The Loner: Rattlesnake Valley

by J. A. Johnstone

  The vehemence in Diana’s voice made The Kid smile. He had liked her on sight, and although she could be a mite testy, he liked her even more since he had gotten to know her a little.

  That didn’t mean he was going to involve himself in her troubles, though. He had spent months in grief and sorrow, along with the rage and thirst for vengeance that had driven him to find his wife’s killers and bring them to justice—his own brand of justice. Once he had accomplished that, most of the anger had bled away from his soul, but the sadness was still there. He supposed it always would be, even though he sometimes told himself it was time to move on with his life. Convincing himself of that hadn’t proven to be easy.

  Probably because he didn’t really want to move on. He just wanted to be alone with his grief. But instead he seemed to keep running in to folks who could use a helping hand—especially if that hand was fast on the draw and accurate with a gun. He had been drawn by chance into several dangerous situations that had come damn close to getting him killed, and he was tired of it.

  Diana and her uncle could handle Malone, he thought. They had this big ranch and a crew that was probably pretty tough. Frontiersmen fought their own battles. Stomped their own snakes.

  That thought made a smile pull at his mouth. Even though he had crushed that second rattler’s skull, if Diana hadn’t plugged it first with her rifle, the scaly creature might have gotten him. He supposed he owed her a little something for that. She had offered him the hospitality of her home, too, declaring that he would be safer there than in Bristol. Considering all that, he wasn’t sure he could ride away and leave her to the mercy of Terence Malone.

  A couple of big yellow dogs ran out to meet them as they rode up to the ranch headquarters. The loud barking brought men from the barn. The Kid noticed immediately that they were all armed with handguns, and two of them carried Winchesters. A display of that much armament so close to home meant there was trouble in those parts, all right.

  A stocky man with a bushy gray mustache came over to them as they reined their horses to a halt in front of the house. Diana smiled at him and said, “Hello, Sam.”

  “Miss Diana,” the man replied as he touched the brim of his old battered black hat. He nodded toward The Kid and added, “Who’s the stray?”

  “This is Mr. Morgan,” she said. “Mr. Morgan, Sam Rocklin, our foreman.”

  “Pleased to meet you, mister,” Rocklin said, but a definite look of suspicion remained in his eyes. “Where’d you run into Miss Diana?”

  “Out on the western trail just below the pass,” Diana replied before The Kid could say anything. “Malone put a skull and crossbones in the trail.”

  “What!” Rocklin’s face darkened with anger. “Why, that mangy—”

  Thumping sounds from the house cut his exclamation short. The Kid, Diana, and Sam Rocklin all turned their heads to look in that direction.

  The screen door swung open, and a man levered his bulky body out onto the porch using a pair of crutches that supported his heavy torso where his wasted legs could not.

  Chapter 6

  The man had iron-gray hair and a precisely clipped mustache. His weathered, ruddy face spoke of a life lived outdoors—in Owen Starbird’s case, on the sea. He wore boots, jeans, and a cowhide vest over a butternut shirt, but his bearing made the range clothes look like a uniform.

  “You didn’t tell me you were leaving, Diana,” he said in a British accent as a frown creased his forehead. “I’d appreciate being kept informed of such things. I was quite concerned about your well-being.”

  “I would think you’d know by now, Uncle Owen, that I come and go as I please,” Diana replied. Her soft Texas drawl was in sharp contrast to his clipped tones, and it seemed odd that they were uncle and niece, yet shared so little in common. Of course, they came from completely different backgrounds, The Kid reminded himself. They were linked by blood, but nothing else.

  Starbird switched his eagle-eyed gaze to The Kid. “Who’s this?” he demanded.

  “Mr. Morgan. I’m afraid I don’t know his first name.”

  “Just call me Kid.”

  Starbird snorted. “Kid Morgan. That sounds like a name from one of your lurid American dime novels.”

  He was closer to right about that than he knew. The Kid had been inspired by those very dime novels—some of them about his own father—when he made up the name.

  Trying to be civil, he said, “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Starbird.”

  “Captain Starbird,” the Englishman corrected him. “Even though I’m retired, I’m still entitled to use my rank.”

