Ransom Canyon (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Staten

T
HE
LAST
LIGHT
of day played along the jagged edge of Ransom Canyon as Staten raced toward the far pasture that bordered the Collins ranch. For him the colors of sunsets across the wide horizon reminded him of Quinn’s music. Whenever she played, he thought of his land, ever changing, through the seasons, through the years. Some would describe the terrain as desolate and barren, but if he lived to be a hundred he’d love the views every day.

As much as he loved the land, he hated the sound of gunfire rattling across the calm air. One shot after another seemed to clatter off the clouds and echo through the canyon, warning that trouble was coming to call.

Over the years, Davis Collins had opened his place to friends wanting to hunt, and he also offered leasing rights to companies he didn’t know, but Staten never considered doing such a thing even if the money was good. Most of the hunters were respectful, following all the rules, keeping to the property boundaries. But some were drunks and careless, dangerous men who only handled a rifle a few times a year. They’d cross at the sandy ravines and step over low fences without really being aware, or caring, that they were on someone else’s property. Some hunted at sunset and shot at eyes in the darkness, not aware that the eyes looking back were those of a cow and not a deer. Most of the drunks even left their kill in the field. With the Bar W over-hunted, they moved onto neighboring land. Staten planned to at least act as though he was pressing charges this time.

Once, he’d questioned Davis about the hunters, and Collins had sworn no hunters crossed property lines. Staten had only two choices, call the man a liar or walk away. He’d walked away, knowing that getting along with his neighbor was more important, at least until he had proof.

As Staten bounced toward the back pasture, he saw the Reyes pickup turning onto his land and heading straight toward him.

He smiled. Lucas, he’d bet. The kid might live on the Collins spread, but he’d made a hand for the Double K. Staten was more impressed with his skill and brains every time they worked together. Reyes had raised a good boy. Though the boots of a cowhand fit him now, Lucas would go on to greater things, and Staten planned to be there watching.

“Mr. Kirkland,” Lucas yelled out his pickup window as he pulled alongside. “I heard shots. They had to be from near here.”

Staten slowed to a stop. “Hop in my truck, Lucas. We’re liable to run into one another out here once it gets dark.”

Lucas pulled off the road and cut his engine. In a blink he was climbing into the big cab of Staten’s truck.

“Wow, Mr. Kirkland, this place is big enough to be a mobile home. You got a microwave in this thing?”

“Nope, but I’ll order that next time.”

Lucas settled in, knowing that if they crossed pasture lines he’d be the one hopping out to open the gates. “How can I help? I know this is your land, but I think of it as my special place and I hate the thought of someone out here bothering it.”

Staten nodded. “I know how you feel. I like knowing you’re out here watching the stars, but I’ll be madder than hell if I find out that someone cut fence to come in. So just listen, kid. If trespassers are still on this section, we’ll hear them.” Staten turned the truck off the road so they’d travel more quietly on grass.

Lucas’s voice was high with excitement. “You think it’s rustlers? My dad says they’ve hit the Collins place twice lately. Maybe a dozen head in the past month.

“Jake said you’ve been having trouble with them, too. They wouldn’t come out this early, would they? It’s barely dark. My guess is they’d feel safest cutting fence and rounding up cattle long after midnight.”

“Breathe, kid,” Staten ordered. “It’s not rustlers, it’s idiots. Drunk hunters or, worse, high ones. I was thinking they might have come from the Collins place and crossed over at the ravine.”

Lucas shook his head. “Dad said at supper that the whole family has gone down to check out colleges for Reid’s older brother, Charley. If they’re not home, the guest quarters should be empty.”

“Charley bright enough to go to college?”

Lucas looked over at him, and Staten had his answer without Lucas having to say a word.

“No surprise. I’ve watched him grow up. IQ and shoe size seem about the same. Collins is putting his bet on Reid to take over the ranch, but I don’t know. Any boy dumb enough to talk you three kids into going into that death-trap Gypsy House might want to run for office. He’s got persuasion skills and no brains, just like my old man.”

Lucas laughed. “What makes you think Reid didn’t try to talk us
out
of going in that night?”

