The big gundown (2 page)

For an unknowable time after that, The Kid drifted in and out of consciousness. He woke up once and it seemed that he had been lying there in the bed for years. He woke up the next time and it was if only moments had passed since the thunder of guns and the acrid tang of gunsmoke filled the air. Sometimes he recognized the blurry faces of the man and woman who fed him and changed his bandages and took care of him, and other times they seemed like perfect strangers to him.

And there was the little boy—Cyrus? Was that his name?—who stood and watched with a tentative smile on his face, sometimes with a fat little puppy clutched in his arms. The Kid remembered…something…about a puppy, but he wasn’t sure just what it was.

He knew he was sick because he could see the fear in the eyes of the woman as she leaned over him and wiped his forehead with a cool, damp rag. She was afraid he was going to die.

The Kid wasn’t afraid. The only thing death meant to him was that he would see the woman he loved again. He would see Rebel…unless, of course, all the blood on his hands meant that he would be headed down instead of up. It might be the Devil waiting for him on the other side, instead of St. Peter.

To be honest, The Kid wouldn’t be surprised either way.

Finally, the time came when The Kid opened his eyes and not only was his vision clear, but his mind was, too. He remembered everything in detail: the way he had approached the ranch, just drifting, looking for a place where he could water his horse and maybe get a hot meal; the man he had seen sneaking into the back of the barn; the ominous sound of the shot he’d heard a moment later. Curiosity had driven The Kid to slip through the rear door of the barn himself. He had found a man who looked like a rancher, probably the owner of this place, sprawled on the ground with a pool of blood around his head. The wound wasn’t as bad as it looked, and as the man began to come around, The Kid had told him to stay put, then gone to see what the screams and the other shots were about.

Rage had filled him as he saw how the woman was being manhandled. When the intruders threatened the pups and kicked the little boy, The Kid knew that if he didn’t step in, those bastards wouldn’t leave anybody alive when they rode off and left the ranch behind them.

The Kid didn’t go out of his way to look for trouble. He didn’t have to. It always seemed to find him. But he didn’t turn his back and walk away from it, either.

He heard yipping and looked toward the open doorway. The boy was just outside, playing with the pups. He had a short piece of rope in his hand, and all four puppies had hold of it, trying to pull it away from him. The Kid smiled. It looked like fun.

Growing up in a fancy house on Boston’s Beacon Hill, he’d never had a dog. His stepfather, the man he had believed for many years was his real father, was a good man, but he hadn’t been much for animals, especially not in the house. That was just one of the things The Kid had missed growing up and had not even realized until years later.

Frannie Williams laughed and came into The Kid’s view as she crossed the room to stand in the doorway and look out at her son playing with the puppies. “I swear, Cyrus, you spend so much time with those pups I think you’re going to start growling and yipping just like them.”

The boy looked up at her and grinned. “I wouldn’t want to be a dog, Ma. I like eatin’ the food you fix for us!” He glanced past her skirts then and spotted The Kid watching them. “Ma! Mr. Morgan’s awake again!”

Frannie turned quickly from the door and came across the room toward the bed. She wore an anxious expression as she bent over The Kid.

“Mr. Morgan, how do you feel?” She rested a hand on his forehead. “You’re cool! The fever’s broken at last.”

The Kid’s brain was working again, but his mouth didn’t want to, at least at first. He struggled to say, “How…how long…”

“How long have you been here?” Frannie guessed. “Four days. You were so sick we thought we were going to lose you.”

The Kid let his head sag back against the pillow. He wasn’t surprised by what she had just told him. He had sensed that he’d lost a considerable chunk of time while he was out of his head with the fever.

“But you’re going to be all right now,” she went on. “The fever’s broken, and I’ll bet you’ll be up and around before you know it.”

The Kid hoped that was true. For a man who lived the life he did, to be flat on his back was just asking for trouble.

“Those men…”

Frannie’s expression clouded at The Kid’s words. Cyrus had come inside and followed her over to the bed. She looked at him now and said, “Run on back outside and play, Cyrus.”

“But, Ma, I want to talk to Mr. Morgan,” he protested.

“There’ll be plenty of time for you to talk to Mr. Morgan later. Now, scoot like I told you.”

Cyrus went outside, but on the way, he muttered, “I’m all the time havin’ to
scoot
.”

Frannie turned back to The Kid. Keeping her voice low, she said, “If you’re talking about those horrible gunmen, Sean buried them, like he said he would.”

