“The bastard is following us!” Cooper said.
“He’s as crazy as Petty!”
“Doubt if he’s as mean . . . but I don’t intend to take any chances!”
Hardesty pulled his rifle and shot at the figure chasing him and Cooper. He missed by a wide margin. Sam continued as if he hadn’t even heard the shot. Hardesty shot three more times, with the only result being that he lost precious minutes from his head start.
Though the two riders rode fast, they could not stay very far ahead of Sam, who had been on a horse almost since birth. Sam quickly narrowed the gap to the point where Hardesty and Cooper could almost see Sam’s dark eyes coming at them.
“Let’s split up,” Hardesty yelled. “He can’t come after both of us! Maybe we can get him in a crossfire!”
Hardesty went right and Cooper went left. Hardesty looked back and saw Sam was following him! He shot again. This time Sam returned the fire, though he also missed.
Suddenly, Sam was gone. The outlaw stopped, looked around cautiously, trying to figure out what he should do next. He had only a few seconds to consider before a large man on horseback exploded through the trees, jumping gracefully and landing just a few hundred feet in front of him.
Hardesty, shocked, pulled back too far on his horse’s reins, causing it to buck. The tall outlaw held on and then kicked the horse to get it running again.
Sam gave chase, his horse following less than a dozen paces behind.
Cooper had just stopped his horse, allowing it to catch its breath, when Hardesty almost ran over him.
“He’s behind me!” Hardesty yelled. “The bastard’s behind me! Shoot him!”
Before Cooper could draw his gun, Sam had him pinned with a few shots of his own. It was all the convincing that Cooper needed. He spurred his horse away from Sam, joining Hardesty in a mad dash for safety, though the pudgy outlaw had a difficult time keeping up.
They rode for minutes that seemed like hours, headed for the creek, to possibly get to town and safety. Too late, they spotted the smoke and realized they were headed straight for somebody’s camp.
Hardesty and Cooper looked behind them from the backs of their speeding horses, saw Sam wasn’t about to give up, and realized they didn’t have much choice in the matter.
They urged their horses to even greater speed, even though their path would take them right through the camp.
Lilly was as tired as she had ever been in her life. In a single day, she had lost her husband, buried him, and almost been raped and kidnapped by one of the worst men she had every seen. If not for Sam Two-Wolves, she might now be . . . another victim of King Petty. It was almost more than a body could take. She felt drained, and was surprised she had any energy left at all.
Lilly was used to hard work, having been born and raised on a homestead. And she was used to death, having seen her father and brother die. Yet losing her husband was so unexpected and so sudden that the shock was far worse than anything she had ever known. She knew that the initial shock would be followed by pain, and that she would eventually get on with her life. In the meantime, she had to be strong for her and her son’s sake.
Today she had taken some hesitant first steps for which she was proud, such as hitching and driving the wagon into town on her own. When Jack was alive, he had always handled those chores, and Lilly had been content to let him handle the reins. Now that Jack wasn’t around, she would have to learn to do a lot more things on her own.
The horses were close enough to home that they now knew the way and needed little encouragement. They were eager to get to their barn and some fresh hay. Lilly held the reins loosely. Tommy sat on the seat beside her, eyes open but quiet.
“Why did he have to kill Daddy?” the boy asked. His voice could barely be heard above the creaking of the wagon.
Lilly put her hand on his shoulder, squeezed it. “I don’t know. Some men are just plain mean. Who knows why they’re that way? They just are.”
“It’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair. We just got to do with what we have. The Lord helps those who help themselves.”
“Do you like Sam?”
Lilly paused. “What kind of question is that?”
“I think Sam’s going to help us.”
“Maybe he will. He’s just a stranger to us, but already has done more than anybody in town. Except for maybe the Ponders. But I wonder if they would have done as much if Sam hadn’t been there, as well.”
“Do you like him?”
“He seems to be a good man. Though he’s a lot different than your daddy.”
“Yeah. I suppose so.” Tommy paused, then continued, “He really stood up to Petty, didn’t he? And the way he took off after those men who shot at him!”
“He’s quite brave . . . or foolhardy. I think any woman that catches him will have her hands full.”
The horses paced into the barnyard and halted. Lilly wearily climbed down from the wagon and asked, “Tommy, would you unhitch the team and toss them some hay?”
“Sure, Mom.”
The woman was so tired that she was almost to the door before she realized that two strange horses were tied at the side of the house. For a moment she froze, remembering the close call she’d had in town earlier in the day. She wished she had a gun in her hand, then realized that she had never learned to shoot one. The only guns Jack had owned were the rifle and a little revolver he’d kept in the nightstand by the bed. If Sam came by, she’d ask him to show her how to use them.
But that would be another day, if she lived through this night. She felt chilled as she climbed onto the porch and into the front room.
Marshal Holt and another man were seated in the chairs, feet outstretched, talking to themselves. Holt had the decency to be at least stand when Lilly entered the room. The other man remained seated.
“Hello, ma’am,” Holt said. “Hated to barge in on you like this, but we have some business to talk about.”
