The raiders retreated while the flames took hold. Then they took great glee in picking off each of the ranchers from a distance as, one by one, they ran from the burning house in search of safe cover elsewhere.
It was, in essence, a turkey shoot.
As Stance and his lieutenants crossed over Highway 87, he happened to look down and see horse tracks.
He pulled up and stepped down off his horse.
Stance wasn’t the best tracker in the world.
But even he could see that a large blade of grass, broken off by the horse’s hooves, was still tinged green. The broken clods of dirt within the track were still loose and crumbly. They’d never seen a morning dew.
These tracks were fresh. No more than a day old.
He surveyed the tracks before them. There were two horses, walking in tandem at a slow pace.
He smiled.
“There are only two of them. We’ll catch them easy. Mason, you go and let the others know we’re taking a detour. We’ll be there in a few hours, with two fresh ponies.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mason continued on the journey. Stance and his minions turned south, along Highway 87, and followed the tracks at a gallop.
Chapter 31
Red had made some serious miscalculations. They were born not of stupidity, but rather inexperience. She’d lived most of her life without being hunted by outlaws.
And Butch hadn’t taught her effective evasion techniques because, well, he hadn’t either.
But she did do some things right. Like, for example, she had the foresight to insist that she and Jacob sleep in shifts during their daytime rest breaks so that one of them was always on watch. They’d lose a little bit of sleep each day, for the daylight only extended for twelve hours or so. That could be remedied simply by staying an extra day at their safe place every three or four days to catch up on their sleep again.
After all, they were in no real hurry to get back to Blanco.
Another thing Red did right was to hide their smoke as much as possible. They did so by being careful to burn only dry wood. To make their fires only as big as they needed to cook their food. And to cook in a well-ventilated large structure whenever possible.
They’d arrived at the ranch just before sunup, but it was fully light by the time they’d finished their assessment.
The compound consisted of a four bedroom ranch house, fully stocked with furniture and clothing. Yet abandoned. The first structure they were in was full of trucks which were used to haul raw cotton to a gin. Apparently the owners of the ranch made it their living. There were seven trucks in all, each no more than four years old, each emblazoned with the logo “Westex Haulers” on their doors.
Hauling cotton was a big business in West Texas.
They stood in the massive front yard that separated the two structures.
“I’ll take first watch,” Red said to Jacob. Where are you gonna sleep?”
Jacob didn’t hesitate.
“In the barn. It’s open on both sides. Should be a nice breeze going through there. And it’s shaded. Should be pretty comfortable.”
Red was a bit surprised.
“You don’t want to sleep in the house?”
“Nope.”
“Just curious. But why not? There are four bedrooms in there, each with a comfortable bed.”
“Yeah. But the beds were all unmade. The rest of the house is neat as a pin, except for the kitchen cupboards and pantry. They’ve been rifled through and are a mess. Now, it may be that the homeowners evacuated with no intent of ever coming back and didn’t care much about whether the beds were made. But since the rest of the house is so clean I’m guessing that’s not the case. I’m guessing that they made the beds when they left with the intent of returning someday.
“And I’m also guessing that they never made it back. And that the same transients or scavengers who tore apart their kitchen also spent a night or several nights here. And I don’t trust them not to have bed bugs, thank you very much.”
Red smiled.
But she also gave Jacob credit. It was a well thought out deduction. And it had merit. Since the blackout there were bands of nomads who traveled the highways, staying in abandoned houses for a night or several nights, then moved on.
“I’m not saying I’m the cleanest guy in the world,” Jacob continued. “But I don’t have bedbugs and I’d rather not get them.”
Red placed a finger against her lips to silence him. It was the internationally known symbol for “shush.”
She’d been looking past him, toward the open field to the east of them. She went to one knee as he turned to see what she was looking at.
She raised the rifle she’d been carrying in her left hand and took steady aim, held her breath and fired a single shot.
A good-sized rabbit fell dead a hundred twenty yards away from them.
“You enjoy your rest. While you’re getting your beauty sleep I’m going to make a small fire on the far side of the building and make us some rabbit jerky.”
They still had several days of provisions left. But they needed to extend their food stores whenever they had a chance. When fresh meat or a fishing source presented itself along the way, they’d take advantage of it.
And Red needed something to pass her time while standing watch anyway.
“You go hit the sack. If you’re still sleeping at two o’clock or so I’ll kick you in the head and wake you up.”
He smiled.
“Thanks a lot.”
“Hey, what are friends for?”
The morning was uneventful. Red was careful to keep under cover until the sun was high in the sky. Once she could look to the east and see something besides the blinding sun she was able to move about more freely.
One of the things Butch had taught her was how easy it was to bushwhack someone in the early morning or late evening hours.
“Always be aware of the position of the sun,” he’d warned her long before. “If someone is to your east in the early morning hours he can shoot at you and you won’t be able to see him to shoot back. You’ll be blinded by the sun. Keep a tree or something sturdy at your back until the sun finishes rising. And be sure you follow the same practice at night, when the same situation is reversed in the western sky.”
