by Mason, Zack
As he approached, Jinny Logan watched his figure sway loosely in tune with the rocking of his horse. The copper tones of his bare chest stood in stark contrast with the dark gray skies behind him. Pale, green grass waved before the wind, brushing against the horse’s flanks as it moved forward.
Rivulets of cold rain trickled down and across his well-defined muscles.
She knew him.
In fact, she knew him instantly, and had it been any other man, the vision in front of her would have been an attractive one.
But this man had killed her father.
Around his limbs were tied bloody rags which looked to cover several awful wounds. He rode unconscious.
Anger, fear, hate, pity, indecision. All these ran through her in a strange, confusing river.
Love? She had loved him once, hadn’t she? Did she still?
Jinny swept up her skirts and hurried back inside to get her mother. She would know what to do.
When Sarah Logan realized who was on that horse, the same look of hesitation crossed her face. Her husband’s killer was here, at their mercy.
The horse walked directly to them and stopped short of the house by about thirty feet. He had tied himself into the saddle with a long, scarlet-soaked strip of cloth. It had probably been part of his shirt. Blood oozed from a couple of wounds and ran down his legs and the side of the horse.
Up close, he looked much paler than he had when framed by the brewing storm clouds. It was amazing he was still alive.
No matter how they felt about him, the duty of a Christian was clear. There was some good in the man anyway.
Memories of him playing cards and laughing with her in her parent’s kitchen flashed through her mind, if ever so briefly.
Those had been simpler times. Better times.
She and her mother untied him and did their best to lower him gently to the muddy ground. He was burning up with fever.
They called for help and a couple of hands carried him into the guest bedroom of the house. They would have no choice but take care of the man until he healed.
Sometimes, God seems to send us more than we can even bear, Sarah thought.
It would be a long couple of weeks.
***
I awoke in a warm, clean bed in a bright room with white walls. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating small dust particles as they floated in and out of its beams. I recognized the bedroom as the guest room in the Logan house. Relief and shame entered together with this realization.
This had been my intended destination, though I hadn’t been sure I would make it.
I thanked God I had, yet, I also felt like the world’s biggest heel coming here. I was the last person on earth the Logan women should have to nurse back to health, but I’d had no other safe alternatives, and a man will act mighty selfish when he’s trying to save his own skin. I’d gambled that no matter how much they despised me, they wouldn’t send me off to die. They were too good a people, and it looked like I’d guessed right.
The door cracked open. Seeing I was awake, Mrs. Logan came all the way into the room. Her face looked tired and strained. No smile graced her lips, nor did any light fill her eyes. She was a different woman from the one I remembered, full of the world’s burdens, burdens I had hitched onto her back with some pretty tight knots.
“I see you’re awake.”
It was said matter-of-factly, with no enthusiasm.
“Mrs. Logan,” I croaked, my throat raspy and dry. “I’m so sorry…for coming here. I’m the last person who should ask you for help. I truly had nowhere else to go.”
“Well, you’ve been out for three days. Your fever’s finally broken, and all of your wounds are healing nicely. I expect you’ll be well enough to leave on your own in another week. That will make me happy enough.”
She quickly felt my forehead, and, not finding any trace of the fever, stood to leave. There'd been no love in the gesture.
“Mrs. Logan, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your husband. I know I can’t undo it, and nothing can fix it, but I never got to tell you I was sorry.”
She froze at the words. When I finished, she continued silently out the door without a further glance.
***
For the next few days, I remained too weak to leave. In spite of my efforts, my body wouldn’t let me fool myself into believing I was better. I was determined to cease being a burden to these two women as soon as possible, but until I healed a little more, I was stuck.
I didn’t see Jinny even once while I was there. Mrs. Logan brought me all my meals, three times a day, and those were the only times I saw her. She did stay in the room with me while I ate at least, though those soon became some of the most intolerable minutes I’d experienced.
I tried the first few times to converse lightly, but she ignored me. I didn’t blame her, not one bit, not either of them, but I soon found myself hurrying through my soups and meals as fast as possible just to be alone again.
She would change my bandages while I ate lunch. She was not gentle, but neither did she hurt any of my injuries further.
The one positive thing in all this was that I had hours and hours to think. One thing that Mrs. Logan did tell me was that Sheriff McCraigh hadn’t been killed, but was laid up like I was.
The Talon gang was finally out of commission. I didn’t have to worry about them anymore, at least. I still had a bunch of people in this valley who didn’t like me, though, and one man, or several, who were out to kill me. Priority number one was to flush that killer out.
He’d murdered my brother, paid to have Jessica chased off their land, and murdered Elizabeth in the street while trying to kill me. The Talons had been involved with the cattle rustling ring, but I didn’t think they were the head of it. Somebody else had been the boss. That boss could have been one and the same with my would-be killer, or the killer could be giving the Talons’ boss orders.
