Brotherhood of Evil

by William W. Johnstone

  “Reckon I am,” Preacher said. “But I didn’t have nothin’ to do with ’em dyin’.”

  “I’m surprised they didn’t shoot you anyway, just for the fun of it.” The young man glanced nervously at the open double doors and lowered his voice. “I’d better quit talking like that. Some of them might be out there. They could hear me, and then I’d be in trouble.”

  “Them owlhoot horses I led in,” Preacher said, making it sound casual, “do they happen to be here?”

  “Yeah. They’re out in the corral, where we’ll have to leave your team. All the stalls are full. We’d better get busy, too. There’s not much light left.”

  Preacher and the young man, who introduced himself as Wendell, worked together for the next few minutes. They unhitched the mules and left the wagon where it was parked as they led the animals into the corral next to the barn. Preacher was glad to see that Horse was there. The stallion spotted him, too, and greeted him with a sharp whinny and a toss of the head.

  “Huh,” Wendell said. “Wonder what’s got into that big fella?”

  “Ain’t no tellin’,” Preacher said, but he knew the gray was glad to see him, and the feeling was mutual. Later, he would have to sneak Horse out of there, get to the school, and rendezvous with Matt. Then they would head for Knob Hill to meet Smoke.

  The shadows were thick inside the barn. Wendell lit a couple lanterns and pointed to the ladder leading to the hayloft. “You can go up there any time you want. I’m surprised you don’t just sleep in your wagon, though. I mean, what do you usually do when you’re on the trail?”

  Preacher hadn’t even thought about that. He supposed ol’ Ike could’ve had a bunk inside the wagon, or maybe a tent he pitched. Preacher wanted to be someplace where he could move around more easily, though. “Yeah, I do, but a nice pile o’ hay is softer ’n a bedroll.”

  “Well, it doesn’t make me any never mind,” Wendell said with a shrug. “But say, if you’re not ready to turn in yet, I’ve got a checkerboard in the office. What do you say to a game or two?”

  “Now you’re talkin’. Ain’t much I like better ’n a friendly game o’ checkers.” And that would give him an excuse to find out even more about what was going on in Big Rock, he thought. Checkers and conversation just sort of went together.

  Over the next couple hours they played several games, and Preacher heard again all about how the gang had raided the town several nights earlier, how Sheriff Monte Carson was a prisoner in his own jail, and how half of the outlaws had gone out to Sugarloaf, attacked the ranch, and taken Sally Jensen prisoner.

  “They talk a lot about it,” Wendell said as he studied the checkerboard, contemplating his next move. “I’ve overheard them saying things about Mrs. Jensen several times.”

  “Reckon they’re proud of what they’ve done,” Preacher said.

  They wouldn’t be proud when Smoke found out about it, though. If they hurt Sally—or even if they didn’t—they’d be sorry.

  Sorry they had ever crossed Smoke Jensen and the rest of his family.

  Chapter 47

  Matt stood at the window in the front room of Lorena’s cottage and eased the curtain back. He had blown out the lamp a few minutes earlier, so the room was dark, allowing him to see what was going on outside, which appeared to be nothing.

  “Do you see anything?” Lorena asked from behind him in a worried tone.

  “Not a blessed thing. There’s some light a few blocks away, probably from the saloons, but this end of town is plumb peaceful.” At least that’s what it looked like. He knew that appearances could be deceptive.

  “There have been times at night, while I was trying to sleep, when I’ve heard men on horseback riding by in the street. I’m sure they were guard patrols.”

  “More than likely,” Matt agreed. “I’ll have to keep an eye out for them.”

  “If you’re going back to the school, you’ll be heading away from where the guards are most likely to be, won’t you?”

  “That’s sure what I’m hoping.”

  “And you have to go now?”

  Matt let the curtain fall closed and turned away from the window. He could make out the slender shape of Lorena standing a few feet away from him.

  “Preacher and I didn’t set a particular time,” he explained. “We just said we’d meet at the school. If he gets there before me, he’ll wait. Likewise if I get there first. I reckon if it got to be too late and one of us hadn’t shown up, whoever was there might have to think about getting out of town before sunup. But that’s not going to happen.”

