"I wouldn't and neither would anyone else. If I'd come in here with something besides the clothes on my back, maybe it'd be different. I didn't have nothing, and I wouldn't have if you hadn't staked me in that game, then left me that deed and taken the cash."
"Big Sam didn't have much more when he came to this valley, but I can see this talk is riling you, so I won't say no more. Got something else I wanted to talk to you about."
"More of your tricks?" Gabe asked suspiciously.
"I admit I done some before, but this is different. I filed me a homestead, and I want you to prove up on it for me. I'll give you half of it for your trouble. That way you can stay close enough that Sally can keep caring for the boy for you."
"I don't know, Hedges," Gabe said, thinking of how much he wanted to stay, and why for that very reason he ought to leave.
"It ain't much, Gabe, but it can be a good piece of grazing land," Hedges said eagerly. "Now my idea is to not mess with cattle. They eat too much, and they're too darn ornery and stupid."
"You wouldn't do anything dumb like bringing in sheep?"
"No, but I'd sure like to raise some prime horses. Not that mangy mustang stock they got around here, but thoroughbred horses. Maybe some Morgans for good hauling teams, too. He leaned forward to draw a map on the table. "This piece lays here, just one section to the north of Rocking M. It's one of them small places I told you about. The man isn't gonna be able to prove up on it."
"But the man's still there, claiming it," he said in disgust.
"No, well, he is now, but he won't be. I wouldn't get you into something like that, Gabe. I swear it." He did so with his hand held solemnly in the air.
"Then what's the catch?"
"There ain't none, I tell you. The man's an Easterner. He come out here thinking he was going to make an easy fortune. Well, he's found out he ain't likely to, not by homesteading. He's disgusted and ready to quit."
"But he hasn't yet," Gabe said, shifting Danny to a more comfortable position.
"Gabe, his house burnt down. He's only got one month left to build another to prove up the claim. I'm telling you, he's so disgusted, he won't do it."
"Hedges, now damn it, you just said, you've already filed on it." He shifted Danny again.
Danny was restless, wanting to be talked to and not over. Gabe kept shifting him because he kept squirming for attention.
"I made the papers all out. Soon as I see him marching through town on the way out, I'll record them."
"Convenient being the only land agent in town. It sounds shady to me," Gabe said in distraction. Holding Danny had become a wrestling match.
"No one can file on it till he leaves it, and I'm gonna be watching. What's shady about that?"
"Watching with the papers in your pocket. What if–ow! Dang it, Danny, sit still."
"Get the hair on your chest?" Hedges asked with a chuckle as Gabe rubbed the spot where Danny had grabbed his shirt to pull himself up.
"I ain't got so much to yank out, but he found it. I don't know what's wrong with him tonight."
"Maybe he's tired," he suggested.
Gabe looked down to see if Danny looked tired and found him with his bottom lip out and eyes full of tears again. "I think maybe he's just spoiled. You sit still, hear, or I'm going to put you on the floor."
That made the tears spill out of his eyes, but Danny sat still. Gabe shifted him around again, more so he couldn't see the tears than for comfort.
"What about it, Gabe? Will you work it for me?"
"I don't know Hedges. I ain't too sure I want to stay here, and what you're talking about doing don't sound quite fair."
"Would you feel better if I gave him some cash for what he has done around there? I think he's got some fences up, and he did get a well dug."
"I don't know."
"Close enough Sally can care for the boy."
Gabe shook his head, still wondering if he could stand being that close to Sammy.
"You could use the money you got for things for you and the boy, instead of spending it on moving around."
"I'll think on it, but you see him and offer a fair deal, even if it's only enough to buy him a ticket away from here."
"I'll do it first thing tomorrow," he declared, slapping his hand on the table gleefully.
Danny jumped in surprise, and Gabe said, "I ain't promising nothing, Hedges. Don't you get file on it, counting on me to work it."
"Naw, I want it anyway," he lied.