“Where?”

“Up in our north pasture.”

“But still on your range.”

She frowned. “Of course. He wouldn’t have taken them onto somebody else’s land to bury them.”

“Why didn’t he…take them to the nearest town?”

“That would be Bisbee, which is two days from here by wagon.” Frannie shook her head. “It may not be the height of summer yet, Mr. Morgan, but it’s still too warm to spend two days on the road with some dead men.”

The Kid couldn’t argue with that. He was worried, though, that if friends of the dead men came looking for them, they might find the graves and figure out what had happened. That could mean bad trouble for the Williams family.

“Did he dig four graves…or just one?” The Kid didn’t know Sean Williams, didn’t know how smart the rancher was.

“He didn’t actually dig any graves. He hollowed out under the bank of an arroyo a couple of miles from here and then caved it in on top of the bodies. No one knows they’re there except for the vaqueros who work for us.”

“You can trust them?”

Frannie nodded. “Of course. All four of them have been with us for five years, ever since we came here. I’d trust them with my life. More importantly, I’d trust them with the lives of my husband and son.”

“That’s just what you’re doing,” The Kid muttered.

Frannie crossed her arms. “I know that. Sean said we might be in danger if anybody found out what happened here. That’s why he was so careful to put the bodies where nobody would ever find them. He led their horses about five miles from here and turned them loose, too.” She sighed. “It’s ridiculous. We’re only a few years away from a brand-new century, and yet out here, it seems like nothing has changed. We have to worry about Apaches and banditos raiding from across the border, we have gunmen like those four passing through, and the only law that really means anything…”

“Is the law of the gun,” The Kid finished for her as her voice trailed off.

“I mean no offense, Mr. Morgan, truly I don’t,” she said quickly. “You saved our lives, and I can’t ever repay you for that. But if you hadn’t been faster on the draw than those men…if you hadn’t been better at killing than they were…well, I guess none of us would still be here. It’s a shame that life comes down to that.”

“Yes, ma’am. I agree with you. But it’s always been like that, and I suppose it always will be, at least to a certain extent.”

She smiled at him again. “You don’t exactly talk like a gunfighter, Mr. Morgan. You seem more like an educated man.”

“A man can be handy with a gun and still be educated.”

“There I go again, saying things that sound worse than I really intended them.”

The Kid shook his head wearily. “Don’t worry about it, ma’am. I’m in your debt as much as you are in mine. You and your husband saved my life.”

“You wouldn’t have been hurt if it wasn’t for us.”

“No, ma’am, that’s not right. I wouldn’t have been hurt if it wasn’t for those four men who rode in just before I did. They’re the ones who caused all the trouble, and it doesn’t make any sense to blame yourself for what they did.”

“I know.” Frannie paused. “My goodness, I’m about to talk your ear off, and here you are just now starting to recover from the awful fever. I’ll bet you’re thirsty.”

The Kid’s mouth was like cotton, and talking hadn’t help. “Yes, ma’am. Parched.”

“I’ll get you some water. And how about some food?”

The Kid hadn’t realized it until she mentioned it, but he was starving. “I could do with something to eat,” he admitted.

“Stay right there.”

He smiled. “I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere just yet.”

But soon, he hoped. He needed to be back on his feet just as soon as he could.

Before trouble came calling again, as it always did.

By evening, The Kid was sitting up in the bed with pillows propped behind him. When Sean Williams came in, the rancher grinned to see him doing so well and came over to shake hands.

“I haven’t had a chance to properly thank you yet, Mr. Morgan,” he said. “You’ve been, uh, out of your head for a while, at least most of the time.”

The Kid nodded. “I know. There’s no thanks necessary. You and Mrs. Williams saved my life.”

“After you saved ours.”

The Kid gestured toward the bandage that Sean still wore around his head. “How’s that bullet graze?”

“Just about healed up. I probably don’t even need the bandage anymore.” Sean inclined his head toward the stove, where Frannie was stirring a pot of stew with her back to them. “But she thinks it’s a good idea.”

“I heard that, you know,” she said without turning around.

Sean grinned. “Anyway, I’m fine, and I’m glad to see that you’re on the mend, too, Mr. Morgan.”

“Call me Kid.”

“That’s all? Kid?”

“It’s enough.”

