Before the Larkspur Blooms (34 page)

Jake looked across the creek, deep and wide here at South Fork, thinking of a certain short story he’d just as soon like to forget. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that “The Tell-Tale Heart” had scared the heck out of him that snowy night last December. It had a way of sneaking into his subconscious on dark nights. Or when he was alone tending the herd. It rolled around in his head like hot coals. Poe sure knew how to weave a tale. Jake hated to think
of the vulture eye, and worse, the crazy boy sticking his head in his benefactor’s room in the dead of night, murdering him and dismembering the poor old man. Stuffing him in—

“Jake.”

He jumped, his heart thwacking painfully against his ribs.

It was Rome. The cowboy reined up in the clearing but stayed on his horse.

Jake didn’t like it. Maybe it was the story he’d just been thinking about, but the hair on the back of his neck rose, and not because of the cool breeze. Leaves whispered softly in the trees as if trying to tell him something. He took a step toward his horse but didn’t get far.

“You have my money?” Rome’s tone was harsh.

Jake stopped. Turned. “Not all of it. Twenty dollars for now.”

“I ain’t running no bank, Jake. I gave you more time than you deserved. Why, if you weren’t good for the money you ought not have taken my loan.”

Rome was right.

“So. What should I do with you?” Rome scratched a match and lit the end of a cigarette. “You tell me.”

Jake followed the glowing line when Rome tossed the match into the river. His palms slickened. He’d been a stupid fool to come out here tonight all alone. Daisy was smarter than he was.

“I know,” Rome finally said. “I’m moving some cattle tonight. Ten head over in the next valley. I want you to take them to Casper for me. A few days’ work is little to ask for that much money. That’ll take off the remainder of what you owe.”

Cattle.

“I’m not rustling.”

Rome laughed. “Who said anything about rustling?”

“It’s damn obvious to me.”

Rome drew his gun and leveled it at Jake. “You’ll help, and shut up about it. It’s my word against a no-named nothing.”

Clattering hooves sent rocks rolling into the riverbank. Both men turned. Dwight plunged his horse down a sharp drop and reined up next to Rome. His horse dripped sweat. Dwight’s clothes were rumpled and his face bruised from the earlier fight. “I found cattle over the draw. And the bull from the Broken Horn.” He nodded toward Jake. “What’s this?”

Rome smirked. “I caught one of your rustlers, Hoskins.”

Dwight pulled up, as if startled at Rome’s words.

“Who knows the land and ranches around here better than him?” Rome pointed to Jake with the end of his pistol. “It’s the perfect cover. If we take him in, Preston will just release him, being he’s such good friends with Logan. Best we take care of this here and now.”

J
ake itched to reach for his gun, but if he did he was a dead man. “I’m not a rustler, and you know it, Rome!” He knew his time was running out. “
You’re
the rustler,” he blurted. He chanced a glance at Dwight. The moon was just bright enough that Jake could see a satisfied smirk right under the purple shiner he’d given him in the saloon. His taunting words about Hannah and Thom Donovan slipped back. He wished now he hadn’t pushed that point quite so hard. Dwight wasn’t going to believe a thing he said, but Jake had to try or else this would be his last night on earth. “We were meeting out here so I could pay Rome the money I owed from the poker game. Look in my saddlebag, Dwight. You’ll find twenty dollars.”

Rome laughed. “I never would have suspected
you
, Jake.”

“It’s
not
true,” Jake insisted.

Dwight looked between them. “Now, why would you ride all the way out here just to pay back a little money? Don’t make any sense at all. I don’t think that passes the honesty test, Jake, ole boy.” He untied the lariat looped on his saddle. “You know range law, Jake. Easier and faster than waiting on the circuit judge. Scares off other rustlers, too.”

Jake jerked back, and sweat broke out on his brow. Rome’s gun—Dwight’s lariat.
This might be it. My end. An ugly way to die. And what about Chase and Jessie? What will they believe?
Regrets
a mile wide rendered his heart as he fought to stay in control of his emotions.
Daisy.

Dwight glanced around in the trees, looking for a suitable branch. He tossed his rope over a limb several feet above him and caught the end, pulling it into his lap. He quickly tied a noose. “Yes, sir. Albert’s going to be darned pleased to hear we rid the territory of vermin like him.”

Thundering hooves echoed up the draw. Whoever it was wasn’t trying to cover their arrival.

“Do it!” Rome commanded. “String the boy up.”

Jake backed away, preparing to dive headfirst into the river. He’d take his chances there. He couldn’t swim, but he was a fast learner.

Dwight spurred his horse. It jumped forward, cutting off Jake’s path to the river. The deputy dropped a noose around his neck, then pulled his gun and struck him on the head. Pain exploded, and everything went black.

Hat pulled low, Thom stayed behind Albert, Chase, and Gabe as they rode into the clearing. Jake lay unconscious on the ground, a noose looped around his neck.

“What in the devil is going on?” Albert shouted. He reined up first, followed by the others. Their horses danced around on the rocky soil, creating a clamor.

Dwight puffed out his chest. “Rome caught himself a rustler red-handed. Ten head over yonder to prove it. Your bull, too, Logan. Range law says we have the right to string him up on the spot.”

