by Neil Hunter
Horn had already proved what he was capable of and Colter couldn’t see the man backing away now.
Alright, Nathan if this is the way you want it, let it happen. Just think on because of anything happens to Rachel there isn’t a big enough piece of country for you to hide in.
Colter let his hand drop to brush against the butt of his holstered Colt.
Not big enough by half.
~*~
Middle of the morning and the heat was reaching a peak. The sun bleaching down from a cloudless sky. Radiating off rocks and shimmering in the air around them. There was little chance to escape from it. This was New Mexico at its most merciless. No one could avoid it…
~*~
‘That damn breed should be showing his face by now,’ Campbell said, twisting in his saddle.
Hamish Campbell, a long-faced Scott, had little humor. He was a short, broad-bodied man in his late thirties. A mass of thick, curling hair fell to the collar of the striped shirt that had hardly been off his back for months. His unshaven, dour face twisted in a scowl.
‘What about Thompson and Ransome?’ Joe Guthrie asked. ‘They’re taking their time. How hard is it to find a woman on her own?’
Horn reined in, clasping his hands around the saddle horn as he stretched in the stirrups.
‘That’s Rachel Colter you’re talking about. Smart as a whip that woman. I’d guess she’s giving those boys a damn good run.’
‘Damn good run, hell. This ain’t a game, Nathan. We’re all in this for that Spanish gold. How you goin’ to make Colter do what you want if we lose our bargaining chip?’
It was unusual for Joe Guthrie to get serious. It made Horn aware of how important this whole scheme was to the men under his command. They were depending on Corozon’s hoard to make them wealthy men. Seeing Rachel Colter break away was diminishing the dream. If they struck rich on the hoard the whole bunch would be set for life—although Horn had his reservations on that. Apart from Guthrie, who did have a brain inside his head, the rest of them would most likely waste any money they made on the vices that tended to rule their pedestrian lives. Drink. Women. Gambling. Horn could imagine any number of them ending up broke again in a few months. There were those men in life destined never to amount to much and the majority of his bunch filled that category. Horn didn’t concern himself over that. He had taken them on to provide necessary assistance. They knew the territory and they carried ready guns. He had needed help to carry out the first part of his plan—the razing of Colter’s spread, scattering his horses and burning his house. The shooting of the Apache, Chey, had been an added enticement for Colter to follow them—as if the taking of his wife wasn’t enough.
For Nathan Horn kidnapping Rachel Colter was a bonus.
Damn right he wanted the gold and silver. It had been his dream for a long time.
But he also wanted his revenge on Colter for taking Rachel from him all those years ago. Horn had not got over it. She had turned him down because, for whatever reason, she favored Ben Colter and chose to marry him. Horn had been unable to accept that. In his own eyes he was the better man. When Rachel had walked away, into Colter’s arms, a dark hole opened in Horn’s existence. He was unable to look at any other woman without seeing Rachel, and there was always in the depths of his very being, the conviction that he would one day get her back. Horn refused to face the possibility it would never happen. He still wanted her. Not that he didn’t go with other women to satisfy his sexual needs. Bought women. Readily available women. In truth none of them meant a damn thing to him, save for the fleeting pleasure they provided. He used them and moved on, because there was always, just out of reach, his ideal.
Rachel Colter.
Horn had made himself a promise. When his scheme came to fruition, and Colter had brought him to Corozon’s hoard, there were two things he was going to do.
One would be to finally kill the man.
The other would be to take Rachel, by force if need be, and he would have what he had always wanted from her. Even that passing thought excited him for a brief moment.
Horn came back to reality. Before any of his plans could work out he needed Rachel under his control again.
‘Spread out. We’ll cover our back trail. Let’s find out what the hell is going on. Just remember we need that woman alive. Guthrie, with me.’
Horses were reined about. The group dispersed and headed out.