Butch had taught her how to hunt, fish and trap game when she was but a small girl, and along the way he’d taught her many other things as well.
As she gutted and skinned her rabbit she thought about him. She wondered whether she’d have been able to survive to this point if he hadn’t toughened her up.
Most others hadn’t survived. Some of them died from drinking bad water or eating tainted food, simply because they didn’t know how to make it safe. Others died from violence because they didn’t know how to defend themselves.
Or know when to walk away.
Many gave up and took their own lives because they thought death was an easy way to end their misery.
Butch was the greatest father in the world, and she missed him dearly.
Life was tough these days. There were times when she wanted to give up herself. Especially since she was all alone now.
But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. It just wouldn’t be right to let everything he taught her go to waste.
Even as bad as it was, she owed it to Butch to keep keeping on.
Chapter 32
Red saw them coming from quite a distance. It’s easy to see men on horseback when the terrain is flat as a board. There were four of them, riding two by two. Cavalry style.
She didn’t want to wake Jacob from a sound sleep. But it was almost two anyway. And she might need backup.
She stole into the dark recesses of the outbuilding, where he was sleeping in his bag between two of the trucks.
She shook his shoulder and said, “Jacob! Wake up. We’ve got company.”
He sat up and looked at her, still in a daze.
“Who? Where?”
“Four riders
. They’ll be here in five or six minutes.”
Now he was wide awake.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I can probably handle it. But just in case it gets ugly, I want you to find some good cover inside the barn and have your rifle at the ready.”
There were no more words. None were necessary. Jacob jumped up and grabbed the rifle lying on the ground beside him.
Red headed back to the open door, then crossed the yard toward the house. Along the way she made sure the safety was off on her Remington and unhooked the handgun on her side from the leather strap which held it into place. She tucked the loose strap into her belt so it wouldn’t get in the way.
Just in case she had to draw the weapon quickly.
She propped the screen door open and opened the heavy front door. In case she needed a point of egress.
Then she stood nonchalantly on the front porch, at the porch rail in front of the door.
And she watched the men approach.
“Howdy, ma’am. Is your husband home?”
Red stood facing Stance and his three lieutenants, her rifle at the ready.
She instantly didn’t care for the man, nor his sexist implication.
“My husband and his brothers aren’t accepting company today. What can I do for you men?”
“We’re from the Bar S ranch. We’re looking for some horses that wandered off. We have reason to believe they were found and brought here.”
“Now, why would you have reason to believe that?”
“Because we followed two sets of tracks and they led to your drive, ma’am. Now, if you’d be so kind as to get your husband, I’m sure we can settle this quickly and easily.”
“Any horses that are on this property belong to us. Now then, I’d like to offer you men some water before you head back on your way, but I’m afraid our well has run dry and we’re fresh out of Evian.”
She smiled, then said sarcastically, “And I’m afraid I have to get back to my cooking and cleaning and other good wifely duties. So if you men will just be on your way…”
Stance was unmoved, either by her sarcasm or her efforts to rid herself of them.
“This situation is easily resolved, ma’am. Just bring out the two horses in question and we’ll see if the Bar S brand is on them. If it’s not, we’ll leave.”
“Exactly what does the Bar S brand look like, Mister?”
The question caught Stance off guard, and he stammered for just a moment.
“The letter S, with an angled bar above it.”
“I’m not familiar with it. Can you have one of your men turn his horse so I can see it?”
Stance and his men held their positions.
Red went on, the tone of her voice a bit snotty as she threw the man’s own words back at him.
“This situation is easily resolved, sir. Just turn your horse so I can see what the brand looks like.”
Stance’s men looked at each other but none of them moved.
Red continued, “I see. You’re claiming to be from the Bar S, but haven’t bothered to brand your own horses. Yet you come onto my property and accuse me of horse theft. And on top of that, you must think I’m incredibly blind or stupid or both. Did it not dawn on you that I can see the brands on two of your horses? They’re different brands, and neither of them has an S.
“Now then, gentlemen. I think it best you turn your horses and leave before anyone gets hurt here today.”
At that point Stance turned his head and nodded to the man on his right, which was obviously a signal they’d used before.
The man drew his rifle from the saddle scabbard and aimed it in Red’s direction.
And then the most curious thing happened.
The rifleman’s head exploded.
Chapter 33
The first man to fall victim to Jacob’s rifle died instantly, of course. Bits of brain matter, blood, and shards from his skull scattered in all directions.
Before all the pieces of him hit the ground, Jacob had found his second target. The man directly behind the rifleman had just pulled his handgun out of his holster before a bullet tore through his chest, leaving his heart a shambles along the way. It went completely through him, breaking off a piece of rib along the way and leaving a gaping hole on the other side of his body.
