Red Moon (19 page)

Sam drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, gazing off at the Mexican soldiers riding toward them, getting closer now. He shook his lowered head.

“Two detectives gone wrong,” he murmured. “You took sides with the thief and murderer you were sworn to bring to justice. That's as low as it gets in this occupation.”

“I know that, Ranger,” said Tillis.

“So do I,” said the woman. “We had both realized what a terrible thing we'd done. We were out to fix it when things went wrong and Orez turned on us for no reason.”

“That's right,” said Tillis. “We'd already decided to make things right before they went any further. I could have salvaged the whole operation with what I would have coming for these last robberies I set up for him, the stagecoach and Trade City Bank. But it turns out, Orez had already decided he was through with me. I tried to talk to him when he and his men were robbing the stagecoach.” He gestured at his face. “This is what I got.”

“And now,” said Sam, “you want me to believe you're both after Orez and the money you know he has, so you can clear everything and make yourselves
right
again?”

“Yes, we'd like you to believe that, Ranger,” said Tillis, looking him squarely in the eye. “It happens to be the truth.”

Sam looked at the
federales
drawing closer, recognizing the young captain at the head of the column.

Tillis and Jenny Lynn looked at the soldiers too, their expressions turning tight and grim.

“Don't you believe people can see their mistakes and change, Ranger?” Tillis said.

Sam didn't answer. Instead he sidled his horse over to him as the soldiers drew within a few yards of them.

“Stick out your wrists,” he said. “I'll be taking back my cuffs now.”

The two sat crestfallen. A tear ran down the woman's face.

Putting the cuffs away, Sam turned to her.

“Get off the stolen horse, Jenny Lynn,” he said. “Get up behind Tillis. “You're riding double now.”

She and Tillis gave each other a puzzled look as the column slowed to a halt and the young captain recognized the Ranger.

“Ah, Ranger Burrack,” he said. “What do you bring us this time? More prisoners, I bet?”

“This time I bring you a stolen horse,” Sam replied. He took the Morgan by its reins and led it forward. One of the men broke ranks, rode forward and took the horse from him. “It was stolen from a man named Audie Murtez, in Trade City. I know he'll be happy to get it back.”

“
Sí
, and we will get it to him immediately,” said the captain. He gave a grin and said, “Now that you have turned to chasing down horse thieves, soon both of our countries' horses will be safe.” He looked around to make sure his men appreciated his joke; then he turned back to the Ranger.

The Ranger nodded amiably to show he was a good sport. Seeing the questioning look on the captain's face as the man eyed Tillis and the woman, Sam said, “These two
acquired
the horse.” He shot Tillis a look. “Knowing it was
stolen
, the woman brought it to me—woke me in the middle of the night to take it from her.” He shot Jenny Lynn a glance, then looked back at the Mexican captain.

The young captain eyed the three of them each in turn, curious at the sight of Tillis' bruised and sewn-up face, wolfish at Jenny Lynn, her bare knee and calf dangling down the big horse's side, showing below her muddy, hiked-up skirt.

“Is everything else good, Ranger?” he asked, looking Sam up and down, his battered hat, the swallow-tailed dress coat, a pair of scruffy miner boots the townsfolk at Trade City had given him.

The Ranger nodded and touched his fingers to his hat brim.

“Good as ever, Captain,” he said. “If you'll permit us, we'll ride with you into Picate, try to get to shelter before this storm gets to us.”

“Blast these storms for the devils that they are,” the captain swore toward the black distant sky. “
Sí
, ride with us, Ranger Burrack,” he said with a dismissing toss of his hand. “I know our horses will all be safe with you along.”

At the town livery stable in Picate, Tillis and the woman traded in the big coach horse for two saddle horses complete with tack and saddles. Sam paid the forty-dollar difference in the trade with a gold coin from his saddlebags. While thunder slammed and the storm moved in behind the familiar hard-blowing rain, he and Tillis stood in the open door of the livery barn. They looked out at a silvery gray rain blown sideways beneath a black sky. The roan and the two new horses stood eating grain from a long wooden trough.

“I won't forget this, Ranger,” Tillis said between the two of them, feeling better without his hands cuffed, without looking through the black iron bars of a jail cell the way he'd anticipated doing once they arrived at Picate. “I'm going to pay you back the forty dollars, every penny,” he added, still rubbing his freed wrists.

The Ranger only nodded, staring out into the horizontal darts of rain, his rifle hanging in his hand.

“I want you to know that I hadn't forgotten everything you did for me.” He gestured toward his stitched face. “Had it not been for the storm, I like to think I would have told you the truth about everything as soon as I got my senses back. The beating took a lot out of me.”

“I understand,” the Ranger said.

“I can't say what I might have done had I managed to rest a couple of days and sort things out in my mind. But then the hillside washed away and I had time to figure out what to do. All Jenny and I could think about was staying alive. For all I knew, we were the only two who survived. I found my gun, I found a coach horse still alive. All I could think of then was going after Orez, getting the money and making things right.”

