Wildfire

by J. R. Roberts

  The clerk was still trying to get Clint’s attention even after Clint had headed for the stairs leading to the second floor. Clint didn’t care what the clerk was trying to say. All he could think about was catching up with one or both of the Texas Rangers as soon as possible.

  Unfortunately, Clint caught up to the one he’d been hoping to avoid.

  “What the hell are you doin’ here?” Talman asked as he pulled open the door to room number one and stuck his head outside. “You’re supposed to keep your distance.”

  “Where’s Henry?” Clint asked.

  “Supposed to be with you. What’s the problem?”

  “We need to get back to the spot where that fire was.”

  “Huh?” Talman asked. “Why?”

  “I’ll explain along the way. Right now, we just need to get moving.”

  Although he didn’t seem any more pleased to work with Clint, Talman stepped outside and shut the door behind him. “Let’s get the horses,” he said. “We should cross paths with Henry somewhere along the way.”

  Clint turned on the balls of his feet and headed for the stairs again. He nearly walked straight over the hotel’s clerk, who was on his way up. As before, Clint handily ignored the flustered man.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” the clerk sputtered to the back of Clint’s head. Turning toward Talman, he snapped, “I didn’t have any part in this intrusion. In fact I—”

  But Talman had already stomped down the stairs past the clerk, leaving the older man scratching his chin and looking around as if he’d been narrowly missed by a speeding train. Shrugging his shoulders, the clerk headed downstairs again and stepped behind his desk.

  Outside, Talman and Clint only had to take two steps onto the boardwalk before catching sight of Henry.

  “What the hell are you two doing here?” Henry growled. “I thought you’d know I was trying to make it look like—”

  “I know what you were doing in the saloon,” Clint interrupted. “But we need to get to that shed.”

  “Why? I thought you said we had some time before that Red fellow headed out that way.”

  “I think he may be moving sooner than that,” Clint replied. “And I saw someone in the saloon that didn’t look right. Every bone in my body is just telling me to get back out there right now.”

  After thinking it over for a second or two, Henry nodded. “Fine. You and I will go. Talman, you’ll stay here.”

  “Why should I stay?” Talman protested.

  “Because you’re the one that’s been seen the least. That is, unless you count right now. So get away from us and search this town top to bottom until you find that fellow that called Clint out of that saloon earlier.”

  Despite the fact that he obviously had plenty more on his mind, Talman knew better than to try to say his piece right then and there. Instead, he turned his back to the other two and waved them off as he stepped back into the hotel.

  “Go on and get your horse,” Henry said. “I’ll catch up to you.”

  Clint ran back to the post where he’d tied Eclipse and then jumped into the saddle. The Darley Arabian was only too eager to bolt from Kipperway like an arrow that had been shot from a bow. As promised, Henry thundered up alongside Clint, and the two of them raced to the spot where they’d left two of Henry’s men.

  THIRTEEN

  After staring at the charred remains of the shed for so many hours, Barkley hardly even thought about the fact that good folks had been burned alive in there. The blackened pile of lumber was just another part of the landscape now.

  The world kept turning.

  There was still work to be done.

  When he heard the rumble of horses approaching at full gallop, Barkley lifted his head just enough to get a look at the northern horizon.

  “You hear that?” Barkley’s partner asked.

  Dave was a good man, but the main thing that had gotten him into the Texas Rangers was his father’s connections. While he didn’t do much to distinguish himself as a Ranger, Dave never appreciated his father steering his life. Perhaps that was why he’d volunteered to join up with Henry on this ride out of the Rangers’ jurisdiction.

  Barkley looked over at the other Ranger while also thinking about these couple of things. Even with those points considered, he couldn’t hide the contempt on his face that someone like Dave was riding alongside a good bunch of trackers, lawmen and manhunters.

  “Yeah,” Barkley said. “I heard it.”

  “You think it’s Henry or Bower coming back?”

