turned their horses and followed him.

  “You can’t leave now,” Ruffcarn shouted.

  The gunmen never turned. Ruffcarn turned to Bull. “Do something.”

  “Mr. Ruffcarn, sir, there just ain’t much to be done. That is, unless you want a shootout right here. We’ve still got more men than Nance, and we’re gonna surprise him. I reckon our best move is to go ahead with your plan. You did say there was a bonus in it, didn’t you?”

  Ruffcarn fumed, but he saw that he had only two choices; attack or ride back to the ranch. “Yeah, Bull,” he said loudly. “Everyone will get a bonus when this is finished. Let’s go.”

  Ruffcarn’s crew had just gotten into position when Juan stepped outside. Bull was behind a rock that was the perfect height as a rest for his .52 caliber Sharps. The other men were scattered in the hills north, south, and west of the ranch.

  Bull watched as Juan stretched. The morning sun reflected off his upturned, weathered face—another hot day in Texas. Juan turned toward the barn.

  Bull’s shot echoed across the valley. Juan never heard it. The big 475 grain slug plowed through Juan’s left arm shattering the bone. It continued its deadly path, rupturing both lungs and destroying his heart, exiting out his right side. Juan’s legs folded, and he collapsed in the ranch yard. He was dead before he hit the ground. The rest of Ruffcarn’s dry-gulchers opened fire. Glass broke from windows in the house and in the bunkhouse.

  The door of the bunkhouse flew open, and Scott dashed out toward Juan. Bullets kicked up dust all around him. He grabbed Juan by the collar and turned back for the bunkhouse. He made one step into the bunkhouse, with Juan, when he was hit. He hit the floor, still holding Juan’s collar with his right hand, blood running from the front and back of his left shoulder.

  Bullets ricocheted off the outside of the house and bunkhouse. Jack Swindell dragged Scott and Juan into the bunkhouse and slammed the door. Byron Whistal and Frank Milman had grabbed their rifles and were starting to return fire. “Juan’s dead,” Scott said. “I know the sound of that rifle. It was Bull. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m gonna take pleasure in filling his big gut with lead.”

  Jack ducked from the sound of a bullet crashing through the window and slamming into the opposite wall. “Let me get that arm bound up for ya. It’s bleeding pretty bad.”

  “Git back to shooting. I’ll take care of this,” Scott said as he yanked a sheet off the nearest bed, tore a strip off with his teeth, and wrapped it around his back and chest with his right hand. He pulled his rifle off the table and slid to the nearest window. “Can ya’ll tell where the shooting is coming from?”

  Byron yelled, “From the north and south slopes. Looks like they’ve got us in a pretty good cross fire. Just got one as he started to move down. Anybody know where the kid is?”

  Scott couldn’t use his rifle. His left shoulder gave him the dickens just trying to get the rifle up to where he could shoot. He pulled his revolver. “Can’t do much damage with this, but I might get lucky. Jimmy Leads should be over in the ranch house. He said something about wantin’ a cup of coffee. He must have gone over there no more’n ten minutes before the shooting started.”

  Byron ducked and fired again. “There’s three men in the main house, and Mr. Nance can’t hardly get around.”

  “He can still shoot,” Frank Milman piped up. “I see firing coming from at least two sides of the house. I’m bettin’ Teresa and Miss Nance are shootin’, too.”

  Scott saw Jimmy Leads at a front window momentarily. The boy fired and one of Ruffcarn’s toughs pitched forward, kicked for a moment, and lay still. “That kid can shoot,” Scott said as he fired again at the hillside.

  The Sharps boomed again, and Frank ducked back from the side window, feeling the right side of his head. “That was close,” he said as he brought his hand away with blood on it. “Just grazed me. I sure would like somebody to kill that feller.”

  Scott yelled, “Look out, here they come.”

  Ruffcarn’s men had spread out on both the north and south slope. They were running from rock to rock, moving down on the ranch. Byron could see a leg sticking out from behind a rock. He took care
ful aim and squeezed the trigger. The leg jerked out of sight, and they could hear a man screaming on the hillside. Byron grinned. “Guess he won’t be running anywhere for a while.”

  There were five guns firing from inside the ranch house. Bull said, “Mr. Ruffcarn, we may have bitten off more than we can chew. We got the Mex, and I think that was Penny who tried to pull him in. Looked like he was hit. But we’ve already lost at least three men, and two more are wounded. Those folks are holed up inside those rock buildings. Only way we’re gonna hit ‘em is with a lucky ricochet bouncing around inside there.”

