Ralph Compton Ride the Hard Trail

by Ralph Compton

“Did you get word to them?” Lin eagerly asked. “Do they know I am alive?”

  Cody Dixon frowned. “I am sorry. I could not spare one of my sons, and I will not let the women go off by themselves. Either we all had to go, or no one.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lin said.

  “Seth Montfort has given us a month to get off our ranch, or he intends to hang us as rustlers.”

  “I should have shot him.”

  “You can appreciate the fix I am in,” Cody Dixon said. “It will be a cold day in hell before I let that son of a—”

  “Cody!” Patricia said sharply. “There are ladies present.”

  The rancher smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. But just thinking about his gall makes me mad.” He turned back to Lin. “We have seen riders on our range. Montfort’s hired killers, I suspect. They always ride off when we go near them. But you can see why I can’t send anyone to Etta June’s. They are liable to be bushwhacked.”

  “Susan and I could try,” Pat said. “Montfort wouldn’t dare harm women.”

  “I would not put anything past him,” her husband disagreed.

  “Why not let me?” Susan said. “I can ride as good as any man. I will sneak away in the middle of the night and by daybreak be far from here and Montfort’s men.”

  “What if they are watching the trails?” Cody Dixon shook his head. “No. No one is going anywhere, and that is final.” He looked at Lin. “Again, I am sorry. But if you want Etta June and your brother to know you are alive, you will have to ride to the EJ yourself.”

  “We are not being neighborly,” Pat complained.

  “We are alive, and I intend to keep us that way.”

  To nip their argument, Lin said, “It is all right. I will get some food into me and head out tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Pat repeated. “I am afraid you will not be fit to ride for four or five days, if then.”

  “We will see,” Lin said.

  “What I want to know,” Cody Dixon said, “is who put you in this state?”

  Briefly, Lin told them. Yet even brief was too much; it left him tired and feeling drained.

  “Did you hear him?” Cody Dixon demanded of his wife and daughter. “Montfort has lost all reason. He will carry out his threat to string me and the boys up unless we get to him first.”

  “Don’t start with that again,” Patricia said.

  Cody Dixon explained for Lin’s benefit. “I had a brainstorm. Instead of waiting for Montfort to come after us, we go after him. A bullet to his brain and we are safe.”

  Her face a mask of worry, Pat clasped her husband’s hands. “They call that murder. And I do not consider it safe when the law might come after you.”

  “Better Montfort than us,” Cody insisted. To Lin he said, “She won’t let me do it. Says she will walk out on me if I do.”

  “It is wrong to kill,” Pat said.

  “Not if it is done to protect those you love,” Cody countered. “No judge would send me to the gallows for that.” He appeared to have more to say but glanced at Lin, gestured helplessly and strode out.

  Pat stared at the empty doorway. “We have been spatting,” she said quietly. “We never used to.” She followed her husband.

  That left Susan, who shifted her weight from one leg to the next and back again before asking, “How is your brother?”

  “The last I saw him, he was fine,” Lin said. But a lot could have happened in the past two weeks. Chancy might have gone to the Bar M looking for him. If Montfort did to Chancy what Montfort had done to him—Lin grew so mad he had to resist an urge to punch the bed.

  “Are you all right?” Sue asked. “You are red all of a sudden.”

  “I am alive,” Lin said. “Thanks to your family.” An obligation he could never repay.

  “We would have done the same for anyone.” Sue chuckled. “Well, maybe not for Seth Montfort.”

  Lin laughed and wished he hadn’t. It hurt too much.

  “So, what would you like? Soup? Eggs and a slice or two of bacon? Water, milk, coffee or tea?”

  “Those eggs sound good,” Lin said. A rumble from his stomach showed how famished he was. “And coffee to wash them down.”

  “How many?”

  “Four, if you can spare them,” Lin said.

  “Oh, please. We get thirty a day out of the chicken coop. There are always plenty.” Sue whisked from the room, saying, “It won’t take long to heat up the stove.”