Three possibilities came to mind for that role. Carlton Andrews, Bill Hartford, or Rob Murphy. Any one of the three could have been behind the rustling. Carlton Andrews could have used his bank to hide the money from the sale of stolen cattle, but he would have needed somebody on one of the ranches to run the operation. So would have the Talons for that matter.
I didn’t think Murphy was capable of planning, running, and concealing a sophisticated operation such as that, not by himself. He didn’t seem intelligent enough.
Either Andrews or Hartford could have been his boss through it all. Could one of them also be the killer I was looking for? I’d considered Dunagan and his ranch too, but he didn’t strike me as the type, and something kept drawing my attention to the Hartford ranch. It occurred to me that even if Hartford was the boss, he couldn’t run a rustling ring on his own ranch without his foreman knowing. That meant one way or the other, Rob Murphy was in on it. As soon as I was able, the Hartford ranch would be my next stop.
I turned and took a glass of water from the window sill where Mrs. Logan had left it for me. Sipping, I pondered all the possible outcomes of my visit there.
A full week later, I was well enough to stand and walk around — which was good enough.
I said brief goodbyes to the two ladies. They remained quiet through my short farewell, but I thanked them sincerely for their help. Jinny averted her eyes to the floor, and Lady Logan just stared back at me, her expression a mystery. I apologized again for the inconvenience I’d caused them. Then, I walked out the door.
I’ll never forget the sight of the two of them standing side by side in the kitchen as I left. Sarah had her arm wrapped around Jinny’s waist. Their cotton dresses were lined with lace around the collars and wrists, the folds of which flapped lightly in the breeze blowing in through the back door. Bright, white sunlight highlighted the tresses of their shared, light-blonde hair. But for the glum resoluteness etched on their faces, it would have been a beautiful memory.
Never again did I want to burden them. I’d put them through too much. It
would be best if they could just forget me, and I, them.
I found myself on the trail once more, though this trip would be a short one. I’d had more than enough time to solidify my plan.
***
Hartford knew how to run a tight ship, I had to give him that. The ranch grounds were impeccable — even the dusty walkways looked swept.
I didn’t have time to gape and dawdle though. I’d come to get to the heart of the matter once and for all.
I found Hartford standing with some of his men by the corral. They appeared to be discussing a couple of horses trotting around the ring. Murphy was not in sight.
Good.
Upon seeing me, Hartford’s bulldog countenance instantly flushed red and his fists contracted into tight balls, ready to pound. His lips parted, but he said nothing. He looked like he was ready to cuss me into the next life but couldn’t quite grab hold of the choice words he wished to use.
I let him know I didn’t mean to provoke him, only wanted to talk, and I wondered if we could do just that. He visibly forced himself to calm, and motioned to the main house.
He ushered me into his office, which was opulent by any western standards. His desk was made of a deep, rich mahogany, and hundreds of leather-bound books lined the dark shelves behind him.
Papers were strewn across the desktop. It surprised me to see that he was a man who could actually do work behind a desk. I’d always fancied him the outdoor type.
I seated myself directly in front of the desk, and silence weighed upon us. He was waiting for me to announce my purpose, and I was waiting to figure out exactly what I wanted to say.
“Hartford, I never stole any of your cattle.”
“I know you didn’t.” He folded his hands in his lap and turned his gaze down to them. His response was so quiet, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right.
“My brother never did either.”
“I figured that.” This time he looked up at me and said it louder. “I figured all that out, Talbot. You’re no more a rustler than I am.”
“How did you figure that? Last time I saw you, you were convinced I was guilty.”
“I thought more and more about what you said to me each time we ran into each other, and I got a feel for you. Sure, you’re a hothead all right, and I don’t have to like you, but I don’t think you’re a rustler.”
“And you got all that from what I said when I found you on my ranch those times?”
“Well, we also tracked the rustlers several times while you were gone, and their tracks always led away from your ranch.”
“I could have been leading the cattle away on purpose to mislead you.”
“None of the horse tracks matched yours.”
“I could have hired someone else to do it.”
“I caught Rob Murphy red-handed.”
I sucked in my breath at that.
“On a wild hunch, I followed him one night. I saw him meet up with the Talons. Their tracks matched the rustlers. I went back and fetched several of my hands to help. The Talons had already left, but we caught Murph and several of my own men together with a couple of Dunagan’s and Logan’s.
“It explained how they were able to get away with it for so long. They used men from a different ranch each time to throw us off. I’ll admit, I was pretty embarrassed by the whole thing.”
He actually did look embarrassed as he explained.
“So, where’s Murph now?” I asked, “Is he strung up on some oak nearby?”
Hartford slammed his fist on the desk. “I wish he was! That no-good viper got the drop on me in the middle of the fight that night and slipped off. He may have gotten away for now, but I won’t forget! When he least expects it, I’ll be right there behind him.”
“So, all the attacks on my ranch, the attempts on my life, it was all for nothing?”
“You did kill some of my men with that dynamite attack, don’t forget!”
“Because they were rustlers and attacked me!”
“Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere. We all know Rob did it now. He’s disappeared and your name is cleared, so you can just relax.”