“Sure. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

The Kid waved a hand to show that he wasn’t bothered by what Sean said. “You haven’t had any blurred vision, double vision, anything like that?”

Sean frowned and shook his head. “No.”

“Any loss of memory?”

“Nope. Those sound like questions a doctor would ask. You’re not—”

“A doctor?” The Kid shook his head. “Not hardly. I’ve just been around men who had head wounds before, and sometimes they didn’t realize just how badly they were hurt until a few days later.”

“Well, I’m fine. I had a headache for the first day, but once that went away, I’ve never been better.” Sean lowered his voice again and held up his hand with his thumb and forefinger almost touching. “There’s something about coming
this
close to dying that makes a man really appreciate living, you know?”

The Kid nodded. He knew, all right. Despite the fatalism that gripped him most of the time, he had experienced those moments of sheer exhilaration that sometimes followed a brush with death. He had drawn in a deep breath and realized that the air had never smelled sweeter, even though a tinge of gunsmoke might linger in it.

“I was wondering about my horse.”

“I found him picketed up on the hill behind the barn. He’s in there now with my horses. Don’t worry, we’ve been taking good care of him. Heck, Cyrus brushes him twice a day.”

The Kid smiled. “I’m much obliged.” He and the buckskin had been through a lot of hardships together in a relatively short time. His expression grew more serious again as he went on, “Mrs. Williams told me about what you did with those four men…”

The young rancher’s face stiffened into a grim mask. “Seemed like that would be the smart thing. I didn’t want anybody to know that those varmints had even been here.”

“That’s right. If anybody comes looking for them, you never saw them.”

Sean nodded. “I’ve talked about that with Frannie and the boy, and with the fellas who work for me. We’re all agreed. We’ll keep our mouths shut.”

“No other strangers have been around?”

Sean shook his head. “Nope. It’s been peaceful around here—just the way I like it.”

The Kid hoped it stayed that way.

“The stew’s ready,” Frannie announced. She stepped to the doorway and called, “Cyrus! Supper!”

There was no response.

Frannie frowned. “That’s funny. I thought he was just right outside with the puppies. The pups are here, but I don’t see Cyrus.”

The Kid felt his gut clench suddenly.

Sean looked worried, too. He left the bedside and went over to the door as Frannie walked farther outside.

“Frannie!” His voice was sharp. “Get back in here.”

She turned to look at him. The expression on her face was a mixture of confusion and fear. “But I can’t find Cyrus—”

“I’ll find him.” Sean picked up the Winchester he had leaned against the wall beside the door when he came in. He strode out, took Frannie’s arm, and gently steered her back into the house.

The Kid’s jaw was tight. He wished he could go out there with Sean. His eyes went to the gunbelt that was coiled nearby and placed on a chair beside the bed, along with the holstered Colt. The gun was in reach if he needed it. He looked around the room for something he could use as a crutch if he had to.

Holding the rifle slanted across his chest, Sean walked away from the house, calling, “Cyrus! Cyrus!”

“I’m here, Pa!”

Relief washed through The Kid as he heard the little boy’s voice call from somewhere fairly close by.

But then Cyrus went on, “We got company!”

The Kid tensed again. Out here, company wasn’t necessarily a good thing. In fact, chances were it could mean trouble.

He watched through the open doorway and saw Cyrus emerge from some brush about a hundred yards away from the ranch house. As the boy had said, he wasn’t alone. A man on horseback followed him, and then several more riders came out of the brush. As Cyrus ran toward the house, the men followed him, riding single file in a slow, deliberate pace.

“Mrs. Williams,” The Kid said, “is there another rifle here in the house?”

“There is,” she said. “I’ll fetch it…for myself.”

“I was thinking you’d better let me have it—”

“I can handle a gun, Mr. Morgan. I know one of those men managed to knock the shotgun aside just as I pulled the trigger the other day, but they took me by surprise.”

Three guns were better than two, he decided. He jerked his head in a nod and said, “All right.” He reached over, slipped the Colt out of its holster, and held it at his side, just out of sight under the sheet.

He didn’t like this at all. If trouble broke out, he would have a limited field of fire, just what he could see through the doorway. And the boy was out there, along with Sean.

It was possible that there was nothing to worry about, he reminded himself. The strangers might be peaceful. They could be just passing through, as he himself had been a few days earlier.

The Kid didn’t believe it for a second…but it was possible.