  The Kid nodded. “Fine. Pleased to meet you, Captain.”

  “Hmmph,” Starbird said. “Diana, what’s going on here? Who is this man? Where have you been?”

  “That’s a lot of questions, and the sun’s hot,” Diana said. She swung down from the saddle. “Let’s go inside where it’s cooler. Please come in, Mr. Morgan.”

  “I appreciate the hospitality,” The Kid said with a slight smile as he dismounted.

  “Sam, would you see to Mr. Morgan’s horse?” Diana asked.

  The stocky foreman nodded and reached for the buckskin’s reins. “Sure thing, Miss Diana. We’ll take good care of your hoss, mister.”

  The Kid handed over the reins. Diana gave Rocklin the reins to her chestnut as well, and he led both mounts toward the barn.

  The Kid waved a hand toward the steps leading up to the porch. “After you, Miss Starbird.” She smiled and nodded.

  Her uncle still looked angry and upset. “I don’t recall inviting you in, sir,” he snapped.

  “This is as much my house as it is yours, Uncle Owen,” Diana said, “and I intend to be hospitable to Mr. Morgan. We had a run-in with Malone and some of his men.”

  “Malone!” Starbird burst out. “My God! Are you all right? Did that bloody—I mean, that blasted pirate—hurt you?”

  “I’m fine,” Diana assured him. She and The Kid reached the welcome shade of the porch. “Mr. Morgan had a tussle with Wolfram, though.”

  Starbird’s head jerked toward The Kid. “And you’re still alive?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe it.

  “Apparently,” The Kid said.

  “Wolfram is a monster,” Starbird said. “In the old days, he was the most feared of Malone’s crew of cutthroats…after Black Terence himself, of course. No offense, Morgan, but I find it difficult to accept the idea that a man such as yourself bested him.”

  “You can believe it,” Diana said. “I saw it with my own eyes. Malone gave Mr. Morgan the choice of going up against Wolfram or drawing against Greavy.”

  Starbird made a face like there was a bad taste in his mouth. “Greavy,” he repeated. “That one’s a bad lot, too.” With a sigh, he turned, his crutches clumping on the porch planks. “Well, come inside. As Diana said, we might as well be where it’s cooler.”

  The Kid followed them into the house and found himself in a big, well-appointed room. Indian rugs covered the floor. The sofas and chairs were made of thick wooden beams and upholstered with leather-covered cushions. A massive fireplace filled half of one wall, and above the mantel the heads of elk, antelope, and mountain goats were mounted, along with a tawny mountain lion with its teeth bared in the midst of a snarl. The Kid figured George Starbird had bagged those trophies, although having seen Diana handle a rifle, it wouldn’t have surprised him if she turned out to be responsible for a few of them.

  A heavyset Mexican woman came in to the room through a door that led to the rest of the house. Starbird told her, “Bring us some cool lemonade, Carmelita.”

  The woman nodded. “Sí, Capitán.”

  Even the servants used Starbird’s rank, The Kid noted.

  Starbird made his way over to a wheelchair, turned, and lowered himself into it. He set his crutches aside, then picked up each leg in turn and placed his feet on the footrests attached to the chair. The scowl on Starbird’s face told The Kid that the man hated being crippled. Clear
ly, since he had captained a ship in the Royal Navy, Starbird hadn’t always been lacking the use of his legs. The Kid wondered what had happened, but he figured if anybody wanted to tell him, they would.

  The sight of Starbird sitting in the chair made The Kid think of Vernon Moss, one of the outlaws responsible for his wife’s death. Moss had been in a wheelchair, too, when The Kid finally caught up to him, but that hadn’t stopped the man from trying to shoot it out. It hadn’t stopped The Kid from killing him, either. A bullet from a man in a wheelchair could kill you just as dead as if he’d been standing on his own two feet.

  The Kid pushed those thoughts away as Starbird placed his hands on his knees, frowned at Diana, and said, “Now, tell me what happened.”

  She sat down in one of the heavy chairs and gestured for The Kid to take a seat on a sofa that was positioned at a right angle to the chair. “I rode over to the mountains to check on Gray Hawk and make sure he was all right,” she began.