~*~
It was a time of mixed emotions for Chet Ballard. First the death of Chey. Now Tula. Two good men. Their deaths brought about because of the attack on Ben Colter’s place and the kidnapping of Ben’s wife. If he and McCall hadn’t made their visit to Colter’s spread they might never have known what had happened. Not that Ballard felt any resentment over becoming involved. Colter was his friend going back a long time. And friendship meant a great deal to him.
Since leaving Tula, for which he still felt bad, Ballard had ridden almost non-stop. He wanted to locate Colter and Jess McCall. He had a feeling they might be in need of an extra gun. Ballard had no idea what he was riding towards. It made no difference. His friends needed him and that was enough.
The death of Tula would have to be faced when this was over. The Apache deserved his traditional funeral, not abandonment in the middle of nowhere. Apache death ceremonies were sacred things, not to be passed over lightly. Ballard would make his best efforts to see that Tula would receive what was rightly his. The way a warrior met his dying meant a great deal to The People. Tula needed to be able to meet Usen in the Apache way.
Chet Ballard meant to see it was honored.
~*~
Carter Ransome stood over Snakekiller’s body, disbelief in his eyes. He took in the scene, the blood dried and caked, the breed’s wide-eyed stare. Snakekiller’s own knife protruding from his throat. Whatever he might have been expecting this wasn’t it. Horn wasn’t going to be pleased with Snakekiller dead. The man had been his best tracker.
‘I found his saddle and trappings back there,’ Cy Thompson said, breaking into his partner’s thoughts. ‘Horse is gone.’
He was leading his own horse, pausing to scratch a Lucifer on the butt of his holstered pistol. He lit the thin, black cigar held between his lips. He stared down at the body with an indifferent expression on his lean face.
‘She’ll have his rifle then,’ Ransome observed.
He rubbed at his unshaven jaw, feeling the rasp of dark stubble. Ransome was hard-faced. Medium height and build. He favored fancy clothes. A bright shirt and striped pants. A large neckerchief that hung its folds down his front. His hat was high crowned, the brim kept flat. Right now his attire was dusty and wrinkled from the long hours in the saddle. Around his waist he wore a hand-tooled Mexican gun rig, the holster sporting a .44 Remington New Model Army revolver. The holster was cut to leave the trigger guard exposed, the butt turned slightly outwards. Ransome had the holster tied down.
‘I just hope all this is going to be worth it,’ he said. ‘We find that hoard it better be worth it.’
‘You getting jittery?’ Thompson asked. He grinned, showing crooked teeth. He blew smoke.
‘That damn woman running around with Snakekiller’s rifle? Yeah, I’m getting’ jittery. Look what she did to the breed.’
‘She shore made certain he was dead.’
Ransome pointed out, ‘With his own damned knife too. How’d she manage to get hold of that.’
‘I figure Snakekiller was occupied with other things,’ Thompson said, indicating where the front of the dead man’s pants gaped open. ‘Too busy with his pecker. That breed never could get his mind off women.’
‘You find any tracks?’
Thompson offered a vague wave of his hand. ‘Yeah. She went back the way we come in. I’d venture she’s gone looking for her old man. We follow her an’ with luck we might find both of ’em.’
Ransome crossed to where his horse stood and mounted up. He slid his own rifle from the boot and kept it close. He wasn’t
going to risk letting the Colter woman catch him napping. If she wanted to play a man’s game that was fine with Carter Ransome.
~*~
They rested in the shade of a wide stand of cottonwoods. The horses bent their heads and contentedly cropped the grass that grew in the area.
‘Those tracks are still pretty clear,’ McCall said. He was studying the well-defined hoof prints. ‘Those boys might as well be leaving handwritten signs for us to follow.’
‘Horn knows what he’s doing,’ Colter said. ‘Drawing us in.’
‘Must want that hoard pretty bad.’
‘Nathan always liked the thought of plenty of money. Thing is he never took to having to work for it. Figured if he could get his hands on it easy he’d go for that.’
‘You ever think he’d kill to get what he wanted?’
‘Let’s say I’m not all that surprised the way things have gone.’