Cyrus pounded to a stop next to his father and looked up at Sean. “See, Pa? I told you we had company!”

The man who was in the lead reined in. He reached up and tugged on the brim of his hat as he nodded. “Good evening to you, sir,” he said. His voice was deep and powerful. “I hope we didn’t interrupt your supper.”

“We were just about to sit down and eat,” Sean said. “You’re welcome to join us.”

It was the sort of invitation you issued out there on the frontier as a matter of habit, no matter who had come to call. If a band of Hottentots showed up on your doorstep at dinnertime, The Kid thought, you’d just naturally ask them to light and sit a spell and have something to eat.

The man shook his head. He wore a fringed shirt of soft buckskin, blue cavalry trousers with a yellow stripe up the outside of the legs, high-topped black boots, and a cream-colored hat with a couple of tassels attached to the band. The hat also sported the crossed sabers insignia that meant the wearer had been part of a cavalry outfit at one time. He might still be in the army, although the men with him all wore civilian clothes.

From what The Kid could see of them, he didn’t like them. They looked like the same sort of hard cases as the ones who had invaded the Williams ranch a few days earlier.

“We’re much obliged for the offer,” the leader said. “We wouldn’t want to put you out any, though, and we have our own supplies.”

Sean shrugged. “Suit yourself. You’re welcome to water your horses, though.”

The stranger smiled. Dark hair curled out from under the cavalry hat, and he sported a pointed goatee of the same color. “Now, we’ll take you up on that kind offer,” he said as he gestured for his men to move their horses up to the water trough and let them drink.

The man went on, “I’d like to ask you a question, too, if you don’t mind.”

“I reckon that would be all right.”

“We’re on our way up the San Pedro to the Santa Catalinas, and some friends of ours were supposed to meet us in Bisbee and come with us. They didn’t show up, and I was wondering if you might have seen them pass through here. Four men…Hudgins, Culp, Brentwood, and Dobbs.”

Sean shook his head, and The Kid had to admit that the rancher’s voice and attitude were convincingly casual as he replied, “Those names don’t mean a thing to me, mister, but I can tell you there haven’t been any strangers pass through here for a month or more. Sorry.”

“They didn’t stop just to water their horses or anything like that?”

“Nope.”

The stranger nodded. “Well, it was worth asking, I suppose. If they do happen to come by here, can you tell them that the colonel was asking about them?”

“That would be you?”

The man smiled and touched a finger to his hat brim again. “Colonel Gideon Black, at your service, sir.”

From his place just beside and behind Sean’s leg, Cyrus asked, “Are you a real soldier, mister?”

Colonel Black smiled down at the boy. “I was, son. I’m no longer in the army, though.”

“But you were a real colonel?”

“Yes, indeed.”

Sean said, “That’s enough, Cyrus. Run on in the house.”

The rest of the men had watered their horses and the light was fading from the sky. Frannie hadn’t lit the lamps inside the house yet, and The Kid thought that was a good thing because the men outside probably couldn’t see him watching them from the shadows. Nor would they be able to see Frannie standing beside a window where the shutter was open a couple of inches, clutching a rifle in her hands, ready to use it if she needed to.

Colonel Black let his horse drink as well, then lifted a hand in farewell. He called, “Move out!” to his men as if they were an actual military detail, and the group trotted off to the east, toward the San Pedro River. Sean stayed outside for quite a while, watching them go. Finally, he came back inside.

Then, and only then, did The Kid holster his gun.

“Well, they’re gone,” Sean announced.

“You’re sure of that?” The Kid asked. “They’re not doubling back?”

“I don’t think so. I could see their dust for quite a ways. If they plan on doubling back, they went to a lot of trouble to make me think they weren’t.”

Cyrus said, “They didn’t look like soldiers, Pa.”

Sean hung the Winchester on a couple of pegs near the door. “That’s because they weren’t.”

“But that man was a colonel.”

“Yeah, and he said he wasn’t in the army anymore. That means he’s not a real colonel anymore, no matter what he calls himself.”

“Oh. I understand…I guess.”

The Kid understood. Colonel Black was something of a wild card, but he had seen plenty of men who looked like the ones who’d been with the former officer. He knew without anyone having to tell him that they were outlaws, and that didn’t surprise him a bit, considering the circumstances under which he had killed their four missing friends.

The question now was whether they had believed Sean and would ride on…

Or whether they would be paying a return visit to the Williams ranch.