by Nathan Jones
The bandit snorted, voice bitter. “You've got to be the snuggest SOB I've ever met, Graham.”
“Hey, I'm giving you a chance to surrender after nearly putting a bullet in me twice. Show some gratitude.” He reached Lobo and knelt, quickly patting him down for more weapons. The man's right leg was soaked with blood, not a minor wound but not life-threatening. At least not anytime soon.
“Twice?” the bandit shot back in disbelief. “More like two dozen.”
“Don't flatter yourself.” There was a knife on the man's belt that Skyler confiscated, then he pulled out a few zip ties and got to work binding the man's wrists behind his back; situations like these made the things worth the price he'd paid for them during his visit to the Northern League. “I assume you're not going to try to run?”
Lobo responded with an eloquent stream of curses.
“Yeah, I'm surprised you were still on your feet.” Grunting, he hefted the bandit onto his shoulders; the man stank, and his clothes felt noticeably filthy. To say nothing of the blood everywhere. But Skyler had dealt with his share of unpleasantness over the years and none of those things fazed him.
He carried Lobo over to Junior, who shifted uneasily at the smell of blood but otherwise kept to his training as Skyler tied the man across his saddle. That leg needed attention sooner rather than later, so he'd have to come back for the camp after he'd seen to it one way or the other.
Tending a bandit's wounds before stringing him up for his crimes was just something civilized people did.
“You know I used to be called Lobo, too?” Skyler said casually as he led Junior towards the ranch, glancing back at the bound man.
Lobo snorted. “By who, gringo?”
“Sangue, actually, while I was skirmishing against them. Lobo Solitario, the Lone Wolf. They hated me.”
“Well I can believe that last part, at least.” The wounded man's voice was filled with contempt. “You tried to string that BS earlier, and we weren't buying it then either. You really want to pretend you fought the bloodies five years ago when you were, what, fourteen? And you did well enough to earn yourself a nickname and a reputation?”
“Fifteen, actually,” he replied blandly.
“Mierda!” Lobo snorted. “Tell me another one.”
“After the way I've been thrashing your entire gang single-handedly, you'd think that would be easier to swallow.”
The bandit muttered something almost inaudible that was definitely not complimentary.
Skyler held up his hands as if in defeat. “Okay, you got me . . . Lobo wasn't actually me.” As the man grunted in smug satisfaction he continued with relish. “It was me and my dad, both operating on our own. They just thought it was one person because they didn't think two people could be that good.”
Lobo snorted his disbelief, then got back to muttering.
After a while, though, the man fell silent. And stayed silent. After an uncomfortable few minutes Skyler glanced back at his prisoner, wondering if he'd passed out.
Instead he saw dim moonlight glittering in dark eyes that stared at him intently. “What?” he demanded, a bit creeped out.
“You're going up against our entire gang,” the bandit replied. “Just you and a few ranchers. I'm trying to decide if you're insane or crazy.”
Skyler smirked. “They mean the same thing.”
“Of course they don't!” Lobo snapped. “English has lots of words that mean almost the same thing, but aren't exactly alike. It's why those different words exist, right?”
He thought about it. “Nope, I'm pretty sure with those two they just mean the exact same thing.”
To his surprise the wounded man bristled with sudden fury. “No, they don't! Why would the English language have two words with the same meaning? What would be the point? It doesn't make sense, and things have to make sense! If they don't then it means everyone else is crazy!”
Junior danced nervously, and Skyler couldn't blame him; he was fighting the urge to edge away himself. “Did you, um, get introduced to this philosophical dilemma by the fact that lots of folks call you both those words?”
There was a long pause as the man stared at him, and when he finally replied he sounded surprised. “How did you know?” He didn't wait for an answer, going back to his ravings. “You have any idea how confusing it is to be called two different things, and not know which you are?”
Skyler finally edged back a bit, to the ends of the reins he held. “Well bad news, amigo, I can tell you right now. Whatever you want to call it, insane, mad, crazy, loco, unhinged . . . it all means you've got serious issues.”