Stance was struck in the back just beneath his shoulder blade not by Red or Jacob, but by his own man. When Jacob’s second bullet found its mark it caused the man’s trigger finger to twitch. The last thing the man did before he died was to shoot his own boss in the back.
Red took out the fourth man as he lined up his rifle on her. She was faster because he hesitated, not knowing whether she was the bigger threat or the unseen gunman to his right. By the time he leveled his weapon on her she already had hers aimed center mass on his body.
He never had a chance.
Stance, the big bad guy who had everyone in two counties shaking in their boots, had never been shot before. He freaked out in a mindless panic. He wheeled his horse around, leaned low and ran at a full gallop away from the carnage.
Both Red and Jacob leveled their rifles at him. But neither of them fired.
Despite the good probability he’d be back, possibly with reinforcements, they couldn’t bring themselves to pull their triggers.
One of the most time-honored codes of the old west was that one never shot a man in the back. Never, under any circumstances.
As Stance disappeared into the distance Jacob hustled over from the equipment barn.
By the time he got there, all three of the aggressors’ horses were scattered. Horses tend to spook at the sound of gunshots anyway. And when their riders are shot off their backs they usually panic and run to find safe harbor.
Two of the men were obviously dead. Red stood over the third.
His horse had bucked as Red pulled her trigger. Normally her bullet would have gone cleanly through his heart, but this time flew to the right of it, nicking one side and passing through the back of his spine.
He was mortally wounded, but would take several minutes to die. Red knew it and so did Jacob. The man seemed to sense it himself.
He was trying to say something, even as blood flowed from the side of his mouth.
He was a big man. Far too big for them to easily move. Red was slight and rather strong for a woman, but not strong enough to carry her end of a two hundred and sixty pound man.
Otherwise she’d have directed Jacob to help her carry him onto the back porch, where he’d be more comfortable in his last minutes.
Instead, Jacob retrieved the man’s cowboy hat, which had flown fifteen feet away. He lifted the man’s head and tucked the hat beneath it. Red went to her knees and held the man’s hand, then positioned herself so that his face was shaded from the bright sun.
She leaned over to hear the man’s words.
“Please…”
It was weak and hard to make out. The blood was causing the man’s words to slur.
“Please… forgive me… I would have done things differently.”
Red had every reason in the world to hate the man who would have gunned her down. But she chose compassion over hatred. Pity over vengeance.
“I forgive you, sir. And I will pray for your soul.”
He looked at her for a couple of moments and seemed satisfied with her answer.
He closed his eyes and coughed. Blood spewed everywhere, but Red appeared not to notice.
“Jacob, keep an eye out for any sign of riders. He won’t come back himself. But if he has more men close by he’ll send them after us.”
Red sat in the red dirt next to the man’s head and manhandled his head onto her lap. He seemed out of it, but she could tell he was still breathing from the frothy blood being forced out of his mouth.
She suspected he might be paralyzed from the way his body lay upon the ground. It was more crumpled than anything. In a heap, really, and he’d made no effort to straighten it.
Perhaps
he had tried but was unable to.
She didn’t know whether he could feel her touch or even acknowledge her presence.
But it didn’t matter. She would be there for him, as much for her own sake as for his. For no one should be forced to die alone.
She wondered, as she waited for him to draw his last breath, why she was able to forgive this man for trying to kill her. Yet she couldn’t forgive Luna or Savage for killing her family.
Then it dawned on her that she didn’t value her own life as much as she valued Russell’s and Rusty’s. She didn’t love herself as much as she loved her father Butch.
And maybe, just maybe, she should have been a bit slower to react when this man lifted his rifle. Maybe she should have let it be her that was lying in the dirt dying. Maybe it should have been her who would taste the sweet peace of death.
God knew she deserved it.
But no, she still had a mission to finish. Luna was just the first part of it. John Savage had to pay for her father’s death, now that she knew without a doubt he was the one who set it up. So did Sloan.
And then what? Once she finished getting her vengeance, should she just end it all herself? Should she take her own life so she could see her loved ones again? And would God let her? Suicide was a sin, after all. The one and only sin one couldn’t ask for forgiveness for.
She felt the gunman’s hand go limp in hers and looked at him.
There were no more bloody bubbles coming from his lips. His chest was no longer rising and falling.
He had gone to meet his maker and learn his eternal fate.
The lucky bastard. Perhaps he was the winner after all.
Chapter 34
Red stood up and walked over to Jacob.
“Is he dead?”
“Yes.”
“So now what? Do we bury them?”
“I’d say not. If there are reinforcements nearby, the leader went to get them. I say we get the hell out of Dodge while we can.”
“How? They’ll track us, just as they did before. The dirt around here’s very soft. Our horses were at it all night. They’re tired. Hell, you didn’t get any sleep at all today, and I only got a few hours. We’re worn out. How the hell are we gonna get away from them?”
A Lesson Learned: Red: Book 3 Page 10