The Ranger looked him up and down.

“And now that's what you're doing,” he said, capping Tillis' story off for him.

“Yep,” Tillis said with satisfaction. “And I can't tell you how good it feels, doing the right thing. I got knocked off the right path there for a while. But now I've got things right in my head, and I'm back on the job.”

“That's good to hear,” the Ranger said.

Across the barn, Jenny Lynn sat resting on a blanket thrown over fresh straw.

“I don't know about you two, but I'm starving,” she called out to them.

The Ranger and Tillis looked at each other.

“I could use something to eat myself,” Tillis said.

“There's a restaurant right down the street,” the Ranger said. “We can eat early, get a good night's rest and be on Orez's trail before daylight.”

“I'll put the horses in their stalls,” said Tillis, turning, heading for the horses at the feed trough.

The Ranger started to follow, but he saw Jenny reach a hand up toward him for assistance.

“Ranger, would you, please?” she said. “Since it appears you're the only gentleman here.”

“Of course,” the Ranger said. He stepped across the barn floor and bent slightly, his hand extended to her.

Jenny smiled and took his hand. In the instant she did so, the Ranger saw in her eyes the image of Tillis looming behind him, his hand raised, a wooden rope fid in it.

Uh-oh . . .
It was a trick. Sam tried to jerk his hand away fast, but Jenny Lynn held on to it with a powerful grip. The Ranger tried to brace himself, realizing he was past stopping anything.

On the blanket, Jenny winced as the fid hit the back of the Ranger's head and sent him falling toward her. She managed to catch him just enough to soften his fall. Then she rolled him aside and sprang to her feet. When she saw Tillis draw back for another blow with the tapered, top-heavy fid, she grabbed his wrist with both hands.

“No, Foster, that's enough!” she said.

Tillis hesitated, looking down at the Ranger lying slumped on the blanket.

“Just one more, for good measure?” he asked.

“Give me that,” Jenny Lynn demanded, taking the wooden fid from his hand. She pitched the tapered wooden tool away. “Get his handcuffs. We'll cuff him to a stall.”

The Ranger moaned on the blanket, already trying to regain consciousness. Through a watery veil, he saw the woman hovering over him. But he only saw her for a moment; then a heavy fog moved across his senses and she vanished. A moment later he came to, lying on the blanket, feeling his wrists being cuffed. He heard Tillis and the woman talking, but they might as well have been speaking a foreign language as far as he was concerned.

Through the watery veil, he saw the horses clop past him, their hooves awfully close to his face, he thought. He wanted to raise himself from the blanket and make a lunge for Tillis, but no, he told himself, that wasn't the wise thing to do. He had expected something like this to happen. Now here it was.
Lie still, be patient,
he demanded of himself.

The roan stopped beside him for a moment and reached out with its muzzle to investigate. The Ranger felt it sniff his face all around. He felt it chuff and blow out a hot breath in his face. Then he saw it raise its head and walk away behind the other two horses.

This is going to be all right,
the Ranger reminded himself, relaxing as he heard heavy rain splatter from the roof edge as someone opened the livery barn door. At least this was one night he wouldn't have to ride in a storm.

•   •   •

When the Ranger awakened again, gray dawn light seeped slanted through the barn windows and the plank barn door as a child's small hand gripped his healing shoulder and shook him. Pain coursed through the stitches in his shoulder. He opened his eyes and stared at the barn post his wrists had been pulled around and cuffed to.

“Ranger! Ranger, wake up,” said a grown-up's voice standing over the young Mexican boy, who was doing the shaking. “You must wake up and have for yourself some coffee to clear your head.”

Sam batted his eyes and looked first at his cuffed wrists. As he stared, he saw the owner of the livery barn and his young son, Julio, standing over him. He watched the man stoop down with a handcuff key, unlock the cuffs and pitch them aside. Young Julio looked on.

“Why were you cuffed, Ranger?” Julio asked.

“Shhh, Julio,” his father said. “It is not something you ask a man the first thing in the morning.”

“It's all right, Raul,” the Ranger said, sitting up, rubbing his wrists. “Did you mark those horses' shoes good and clear like I asked you to? I didn't get a chance to check them.”

“Ah yes, of course, Ranger,” said the livery owner. He reached a strong hand down and helped the Ranger pull himself to his feet. “You can see the file marks here.” He pointed a long finger at the hoofprints on the soft wet floor. “I file one
X
on the man's and two
X
s on the woman's.”

“Good job, Raul,” Sam said, looking at the floor, seeing clearly the
X
s the liveryman had filed on the front hoof of each horse. As he spoke, his head pounded with each pulse of his heart. “You mentioned some . . . coffee?” he said in a quiet, pained voice.

“
Sí
, come sit down,” said Raul. To Julio he said, “Go get coffee, my son, and a wet cloth. The Ranger needs to clear his head. I can be sure you will be going after the people who did this to you,
mas pronto
, eh, Ranger?”

