Branded (11 page)

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Authors: Scottie Barrett

BOOK: Branded
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Dix reached over and gave him a hearty slap on the back. "Now you're talkin' like the Slade Dalton I know."

"You wouldn't happen to know where we could get our hands on a couple sticks of dynamite?"

Dix hardly blinked an eye at his question. "Dalton, have I told you how great it is to have you back home?" he said with a chuckle.

"Whooee!" Blue hollered, tossing his hat in the air. "Count me in, Boss."

Slade flashed them a grin as he turned and headed to the house. If only Dix knew how much he loved being home. When he'd first decided to return to the Lazy Heart, he thought he would never adjust. Only to find that he'd inherited his father's love for the land, after all. On the road as a bounty hunter, he'd forced himself to become so detached that each gray day blended into the next. The ranch was making him feel real again. The emptiness was fading. But there was still one aching void to fill. And there was only one person who could fill it.

# # #

Sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night was never easy with Dora. It was a lesson he'd learned the hard way in his youth. But since his return, he'd had so many sleepless nights of pacing not even Oliver stirred when he left the house.

He glanced at the shut door, behind which she slept so innocently. Lacey had no idea how she contributed to his restlessness. The familiar nightmare about his father's death could still wake him with a start. But it was the idea of climbing into an empty bed that kept him up and miserable most nights.

Slade stepped out onto the porch. The brisk night air gave him the wake-up jolt he needed. By the time he reached the barn, the horses were already lined up and saddled. The men strutted around the drive like a clutch of high-strung roosters. Blue almost jumped out of his skin as Slade approached.

"Glad you could make it, Dalton," Dix said, as he handed him a package wrapped in brown paper. "Extra long fuses, too."

Slade examined the explosives briefly. Then he glanced around at his men. "You all look a little nervous. It's not too late to pull out. No one will think less of you, if you decide against going." Slade aimed this particular remark at his younger brother, who looked a shade or two paler than usual.

"Don't look at me, Slade. I wouldn't miss this for anything."

Slade gave Tait a nod.

"Saddled your horse, Boss," Blue said.

Slade turned to take the reins from Blue. "Remember, once we get there, stay quiet and wait for my signal. Then circle them and drive them back to the eastern pastures. As far away from Banyon's as you can get." He pulled himself into the saddle. "And whatever you do, don't get shot. Dora'll have my hide if any one of you gets hurt. If things get tough, spur them in the belly and head for home. That clear?"

"Sure thing, Dalton," Dix answered for all.

"Hey, Boss, how come you ain't scared?" Blue called to Slade as they headed out.

"Blue, you stupid son-of-a ... Who do you think we're riding with, Reverend Smith? That's Slade Dalton, you fool. This is like picking flowers to someone like him."

"Geez, Dix. To hear you talk, you’d think I was Satan himself." Slade clicked his tongue once and his horse picked up a fast trot. He hated to admit it, but there was too much truth in what Dix had said. Used to be, the riskier the situation, the more interesting he found it. Seemed Lacey Jarrell had cured him of the need to take unnecessary chances. He intended to stick around for awhile.

The horses, sensing the men's unease, twitched with excitement. Dix rode along silently with his shoulders bunched up around his ears.

"Dix, you're riding like a greenhorn. If you don't ease up on the horse's mouth, he's liable to buck and dump you out here in the middle of nowhere," Slade flashed him what he hoped would be a reassuring smile.

Dix forced a chuckle and gave his reins more slack. His horse relaxed his head with a grateful snort.

"Hell, ain't no horse in all of Colorado that can buck me out of the saddle," Dix boasted.

"S'that right?" Then you must be fillin' your pockets with lead, lately. ‘Cause, I'm sure I've seen you hit the dirt more than once," Slade quipped as he spurred his horse into a run.

The west end of the Lazy Heart had several small hills. The Banyon ranch could be seen from the top of the last rise.

Slade reined his horse to a stop a few feet away from the fence. Soon after, the men brought their animals to a blowing, snorting standstill beside him.

The moon didn't provide enough light to gauge where they'd cut the barbed wire earlier in the day. Slade dropped to the ground. He took his lantern from his saddlebag and lit it.

Fortunately, they hadn't missed their mark by much. It only took him ten long strides to find the opening.

