Westward, Ho-Boy
Installment 4
by Polgana


For the first time in his life, that he could recall, Clay Treyton actually enjoyed sitting down to a Thanksgiving dinner with his family.  The conversation focused mainly on Gary and Buddy.  Everyone was eager to learn as much as they could about the missing half of their family.  The children were especially curious, and entertaining.  The only marring factor was the conspicuous absence of their mother, Virginia.  It had been over two years since her death, yet they still felt her loss most keenly.

Some time later, while Claire was putting the children to bed and the others had retired to the parlor to talk, Gary went out to the front porch.  Easing himself down onto the steps, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Hi, Mom.  Yeah, it’s good to hear your voice, too,” he murmured quietly into the instrument.  “I-I’m sorry.  You’re absolutely right.  I should’ve called before now.  I’m fine.  Really.  H-how’s Dad . . . and Marissa?  I know the cat’s fine, Mom.  He paid me a visit a coupla days ago.  No, no, he-he just . . . delivered his warning and took off.  That reminds me.  C-could you, um, pick up a case of cat food for ‘im?  Fancy Feast.  Yeah, yeah, I know it’s a little pricey, but, you know, all things considered . . . He seems to like the chicken best.  Thanks, Mom.  The twins?  They’re fine.  We’re at Clay’s home now.  No, they’re great!  Things got off to a rocky start, at first, but we’re having a great time.  Why’d . . . I just . . . I guess I just . . . just missed being home.  I-I’ve gotta go now, Mom.  Don’t wanna be rude to my host.  I love you, too.  Give Dad a hug for me.  Marissa, too.  I love you.  Bye.”

Gary sat there for a long moment, staring at the silent instrument.  Last year, he had spent both of the holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas, in the hospital.  This year, he vowed, would be different.  This Christmas would be spent in his own home, surrounded by family and friends.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Gary looked up to see Polly standing there, arms folded across her chest as she leaned against the doorframe.  “You’re giving away your age again, Polly,” he replied with a tired grin.  “You forgot to adjust for inflation.”

“Nah,” she said, stepping onto the porch.  Moving with an awkward grace, Polly eased down until she was seated beside him on the stone steps.  “Supply and demand.  I figure it’s a buyer’s market right now,” she told him.  “So tell me, oh Swami.  What mysteries of the universe were you able to unlock with such intense contemplation of this humble tool?”

Slipping the phone into his pocket, Gary turned his gaze upwards.  It was a crisp, clear night.  The stars above shone just as brightly as the crystals in Claire’s gift.  “Just thinking about home,” he told her, his voice hardly more than a whisper.  “And family.  How much I miss ‘em.  That kinda stuff.”

“You want to cancel the rest of this trip?” Polly asked.  “Catch a flight out of San Antonio?”

“No,” he told her with a shake of his head.  “This means too much to the twins.  They went to a lot of trouble, back in Chicago, to help me.  Set themselves up as bait to draw those two out.  Then they went to all this trouble so I could relax and unwind.  I owe ‘em this much.”

“But you’re not havin’ as much fun as they thought you would,” she nodded, filling in the blanks.  “In fact, you’ve barely survived this little getaway.”

“That’s not their fault,” Gary shrugged.  “Th-these things just seem to keep happening to me.”

They sat there for a moment longer, not speaking.  Polly was beginning to wonder if it was time for another ‘astronomy lesson,’ when Gary leaned back with a sigh, cupping both hands around his knees.

“You’re the first person to get this close to me,” he said, giving her a sideways look, “without asking a whole bunch of questions.  Why’s that?  Don’t you want to know?  Or . . . or do you already know the answers?”

Polly leaned back also, propping her elbows on the top step for support.  “Gary,” she said, giving him a direct look, “where you’re concerned, I don’t even wanna know the questions.  Strange things were happening to you when we first met.  That was how we first met.  From what I’ve seen, it don’t look to be slowin’ down in the foreseeable future, either.  But you’re a good man, for all that you live on the corner of ‘Twilight Zone Lane’ and ‘Outer Limits Boulevard.’  I have to believe that, whatever you’re into, it has the Good Lord’s approval.  That’s all I need to know.”  She turned her face to the heavens.  “That’s all anyone has a right to know.  I’m not sayin’ I’ll turn a deaf ear if you want to talk about it.  Just that I’ll never try to pry, or bully it out of you.”