* * *
The house grew into a home with lacy curtains at the windows, knick-knacks, whatnots sitting around on the furniture that either man or woman could live with, but they all had the look of a woman picking it out. There were rugs on the floor and fancy lamps hanging from the ceilings. Gabe grew to be more and more uncomfortable in the place, and he kept his word. He refused to use any of it.
He stayed in the kitchen and bedroom whenever he was there, but even those rooms, absent so far of the new furniture, were invaded by her touch with curtains at the previously bare windows. That night after Sally left was the worst for him, when he found the bedroom he slept in had been filled with furniture.
His bed of straw was gone, and his blanket was on the bed, a double size, four-poster. He told himself he'd sleep in the barn before he remembered Danny and scrapped that idea. He figured she could have waited on filling that room. It wasn't right, her moving a thing like that bed in, a thing so special to a man and wife, expecting him to sleep in it, then leave it for her to move into.
He thought of fixing a bed in the other, smaller bedroom where Danny slept only to defiantly shove the bed aside. He went for fresh straw for a bed, thinking it was a rotten shame no one had taught her the indecency of it.
Gabe knew from what Sally told him that the curtains and rugs Sammy had either mail ordered or made while Smith was in the house. The whatnots and other furniture she had collected even before the house had been built, some of it her mother's, cherished and saved before Big Sam could destroy it. What she had, she'd been happy to let Sally take for Gabe and Danny to use, even if she didn't know he refused to go in any of the rooms where Sally put her things.
* * *
Sammy had no knowledge of the bedroom suite, planning to use what she had when time came for her to move. Hedges was the one solely responsible for the attack on Gabe's nerves. He figured he'd give the furniture to them as a wedding present, not for one minute thinking the plan he, Sally, and Morey had concocted would fail. The only hitch he'd had in that phase of execution was the hackles it raised on Sally when he brought the bed out. She thought it was indecent, too, but since Sammy's happiness was at stake, she gave in.
Sally was relieved to find the bed shoved up against the wall the next morning. Gabe had even gone to the trouble of rolling the rug up before he brought his straw in. Those actions meant to her, that his heart and morals were in the right place, even if he did have more pride than was good for him.
Also to Sally's relief, Gabe was so mad about it he didn't mention it. The only thing that disturbed her about the progress of their overall plan was Gabe still hadn't agreed to work the homestead for Hedges to keep him in the area until their plan saw success.
* * *
At the same time, other things were disturbing for Sammy. News from Pierce on the sale of her cattle was late in coming. Word she would have been eager to get otherwise, she looked forward to with dread because it meant she'd have to pay Gabe, and he and Danny would be leaving. She wanted to ask him to stay, racked with feelings of guilt and selfishness in taking a house that he had turned into a home. She wanted to offer it to him, but she knew what he'd say. Damn him for being so proud, and damn her for having so much land he considered her too good for him to even associate with.
She knew he avoided her every chance he got, so she never gave him a reason and stayed away from the homestead. She fretted over not hearing from Pierce, almost wishing something had happened so she wouldn't have the money to pull he
rself out of debt and redeem, not only the claim that Gabe held, but the claims her other men held as well. Even with the cattle money, she'd have very little cash left for the coming year once they were paid off. A lot of hard work was the only thing that would save it, but then she was used to that. Work at keeping the ranch whole never seemed to end, and nothing ever seemed to get easier.
Years before, Sammy had realized that men either wanted her for what she had or stayed away because of it, the way Gabe did. When her father died, she tried to get Morey to take all but the claim Gabe held, and he'd refused.
She didn't want the whole of the ranch, and she couldn't in good conscience get rid of it. Morey, who had worked for her father all her life, was the only one who had a right to it in her reasoning. It was fair to give it to Morey as he had given his life to the ranch. To just give it to anyone else would be breaking the trust her father put in her. There were ways she could lose it, but she was too smart and experienced not to see them in time, and out of that sense of responsibility and duty, avoided them.