Jack had kept a loaded shotgun on the wall. Lilly glanced at the rifle hanging over the door. It was still in place. She wondered if she could get to it and figure out how to use it in time to do her any good.
She said, “Marshal. I’m surprised to see you out here. To what do I owe this visit?” She was surprised at how calm her voice sounded.
Holt scratched himself and sat back down. “Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he said. “About what you and I walked about in town, that is.”
“Before or after I was kidnapped?”
“It wasn’t exactly a kidnapping.” Holt stopped, remembered the words that Petty had used. “It was more of a . . . misunderstanding. I didn’t really understand that you felt your husband was murdered and you wanted an investigation.”
“I thought I made that very plain,” Lilly said, feeling warmth come to her face and a chill to her voice. “And you’ve made your position very clear, as well. You work for Petty, and that’s all there is to it. Now get out of my house.”
“Just hold on, lady,” Holt continued. “I agree that it’s my job to look into such accusations. A leading citizen’s been accused of a crime, and it’s my duty to clear him. Or not.”
“Get to the point, Marshal.”
Holt cleared his throat.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’ll be glad to conduct an investigation.”
Lilly looked at him in disbelief.
“You? Conduct an investigation? What a laugh.”
“But before I can open an investigation, I need some evidence,” Holt continued. “Most important, I need the body. You’ll need to dig up the body so that I can look it over, make sure he was shot like you said . . .”
Lilly reacted without thinking and in a way that was out of character for her. She crossed the floor in the blink of an eye and slapped Holt so hard that the crack filled the room. Holt had started to dodge another blow when a strong hand caught her arm.
“Settle down, widow,” the second man said, leering down a
t her. “That’s an officer of the law you’re trying to hit.”
Holt rubbed his face, where a red welt was starting to form.
“Thanks, Conn,” he said. Then, to the woman, he added, “Hell, lady, that hurt!”
“How dare you come in here and demand that I desecrate my husband’s body. He’s dead and buried. I plan to let him rest in peace. Now get out of my house.”
“This is official business,” Holt said. “We need to investigate your allegations. Don’t think we’ll let you off so easily! We could get a court order, you know.”
“Go to hell.”
“Then you’re willing to drop the charges?” Conn asked, “Marshal said it. No evidence, no investigation.”
“I’m not going to let you do anything to my husband’s body.”
“Then that’s it,” Holt said, pushing himself out of the chair.
“The widow didn’t say she’d drop the charges,” Conn said. “Might be a good idea to see the body, anyway.”
Tommy ran into the room, recognized Holt and Conn.
“What are these men doing to you, Mommy?” he demanded. “Are they bothering you?”
“No, son, they’re just leaving.”
Holt hurried awkwardly from the room. Conn went a little slow, brushing his tall body against Lilly.
“Just think about it,” Conn whispered in her ear. “When Petty gets through with you, it’ll be my turn.”
Lilly tried to slap him, but he was already at the door. He grinned as he left and said, “Boy, if I were you, I’d also watch my step. Never know when something could happen to you, just like your daddy.”
Matt was not seriously concerned, but he was wondering about Sam. It should have been a short trip to town, but by early evening Sam had not returned. Matt figured Sam could handle himself well enough, so had no plans to go looking for him. Sam would show up when he was good and ready.
Matt stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his bones. He had more aches and pains from a day that was supposed to be relaxing than he’d had from times when he had herded cattle all day or fought Indians. At least he had finally got some fishing done, and the air was now filled with wonderful aromas of cooking fish and hush puppies.
Apparently the Browns were as good cooks as they had said.
Matt decided that maybe this would help to make up for some of the aches and pains that he had suffered as a result of the fight earlier in the day with Derrell. A good stack of fried fish could make lots of problems easier to handle.
Matt strolled over to the fire, where the elder Brown had his sleeves rolled up and was cooking the fish. He already had a panful and was cooking more.
“You said you expect your partner to be back pretty soon?” Lester Brown asked.
“Any minute now,” Matt replied. “I expected him a long time ago, but he probably stopped for a beer.”
“Has he got an appetite, as well?”
“Let me put it this way,” Matt explained. “He could polish off what you have cooked here . . . and then be ready to settle in for some serious eating!”
“My kind of man!” Lester said. “We’ve got plenty. It should make him a happy man.”
“If he doesn’t get back soon, I’ll just have to eat his share,” Matt said. “It all looks and smells mighty good . . .”
Matt picked up a piece of fish that had been fried to a deep golden brown and almost had it to his mouth when two riders galloped out of the woods toward the creek. They almost knocked down Derrell, who was cooking some hush puppies over a separate fire.
Matt popped the fish into his mouth and pulled his gun. Before he could shoot, a third figure rode into the clearing.
“Sam! What in blazes is going on?”
Sam stopped in the middle of the clearing and untied some bags on his saddle.
“Long story.” He tossed the bags to Matt. “Here are the supplies I went after. Planned to be back sooner, but I ran into a few little delays. I’ll tell you later.”
“Seems kind of rude, to not stay for supper,” Matt said, conversationally. “Especially considering all the work we’ve gone through to make it!”