Gary nodded silently as he absorbed her words, and their implication.  It was basically a show of faith and support.  No strings.  No hidden agendas.  It was an attitude he found . . . refreshing.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly.  “I may take you up on that . . . someday.”

*************

The next morning, Ellie insisted on apologizing to Gary for the rude way she had greeted him the previous day, even though Gary had tried to take all the blame.  Nonetheless, she persuaded him to let her fix a picnic lunch out of leftovers and give him a guided tour of the ranch.  On horseback.

A couple of hours after breakfast, where the senior Mr. Treyton had regaled them with tall tales and amusing anecdotes from Clay’s childhood, Ellie set about preparing a small basket of food.  In the meantime, she had one of the hands saddle the two jumpers.  A short time later, Gary was eying the fidgety Zeke with some trepidation as she put the bay’s reins in his hand.

“W-wouldn’t one of the other’s be a-a better choice?” he stammered nervously.  “One that’s a little less . . . excitable?  Your dad said you were still breaking these two in.”

“They need to be exercised everyday,” she shrugged, “or they get antsy.  They’ve actually been saddle broke for a while.  I just have to teach them to jump fences and such.  Don’t let these two fool you, though.  They’re just a coupla big babies.  Gentle as lambs.”

Gary murmured something under his breath as one of the younger twins, he wasn’t sure which one, held the thoroughbred still for him to mount.  In spite of his own nervousness, Gary held the reins steady but not too tight, resisting the urge to clamp his legs tightly around the animal’s sleek girth as he settled into the saddle.  Some nagging itch at the back of his mind was telling him to stay alert.  He actually found himself wishing he had the Paper in front of him.  Something, anything, to tell him if he was making a mistake by going on this innocent excursion.  As it was, he didn’t know if this attack of nerves was a flashback . . . or a premonition.

As the two rode away at a steady walk, Jamie turned to his twin.

“I’m a little worried about cousin Gary,” Jamie sighed.  “He don’t look too good, and he was talkin’ funny.”

“Talkin’ funny!” Phil repeated.  “In what way?”  

“Well, when Ellie made that comment about the horses being ‘gentle as lambs,’” he reported, “Gary mumbled something that sounded kinda like, ‘Lamb or Lambzilla?’”

***************************

“Our spread is pretty small,” Ellie was telling Gary as they rode along the fence-line.  “Just a coupla thousand acres.  We raise mostly longhorns and a few Guernsey’s in this sector.  Jamie and Phil are raising Brahmas and Black Angus for the rodeo, too.  I’m trying to train these two for the Equestrian Trials.  If I make a good showing, Dad says I can get a coupla mares and breed them.  Start my own stable.”  She looked back to where Gary was trailing a yard or so behind her.  “You okay back there?”

Gary just nodded, keeping both hands on the reins.  He had been unable to shake that feeling of imminent disaster which had settled over him the moment he’d first caught sight of Zeke that morning.  Something was going to happen.  

It was a little quirk he had begun to notice, and tried vehemently to deny, ever since he had first started getting the Paper.  Little ‘flashes’ of intuition.  Or premonition.  It was usually strongest when the Paper was trying to get his attention.  Except the Paper was still in Chicago.  And he wasn’t.  Until whatever was going to happen . . . happened, all he could do was stay alert.  A task which was made all the harder by his weakened condition.  If only one of the others had come with them, instead of going into town to Christmas shop.  Polly had wanted to come, but he had talked her out of it.  Why?

***********************

They stopped for lunch a little after noon.  Ellie insisted on doing everything, making Gary sit with his back against the big oak tree they had tethered the horses to.  She quickly spread the cloth on the ground, weighing it down with plates, food and sodas, adding four small rocks to hold down the corners.

Truthfully, Gary was glad for the break.  It had taken considerable effort, on his part, to hold the spirited Zeke to a slow, steady pace.  The two-year-old might be ‘saddle broke,’ but he still wanted to run.  By the time Ellie had called a halt, Gary was trembling with exhaustion.  