Staten lowered his speed along with his voice. “I thought about it. You and Lauren both have too much brains to do something like that after dark, even though you’d been carrying flashlights. Only she’s fifteen, so she might have just wanted an adventure. Tim always seems to be following Reid, never leading. That leaves you, Lucas. Why’d you go in?”

Lucas was silent.

Staten turned to look at him in the low light of the dashboard. “I’m guessing you went in to watch over your friend Lauren.”

The kid didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. Staten read the surprise in Lucas’s face.

“Don’t worry about it, Lucas, we all do foolish things, take chances when we should have hesitated, and sometimes the end result turns out to be great.” Quinn walked through Staten’s mind. They’d been foolish not to use protection at their age, but who knew, it might turn out all right. The idea of sharing a child with Quinn was settling in his mind. After all, they weren’t that old. Lots of people started families in their forties these days.

Lucas pointed toward a stand of elms scattered along the creek. “Something moved over there by the water.” Half the trees had died during the drought, leaving barkless white bony skeletons strewn among the live trees.

Staten slowly turned the truck so the lights flashed across the rocky ground near the water. “Pull my Colt from the glove compartment and follow me,” he said as he lifted a rifle from the rack behind his head.

Side by side they moved down the rocky slope. A young deer, not yet full grown, lay jerking in the mud. Staten smelled the blood even before he saw it. “Keep your eyes open for anyone. If they’re hunting for food, they’ll be tracking the animal. I want to know they’re near before they see us.”

As Lucas stood guard, Staten lowered to his knee beside the doe. She didn’t try to pull away when he placed his hand on her side and felt her heart racing.

Slowly his eyes adjusted to the shadows, and he made out her wound. She’d been shot in the head, but the bullet hadn’t killed her. Another wound, halfway down her back, left a gaping hole so deep it looked like someone had hacked a chunk out of her.

“How is the deer?” Lucas whispered though the silence.

“Dying and in pain.” Staten moved his hand along her neck as if making one last attempt to calm her. “Easy now, girl.”

Lucas had been raised on a ranch. He knew what had to be done without Staten having to say the words. He passed the rancher the Colt.

One lone shot rang through the night. The deer stopped moving. The men didn’t make a sound. Staten’s hand moved once more along the deer’s neck and whispered, “Jake Longbow always says the same thing when a wild animal dies
. Go. Run with the wind in a place of no pain
.”

Lucas took the Colt back as Staten shouldered the deer. “Sounds almost like a prayer.”

Slowly, Staten stood and passed his rifle to Lucas. “Let’s put her in the truck bed. I don’t want the coyotes getting her.”

Lucas carried both the Colt and the rifle back to Staten’s pickup. After the rancher covered the animal with a tarp, both men stood watching the night. Someone was out there who didn’t belong.

“They’re waiting for us to move on,” Staten finally whispered as he shoved his rifle back in its place. “I can feel them.”

“What are we going to do?” Lucas walked a few feet away from the truck and into the grass without making a sound.

Staten followed. He knew the sounds of his ranch. He’d recognized the rush of quail, the gobbles of wild turkey, the tapping of mule deer when a small herd crossed the road. He also had no doubt that whatever happened, Lucas Reyes would stand by his side now, but he had no idea what they were about to face.

“The sheriff’s on his way. First thing he’ll do is order a block on the county road. If they think they can’t go out that way, they’ll have to cross open land. Unless they know this section of pasture far better than I think they do, they’ll pick the easiest route and that will be straight past us. If we wait, they’ll be heading our way soon.”

“We’re going to confront men with guns out here in the dark?”

Staten barked a laugh. “I didn’t live to be forty-three by being that dumb. Chances are slim they’ll even see us. They probably left their trucks in the shadows of the elms. Once they pass us, we’ll follow them. I know this area well enough to drive it without headlights.”

“Oh, I understand. Good plan, Mr. Kirkland. I wasn’t much on the ‘Gun-fight at the O.K. Corral’ idea.”