  Lin smiled, and regretted it when his swollen lips flared with pain. Closing his eyes, he gave silent thanks for being alive. Now he would get to see Etta June again. He very much looked forward to that. The talk they had before he left had persuaded him miracles could happen. How else to explain the fact that a fine woman like her liked him?

  He must have dozed off, because when he opened his eyes Sue was bearing a silver tray into the bedroom. The aroma of the food set his mouth to watering.

  “Here you go. I also brought toast and jam, and added sugar and cream to your coffee. I hope that is all right.”

  Lin put his hands flat on the bed and slowly sat up. “You will make some man a fine wife one day.”

  Blushing, Sue carefully set the tray across his legs. “Does that hurt? I can feed you if you would like.”

  “I can manage,” Lin said. The blanket had slid down around his waist, exposing his bare chest. He reached to pull the blanket up, and happened to glance under it. “Dear God.”

  “What?”

  “I am—” Lin stopped.

  “Naked? Yes, I know. Your clothes were an awful mess. Ma said the only thing to do was to burn them.”

  “But who—?” Again Lin could not say the rest.

  “Undressed you? Ma did.” Sue laughed. “She wouldn’t let me stay in the room.”

  “Your mother.” Lin was aghast. He could not recollect the last time eyes other than his own had beheld him without a stitch on.

  Sue laughed harder. “Oh, please. She has seen my pa and my brothers without clothes plenty of times.”

  “I am not your pa or a brother.” Lin pulled the blanket as high as it would go and still stay up. “Did she have to take my drawers too?”

  “They were so stained with blood and whatnot, they were past saving,” Sue explained.

  Whatnot? Lin thought to himself, and shriveled inside.

  “Don’t fret none. My brother Ty is about your size. You can wear some of his things when you are fit enough to dress.” Sue gazed out the window. “Ty is short for Tyler. He is twenty-two. My other brother, Henry, is a year younger than me. He is eighteen. We call him Hank.” Suddenly she stiffened and moved quickly to the window, her hand to the pane.

  “What is it?”

  “Riders coming,” Sue answered, and dashed to the doorway. “And coming in fast.”

  Chapter 18

  Chancy Bryce had been through two of the worst weeks of his life. He was worried near sick over Lin. His brother should have been back from the Bar M days ago. Something had happened. Something terrible.

  Chancy could think of only one reason his brother had been gone so long. Lin must be dead.

  Chancy’s natural impulse was to ride hell-for-leather to the Bar M and find out. But he couldn’t. Not and keep his word. Lin had made him promise that under no circumstances was he to leave the EJ. “I want you to swear by Ma and Pa,” Lin had insisted.

  His brother was smart. It was the one oath Chancy would never break. He had loved his parents—loved them more than anything. He would not dishonor their memory by lying in their name.

  Then there was Etta June Cather. She would not stop reminding him that she needed him there, that if he left, she and her children would be at Seth Montfort’s mercy.

  So Chancy stayed. But he hated it. He hated twiddling his thumbs when he should be off avenging his brother. He stuck it out as long as he could. He did work around the house and the stable, staying near Etta June and her children as his brother had instructed.

  But it
was hell.

  Pure hell.

  Chancy did not understand why Etta June was so dead set against him going. He had a hunch she cared for Lin. Yet she refused to change her mind.

  She was another example of why, if Chancy lived to be a hundred, he would never savvy women.

  Two weeks went by. Two whole weeks. Chancy came to the end of his tether, marched up to the house and loudly knocked.

  Etta June came to the door herself, wiping her hands on her apron. “Goodness gracious. Are you trying to break it down?”

  “I can’t wait any longer,” Chancy told her. “I must find out about my brother.”

  Etta June came out on the porch. “Listen to me. Go to the Bar M and you will die. I know that as surely as I know anything.”

  Chancy patted his Colt. “I am not helpless.”

  “I did not say you were. But Montfort has a lot of leather slappers at his beck and call. You cannot kill them all.”