“I’ll be back in time for supper!” Sam replied. “How many meals have you known me to miss?”
“Precious few,” Matt admitted, saddling his own horse. “That’s one thing I don’t have to worry about with you. Though I thought you were going to stay out of trouble this time!”
“Good intentions, and all that!” Sam turned his horse and kicked it into motion. He slowed long enough to say to Lester, “That fish looks and smells damned good!” And then he was off again.
“That’s Sam, my partner,” Matt said as he put his hand on the saddle.
“Kind of thought so,” Lester said.
“I’m going to help Sam,” Matt explained. “Make yourselves at home. We’ll be back by the time it’s ready to eat!”
Chapter Seven
Ralph Smiley enjoyed his job more and more every day. He sat easily on his horse on the side of the ridge, looking into the valley.
Another rider worked his way leisurely up the narrow trail until he was beside Smiley.
“Sure a pretty sight, isn’t it?” Smiley said, rubbing his beard.
“Sure is,” Ash Crawford answered. “In all the miles I’ve ridden, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a picture.” He paused, then added, “That is, if you like cows.”
He laughed and slapped his knees.
Smiley tried to ignore him, though that wasn’t easy to do. Ash was over six feet tall—inches taller than Smiley—and outweighed Smiley by a good fifty pounds. He carried a big gun on his hip, tied low, and a Bowie knife in a holster strapped to his leg. He was a dangerous man, employed by King Petty to keep and eye on Smiley and the rustling operation. Ash was an aggravation, but putting up with him was a small price to pay since Smiley had no intention of ever crossing Petty.
At times, however, temptation seemed to beckon to him. Admiring the scene in the valley below him now was one of those times. The spring grass was a fresh, cool green. The cattle grazing were shades of velvety browns and blacks. A clear stream meandered through the middle of the valley. The sun was shining brightly, making everything look bright and new.
It looked like the ranch that Smiley had always wanted, but never had. Early in his life, circumstances had led him to a life of crime, rustling other people’s cattle instead of raising his own. He was not particularly proud of his life, but most of the time did not think about roads not taken. He had to admit, however, that he had taken a liking to this valley and was starting to think about it as “his” valley.
“I know how you feel about cattle,” Smiley said. “I don’t know why Petty even bothers having you out here.”
“He knows how much you like cows,” Ash said. “You might get some ideas about cutting out some of the choice critters for your own use. He can’t have you stealing his stolen cows, can he?”
The valley was exactly what Smiley would have picked out for himself, if he would have had the chance. Not only was it beautiful, but it was perfectly situated since it was a relatively short drive to the army fort a little farther north, where the government would buy all the beef they could get, no questions asked. A man could make a fortune here—legally. He was making even more for Petty—illegally. He could see how some men might be tempted to cheat a little bit, even though with Petty that would mean a quick execution or a slow, painful death, depending on the mood he was in at the time.
“No danger of my taking any of Petty’s cattle,” Smiley explained. “I’m a little too fond of living.”
“If you call this living. I don’t know what you see out here. Me? I’d rather be in town with Petty, drinking whiskey with a gal in my lap.”
Down below, the cowboys working with Smiley pushed the new cattle taken from the Brown land into the group. These were good-looking animals, healthy and with just the right amount of fat on them.
“Why’d you come up her
e, Ash? I somehow doubt it was to discuss your social preferences.”
Ash gestured to the animals below.
“Those are the cows you got from Brown and his son, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Wanted to talk with you about the way you handled old man Brown today.”
“I handled him.”
“True. But you went awful easy on him. You could have shot him when you had the chance. But you let him go. That means he could come back. And next time he might have help.”
“I doubt it. He wouldn’t dare to take on any of us. Not as long as we’re working for Petty.”
Ash moved his horse closer to Smiley and poked him in the chest with his finger.
“Now get this straight. You work for Petty, you play by his rules. If Brown comes around again, you shoot him.”
“That’s not my job. I’ve killed men in my time. But I’m a rustler, not a killer.”
“We don’t want anything to go wrong. If you don’t take care of Brown, then I will. And after I solve that problem, I’ll shoot you. Got it?”
Smiley looked down at the valley for another minute, trying to keep his anger under control.
“I got it.”
“Good.” Ash started back down the hillside. “Enjoy the view.”
Sam didn’t have to look back to know that Matt was mounting his horse to join the chase. The two bushwhackers were making a valiant effort to escape, but they hadn’t pulled very far ahead, even with Sam taking the time to stop and chat with Matt. They plunged into the creek where Matt had been fishing earlier and started to splash through the water.
Sam urged his horse into the water, as well, when Matt suddenly appeared from downstream in a path that would cut off the escape route.
Hardesty and Cooper looked at each other and spurred their horses faster. Matt pulled his Colt, place two well-aimed shots near the heads of the bushwackers. They halted in their tracks and reversed direction, splashing water all around them in their haste to get away.
Matt caught up with Sam and they gave chase, side by side.
“Thought I told you to stay out of trouble!” Matt said.
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