“They don’t pay us to murder people, Deputy,” Albert said forcefully. “If he’s a rustler he’ll get an impartial trial.”

“Jake isn’t a rustler,” Chase gritted out. “Get that rope off his neck.” He dismounted and handed his reins to Gabe. He started toward Jake, but Rome cut him off.

The crazy look in his old adversary’s eyes gave Thom pause. Rome was a cold-blooded killer. He was sure none of the others, with the possible exception of Chase, could outshoot him. Still, Jake’s crumpled body urged them to hurry.

“I didn’t go to all the trouble of doing your job just to see him walk free, Preston. That’s what will happen if we let you take him in,” Rome shouted at Albert. He jerked his reins cruelly, and his horse tossed his head. “Chase Logan has you in his back pocket. Everyone knows it. He says jump and you ask how high. The ranchers are sick and tired of losing their beef. Hanging this one will set an example for the rest.”

It’d be a bloodbath if anyone fired. Albert’s quick glance told Thom the sheriff knew the fine line they walked.

“Everyone, just stay calm.” Albert put out his hand in supplication.

Rome let go a string of curse words. Spittle flew from his mouth. “Dwight, you’re a lily-livered coward. Give me that rope!” Rome’s horse leaped forward when stuck with two-inch spurs. He ripped the lariat from the deputy’s grasp and wrapped it around his saddle horn. Chase, still standing close, grabbed Rome’s horse by the bridle, halting it in his tracks. He held firm as Rome kicked and struggled with his horse.

“How do we know Jake’s the rustler?” Thom asked, riding forward.

Something in his voice must have touched a memory in Rome. The man twisted in his saddle and looked directly at Thom for the first time. “I caught him with stolen cattle. How much more proof do you need?”

A thrill shot through Thom. His heart beat faster with the unquenchable thirst of triumph.
Finally! I have you now!
After all
these years, he’d have his revenge. Repay the man who’d stolen his future, his life. If it hadn’t been for Littleton, he wouldn’t carry the bullet that was robbing him of happiness with Hannah.

“Been talking to Stinky Slim lately?” Thom asked slowly. “His ghost tell you where to find the stolen cattle?”

Rome sat back in his saddle, startled. “Who? What?” A tremor rattled his voice.

“Stinky Slim. Surely you haven’t forgotten. Him hobbling about, one leg longer than the other.”

Thom could almost see Rome’s mind turning. The man believed everyone from the old outfit was dead. He’d gone about his life with no one left to point any fingers. No one would know that name unless they’d ridden with him in Colorado. He squirmed in his saddle. Looked around suspiciously.

The night sounds went quiet. Dwight, for the first time, looked mixed up. He kept glancing at Albert as if waiting for direction. The only sound was the water as it splashed over its rocky course.

Thom snagged and kept Rome’s gaze.

“You don’t remember me, do you, Rome?” No one wanted a gunfight. With four guns to Rome’s one, and possibly Dwight’s, they could take him down but not before he got a few shots off himself. Someone would be killed. Everyone needed to remain calm. Collected. Not only did Thom want proof of Rome’s nefarious deeds, but he wanted vindication for himself.

“It’s me, Thomas Donovan. Surely you recall the Irish lad you hired on in Colorado.”

It was as if Rome snapped out of a trance. He sneered and again tried in vain to free his horse from Chase. “Get back, Logan,” he said, ignoring Thom’s remark. “I’m hanging this rustler. Cleaning out the prairie.”

Jake moaned. His leg moved.

“I’m eight years older now, Rome. Sat in a stinking jail all because of you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen you and never heard of some bum named Stinky Slim. You’re cracked.”

“Am I?” Thom dismounted, but when he reached for his saddlebag the silver buckle wavered before his eyes. He stumbled, caught himself with the saddle.

“Thom?” It was Albert, watching him closely.

He pushed on, worked the buckle, squelching the pain that throbbed behind his eyes. A moment later, he withdrew the molded hoofprint he’d tossed into his saddlebag before riding out. It was still attached to the board. When the prints had dried rock-hard, he’d sawed the board into four squares. He held this one up for everyone to see.

He smiled, enjoying every minute of Rome’s alarm. “I’ve been doing a little detective work myself. I took these prints when the rustlers hit the Cotton Ranch after the rain. Shows one of the rustlers had a horse with a sizable crack in the outside of his right front.”

Again being careful not to set Rome off, Thom slowly reached back into his saddlebag and pulled out a pair of nippers. He tossed them to Chase. “Pull off that front right, Chase. You’ll find all the evidence you’ll need to watch Rome Littleton swing.”

L
ittleton spurred and pulled back at the same time, causing his horse to rear. Chase was jerked off the ground by his firm grip on the bridle. Chase yanked his body back, avoiding the animal’s striking hooves. Rome moved his gun back and forth from Thom’s chest to Gabe’s. “Anyone draw their gun and I kill Gabe Garrison first!”

“Calm down,” Albert said evenly. “No one is drawing their gun. We’re all giving you as much space as you need.”

Chase struggled with his footing, staying clear of the frightened horse. Thom had been right. Rome was the leader to react like this.