He stood. It was a gesture of dismissal.
“Hartford, you sit down,” I demanded. “I’ve got some more questions, and by gosh, you’re going to answer them! Knowing Murphy was behind the rustling and in cahoots with the Talons eases my mind, but it doesn’t answer the real question. Who was running Murph? Someone orchestrated this whole operation, and it had to be somebody a lot smarter than him.”
“Who do you think?” He asked warily.
“It could always be you.” “What?” He leapt from his chair and leaned over me, his fingers gripping the outer corners of the desktop. “You dare come here and accuse me?”
“Calm down,” I soothed, “I didn’t say I thought it was you, but the possibility had crossed my mind. That’s all I’m saying. To be honest, I’ve got a hunch that you’re clean too, but I don’t know who else it could be. The only other person that comes to mind is Carlton Andrews.”
“Carlton? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Is it? He did try to force me off my land with a false mortgage.”
Hartford walked over to the window and drummed his fingers on the glass as he contemplated the possibility. Then, he moved to the shelves behind the desk, and poured himself a whiskey. He paced for a bit, sipping the drink. He hadn’t offered me a glass, but I hadn’t expected him to, nor did I want one.
I waited.
Finally, he sat back down. “Carlton Andrews is a pillar of this community.”
“Who else could it be?” I asked simply.
Bill Hartford rose again and paced some more, deeply lost in concentrated thought. “You know, Talbot, I’ve been wondering for a while if there wasn’t somebody in this valley who was operating from the shadows, somebody we didn’t expect or know.
“I’m with you on Andrews. He’s only a straight-shooter when it suits his profit margin. I wouldn’t be surprised if he does have a crooked finger stirring this pot, but he’s not doing it by himself. He’d be working with somebody. Much of what has happened just wouldn’t be his style.”
I hadn’t considered that option before. Carlton Andrews working with somebody other than Hartford. “You’re not thinking of Dunagan, are you?”
“Don’t be a blamed fool, man. Of course not. Dunagan is a man of honor. He didn’t even want me chasing you all over creation with that posse.”
“Who then?”
“Somebody who doesn’t like to draw attention to himself. Somebody we would likely never suspect.”
“How in the world are we ever going to catch him then?”
We sat puzzled. After a bit, I said, “What do you know about gold mining prospects in the area?”
“Not much. Wouldn’t guess there’d be much anyway. Ol’ Pick’s been running around in them hills up there for years, but he’s never really found anything, except some dust from time to time. Don’t know how he survives on that, but he does.”
“What if I were to tell you that there is a stockpile of gold bars in an abandoned mine on my property?”
“I’d tell you it’s a dumb joke.”
“I’m dead serious.”
He studied me and saw I meant it. “You are serious, aren’t you? I don’t know what to say. How much is there?”
“Quite a bit. Ever since I found it, I’ve figured that was the real reason the person who killed my brother wants my land.”
“That would be a pretty good reason all right.”
“I figure somebody else in this town knows about it. I’m pretty sure Carlton Andrews knows, because he tried to deceive me off the ranch, but I’m certain he’s been working with someone else. I don’t think he found the mine by himself.”
The silence crept back in while I let him digest the new information.
“You’ve got a plan, don’t you, Talbot?”
“Sure do,” I smiled.
“Well, let’s hear it.”
Soon, we were both smiling.
“Hey Doc! It’s me, Jake Halfbreed.”
I’d seen Doc’s office a couple of times before, and it was usually a mess, but today it was all neat and cleaned up. Doc sat at a desk up against a wall of his office/examining room. He wore slim spectacles which he was using to study some papers.
“Jake! How are you? I’m surprised you’re already up and around! Those were some pretty serious wounds you had there.”
“If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead right now, with Luke Phillips’ bullet buried in my forehead.”
“Oh, think nothing of it, my boy, you were in a desperate spot. Anybody would have stepped in to help.”
“Well, not anybody did, just you. I wanted to thank you personally for that.”
“No need, no need. Glad to be of service. Wish you would have stuck around longer for me to treat you is all.”
“Well...I just didn’t feel safe in town. Had to get out. Hope you understand.”
“Sure, sure. The important thing is you’re all right now.”
“I’m glad you were ‘okay’ that day, if you know what I mean,” I said.
He chuckled lightly, but I couldn’t tell if it was from genuine mirth, shame, some of both, or something else entirely. “Yes, I’m okay now Jake. I’ve been off the stuff for several days, if that’s what you mean.”
“And that?” I motioned with my head toward a bottle of half-filled whiskey sitting on the shelf of his storage cabinet.
“Water. Have to keep up the image you know! Want to make sure I’m going to be able to really quit for good before I let the whole town know I’m trying to buck the habit. It would be publicly embarrassing to try only to fail, don’t you think?”
“Sure, Doc, I understand.”
“If you don’t mind, let’s just keep it between us for the moment. I want to wait a few more days to see how I do.”
“No problem.” I really didn’t know what else to say. It was kind of awkward talking with a man about his drinking problem.