  “What it amounts to . . . is that you could take an extra few minutes before you leave?”

  “I don’t see any reason why not.” He smiled faintly in the darkness as he heard the rustle of cloth. Lorena came toward him. He reached out, and she moved into his embrace. He closed his arms around her as his mouth found hers.

  The kiss was long, passionate, urgent. Her fingers clutched at the front of his shirt. When she finally pulled back, she whispered, “Take me with you.”

  Matt stiffened a little in surprise. “What?”

  “Take me with you,” she repeated. “I want to come with you when you leave Big Rock.”

  Matt moved his hands to her shoulders and rested them there. “I’m not leaving for good. I’ll be coming back here. Me and Preacher and Smoke, and anybody else we can find to help us. Somebody’s got to deal with those men who took over the town, and I reckon we’re the only ones who can do it.”

  “I can be one of those who help you,” Lorena insisted.

  He shook his head, even though he wasn’t sure if she could see him. “I was thinking more of the crew out at Sugarloaf. They’re a pretty salty bunch.”

  “You think I can’t be . . . salty? I have to deal with a whole schoolhouse full of unruly children every day!”

  Matt almost laughed, but he sensed that she was serious. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “It wouldn’t be safe to take you along. You might get hurt.”

  “I’m willing to run that risk.”

  His tone hardened. “Well, I’m not. Besides, I’d be worried about looking after you, and that might make me let my guard down at just the wrong time.”

  “Oh. So I’d be a liability, is that it?”

  Sounded like he’d succeeded in offending her after all, he thought. But it was better for her to be offended than to be shot on sight for violating the gang’s curfew.

  “I appreciate all the help you gave me earlier, Lorena, I really do. But from here on out, this isn’t the sort of job a schoolteacher needs to be mixed up in. There’s going to be gun work, and a lot of it.”

  “A job for a killer, in other words.”

  “To be blunt about it . . . yes.”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry, Matt. I don’t know what came over me. I just thought . . . for a minute there, it seemed like such a grand adventure . . . and I’ve never really done anything exciting. . . .”

  “Fighting outlaws isn’t all that exciting. Mostly it’s just scary. I don’t reckon anybody ever gets used to the sound of a bullet whipping past their ears.”

  “No, I . . . I know I never would.” She lifted her arms and cupped his face with her hands. “I shouldn’t have put you in that awkward position. Will you accept a kiss as an apology?”

  “You bet I will. And another one for good luck.”

  He left the cottage a few minutes later with the sweet taste of Lorena’s lips still on his.

  It took him only a fraction of a second to put those kisses behind him, though. Instantly, all his senses were on hair-trigger alert, and his instincts were working at peak efficiency.

  The cottage was completely dark, as were the houses close by. Matt threw a leg over the sill of a window in a small side room Lorena used as a sewing room, climbed out, and dropped the short distance to the ground, landing noiselessly. He figured that if any of the patrolling gunmen happened to glance at the cottage, they would be more likely to pay attentio
n to the doors rather than the windows.

  He looked back through the window, knowing that Lorena was in the darkened room even though he couldn’t see her. He lifted a hand in a brief farewell and ghosted into the shadows under the trees.

  Nobody was better than Preacher at moving like a phantom through the night, but he had taught Matt quite a bit about it. Matt stuck to the blackest areas and didn’t take a step until his gut told him that nobody was watching him. His progress toward the school was slow but steady. Since the building wasn’t far away, he figured it wouldn’t take him long to get there, even being as careful as he was.

  What he hadn’t reckoned on was the low, frightened cry that drifted through the night.

  Chapter 48

  Matt’s head snapped around. The sound had come from the direction of Lorena’s cottage. He was pretty sure she was the one who had cried out.

  Something had happened, he realized, and he could either go back and find out what it was, or he could continue to the school, rendezvous with Preacher, and get the hell out of Big Rock while he had the chance.

  It took him less than half a second to make up his mind.

  He broke into a run toward the cottage, less concerned with stealth than he was with speed.