  “Bower would be coming from the west. Remember?”

  Dave nodded quickly. “I remember. I just . . . Who are those men? There’s more than there should be.”

  Having been walking over to his saddlebags to retrieve his telescope, Barkley raised the instrument to his eye and peered through the lenses. Strangely enough, Dave had a point. It surprised Barkley so much that he had to check what he saw a second time.

  “You’re right,” Barkley admitted. “There should only be three of them at the most. I count five.”

  “You think Henry caught that killer and is bringing him back?”

  Barkley kept staring through the telescope before shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then maybe someone else is coming to have a look at this place.”

  “Yeah. Could be. Best get your rifle in case they’re not in a sociable sort of mood.”

  Dave wore a look of concern on his face, but didn’t hesitate before doing what he was told. He got his rifle and walked back to where Barkley was standing. The tracker already had taken his own rifle from where it hung from his saddle and propped it against his hip.

  “What if those folks are just . . . family?” Dave asked. “You know. Family of who was in that shed and they’re just coming to check on them.”

  “Then we won’t shoot.”

  Dave held his rifle in both hands and faced the same direction as Barkley. As the horses drew closer, Dave shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. Squinting at the approaching riders, he focused on one of them moving in a peculiar way. When he turned to say as much to Barkley, Dave was just in time to see Barkley get knocked to one side as if he was swatted by an unseen fist.

  A second or so later, the report of a rifle echoed in the distance.

  “Jesus Christ!” Dave shouted as he dropped to one knee next to his fallen partner.

  Barkley let out a pained snarl through gritted teeth as he pulled himself back up. As soon as he was upright again, he brought his rifle to his shoulder and fired off a round.

  Dave turned to see if he could pick out a target and found that the other riders had covered even more distance than he’d guessed. The shock on his face remained as he lent his own fire to the shots Barkley was putting into the air.

  Levering in a fresh round, Barkley grunted, “Shit. They’re splitting up.”

  Sure enough, Dave watched as the riders fanned out and broke into two groups. One of the groups headed to the left of the shed and the other steered toward the right. No more shots had come from the riders, but that didn’t seem to make either of the Rangers feel too good.

  “They’re flanking us!” Barkley shouted over the ringing in his ears that had been put there by all the rifle fire.

  “What do we do?” Dave asked.

  “We sure as hell don’t stand here and wait for them to close in.” Taking a quick look behind him, Barkley was glad to see neither of their horses had been spooked by the noise. “Mount up and get moving. The best we can do is hope to catch them in a cross fire.”

  Suddenly, the panic left Dave’s face. He nodded once and ran to his horse. As soon as he saw where Barkley was headed, he pointed his horse in the other direction and snapped the reins.

  Barkley made it onto his horse, but was hampered by the fresh wound that had ripped through his shoulder. Placing one hand on the wound, he found a bloody gash that was dangerously close to his neck. If that first bullet had clipped him
any closer, Barkley knew he would have been in a whole lot of trouble. As it was, he felt more anger than pain.

  A few more shots were fired by the riders, but the two groups seemed to be turning in their saddles and trying to figure out how they should approach the separated Rangers. Although the confusion among these men seemed promising at first, Barkley swore under his breath when he saw one of the riders break off and head straight for the charred shed.

  Barkley would have liked to keep all of these riders in his sight, but he had some bigger fish to fry before he could do that.

  FOURTEEN

  Dave dug his heels into his horse’s sides and snapped the reins for good measure. Even though he could tell the horse was pouring everything it had into its legs, he wouldn’t have minded just a little bit more. He eased up on the animal when he realized that an extra bit of speed wasn’t going to help him dodge bullets.

  And the bullets were once again starting to fly.

  Lead hissed through the air around Dave on either side. As he rode around the riders, they drew closer to him. They were all still moving too quickly to take accurate shots, but each round of gunfire was coming closer to him than the last. Now that he was in the spot Barkley had told him to go and his horse’s nose was pointed in the right direction, there was only one thing left for Dave to do.