Staten chuckled and pulled the rifle from the rack once more, and they moved forward to the shadow of a cluster of mesquite trees. There, they’d wait. The night wind rustled over the tops of tall buffalo grass. Staten forced out slow breaths, thinking that he could feel trouble coming and wondering if that was how men had felt on this land for hundreds of years. Bones and weapons had been found at Yellow Creek and at the south bend of the Red River miles northeast. A dozen cavalry men had died at Antelope Peak little more than a hundred years ago. Maybe their cries still circled high in the air like smoke from a long spent fire.

He widened his stance and waited. An uneasiness galloped over his thoughts. He couldn’t hear it or see it, but he could feel it in his blood.

After fifteen minutes of silence, Lucas whispered, “You think we missed them?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe you should call the sheriff and make sure the road block got set up?”

Staten swore. “I would if I hadn’t left my phone back at the barn. Any chance you’ve got one I could borrow?”

Lucas shrugged. “I’d let you if I had one.”

“A teenager without a phone? Impossible.”

The sound of an engine silenced them both. They stood still, their shadows blending with those of the trees.

Staten held his breath as the grind of a motor grew louder, but underneath the roar of what had to be a truck was something else—a smaller motor. A car, or maybe a small pickup. For a few minutes they seemed to be traveling together, then the smaller engine veered off and grew fainter. Maybe going another way? Maybe slowing down to see if the truck made it?

The starless night revealed little but finally, as foggy as a day-old dream, came a lone truck moving across the night no more than shadow on shadow.

“There he goes!” Lucas jumped from the trees and started running for Staten’s truck.

Staten reacted like a parent reaching for a child who darts into the street. If he’d been three feet closer he could have stopped the boy. Now all he could do was join him.

If they were lucky, they’d make it to the truck before the smaller engine came into view. Once inside, he’d wait for the second car to pass before following.

Lucas ran full out, fast and light.

“If we’re lucky,” Staten whispered just as his luck ran out.

Pain, like lightning volting from his shoulder, hit him out of nowhere. Time slowed and didn’t pick up until he heard the sound of a round being fired. He waited a second, expecting to hear the bullet fly by. Only it didn’t. It had already hit him.

Staten’s strong body crumbled. His face hit the cold ground as fire raged through his shoulder. The Colt tumbled from his hand as all feeling seemed to leave his arm.

As he jerked, Staten swore he heard Jake Longbow whisper,
“Go. Run with the wind in a place of no pain.”

Helpless to move, Staten watched Lucas make it to the truck before the shot registered. He glanced back, and to the kid’s credit, he didn’t hesitate as he reversed his route.

“Get down!” Staten yelled, knowing it didn’t matter if he was hurt. Whoever was out there knew exactly where he and the boy were.

Lucas dropped and spider-crawled toward Staten.

“Are you hit?”

“Stay down, kid. They’ll come closer. Fire off two rounds toward the moon. That should slow them down and bring any of my men within hearing distance running toward us.”

Staten fought to keep from passing out. “If you hear movement coming toward you, fire again, high. If it’s my men coming in to help, they’ll be yelling.” Staten felt like an elephant just sat down on his head, but he had to stay conscious long enough to make sure Lucas would be all right. “If someone shoots back,” he said weakly, “lay down and wait until you’ve got a clear shot, then aim for their legs. Even if you miss, it’ll slow them down long enough to...”

Lucas

L
UCAS
MOVED
CLOSER
to his boss, feeling around for the Colt. For one panicked moment, he thought he might not find it or remember what to do.

“Mr. Kirkland.” He touched the rancher’s arm. “Where are you hit?”

When Staten didn’t answer, Lucas grabbed his boss’s shoulder intending to shake him awake, but warm blood met his touch. He had his answer.

Fighting down fear, he moved his hand over the wound. Left shoulder. High. Not close to the heart but too much blood.

Pressing the wound with one hand, Lucas spread his fingers through the dirt near Kirkland’s side. One sweep. Two. He touched the butt of the Colt. It took Lucas a few agonizing seconds to grip the gun without decreasing the pressure over the wound. He didn’t know if he was doing any good, but it was the only thing he knew to do to possibly stop the bleeding.

Lucas held the gun as far away as he could and fired two shots in the air.

The whole world went silent. He leaned over Staten. “Don’t die.” His voice came fast and angry. “Don’t die on me. I don’t know what to do.”