“I guess this wasn’t such a hot idea,” Ellie sighed, handing her guest a plate loaded with food.  “You don’t seem to be enjoying this little outing.”

Gary accepted the plate with a murmured ’thank you.’  “I guess I’m still . . . I’ve only been out of the hospital a few days,” he reminded her.  “I should’ve known better, myself.  This is a beautiful place, though.  Thank you for showing me around.”  Taking a bite of his sandwich, he let his eyes roam over the rolling vista.  “You could make movies out here,” he commented.  “Westerns or nature films.  I can just see a posse riding over that hill, guns blazing, to drive off  a gang of outlaws attacking the stagecoach.”

“That’s quite an imagination you have,” Ellie giggled.  “In fact, that did happen, right about where you were pointing.  Back about a hundred and thirty years ago a couple of local boys decided there was an easier way to make a living than ranching or grubbing in the dirt.  Trouble was, they kept pickin’ the same area for their ambushes.  They got away with it the first few times by killin’ all the witnesses.  Then the sheriff set up an ambush.  Right there, where that road cuts through the valley.  They waited ‘til the next stage was due, and then set their trap.  Started a runnin’ gunfight that lasted almost a day.  Ended with two deputies and three of the gang dead.  The rest of the gang was tried and hung within the week.  Justice was swift and brutal back then.  It had to be.”

A chill ran up Gary’s spine as he pictured the scene.  His hands drifted up to his shoulders as he felt the pain from more than one old wound.  In those days, even the least of the injuries he had suffered over the past year and a half would have proven either permanently crippling . . . or fatal.  He felt fortunate to live in a time where he had access to such good medical care.  

His eyes still riveted to that narrow stretch of road, Gary couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen.  The few bites of sandwich he had just swallowed sat like lumps of lead in his stomach.  His gaze was drawn to their left as the sound of an engine disrupted the peaceful silence.  Moments later, he saw a red and white pick-up truck come barreling around the curve where the road ran parallel to the fence.  Gary rubbed his left hand over the back of his neck as every hair seemed to stand on end.  

“W-we’d better head back,” he stammered nervously, struggling to his feet.  Eyes glued to the truck, Gary eased back toward the horses.  “I-I really think we n-need to be going.”

“What’s wrong?” Ellie asked, concern strong in her voice.  “Are you feeling . . .?”

“I-I’m fine,” Gary assured her.  “I just . . .Don’t ask me to explain,” he pleaded.  “Just trust me, we have to go.  Now.”  The truck, which had driven past, had slowed after a few yards and was now maneuvering to turn back.  “Forget the food,” he snapped.  “Get on Danny and let’s go!”

Grabbing Zeke’s reins, Gary clambered awkwardly into the saddle.  Holding the fidgety colt in place with considerable effort, he waited until Ellie was also mounted, then turned back towards the main house.  As he gave the horse’s flanks a gentle kick, the truck completed its turn and was headed back their way.

“They must be lost,” Ellie murmured, sidling her mount toward the fence.  “Probably just need directions.”

“They don’t want directions,” Gary mumbled, putting himself between her and the truck.  “They want me.  Now, please, just do as I say and get out of here!”

Turning Danny’s head in the direction of the ranch, Ellie nudged him into a walk.  “You’ll explain all this later?” she asked.

“If I can,” Gary replied.  He was watching the truck over his right shoulder.  It had pulled off the road and was aimed at the fence.  One of the men in the cab pointed straight at him as the vehicle picked up speed.  “Go!” Gary yelled, slapping Danny on the rump.  The young palomino leaped forward, startled into a full gallop before Ellie could get out so much as a yelp.  Zeke, not wanting to be left behind, sprang after his stable mate without any urging from his rider.  Which suited Gary just fine.  The two colts had already covered almost two hundred yards before the truck crashed through the fence.  

Ellie led the way, taking a different trail than they had followed coming out.  Knowing that the horses could not long outrun the truck, she led them into a copse of trees, following a game trail for several yards, before ducking into a small ravine.  Choosing her path carefully, to spare the horses, she navigated the rocky ground as fast as she dared, Gary close behind her.  