  He shot back at whoever the hell those riders were.

  Dave had had plenty of practice in riding and firing at the same time. With a place as big and wide as Texas as their stomping ground, the Rangers found themselves in plenty of chases through open country. Doing his best to ignore the hiss of lead passing by, Dave fired one shot after another.

  The smaller group of riders was headed straight for him. They were hunkered down low over their horses’ necks and taking their time to aim. They were also riding in crooked lines as opposed to Dave’s path. Soon, they made the move that Dave had been dreading and split apart one more time to try and flank him.

  Dave shifted in his saddle to take aim at the rider to his right. He pulled his trigger and was shocked to see the rider on the left flop backward and fall from his saddle. Just to be certain, Dave looked down to check if the gun in his hands was bent.

  “Hey there,” Clint said as he rode up next to Dave with the smoking Colt in his hand. “Looks like you needed some help.”

  “There’s more of them going after Barkley,” Dave said.

  Clint nodded. “We saw them. Henry went that way.”

  “And there’s another one that went to the shed.”

  “One thing at a time,” Clint said. When he faced forward once again, he didn’t have to wait long before another gun was lending its voice to the modified Colt in his own hand.

  Clint knew he’d either nicked the second rider or gotten damn close to drawing blood because that man was in a panic. He pulled on his reins almost hard enough to break his horse’s neck and tore away from the entire fight.

  “Let him go,” Clint said to Dave. “Ride ahead and see if Henry needs any help. I’m going to the shack.”

  Dave showed Clint a quick wave and then steered his horse toward the sound of nearby gunshots. He did a fairly good job of circling around the shack and putting himself in a prime spot to blindside the other riders. By the sound of it, that fight wouldn’t last much longer.

  A few paces away from the shack, Clint swung one leg over Eclipse’s back and jumped from the saddle. When his boots hit the ground, his gun was in his hand and ready to fire. All he needed now was a target.

  There was another horse outside the shack, but its saddle was empty. Since the place wasn’t much more than a charred wooden shell, it wasn’t difficult to hear the sounds of someone rooting around inside. Clint approached the largest wall that was still standing, moved carefully to the edge and then hopped around to face whatever was inside the shed.

  Only one man was in sight. He was huddled in one corner, burrowing like a rat in the ashes.

  “Stand up,” Clint ordered.

  The man froze with both hands buried in the filth. The splintered remains of a couple chairs where the bodies had been tied were only a few inches from him. If the bodies hadn’t been buried already, the man probably wouldn’t have even noticed. In fact, he barely seemed to notice that Clint was there.

  “I said stand up,” Clint barked.

  Outside the shack, gunshots were still being fired. Horses were still stomping against the ground and racing in large circles as one group of men tried to get the killing angle on the other. Inside, on the other hand, Clint felt like he was in the proverbial eye of the storm.

  The man who squatted in the ashes was breathing so heavily that it seemed he was panting. Although some of the grime and dirt had fallen away from his hands, he seemed content to keep them mostly covered.

  “What’ve you got there?” Clint asked. “Raise your hands so I can get a look for myself.”

  Those words sparked something in the man. His eyes narrowed into angry slits, and he let out a snarl that wasn’t even vaguely human. As he straightened up, his voice sounded more like a man’s. His face, however, was twisted into something brutal and ugly.

  The man hopped to his feet and bent his body so he could keep one hand in the muck and lift the other toward the holster slung low at his side. He was surprisingly quick. He even managed to get his fingers around the pistol’s grip and lift the gun partway from its leather resting spot.

  Clint pulled his trigger and felt the modified Colt buck once against his palm. His bullet punched a hole through the man’s heart and dropped him in his own tracks. Even as the man fell over, he kept his other hand buried in the ashen rubble.