  The window he had climbed out of was still open. So was the front door. Lorena had lit a lamp once he was gone, and light spilled through the opening.

  He reached the window, grasped the sill, and pulled himself up and through the opening with lithe athleticism. Thump. He landed on the floor of the sewing room, but he thought the sound of a man’s harsh laughter from the front room probably covered it up.

  “Where’s that damn brother of yours?” the man demanded. “I was hopin’ to teach him a little lesson before I give you what you got comin’, schoolteacher.”

  Matt recognized the voice. It belonged to the man whose face he had gashed with that jagged piece of wood earlier in the day. Dixon, that was his name.

  “Charles . . . Charles isn’t here,” Lorena said, “but he just stepped out. Please don’t hurt him!”

  “Where’d he go?”

  “He . . .” Lorena hesitated, and Matt could practically see her mind working feverishly as he eased toward the door. “There’s a girl . . . he’s sweet on. He went to see her, to make sure she’s all right.” Her voice strengthened as she grew more sure of herself. “But he won’t cause any trouble, I swear. He’s a very . . . a very peaceable man.”

  Matt smiled grimly in the darkness at that.

  “Well, I hope the gal was worth it,” Dixon said. “I’m gonna wait here until he comes back, and when he does . . . well, Major Pike’s orders were pretty clear, weren’t they?”

  Lorena sobbed in the front room. Matt wasn’t sure if she was acting or not. She had no way of knowing that he had heard her cry and came back. As far as she knew, he had gone on to the school as planned. She had to answer Dixon’s questions about her so-called brother, and she had to be convincingly scared for his life.

  Acting frightened couldn’t be too difficult under the circumstances. She had to be terrified of Dixon for her own sake, since she wasn’t expecting any help from Matt.

  Dixon made it worse. “Of course, if you was to make me happy enough before your stupid brother gets back, maybe I’d decide to show a little mercy and let him live, no matter what the major says.”

  Matt didn’t believe that for a second. Dixon wouldn’t want to risk his boss’s wrath. He would force Lorena into cooperating with him, and then gun down “Charles Morton” anyway. It had to be what he was planning.

  In a voice that shook a little with fear and revulsion, Lorena said, “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

  Dixon laughed. “I figured you would. C’mere . . .”

  Matt had reached the little hallway between the front room and the kitchen. In the glow from the lamp, two shadows writhed, came together, then pulled apart as Lorena instinctively struggled against Dixon’s brutish grasp.

  That sight was all Matt could stand. Moving in an almost silent rush, he burst into the front room and crashed into Dixon in a diving tackle as he tried to pull Lorena closer to him.

  Both went down, falling heavily against the divan. Matt’s left hand clamped like iron around Dixon’s right wrist, preventing the outlaw from drawing his gun. At the same time, Matt hammered a punch at the outlaw’s face. The man twisted his head aside at the last second so the blow grazed his ear. He howled in pain anyway.

  His left hand shot up and grabbed Matt by the throat. Matt aimed a knee at Dixon’s groin, but again the outlaw writhed out of the way just in time, taking the knee on his thigh. He arched his back, bucked up from the floor, and rolled, taking Matt with him.

  Matt wound up on the bottom with Dixon leering down at him. He was a good-sized man, and his weight and the brutal grip on Matt’s throat allowed him to keep Matt pinned to the floor.

  As the lack of air started to get to him, Matt levered his right leg up and scissored it in front of Dixon’s head. He threw all of his strength into straightening the leg, and that tore Dixon’s hand away from his throat. Dixon toppled to the side.

  Matt couldn’t hold on to the wrist of Dixon’s gun hand, but he surged up and leaped at the outlaw again before Dixon had time to draw the revolver. Matt lowered his head and rammed it into Dixon’s jaw. Dixon went over backwards. Matt slammed him to the floor as hard as he could.

  The impact didn’t knock Dixon out, but his gun was jolted out of its holster and went sliding away across the smooth hardwood floor.

  Matt didn’t have a chance to go after it. Dixon threw both arms around him in a bear hug and rolled over. Lorena cried out as they crashed into her legs and knocked her down.