He held the lantern aloft and waved the men through.

Slade snuffed out the light and saddled up. He rode down the hill to join his men. "We'll follow that stream up to the first big shadow there. That grove of trees. I want you all to hide there until I give the first signal. Let's go. And remember, total silence."

"You hear that, Blue?" Dix whispered roughly over his shoulder. "You’ll have to keep your yap shut, or you’ll get us all killed."

"You’re the one yammerin’ right now," Blue retorted.

"Do you s'pose we could practice some of that silence right now?" Slade asked with exasperation. He was feeling a little anxious although his plan was foolproof. He glanced back at his group of marauders. It was a good thing, too. He seemed to have a few fools with him tonight. Unfortunately, he couldn’t hope for silence from the horses. As a bounty hunter, he'd had more than one of his plans ruined by an impatient animal. It had even been a horse’s whinny that had warned him of the sheriff’s early return home. He’d crashed through the bedroom window, escaping a sure bullet to the head. Not a clean escape, though. His father had died in his stead. Grady had never failed to remind him that his cowardly act had sealed the lid on their Pa’s coffin.

Leaving his horse behind with the men, Slade went the rest of the way on foot. He crept along the bank of the stream. He could see Banyon's sprawling ranch house in the dim light of the moon. He moved soundlessly, a skill he had perfected as a bounty hunter. He caught a whiff of the dank smell of the watering hole. According to Blue, the herd, including his stolen longhorns, would be resting there for the night. Shadowing himself in a cluster of trees, Slade scanned the area. There was a lone rider guarding the cattle. This would be easier than he thought.

Slade approached the man from behind. The horse sensed him as he got within striking distance. The man’s hand shifted to his holster, the instant Slade brought the butt of his revolver down on his head. His limp body fell forward, slumping over the neck of the horse. Slade yanked him to the ground. Taking the rope off the man’s saddle, Slade tied his hands and legs. He dragged the unconscious body behind a fallen tree trunk.

Still cradling the sticks of dynamite in his jacket, Slade found a long branch and headed in the direction of the massive manure piles that lay near the front edge of the grazing field. Using the branch, he pushed a stick of dynamite deep beneath the center of each odorous mound. He pulled the long fuses out, and whistled once loudly, before lighting the ends. After several moments, he could hear the thunder of hooves. His men were closing in. The cattle began lowing as soon as they sensed the approaching horses. Slade glanced back at the ranch house. The lanterns were being lit, and he could hear muttered voices. The sputtering flames inched closer to the mounds, and he hoped his timing was right. As he ran toward the agitated herd, the sound of gunshots made him turn. Banyon, yelling curses, stood on the porch firing into the air. No doubt, to raise his men from the bunkhouse. Slade watched as Banyon’s two hulking sons came crashing out of the house to join him.

The three Banyons took off toward the fields where the manure piles sat in stately silence. A muffled, yet effective explosion sent the moist, foul-smelling debris twenty feet into the air. Large chunks of it plummeted back to earth in a glorious shower of cow dung. Slade knew he should be moving, but he couldn't resist lingering behind a minute longer to enjoy the sight. The Banyon boys stood frozen in stunned silence, completely coated in manure. Seeing the ranch hands stumbling out of the bunkhouses, into the night, Slade hurried his pace.

In the distance, he could see the silhouettes of his men circling the herd. Why the hell weren’t they moving them? Slade blew a low whistle, and his horse loped over to him.

"Good boy." He jumped into the saddle and rode toward the watering hole.

"What the devil are you men doing?"

"Can’t find a longhorn in the bunch, Dalton," Dix said as he pulled up alongside him.

Slade took a quick survey of the cattle. There were nothing but Herefords moseying around the watering hole. "That bastard must have sold the rest of them off."

"Probably figured you’d be back," Dix said.

"Should we grab some of these?" Thorpe asked.

"Hell no. I don't take another man's cattle. Especially not sorry looking ones like these."

The sound of gun fire drew closer. They’d overstayed their welcome. "High-tail it out of here," Slade ordered.

They hunkered over their horses and sped over the fields.

It wasn't long before Slade could hear only distant scattered shots. His ears were still ringing from the percussive sound of the dynamite. It had probably thrown off their pursuers' hearing, as well. He surmised that whoever was firing at them had taken a wrong turn.