  Ruffcarn saw what Bull was saying. He had no idea the two buildings could be so easily defended. He was losing men, and besides killing Juan and hitting Penny, they’d done no good at all. “What about getting down there up close?” he asked Bull.

  “Not a chance. They’ve got protection, and we’d be cut to ribbons.” As Bull finished speaking, the man next to him fell back holding his stomach, blood gushing through his fingers.

  Ruffcarn pounded on the rock in front of him. “I pay these men to fight. I want them to fight!”

  Bull shrunk farther behind his rock, not even looking out. “I’m telling you, we can’t win like this. We need to get out of here and try something else.”

  Bullets were singing by like angry bees. Rifles and handguns crashed from both sides. Ruffcarn started slipping back over the ridge, keeping rocks and cover between him and the houses. “Let’s get out of here. Signal the men.” Ruffcarn managed to get below the crest of the hill and leaped onto his horse. He spun the horse around and raced back to his ranch.

  Chapter 27

  Josh and Pat could hear the gunfire. They had been riding all night. All four of the horses were exhausted. Josh turned to Pat, “I hate to kill these horses, Pat, but we’ve got to get to the ranch and help.”

  “Aye, you’re right.” With that, Pat spurred his horse. The surprised horse leaped forward. He had heart and would run until he dropped.

  Josh did the same. The men raced toward the ranch. As they drew closer, the gunfire sounded like war. They came over a small swell and caught a glimpse of Ruffcarn disappearing to the northeast. The two men slowed their horses to a walk.

  Josh said, “If we stay in these mesquites, we should be able to get close before they know we’re anywhere around.”

  They unlimbered their rifles. Both Josh and Pat hung their extra handguns on the saddle horn. They walked the horses through the trees, just as the remaining men on the north side came over the ridge to get to their horses.

  There were only three, and one of them was Bull Westin. The men were running toward their horses. Josh and Pat maneuvered their horses out of the trees. Bull and the other men slid to a stop. “Howdy, Bull,” Josh said. “Reckon this is the way it was going to end all along. You’ve got a lot to answer for, and its time to pay up.”

  Bull’s mouth was open. Bull swung the big Sharps up and Josh’s Winchester spoke. The .44 caliber bullet hit Bull just above his gun belt. He stepped back, dropped his rifle, and went for his sixgun. Pat shot one of the other gunmen with his Spencer. Before Pat could get off his second shot, Josh shot the remaining gunman through the chest, then swung the Winchester back on Bull, as his revolver was clearing the holster. Josh shot him again. Bull sat down on the hillside. The sixgun slipped from his fingers. He looked at Josh. “You were dead. I saw it.”

  “You’re just not as good as you think you are, Bull,” Josh said, keeping the Winchester trained on the dying man.

  Bull looked down at the blood oozing from between his fingers. “You’ve killed me.”

  “You had your chance. I told you to leave this country, but you didn’t do it.”

  “I should’ve left,” Bull said. He sat for another moment, then slowly fell over onto his right side, into a patch of prickly pear—dead.

  Pat looked at him for a moment. “’Tis sad it’s taken this long for that heathen to meet his maker.”

  The shooting had stopped. They could see several men to the south and east of the ranch slapping leather as they did their best to get as far as possible from the Rocking N. Josh and Pat waited for a few minutes. They didn’t want to get shot out of the saddle by the Nance crew as they came riding over the ridge line. They eased up to the ridge, where they could see several dead men behind rocks. One man was holding his shoulder and looking at them. Josh moved his rifle to cover him.

  “I ain’t no danger, mister. My shoulder’s busted. I’m liable to bleed to death. I just need some help.”

  Pat looked at him for a moment and said, “Laddie, throw your rifle and pistol as far as you can.” Pat watched as the gunman first pulled his sixgun with his good hand and threw it down the hill, followed by his rifle. “Now, that’s a good lad. You knew there were women on this ranch, and you came here anyway. Your horse is back there over the hill. You get to it and ride out of here. That’s all the help you’ll be getting. If I help you, it’ll be to the nearest tree. Now you go on and git. If you’re still here when we come back. …”

  Josh and Pat rode slowly down the hill. Men were gathered in the yard. The women were just coming out of the house, running to the bunkhouse. Josh saw Scott step out of the bunk house as Mary Louise came up to the door. There was blood all over Scott’s left shoulder. He put his good arm around her and held her close as she sobbed into his chest.