  Matt hoped she was all right, but he didn’t have time to check on her. Dixon was putting so much pressure on his ribs it felt like they were starting to creak and bend. Matt head-butted him again. He felt Dixon’s nose crunch and flatten. Dixon yelled and loosened his grip. Matt tore free.

  Blood gouted from Dixon’s broken nose, but the injury didn’t slow him down. He brought up a leg and kicked Matt in the chest. Matt slid across the floor on his back. Dixon leaped after him, clubbed his fists together, and smashed them across Matt’s face.

  Matt’s vision spun crazily from the powerful blow. A red haze seemed to drop across his eyes. He realized he was about to lose consciousness and fought it off. As Dixon lifted both fists to strike again, Matt hooked a punch to the man’s belly. Dixon’s breath gusted out, and he looked sick. Matt shoved him away to get some room between them and fought his way to his feet.

  Dixon was still down. Matt was about to kick him in the jaw when his other foot slipped on one of Lorena’s throw rugs. He went down hard, giving Dixon the chance to recover his wits. He sprang at Matt and landed on the young man’s belly with both knees.

  A split second later, both of Dixon’s hands closed around Matt’s throat. Matt knew the outlaw wouldn’t let go until he’d choked the life out of him.

  A dull thud sounded. Dixon’s eyes opened wide, bulged out, and then rolled up in their sockets. His hands came loose from Matt’s neck as he rolled off limply to one side.

  Lorena stood behind him, her chest heaving, both hands wrapped around the gun that had come out of Dixon’s holster. Matt could tell from the way she held it that she had just used the gun barrel to hit Dixon in the back of the head and knock him out.

  Matt was pretty breathless from the savage battle. He pushed himself up on one hand and summoned a grin for Lorena. “You cold-cocked him just in time—”

  Outside the open front door, a man said, “Dixon, if you’ve come here to pester that schoolteacher again—”

  The newcomer broke off his comment as he stepped into the doorway. Matt recognized him as Bracken, the man who had been with Dixon at the school earlier.

  The outlaw took in the scene in a heartbeat—Matt on the floor, Dixon lying senseless nearby, Lorena standing with a gun in her hands. He couldn�
�t know in that instant whether Dixon was alive or dead.

  But he could see the gun, and Matt knew from what Lorena had told him that Major Pike’s orders were clear.

  Any citizen of Big Rock caught with a weapon was to be killed immediately.

  Bracken was fast on the draw. He had to be in his line of work. His hand flashed to the Colt on his hip. The iron cleared leather and came up spouting flame just as Matt leaped to his feet and threw himself at Lorena, hoping to knock her out of the line of fire.

  A sledgehammer blow crashed against his head. A black cavern opened up before him, and he toppled into it with no knowledge of what had happened to Lorena . . . or anything else except oblivion.

  Chapter 49

  Preacher and Wendell finished their checker games, and the young hostler turned in, stretching out on a cot in the tack room after turning the lantern down very low. It was unlikely that anyone would need anything else, unless one of the outlaws came in for his horse for some reason.

  Preacher glanced to the tack room where Wendell had left the door open then climbed to the loft. In the faint glow coming from below, he could see the piles of hay. He knew how comfortable it would be to lie down on one of those soft mounds. It had been a long day and he was tired . . . but he had a lot to do and a ways to go before he could sleep—if he managed to get any sleep at all.

  After a while, he heard snoring coming from inside the tack room. It mixed with the sounds of horses blowing, flicking their tails, and moving around a little in their stalls, but his footsteps made no sound on the hay scattered across the floor as he went to the small opening in the back of the hayloft. He unlatched the shutter-like door and swung it out, then leaned through the opening and looked and listened intently.

  A few strains of music came faintly to his ears. In one of the saloons some outlaws must have forced the piano player to tickle the ivories.

  Preacher didn’t hear any hoofbeats or see anyone moving around. The alley behind the livery stable was shadowy and deserted as far as he could tell. The old mountain man knew if his keen senses didn’t pick up on anything, it just flat wasn’t there.