The bandit thrashed against his bonds. “My bullet was this close, Graham!” he yelled, although tied across a saddle he couldn't really give any indicator of how close “this” was. “This close, and I'd be talking to a corpse right now!”
“Yeah, that kinda seems like something you'd do.” Skyler turned and kept walking, ignoring Lobo's continued cursing and threats.
Guessing that Bob was going to be skittish after the attack, he approached the ranch more cautiously than he otherwise would've. He also whistled Trapper's usual signal for friendlies coming in, although he couldn't be sure his friend would remember it after just the brief rundown on all the signals earlier.
Maybe the rancher did, or maybe his desire to not shoot before giving warning proved useful for once, because Skyler heard Bob's voice greeting him as he approached.
“I've got wounded!” he called back. “One of the bandits! Got news about the others, too!”
Two figures on opposite sides of the yard detached from the shadows and approached. “How did it go?” Fernando asked as he joined him. “You're still alive, so it didn't go how I expected when you rode off to pick a fight with an entire gang.”
Well, that was certainly a vote of confidence from Adalia's cousin. Speaking of the young woman . . . “How's Jared doing?”
Bob answered gravely as he reached them. “Alive, thank God. Miss Ruiz is still working on him.”
Skyler jerked his thumb towards Lobo. “Well when she's done, maybe she can take a look at our guest. I got him in the leg as I was chasing the others off.”
“They're gone, then?” his friend asked eagerly.
He felt a bit bad about giving the wrong impression as he shook his head. “Just retreated back to the gully the stream that goes across your property runs through.” He quickly went over his shootout in the thicket, following Randall's gang back to their new hideout, and what he'd overheard there. “I'm fairly confident they're done for the night, although we shouldn't let down our guard.”
“No, of course not,” Bob agreed. He shifted uncomfortably, motioning at the wounded man across Junior's back. “Speaking of which, I'm not sure how I feel about him staying here. If he gets free he can cause us all kinds of trouble, and we don't have the manpower to watch him. Not to mention his friends might come for him.”
“What's the alternative?” Skyler asked. “Get some rope and string him up?” Lobo shouted in protest at that, falling into Spanish in his panic. At least until Fernando rapped him on the back of the head with his knuckles to shut him up.
“What's his story?” the homesteader asked. “Sangue deserter?”
“Screw you!” the bandit snarled. “I'm no bloody!”
“No, you're just a bandit who sneak attacks people's homes in the night, which is much better,” Fernando said sarcastically. He turned to Bob. “I've got no arguments with a hanging.”
“No hangings,” the rancher said firmly as Lobo raised a new stream of protests. “He hasn't been given a proper trial, and anyway the League patrols usually take care of that sort of thing.” He turned to Skyler. “If you wouldn't mind, how about you take him into town? You can check on Vicky while you're there, let her know what's going on and see if she's had any luck raising a posse.”
“It's an hour each way,” Skyler protested. “You want me to leave the ranch undefended for that long, with Jared down and Lisa bu
sy helping Adalia?”
“You heard Randall say they were done for the night, and anyway Mr. Lopez is here to help.” Bob planted a firm hand on his shoulder. “Please. I'd feel more comfortable with him far away from here.”
“If you insist,” he said slowly, although he didn't like it. “Can Adalia spare a minute from Jared to make sure Lobo survives the trip?”
“I'll go see,” Fernando offered. “I wanted to check in on her anyway.”
“We'll lay him out in the barn, get a lantern lit so she can see what she's doing,” Bob stated, turning away.
Skyler followed after him, leading Junior to the front doors of the big structure. There he had to wait while his friend opened the sturdy lock, then threw open the doors so Skyler could lead his mount inside. The animals crammed into the stalls stretching into the darkness made disquieted noises at the smell of blood, but Skyler couldn't comment since this was Bob's barn and his decision to bring the wounded bandit in here.