Once at the fence, Slade counted heads as the men hurried through. He and Dix dismounted and bent back the barbed wire to make a makeshift fence. It would look seamless to the naked eye.

"Let's wait a few days before we fix this," Slade told Dix. "No need to draw attention to ourselves."

"Where did you plant that dynamite?" Dix asked as they rode deep into Lazy Heart land.

Slade was coming home empty-handed. Yet he couldn’t contain a smile. "The manure pile. Thought it would provide a nice diversion. Wasn't expectin' the Banyons to run straight into the explosive results. Now that, was an entertaining bonus."

"I'll say," Dix sputtered and almost fell out of his saddle with laughter.

Chapter Seven

In the morning, Slade worked close to home, chopping wood. He anticipated visitors.

Slade heard the back door shut. He watched Lacey hop down the porch stairs with a basket on her arm. As usual she chose to completely ignore his instructions. He headed her off on her way to the henhouse.

"Didn’t I tell you to stay put in the house today?"

"Dora needs eggs for baking," she replied, passing right by him.

He followed.

"I don’t understand why the men are hanging around. Why aren’t they working in the fields?" she asked.

He planted himself in front of her and bent low, until the brims of their hats collided. "Get your sweet stubborn self inside," he ordered. She pouted her lips at him, and without even a thought, he pressed his mouth to them.

Her big, beautiful eyes blinked at him. "The eggs can wait," she conceded, finally. She turned back to the house. The basket banged against her hip as she rushed away.

"Great," Slade muttered. It was a mere peck, but he was so hard for her, it would take forever to shake off the effects.

The sound of horses coming up the drive alerted him to Banyon's inevitable arrival.

Slade turned to find his accomplices clustering together. "Hell, you men might as well write guilty across your foreheads. Go get busy."

He squinted into the sunlight. The Banyons hadn't come alone. He rolled his eyes. They'd dragged the sheriff with them.

As they approached, Slade slung the axe over his shoulder and waited to greet them. "Anything I can do to help you, men?"

Banyon started to spew out curses. The sheriff held up a hand to halt his tirade.

"Were you or any of your men at the Banyon ranch last night?" Sheriff Talbot asked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Slade noticed his men gathering behind him. "Don't know what you're talking about, Sheriff."

"Seems there were some thieves at their place last night."

"Thieves, huh? What'd they take?"

The sheriff looked pointedly at Banyon. "Well, Ned, what did they take?"

Banyon sputtered for a minute before saying anything that made sense. "Well, they didn't take nothin'. But they were trespassing."

The sheriff heaved a sigh and turned in his saddle to get a better look at Banyon. "What proof do you have they were there, if they didn't take anything?"

Slade was sure Banyon would be too humiliated to mention the manure mishap.

"Just know, that's all." Banyon looked ready to spit nails.

Slade shifted the axe down to his side. "I'd really love to chat with you all, but I've got things to do."

"I have to say, Ned, I don't really know why we're here. If nothing's been stolen, there ain't much I can do."

Banyon walked his horse up to Slade, stopping within inches of him. He glared down at him. "It was a dark day when you rode back into town, boy."

Banyon motioned with his head to his sons. They circled their horses menacingly, staring down each of Slade's men as they rode by.

As they passed Dix, he lifted his foot and inspected the sole of his boot. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Whooee! Blue, you smell something?"

Banyon's face purpled with rage. He kicked his horse into a run. Suddenly, he and his boys couldn't leave fast enough.

# # #

Lacey was drawn to the glow of the campfire the men had started in front of their bunkhouse. Dora didn't allow alcohol in the house, so they laced their coffee with whiskey and sat around the fire on cooler spring nights.

Lacey watched as Dix poured himself a generous dose of liquor and suspected, that in his case, he was lacing his whiskey with coffee.

Normally, she wouldn't have joined the men, but today she spotted Slade Dalton with them. And Slade Dalton meant trouble. So naturally, she headed over to the campfire.

Thinking to be on the safe side, she decided to sit a distance from him. There happened to be an empty overturned crate. She found that if she swivelled just so on her seat, she could have an unobstructed view. A view that was well worth the walk over.

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