She was bogged in a mire of quicksand, holding her in place against her will and forbidding the things she wanted most in life. She couldn't run away from it, and there was no one to rescue her. After Gabe and Danny moved out of the house she would live in it until she was old and gray, alone, with the quicksand still around her feet.
She'd wither and shrink, letting the bitterness that sometimes sprang to the surface turn her into a hard, hateful woman. Not a very pretty future she pictured for herself. The cash from the sale of the cattle just wouldn't be enough. Then the worst possible news came. Pierce had been robbed, and there was no money at all. She wouldn't have the money to pay for any of the homesteads, not even the one holding the house she lived in.
Resigning herself to the hard things she knew she was going to have to do to save her father's ranch was going to hurt a lot of people. She was going to hate herself for the rest of her life, but it had to be done.
* * *
When Sally gave Gabe the news of the robbery, he spent the rest of the day in indecision. He'd offered Sammy the homestead several times and been turned down flat. She wouldn't take it if she couldn't pay for it. Neither of them, however, had discussed her taking it on a note. If he could get her to do that, then what for him and Danny? Take Hedges up on his offer and stay there or take what money he had and move on? Everything would be so much easier if he didn't like the town, didn't like the people, and wasn't so attracted to Sammy. He could make his decision then based only on what was best for Danny.
With all that on his mind, he had some trouble drifting off to sleep, only to be jolted awake in a daze of incomprehension. First a boot in the ribs jarred him painfully, and then a gun barrel across the head stunned him.
He could feel himself being dragged, but couldn't fight it. A light somewhere danced drunkenly through his blurred vision and figures that refused to be recognized. Then they stood him against the wall, shaking him, demanding something with words he couldn't understand.
"Throw some water on him," one of the figures ordered.
The water hit him in the face, shocking sense back into him. The light quit dancing, and as he blinked the water out of his eyes, he could see them. Three men wearing black hoods over their heads had him in the kitchen, and he knew it wasn't a dream.
"What…" he started to ask.
The man directly in front of him shut him up viciously with a fist in his unprotected face. Gabe's head whirled again, causing him to reel. Two of the men slammed him back up against the wall and held him there by his outstretched arms.
"Where's the deed?" the third demanded.
"What?" he asked, still unable to understand what was happening.
A flash of rage shot through Gabe when the man hit him in the face again. Gabe didn't care anymore what they wanted. He reacted. Braced against the wall he let his legs fold, his weight pulling off balance the two men holding him. All three made the mistake of thinking he had collapsed and leaned in to force him back up. Gabe surged up on his own, using the power of both legs. The man who punched him paid first, with a head butt to his face. He yowled in pain and surprise and staggered back, blood pouring through the mask from a broken nose. Gabe twisted an arm free and swung his arm. One man doubled over from a fist in his gut. The third kicked. Because Gabe was moving, the high-heeled boot caught him on the hip, not in the crotch, but it did stagger him.
All four stumbled and fought, careening into the kitchen table. The legs of the table scraped across the wood floor as one of the men leaped on Gabe's back. His arms locked around Gabe's chest with his weight pressing Gabe down, sprawling both across the table. The hammer and nails Gabe had left there earlier that evening scattered as Gabe rolled back and forth to throw the man off. A kick took Gabe's feet out from under him, and the table collapsed. Gabe bucked, and the man's arms slipped, one hooking around Gabe's throat.
Gabe threw back an elbow and heard a grunt that carried a rush of warm air against his face. He reached over his head, trying for the man's eyes, but the man kept ducking his head away. Gabe had to do something fast. He couldn't breathe right, and his lungs were beginning to burn. He tried one elbow again while the other hand followed the choking forearm around his neck to a hand to twist a finger back. He had to break that arm loose at least long enough to get a breath. His vision was going, and his ears were starting to roar.
"Grab his feet," someone shouted, so Gabe kicked.
"Damn you," the man on his neck said, heaving and twisting to bring Gabe off the wreckage of the table, while the other two got a hold of his feet and slammed him face down on the floor.