“Oh yes, Raul, you
can be sure
,” he said, following Raul to a wooden stool, where he sat down and cupped the back of his head. He took the wet cloth when the boy reappeared and handed it to him. He accepted a heavy coffee mug and sipped from it as he held the cool wet cloth against the knot on the back of his head.

“How bad did it rain last night?” he asked the livery owner.

“It rained bad, like it has rained every day and night,” Raul said. “You will have a hard time finding the tracks they left in the night.”

The Ranger only nodded and sipped his coffee. That was all right, he told himself. He had a good idea which way they had traveled in the night. They would ride right up onto the high hills trail. He had no doubt about that. It was up there that he would need to identify their prints, once the rain had ceased, or at least slowed down for a while. Sipping the coffee, he stood up and steadied himself. Still holding the wet cloth to the back of his head, he walked toward the rear barn door.

“Let's see what kind of riding stock you've got for sale,” he said over his shoulder to the livery barn owner. “The longer I sit, the sorer my head's going to be.”

“Ah, it is always the case with these things, Ranger,” Raul said, following him to the rear door, hurrying ahead and holding it open for him. The two walked outside in a light rain left over from the night before. As they walked to a corral where seven muddy horses stood huddled together under the roof of a lean-to shelter, Raul reached out a hand toward the animals. The horses stared through the gray morning rain.

“Here are the beauties I have on hand for you today, Ranger,” he said.

Sam walked along, looking the horses over one at a time, until he spotted a black-speckled gray desert barb with a muzzle and jawline full of brush scars. The hard-boned little barb stood off to itself in the rain, just out from under the shelter. The horse took a step back from him as the Ranger put a hand out toward its muzzle.

“He's not a friendly sort, is he?” the Ranger observed. The barb stopped retreating and stood still and silent for the Ranger to rub his muzzle.

“No, he is not friendly, Ranger,” Raul said. “He does not like people or pets or other horses, I think.” He raised a long finger for emphasis. “But he is from these desert hills. These storms have not bothered him. Perhaps he has been in storms like this before.”

Looking at the speckled barb as he spoke, rubbing its muzzle, the Ranger said, “I don't know that there's ever been storms like these before. If so, I've never seen them.”

“I have seen them like this,” Raul said. “They come and go and when you know they are gone is when you see a red moon.”

“A red moon?” the Ranger pondered, the wet cloth against the back of his head.

“
Sí
, a red moon,” Raul said. “It scares the old women and makes them weep. It makes the young ones act loco until it is gone. The Apache warriors say it is big medicine.” He made a tight fist.

“Big medicine in what way?” Sam asked.

“They believe all spirits, both good and bad, await to rise on a red moon,” he said. “Great men fall on a red moon. Other men become great in their place. Good men are harder to die. Bad men die easier. But all men who stand in a red moon will change, some for the better, some for the worse.”

The Ranger only stood staring at him, as if waiting for him to get the story out of his system.

Raul shrugged. “But listen to me, I talk about the moon and the storms when I should be selling you a horse. Anyway,” he said, “I believe this barb is a good horse for fifty
americano
dollars, eh?”

“He's a better horse for thirty-five,” Sam came back.

“But still a real bargain for forty-five?” the livery owner said. He knew he was going to sell the Ranger a horse; it was just a matter of settling on the price.

“A
real
bargain for forty,” Sam said.

“Yes, or an even better bargain standing under a saddle and bridle for forty-five?” Raul said, knowing it was coming—waiting for it, waiting—

“Forty-five, and trail ready,” the Ranger said.

There it was. Raul smiled.

“Ah yes,
trail ready
, of course,” he said. “Follow me, Ranger. I have just the saddle for you.”

“Good,” the Ranger said. “I need to get on up into the Blood Mountains. The man I'm after is up there.”

“Oh
, Montañas de Sangre
?” Raul said. He gave the Ranger a wary look, but offered no more on the matter.

As they walked back toward the barn, the Ranger, holding the wet cloth to his head, said, “Tell me more about the red moon.”

“I hope I have not made you think I am foolish, talking about these old Apache beliefs,” Raul said.

“Not at all, Raul,” Sam said. “Lately I've taken a sharp interest in anything Apache.”

“Oh, you mean you are interested in Apache because you are hunting Wilson Orez?” Raul asked.

“How'd you know I'm hunting Orez?” the Ranger asked.

“Who else would you be hunting up there?” he said, gesturing in the direction of the distant hills and mountains obscured by miles of silvery rain. “Above the Twisted Hills, everything belongs to Orez. To him and the renegade
Apachean
Red Sleeve warriors.” He paused, then said, “Anybody who goes there will die, unless Wilson Orez says otherwise. It is his lair. Everybody who knows of him knows not to go there.”

“I'm going there,” the Ranger said.

“And the man and woman who stole your horse, they are going there too?” Raul asked.

“Unless something stops them,” the Ranger said. “I'm sure they're already on their way.”