  “That impudent old Yaqui?” Starbird gave an imperious snort. “Of course he’s all right. He’s like an ancient lizard. Nothing bothers him.”

  “Still, I promised Father I’d look in on him from time to time. You know that, Uncle Owen.”

  “Go on,” Starbird said impatiently. “Get to the part about Malone.”

  “I’m getting there. I was on my way back from Gray Hawk’s place when I heard a shot somewhere close by. I thought it might be some of Malone’s men trying to ambush me, so I hid in some rocks near the trail. But then I saw Mr. Morgan and realized that he had fired the shot.”

  Starbird glared at The Kid. “You tried to ambush my niece, sir?”

  “Nothing of the sort,” Diana said before The Kid could reply. “He’d just shot a snake. Very skillfully, too. He blew its head right off.”

  “Well…I’m glad to hear that,” Starbird admitted in a grudging tone. “There are too blasted many of those serpents in this valley.”

  “It sounds like you need a visit from Saint Patrick,” The Kid commented.

  “You’re familiar with the legend of how he charmed all the snakes out of Ireland?”

  Diana said, “Mr. Morgan seems to be surprisingly well-read, Uncle Owen.”

  Starbird didn’t look impressed. He said, “Get on with the story.”

  “I saw that someone had put a skull and crossbones in the trail, almost certainly as a warning for strangers to keep out of the valley,” Diana continued.

  Starbird clenched a fist and growled, “That sounds like Malone’s work.”

  Diana nodded. “I thought the same thing. Then Mr. Morgan kicked the skull out of the trail and threw the other bones into the brush.”

  Starbird looked at The Kid. “You did that?”

  “I didn’t like the looks of those bones,” he said with a shrug. “It seemed awfully presumptuous to me.”

  Starbird’s gaze rested squarely on The Kid for a moment, and then for the first time, a bit of humor flashed in the former naval officer’s stern eyes. “I never cared much for the bloody symbol myself,” he said, then glanced at his niece. “Begging your pardon, Diana.”

  “That’s all right, Uncle Owen. I heard worse cussing from the ranch hands by the time I was five.”

  “I daresay you did. What happened after Mr. Morgan disposed of the skull and crossbones?”

  “I had to shoot another rattler that had crawled up without him noticing it.”

  “So my niece saved your life, Morgan?”

  In a manner of speaking, The Kid thought, but he contented himself with saying simply, “That’s right.”

  “The shots drew Malone’s attention, though,” Diana said. “He came galloping up with Wolfram, Greavy, and three of those hard cases who ride for him. I talked him into letting Mr. Morgan turn around and ride back out of the valley.”

  Starbird looked at The Kid again. “I see you didn’t take that opportunity.”

  “I ride where I please,” The Kid said.

  “So you clashed with Wolfram and lived to tell the tale. Very impressive, young man. Who taught you how to fight?”

  “Not who. What.”

  Starbird frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

  “It wasn’t a person who taught me how to fight,” The Kid explained. “It was the whole world.”

  “Ah.” Starbird nodded slowly. “Experience, huh? School of hard knocks and all that?”

  “That’s right.” Morgan didn’t see any point in going into detail about just how hard some of those knocks had been.

  Diana said, “Malone gave his word that if Mr. Morgan won, no one would bother him, but only for today. Mr. Morgan was planning to ride on to Bristol, but I convinced him to come here to Diamondback instead.”

  “A wise choice, sir,” Starbird said with a nod. “I fear that Bristol isn’t the same town it was when my brother founded it. Too many undesirable elements have moved in. The area has a growing reputation for lawlessness, primarily because Malone has gotten away with murder and rustling. Our lone deputy in the valley is overmatched.”

  “Have you sent word to the Rangers?” The Kid asked.

  “A letter has gone to Austin, yes, but there’s been no response. I suspect that the Rangers are stretched thin, too, as are all the other forces of law and order on the frontier. Just like Her Majesty’s forces were when we were trying to combat the tide of piracy in the Caribbean.”

  “But you defeated Malone there,” The Kid pointed out. “You captured him and sent him to prison.”