The maneuver cost the man on his back his strangle hold. Gabe could breathe again. He braced both hands on the floor to push up before his vision cleared and before they crushed him down with their weight.
A white hot pain seized him, burning like lightening up his arm from his hand. His stomach balled in a knot that threatened to expel its contents the pain was so extreme. He jerked his hand to move it away from whatever was causing that pain, but his hand wouldn't move, and the pain of pulling on it crippled him.
"God, Boss," one man exclaimed when Gabe collapsed under them.
"Shut-up," the man with the broken nose snarled. "Hold him down."
"You ain't gonna…"
"Hold him," he snarled again, the voice sounding distorted from the blood in his nose.
Gabe gave up getting their weight off him. He couldn't do it, and he couldn't make his hand move, no matter how hard he pulled, nor could he bear the pain pulling his hand caused. He reached for that hand with the other, but the weight of a man on top of him pressed the air out of him.
"Where's that deed?" the boss demanded.
Gabe stared at his hand, shaking his head to clear it further, unable to believe what he saw, his hand nailed to the floor.
His assailant saw the look of horror in Gabe's eyes and swung the hammer he held again, striking the nail that impaled Gabe's left hand, driving the nail even deeper into the floor beneath it.
Gabe groaned, as much over what was being done as the increase in pain. That wasn't a thing one sane man did to another. It wasn't a thing a man could take, not like he could take being punched or kicked. It was different, different from being shot or knifed. It ripped at something deep inside, something that repelled and sickened.
Horrified at seeing it done to his own body, Gabe stared at the hammer swinging, cold metal slapping into the man's palm, threatening to pound down into that nail again if he didn't answer the question.
"He don't hear you, Boss. Let him rest a minute," the man on Gabe's back suggested.
"He hears me," the boss answered, looking around the floor.
The man sitting on Gabe's legs asked, "Can't he just sign a bill of sale?"
The boss lifted his head in an attitude of thought. "Yes, he can do that." He got to his feet, looking around the room. "But it should be the deed. Keep him down. I'll look for it
."
"It's not here," Gabe said through clenched teeth. "It's in town."
Dead silence. Gabe could feel the men holding him down, relax their grip on him. That was what he wanted. When they weren't expecting it, he was going up. He'd have to rip that nail through his hand, but he'd get up, and he was going to kill them.
"You're lying," the boss hissed, his voice still nasal from his broken nose.
Gabe went as limp as he could, letting them think he was through, too weak to keep fighting. "It's in Hedges' safe," he said.
Silence again. The man sitting on his back broke it. "What do we do now, Boss?"
"I don't believe him. I think he needs more persuading." He bounced the hammer in his palm a few more times them pointed to the man on Gabe's back. "You stay there." While he picked up another of the scattered nails, he told the other man, "Get his other arm out straight."
Gabe gathered his remaining strength. Surging through him, fighting against the weight that held him down, Gabe fought. Pain, exhaustion, and three to one defeated him. Gabe couldn't keep the second nail from being stabbed into the back of his second fisted hand. Clenching it in a fist, didn't keep the sharp point from being driven into his flesh, and Gabe nearly passed out when the hammer connected to drive the nail in further. With the second hit of the hammer, he did faint, but came to as his head was shaken by a hold of his hair, and pain shot up from his second hand, open and nailed flat to the floor the same as the first.
"Where's that deed?"
When Gabe didn't answer, the hand tightened in his hair.
"I want that deed, Taylor. You got a week. Have it here and have it signed, or I'll do worse when I come back."
"You better kill me," Gabe moaned.
Nasal voice laughed. "You better not try to run or give that deed to anyone else. And don't you go running to the sheriff either, or I'll kill you. One week, we'll be back in one week."
He slammed Gabe's head down, chin into the floor hard enough to split the skin, and shot to his feet. Gabe went limp, hanging on the edge of consciousness.
Little Sam's Angel Page 12