  Scott watched them as they rode up. “Juan is dead. Bull killed him; you could hear the Sharps. When this wing gets better, I’m goin’ after him and I’ll not stop until he’s dead.”

  Josh stepped into the bunkhouse. Juan had been laid out on the floor. He looked peaceful. “No need,” Josh said. “Bull won’t be killing anymore people.”

  “You killed him?”

  “Aye, Scotty,” Pat said. “Deader than a casket. Josh here put two of those .44s through his middle. He’s back up on the hill lying in a patch of prickly pear. There’ll be no more worrying about the likes of him.”

  “That,” Scott said, “is the best news I’ve had in a long time. I should’a killed him when he drew down on Josh. That would’ve saved a lot of suffering.”

  “Scott,” Josh said, “you can’t think like that. We can ‘what if’ and ‘should’ve’ ourselves into an early grave. We take what life gives us and do our best. You saved my life, and I thank you.”

  Bill Nance came out of the house with a rifle in his left hand and a crutch under his right arm and slowly made his way across the yard.

  Mary Louise left Scott’s arms and ran to her father, “Papa, they killed Juan. He just walked out of the bunkhouse, and they shot him.” She laid her head on his shoulder, and tears coursed down her smooth cheeks.

  “I know, Honey. I know. He was a good man and a good friend. We’re all going to miss him.” He turned to Scott. “I saw it happen. Scott, I also saw you run out and pull him in. That was a brave thing to do with all the bullets flying.”

  Scott looked embarrassed. “Mr. Nance, he’d a done the same for me.”

  Bill Nance replied, “I suspect you’re right.”

  Scott turned to Frank and Jack. “Boys, why don’t you get a grave dug where the other graves are under that big oak. Is that alright with you, Mr. Nance?”

  “That’s fine, son. We’ll have a service for him later. A couple of you boys bring him on into the house. We’ll get him cleaned up and dressed in his finest clothes and give him the burial he deserves.”

  Jimmy and Byron picked up Juan and carried him across to the house. “Bring him in here,” Teresa said. “He could be a fierce man at times. But he loved us all.” She indicated the dining room table. She had spread a big white sheet across the table for them to lay him on.

  “Mr. Nance, I need to talk to you,” Josh said.

  Bill turned to hobble back to the ranch house. Puffs of dirt drifted up from his boots and crutch as he slowly made his way to the porch. He and Josh sat in the chairs on the porch. Scott moved to sit down.

  “Scott, what are
you doing?” Mary Louise asked. “Don’t you know you’ve got a hole in your shoulder?” He wobbled a bit as he turned for the door, and she quickly put her arm around his waist to help him inside. “Let’s go to the kitchen,” she said. “I’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

  Josh raised his eyebrows at Bill. “Anything going on there?”

  Bill filled his pipe slowly. “I think my daughter may have found her match. I like that boy. I do hope he stays.”

  Pat had sat on the steps to the veranda. “I’m thinkin’ you won’t have any problem keeping him around.”

  “I’ve got some good news,” Josh said to Bill Nance. “I sent a telegram off before I left Camp Wilson the first time. The answer had arrived when we got to town. It said that Pierce and Ruffcarn were in cahoots with some colonel in procurement. The three of them were selling guns to the Confederacy during the war. Colonel Sturgis said that his orders had been changed, and he was looking forward to you delivering five hundred head of cattle and fifty head of horses to him as soon as you can. He also said there would be orders for deliveries to Forts Concho, Davis, and Richardson. Mr. Nance, I think your troubles are over.”

  “That’s mighty good news, Josh,” Bill Nance said. “What are your plans now?”

  Josh grinned. “Bill, I was headed for Colorado when I stopped here. That’s where I’ll be going. I’m hoping Chancy is better. He’s gonna need to be in real good shape to do the work I expect of him when we get there.”

  The three men laughed. Bill Nance took a long draw on his pipe and relaxed back into his chair. “Josh, your horse seems to be doing much better. Juan said he’s still limping on his right front leg, but he thought that would go away in a short time. You can’t ride him yet, but in a few more days he should be good as new. What about you, Pat? What are your plans?”