McCall cuffed his hat back. Sleeved his forehead. ‘Son, I’m sweating fit to bust. It always so hot around here?’
Colter smiled. ‘Gets this way sometimes. Likely it’ll get cooler now we’re starting to climb.’ He indicated the rugged slope ahead. ‘That’s the way we’re going.’
McCall surveyed the landscape. ‘Ben, you haven’t made my day any easier.’ He raised a hand and pointed. ‘You see that?’
Colter joined him, following in the direction McCall was indicating.
‘Horse and rider. Too far to see who it is…’
The tone of Colter’s voice suggested he might have a feeling who the rider was.
‘Let’s go find out,’ McCall said and they mounted up and put their horses towards the rider.
~*~
‘I see her,’ Ransome said.
Thompson picked up the small figure of the single rider on the lower slope. ‘Yeah, we got her,’ he said.
They put their horses to the rocky slope, negotiating the uneven surface with care. There was a degree of loose shale and eroded sections that made fast riding too risky. As eager as they were to catch up with Rachel Colter, neither man was going risk a fall that might result in broken limbs—or worse.
By this time they were within rifle range of the lone rider. Under other circumstances they could have fired on Rachel Colter and brought her down. That wasn’t about to happen. Horn’s orders had been specific.
Capture the woman.
Don’t hurt her.
That was the problem. Ransome knew she wouldn’t give up without a fight. And damned if she wasn’t more than capable of doing that. All Ransom had to recall was Snakekiller.
Horse and rider reached close to the base of the slope.
Movement further out. A pair of riders who had cleared a wide stand of cottonwoods and were cutting across to intersect with the Colter woman.
Ransome squinted his eyes against the sun’s glare as the two riders came on. He couldn’t yet make out who they were but his instinct told him one of them was Ben Colter.
~*~
‘It’s Rachel.’
Colter spurred his horse forward, waving to catch his wife’s attention. She saw him herself and responded with a wave of her own, pushing her own horse forward as it reached the base of the slope. Distance closed as they rode towards each other.
Catching up Jess McCall watched the pair of riders still partway up the slope. Still coming. He kept his eyes on them as he brought his horse up to Colter and his wife.
‘Are you hurt?’ Colter asked, seeing the dark blood stains on her clothing where her coat had been part unbuttoned because of the heat.
Rachel shook her head, hair streaming behind her. ‘It’s not mine.’ She looked at McCall. ‘Who’s this?’
‘Jess McCall, ma’am.’
‘Don’t shoot him,’ Colter said. ‘This is Chet’s partner. He’s been with me since I found out what had happened.’
‘Ben, it’s Nathan Horn behind everything…’
‘I figured it out. Why he took you. What he wants.’
‘Where’s Chet?’
‘Somewhere behind us I’m guessing,’ McCall said. ‘He took the Apache, Chey, back to his people.’
Colter was watching the pair of riders moving in their direction. Rachel turned in her saddle.
‘Two of Horn’s men,’ Rachel said. ‘They’ll want to take me back.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ Colter said.
‘I don’t want to be the one to spoil things,’ McCall said, ‘but we might have a problem there.’
Colter and Rachel followed his gaze.
More mounted men were converging on their position. Coming from left and right. All armed.
Nathan Horn brought up the rear as the riders converged on them.
‘No easy way out of this,’ McCall said softly. ‘They got us boxed, people, so let’s do the right thing and walk soft for now.’
~*~
By the time Horn edged his horse through his group of riders, McCall. Ballard and Rachel had all been disarmed. He sat facing them, an expression of satisfaction on his face.
‘This has turned out to be a good day after all,’ he said. ‘All my friends gathered in one place. Just like I planned.’
‘I like people to be happy,’ McCall said.
‘Now I know Ben. I know Rachel,’ Horn said. ‘I have no idea who you are.’
‘Jess McCall. From what I’ve learned you’ll be the feller we can blame for all this upset.’