  Starbird looked down at his wasted legs with bitterness in his eyes. “I was a much different man then,” he said quietly. “Those days seem to belong to a completely different life.”

  “My uncle and I just need a little help,” Diana said. “Somebody who’s a match for Malone and his men.” Now that she had started, she didn’t hesitate to press on, The Kid noted. “How about it, Mr. Morgan? How would you like a job riding for Diamondback?”

  “I’m not a cowhand,” The Kid said.

  “I’m not talking about that, and you know it,” Diana snapped. “I’m talking about gun work. There’s going to be plenty of it in Rattlesnake Valley.”

  Chapter 7

  That was putting it plainly enough. The Kid said, “At first Malone seemed to think that I was a hired gun. Is that what you think, too, Miss Starbird?”

  “Well?” she challenged. “Aren’t you?”

  “No. I’m not.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t believe you. I saw the way you blasted that rattler’s head off with one shot, and I watched while you nearly broke Wolfram’s neck. You’re a professional fighting man, Mr. Morgan.”

  She would never believe him if he told her that until a few years earlier, the only real fighting he’d done had been in offices and boardrooms, that his weapons had been money and influence and that when he won a battle, it was usually with the stroke of a pen. She wouldn’t believe him, and after everything that had happened to him, he could barely accept the truth of that himself.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “but you’ve got me wrong. I’m not looking for work. Especially not gun work.”

  “If you think that Malone will pay you more—”

  “I wouldn’t work for Malone if he had all the pirate treasure of Blackbeard and Captain Kidd put together.”

  That brought a brusque bark of laughter from Owen Starbird. “I believe you’ve misjudged our visitor, Diana,” he said. “And perhaps insulted him a bit, too.”

  The Kid lifted a hand to wave that off. “I’m not insulted,” he assured them. “But this isn’t my war.”

  “Of course not,” Starbird said. “Well, then, if we can’t recruit you…what can we do for you?”

  “My horse needs some rest.”

  Starbird nodded. “He’ll have it, along with plenty of grain and water, for as long as you like.”

  “And I’m running low on supplies. I planned on picking up some in the next settlement I came to.”

  “We can spare enough to get
you out of the valley and across the desert east of here. There’s no need for you to stop in Bristol.”

  “What’s on the other side of that desert?”

  “Some more hills, and beyond them the railroad that runs from San Antonio to El Paso. There’s a flag stop where you can board the train. We drive our cattle there when it’s time to ship them to market. The desert’s not as bad as it looks. There’s water there, if you know where to find it, and a man on horseback can cross it in a day.”

  The Kid nodded. “Sounds like my only real problem will be making it to the other end of the valley without Malone catching me. He only ordered his men to leave me alone for the rest of today.”

  “You should have negotiated a longer truce,” Starbird said dryly. “He likely would have gone along with it, believing that he’d never have to honor his word because either Wolfram or Greavy would kill you, whichever of them you chose to face in battle.”

  The Kid chuckled. “Yeah, I didn’t think of it at the time.”

  The Mexican woman, Carmelita, came in with a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses. She poured the cool, refreshing drinks and served them.

  Starbird sipped from his glass and then said, “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, Morgan. I admit, I was a bit suspicious of you at first, but now that I’ve heard the story, I appreciate you seeing to it that my niece was able to return home safely from her foolish foray.”

  “Wait a minute,” Diana said. “He didn’t save me. Malone wouldn’t have hurt me or allowed his men to bother me. You know that, Uncle Owen. If anything, I saved Mr. Morgan’s hide by being there. Malone was putting on a show for me by offering that bargain to The Kid.”

  “Yes, well, you shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

  Diana sighed in exasperation and shook her head. She took a long swig of the lemonade, then placed her glass on a low table in front of her chair as she stood up.

  “I’m going to my room,” she said in a chilly voice.

  The Kid and Starbird didn’t say anything as Diana left the room. When she was gone, Starbird said, “I’m afraid my brother raised his daughter with a rather free hand. She’s headstrong, impulsive, lacking in self-discipline, and accustomed to getting her own way. I apologize for any offense she may have given you, Morgan.”