  Clint looked up and through one of the gaps in the broken wall. He couldn’t see much, but he couldn’t hear much either. Considering that he’d heard nothing but gunfire not too long ago, that was a good sign. He stepped forward and kept his gun aimed at the fallen man.

  The man’s eyes were open and staring at nothing, but there was still an intensity in them that put Clint on his guard. With his gun still ready to put another bullet in him, Clint used the tip of one boot to push the man’s hand out from under the filth. Grimy fingers were clenched in a fist, but the sparkle of silver and diamonds could still be seen inside that fist.

  “I’ll be damned,” Clint whispered.

  FIFTEEN

  A few more shots cracked through the air, but they were aimed at the sky rather than at anything with a pulse.

  “And don’t come back!” Dave shouted after firing once more.

  Henry shook his head and looked over to Barkley. “You all right?”

  The tracker nodded and dropped his rifle into the boot hanging from his saddle. “I would’ve been a whole lot worse if you hadn’t showed up. Thanks for the hand.”

  “You seemed like you were holding your own,” Henry replied. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dave so fired up.”

  The younger Ranger grinned and asked, “Should we take off after them?”

  “They could have the sense to sit in those trees they rode for and try to ambush us,” Barkley said. “But I doubt it. You’re up for another go at those assholes?”

  “Hell yes!”

  “You two go on, then,” Henry said. “Seems only fair for you to get a crack at them since they tried to bushwhack you. I’ll see what Clint found in that shed.”

  Barkley gave Henry a quick nod and steered his horse so he could skirt around the cluster of trees where the escaping gunmen had gone. A snap of leather got his horse moving, and Dave wasn’t far behind him.

  Although the gunmen had gotten a bit of a head start, Henry didn’t favor their chances of staying too far ahead of Barkley. Riding toward the charred shed, he kept his gun in hand and his eyes open for any sign of trouble. Since the shed was barely standing, it wasn’t difficult for Henry to spot a figure huddled down inside.

  The muscles in Henry’s gun arm tensed as he prepared for the worst. “That you, Clint?” he shouted.

&nbs
p; When he didn’t get a response right away, Henry started to raise his pistol.

  Finally, a voice replied to the Texas Ranger’s question.

  “Yeah,” Clint said. “It’s me.”

  “What are you doing in there?”

  “Come over here and take a look for yourself.”

  Henry climbed down from his saddle and holstered his gun. The first thing he saw was Clint squatting beside a body with a fresh hole in its chest.

  “Did I interrupt something?” Henry asked with a wary grin.

  Clint looked up and then held out his hand. “Take a look at this.”

  Henry didn’t know what to think at first, but that ended as soon as he spotted the silver and diamond brooch in Clint’s hand. “Good Lord. Where did you find that?”

  “I didn’t,” Clint replied as he looked down at the body. “He did. Dave said he was one of the men who rode up and tried to shoot him and Barkley.”

  “And this one came in here after this?”

  Clint nodded. “Sounded like the others meant to kill your two men or at least distract them for a bit. Maybe draw them away from here so he could come in and dig this up.”

  Stepping into the shed, Henry took the brooch from Clint and examined it closely. The jewelry was filthy from being buried in ash and dirt, but no amount of dirt could mask the fact that it was worth a bundle. “This must have belonged to whoever lived here.” He looked up at the little space that had been occupied by the shed. “You would’ve thought these folks could afford somewhere better to live.”

  “Some folks don’t need much,” Clint said. “I’m no jeweler, but that piece looks kind of old. It was probably a family heirloom.”

  “And these greasy bastards had to come all this way to loot it.” Suddenly, Henry snapped his eyes up and grinned.

  “You just remember something funny?” Clint asked.

  “Not exactly funny, but I did remember something. As far as I know, nobody spent too much time at the other places that were burnt up. Most of them were out in the open like this and were just left to be knocked down or cleared away by whoever was gonna claim the land.”