Joe Guthrie said, ‘Why don’t we just up and shoot this loudmouth? Don’t see what we need him for.’
‘It’s a thought,’ Horn agreed.
‘Why not, Nathan,’ Rachel said. ‘Just make it one more reason why I know I was right to turn you down.’
Color flared in Horn’s face. He held himself rigid in his saddle as he turned his attention to her.
‘That’s quite a speech coming from the woman who recently murdered one of my associates.’
‘If you mean Snakekiller he got just what he deserved. Given the chance I’d do it again.’
‘Just don’t let her get her hands on a knife,’ Ransome said. ‘That little lady is pure hellcat.’
‘It appears, Rachel, I underestimated you,’ Horn said. ‘That can be dealt with later. Let’s concentrate on the matter at hand.’ He swung round to Colter. ‘The little matter of Father Corozon’s gold and silver...’
‘No nice to see you, Ben? Where are your manners, Nathan?’
‘…that you are going to take us to without any more nonsense,’ Horn said without a break.’
‘You’ll end up shooting us all anyhow,’ Rachel said calmly, ‘so I don’t see why we should make you rich as well.’
Horn took off his hat and ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair. His face went taut with barely-concealed frustration.
‘Somebody tie her up again and put a gag over her damn mouth. She is starting to annoy me.’
‘Why, Nathan, I recall the time when you only wanted to hold me and…’
Rachel’s words were cut off when Horn swung his left hand round in a powerful arc. It cracked against the side of her face, the sound loud in the quietness of the empty country. The blow knocked Rachel out of the saddle, dazed, and she hit the ground hard.
‘In future, my dear young lady, I’ll let you know when I want you to speak. Ben has allowed you too much freedom. It’s time a real man stepped up to teach you how to behave.’
Out the corner of his eye McCall saw Colter tense, ready to react.
‘Not the time, son,’ he said quietly. ‘Don’t throw it all away.’
‘Take your friends advice, Ben,’ Horn said. ‘Just remember who holds the cards in this game.’
Ransome stepped down and dragged Rachel to her feet. Someone passed him a length of rope and he secured her wrists. A neckerchief was tied over her mouth, forcing her lips open as the knot was tightly tied. Ransome boosted her back on her horse.
‘It seems your friend, McCall, might be useful after all, Ben. I’d let him advise you
to stay calm if I were you.’ Horn stared at the Texan. ‘Keep him in line, McCall. If he does something stupid I might be forced to shoot you as a warning. Now start proving to me you know where that damned hoard is. I’ve had enough of this playing around. Joe, you ride up front with Ben and McCall. Anything don’t seem right you can take it out on McCall.’
Horn took the reins of Rachel’s horse as they moved off. She ignored him, but managed to catch Colter’s eye as he rode by. The side of her face where Horn had struck her was starting to show an inflamed bruise and blood ran from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes met his for a moment and she nodded gently.
I’m fine, she was telling him. Just do what he wants for now.
McCall caught the look and he felt his admiration for the young woman grow. Subdued as she was Rachel wasn’t giving up. The big Texan was thinking along the same lines. As long as they stayed alive there was always a chance. Given that chance McCall would create his own rebellion and Nathan Horn and his bunch were going to feel it when he descended on them.
~*~
Concealed in the stand of cottonwoods Chet Ballard witnessed the tail end of the capture of his friends. He saw the slap that threw Rachel from her saddle and at that moment his big hands gripping the rifle he was holding knuckle-cracked with tension. He had arrived too late to join his partner and Colter and was forced to stay hidden and witness the standoff. It was too far for him to hear anything being said but he could understand from what was happening that there was a situation taking place. When Colter and McCall were placed at the head of the group, leading off, it was plain to see Colter was being made to lead the group.
Where were they going?
And what would he find at the end of their trek. There was still a great deal Chet Ballard didn’t understand. He was going to find out. Since he and McCall had ridden in to find Colter’s spread razed to the ground and Chey badly wounded there had been a mystery in evidence.