  Her logic was a wall Chancy could not break down. He was mad at her for that. He was mad at Lin too, for making him give his word. Hell, he was mad at the world.

  Maybe Etta June sensed that. Maybe that was why she said, “What you need is to get away for a bit. Forget your worries and do what you like best.”

  “What are you talking about?” Chancy doubted she knew what that was.

  “The invite you had to go play poker,” Etta June reminded him.

  Chancy had almost forgotten about Efram Pike’s visit. It had surprised him considerably—Pike riding all the way out from Mason just to offer him a seat in a card game. “You want me to go?”

  “If it will take your mind off Lin for a while,” Etta June said. “If it will keep you from going off to the Bar M and getting shot to pieces.”

  Chancy liked the idea. A night or two of cards and drink were exactly what he needed. But he shook his head. “I can’t. I promised Lin I would stay close to you and the kids.”

  “He cannot hold it against you if you go at my bidding,” Etta June said. “We will be all right for a few days.”

  “I don’t know,” Chancy said.

  “No one has been skulking about the ranch,” Etta June said. “And the Indians are gone. We will be perfectly safe.”

  “You could talk rings around a tree,” Chancy said.

  “I am only thinking of you. But I do have my reservations.”

  “Reservations how?”

  “Something about Pike’s invitation bothers me. I can’t help but wonder if he is up to no good.”

  “Why would he want to harm me? He was as friendly as could be when I met him.” Chancy grinned. “Friendlier than you were.”

  Etta June smiled. “You have yourself to blame. You showed a deplorable lack of manners.”

  “I am sorry about that.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  Chancy gave voice to his last objection. “But what if Lin shows up while I am gone?”

  “If he is hurt, I will tend him.”

  “If he is hurt, Seth Montfort will pay.”

  “You are wasting daylight,” Etta June said.

  Chancy gazed toward the east end of the valley and the range he must cross to reach the settlement. “I would be gone five days at the most.”

  “We have them to spare,” Etta June reiterated. “Saddle your horse. I will get some food for you to take.”

  Chancy gave in. He was back in fifteen minutes and accepted the bundle she gave him. “This is awful kind of you. You must want me out of your hair.”

  “Not at all. I just pray we are not making a mistake. Be careful, Chancy. Have your fun, but don’t trust Efram Pike.”

  “You would make a fine mother hen.” Chancy chuckled and gigged the zebra dun. When he was well out, he glanced back and she was still there. The children were at her side. They waved, so he did likewise.

  Chancy almost turned back. It did not seem right, leaving them alone. But it had been her idea. She had practically booted him in the britches to get him to go. He faced to the east and brought the zebra dun to a canter.

  Lin hated being helpless. He tried to slide out of bed, but he was too weak. He had to lie there and listen to the commotion outside and hope the Dixons were not in danger.

  The aroma of the food made his mouth water. He ignored it for as long as he could. But his rumbling stomach would not be denied. He picked up a fork.

  Eggs had never tasted so delicious. The toast was exquisite. Lin resisted an urge to wolf the food down in great gulps. He chewed slowly, taking his time, savoring every mouthful.

  Presently hooves pounded, going away from the house. Footsteps in the hall alerted him that someone was coming. “Sue?”

  “No, me,” Patricia Dixon said, whisking into the bedroom. “How are you holding up? Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “What was the ruckus?”

  “My sons saw some riders camped up in the timber. Montfort’s men, most likely. My husband has gone off with them to pay the camp a visit.”

  “How long will they be gone?”

  “Overnight. In the meantime, we are on our own. If there is anything you want—anything at all—give a holler.”

  The door closed behind her. Lin sank back against the headboard and pondered while he ate. He must regain his strength quickly so he could help when Seth Montfort moved against the Dixons.

  Lin raised the blanket and looked down at himself again. So many bruises. So many welts. Half his body was black and blue. They had beaten him within a whisker of his life.