As the man prepared a pallet for Lobo near the entrance, Skyler unloaded him and propped him against the wall. Then, since there was no saying how long Junior would be able to rest tonight, he rubbed him down before putting his saddle back on in case he needed to mount up in a hurry. Then he put the faithful stallion in a stall with water, fresh hay, and a handful of oats.
On his way back to see how Bob was doing with Lobo, Adalia and her cousin finally arrived, ducking through the door before shutting it behind them. At Fernando's insistence they strapped the bandit down to the pallet, which combined with his bound hands eliminated any chance of him causing trouble for Adalia while she worked on him.
Even then, the homesteader pulled Skyler aside for a warning. “I need to get back out with Mr. Hendrickson to watch for trouble. If anything happens to my cousin on your watch, you better hope you die in the scuffle before I can get to you.”
The words were spoken cheerfully, and the homesteader family was prone to exaggeration. Still, there was no doubt the man was completely sincere. “I'll keep her safe, my word on it,” Skyler assured him.
Fernando clapped him on the shoulder and slipped outside. Bob followed soon afterwards.
Skyler crouched down across the pallet from Adalia, who was busy cutting aside the man's pant leg to expose the wound. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked.
She glanced up at him, vibrant brown eyes flickering coolly in the lantern light. “I'll let you know.”
Looked as if her distant manner following his reunion with Lisa was still going strong.
Skyler shifted to look down at Lobo, who was staring at the barn roof, teeth clenched. “So while I've got you here with nothing to do,” he said casually, “maybe you could satisfy my curiosity.” The man cursed, either in response to him or because of something the homesteader did to his leg, but he ignored it and kept going. “We showed we're willing and able to defend this ranch tonight, but when I listened in on Randall in the gully he seemed determined to come back. So what's going on there?”
“No mystery,” the bandit growled. “This ranch is the richest.”
“But you've already lost people trying to take it, and everyone but your boss seems inclined to go find easier pickings. Why is he so bound and determined?”
Lobo hissed, either in pain or laughter. “Because it's personal, you little POS.”
Skyler frowned. “I know Randall doesn't like my dad, but any problem they had was ten years ago. You mean personal because of the people you've lost, or because I went after your camp?”
The man's hissing became wheezing, definitely strained laughter. “You really don't know? You really have no idea just how much the boss hates Trapper?” He bared pitted yellow teeth in contempt. “He never shuts up about your pa and how he ruined his life. He loathes him, loathes your mom, and wishes suffering on everyone else from his old convoy almost as much. Including the folks living here.”
“Then he's held a one-sided grudge all these years.” Skyler snorted at the idea. He couldn't recall a single time since coming back from that disastrous trip to Newpost when anyone he knew had even mentioned Randall, let alone given any sign they were thinking of him. Skyler certainly hadn't; he'd pretty much forgotten the man existed the moment he slunk off in disgrace.
“Doesn't make the boss want you any less dead,” Lobo shot back. “He wants payback . . . the chance to rob one of the richest ranches in the area is just a bonus.”
“And you and the others are happy to go along with that?”
More wheezing laughter. “You miss the part about robbing one of the richest ranches?” The bandit licked his lips, expression turning unpleasant. “And we're also looking forward to getting at the womenfolk here. Pretty little things.”
Skyler clenched his teeth against a surge of fury, but before he could respond the man abruptly gave a strangled scream of pain. Skyler's eyes darted to Adalia, who looked as if she was still patiently working on the bandit's leg. Although her expression was a bit too innocent.
“Speaking as the womanfolk tending your wound,” she said sweetly. “It would be best for your health if you stopped talking.”
“So you don't “accidentally” slip and nick an artery?” Lobo laughed bitterly. “Maybe you'd be doing me a favor. I've got a noose in my future, don't I?” He leered at her. “If it helps make up your mind, I could talk about what I'd do to you once we finished up with this place and swung by your miserable little hovel down south.”
This time the young woman didn't rise to the bait. “Mr. Graham?”