  It was peculiar how things had worked out. Chancy and he had fled Cheyenne with a posse nipping at their heels. They had shaken their pursuers off and headed for parts unknown where they could start over. Lin’s aim had been to push on into Montana or even Canada. But here they were, caught up in a budding range war in the Big Horns. If blood was spilled, it would draw attention. A federal marshal might show up, which was the last thing he wanted.

  Lin sipped the piping-hot coffee and thought about the banker, Pettigrew. He had practically begged the man to give them more time. Another couple of months—that was all they had needed. They would have sold some cattle and had enough money to make good on almost all the money they had owed. But Pettigrew would not hear of it. Pay up in full or be evicted. When Chancy had argued that Pettigrew was not being fair, Pettigrew had said that his bank could not continue to support a no-account family like theirs.

  No wonder Chancy had shot him in the shoulder.

  That was bad enough. But then the three men Pettigrew had brought along had gotten involved. Chancy had had his back to them and had not seen them go for their six-guns. Lin had. They had been fixing to shoot his brother, so he had done the only thing he could to save Chancy’s life: He had gunned down all three. Two had died, but the third one and Pettigrew had lived.

  Sometimes Lin wished they hadn’t, so no one could point the finger of blame at Chancy and him. A jury could not convict without proof or a witness. He and his brother would not be on the run.

  Lin finished eating, pushed the tray aside and sat back to digest his food. He felt wonderfully sluggish. He closed his eyes, not intending to doze off, but he did. The scrape of a plate caused him to snap his head up. “Eh?”

  Patricia Dixon was about to bear the tray off. “Oh. I am sorry. I did not mean to wake you.”

  “That’s all right,” Lin said. “If there is one thing I have had plenty of, it is rest.”

  “You need more. You are far from healed up.”

  “I wish I were. I would look after you and your daughter until your husband got back. It is the least I could do.”

  “I am beginning to see what Etta June sees in you,” Pat Dixon said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Surely you know by now that she has taken a shine to you. I saw it that night we stayed for supper.”

  “She is a fine woman,” Lin said.

  “The finest. You came along at just the right time. For a year now she has grieved over her T
om. She has cried herself to sleep at night so many times, she has run out of tears.”

  “Should you be telling me this?”

  “You deserve to know. She will never forget him, but she is over him. She is ready for a new man in her life.”

  “We are getting ahead of ourselves,” Lin said.

  “I know; I know. The heart cannot be rushed. All I am saying is that you do not need to worry her heart is already filled.”

  Pat smiled and left.

  Settling back, Lin draped an arm over his eyes. He was so tired, he could not keep his eyes open. He fell asleep thinking of Etta June’s face and eyes and the touch of her hand on his.

  A sound woke him. Blinking, Lin gazed about him in confusion until he remembered where he was. Outside the window the world was a somber gray, and the room was dark with the approaching twilight.

  Lin was thirsty, but he did not holler for a drink. He had imposed on the good graces of the Dixons too much as it was. Granted, he was not to blame, given the condition he was in. Nevertheless, he was uncomfortable having them wait on him and nurse him. He had hardly ever needed nursing. He could count the number of times he had been sick on one hand and have fingers left over.

  Shifting to make himself comfortable, Lin stared at the ceiling. He imagined he saw Etta June’s face floating in the air and smiling down at him. He sure did miss her.

  A noise from the front of the house perked Lin’s ears. He sat up. He would swear it had been a low cry. Nerves, he reckoned, and listened without hearing anything more.

  “I am downright silly,” Lin chided himself. But it was almost too quiet. Pat and Sue were not ghosts. They should make some sounds. The house might as well be a tomb.

  Lin figured they were outdoors doing last-minute chores. The chicken coop had to be shut for the night. All the horses had to be put in the corral or the stable.

  Garden implements and other tools had to be put away. Sinking into the pillow, he willed himself to relax.

  Lin might have dozed off a third time, but just then the house resounded with a loud crash. Pushing himself up, he listened for voices. But the house remained quiet. Worried now, he carefully swung his legs over the edge. “Pat? Sue?” he called out.

  No one responded.