He was already moving. “I agree, our friend is asking for a gag. I'm done with questions for now anyway.”
The bandit thrashed against his bonds, trying to get in a few last words as Skyler wadded up a bit of bandaging. The attempt ended in a wheeze as Skyler kneed the man in the solar plexus, which also conveniently made Lobo open his mouth wide to gasp in a new breath, instead of trying to bite his hand as he shoved the gag in.
After that the man's bile was reduced to muffled grunts, probably a stream of curses.
“How's it looking?” he asked Adalia quietly, motioning to the leg.
“He'll probably live,” she said, not sounding particularly happy about it. “I'll clean it, put in a few stitches, slap on some bandages. Should be done in ten minutes.”
Skyler had no complaints about that. The sooner he could get going, the sooner he could get back. “How about Jared?”
The young woman hesitated. “I'm not sure. I could get away for a few minutes for this, but I need to get back in there.”
He hoped her leaving to help scum like Lobo hadn't put Jared in greater danger. “Thank you, Adalia. For taking the risk to come here to help.”
She looked up, dark eyes unreadable. “Speaking of help . . .” She motioned to a bucket of well water nearby. “Give me a hand getting this wound cleaned.”
Skyler nodded and retrieved the bucket, following her terse instructions but otherwise working in silence.
Whether it was her cool attitude towards him or simple focus on her work, he didn't want to distract her with useless jawing.
Chapter Ten
Long Night
Skyler hadn't taken the time with Bob to ask just where in Lone Valley he should take a prisoner. He also hadn't bothered to ask where he could find Aunt Vicky.
That left him just one person he actually knew in town, so he headed to Hancock's Mercantile. Hopefully the man would forgive being woken up in the middle of the night for an emergency. At least, as much as anyone did for something like that.
It took a few minutes of pounding, and being cussed out by someone in a house on the other side of the street, before the trader finally threw open his door. Flooding Skyler and the two horses at the hitching post behind him, his stallion and Jared's gelding Buster who was carrying Lobo, with light from a kerosene lantern that temporarily blinded him.
When he could finally see again, he found Hancock squinting at him over the lantern. “Mr., uh, Graham, was it?”
the man asked. His voice took on the glare the light hid. “The blazes you doing pounding on my door in the dead of night?”
“Sorry for the trouble,” Skyler said. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards Buster. “Got a bandit who needs dealing with.”
The trader spat. “No sheriff in Lone Valley, sorry.”
Yeah, he'd already heard that from Lisa's family. “How about someone who takes on the job as needed?”
“Never had much call for it,” Hancock replied with an apologetic shrug. “And when we do, we usually save it for the League patrols if they're passing through, or more often sort it out ourselves.”
That also squared with what he'd heard. Not that it wasn't a major pain. “You expecting one to pass through anytime soon?”
Another shrug. “They show up once a month or so. One's due in a couple weeks, although we could always try radioing for help.” The trader shook his head grimly and continued before Skyler could even get his hopes up. “Although we didn't have much luck when we tried earlier, about the trouble Mrs. Hendrickson was reporting on her ranch.” He paused. “Speaking of which, this have to do with that?”
“Yeah.” Skyler jerked his thumb at the bandit. “This one's part of that gang.”
Hancock rubbed at his chin. “Well, it's a relief to know we don't have two separate bandit issues to deal with.” He sighed and dropped his hand. “Doesn't change the fact that our League friends are ignoring us. Which is no surprise, I suppose . . . they've never so much as answered our attempts to communicate before. Only gave us the thing so we could call in if Sangue ever poked their noses around here again.”
Skyler cursed quietly. Lobo was his problem, but since Bob didn't want him around the ranch, even tied up, it was one he needed to hand off if he could so he could get back up there to defend his friends. “I don't suppose you have a jail, then?”
“Not as such,” the man agreed. He nodded towards the bandit strapped across the gelding's saddle. “Care to introduce me to your friend?”