For his part, Gary was fighting pain and weakness to stay glued to his saddle.  The jolting ride was not helping his injuries at all.  If he survived this wild ride, he would be regretting having eaten that sandwich.  If he survived.  The two in the truck seemed to have definite plans to the contrary.  In spite of the rough terrain, the vehicle was still gaining on them.  Gary had no illusions as to how he would fare if the escaped felons caught up with him.  They had almost killed him when he was in good shape!  What worried him most was, not what they would do to him, but what might they do to Ellie?  As they came to a fork in the small canyon, Gary pulled back slightly on the reins, slowing Zeke, and making sure Ellie was out of sight as the truck rounded the turn behind him.  His decision made, Gary took the other fork, leading the pursuit away from the girl.

Zeke proved to be as surefooted as a mountain goat, as well as a natural jumper.  He took small obstacles as if they didn’t exist.  Larger ones, of four feet or higher, offered more of a challenge, which the colt accepted with youthful zeal.  After they cleared a six-foot wide streambed without so much as a break in stride, Gary figured this horse wouldn’t need much training at all!

The truck was slowed by the rough terrain, but the felons had chosen well.  It plowed over, through, or around every barrier to their prey.  Gary knew that even the great heart of his young steed wouldn’t be able to save him if he didn’t manage to shake his pursuers soon.  Then he saw it.  A steep trail leading up the side of the ravine.  Too narrow for the truck to climb, even in four-wheel drive, it was just wide enough for the colt to navigate safely, and less than a hundred feet before it disappeared over the top.  With a firm hand, he guided the energetic Zeke to this new challenge.  

They were only halfway up the narrow path when the first shot rang out.  Instinctively, Gary jerked backwards as dust and dirt stung his face.  The bullet had gouged a deep furrow into the sandstone cliff as it ricocheted an inch in front of him.  Startled, he had to keep a tight rein on Zeke as the colt tried to rear in fright.  With a flick of the reins, Gary urged the young bay into leaping ahead, taking the last few yards at a death-defying pace.  Another shot rang out, echoing off the walls of the narrow ravine.  Gary arched his body as he felt a burning sensation sear across his back just as they cleared the top of the trail.  The feeling of nausea he had been fighting returned in full force.  Clinging to Zeke’s broad back, he let the sweat soaked animal have its head.  He knew the way back home better than Gary did, the young man figured.  Besides which, Gary was beginning to have trouble concentrating.  

******************

The two escaped felons kept driving forward until they reached the end of the narrow gully.  Cursing, they left the vehicle and clambered up the steep sandstone bluff, still hoping to catch up with their prey.

“I know I hit the bastard,” Sykes growled sometime later.  “I saw ‘im jerk in the saddle.”

“The horse coulda stumbled,” Hicks grumbled.  “You probably missed.  Again.”

“How’d you expect me to hit anything,” the larger man snarled, “the way you were bouncin’ that truck around?”

“Excuses, excuses,” Hicks chuckled as he topped the next rise.  “Why don’t you admit you couldn’t . . . Well. I’ll be . . . Looks like you did hit the poor sap.”  He pointed downhill to where a lone figure sat atop a slowly moving horse.  His back was to them . . . and was half covered with a dark, glistening stain.  As they watched, the figure began to sway in the saddle.  A moment later, he fell, landing hard on his right side and rolling onto his back.  

With a bark of laughter, Sykes started to clamber down the hill to finish the job.  A strong, callused hand held him back.  

“Easy!” Hicks whispered.  “It could be a trap.  The girl might’ve ridden ahead for help.”

Reluctantly, Sykes settled back down to watch, and wait.

******************

Zeke had slowed to a walk at some point by the time Gary was able to focus his reeling thoughts.  How had those two known where to look for them?  And why were they so determined to kill him?  Gary wasn’t sure they had actually been looking for him, per se, so much as they had been looking for someone who resembled Clay enough to fool their doomed boss.  

The world blurred for a moment, and Gary found himself lying on his back on the hard, dusty ground, something warm caressing the right side of his neck.  ‘How’d I get here?’ he wondered fuzzily.  Swatting halfheartedly at a velvety softness, he started to sit up, only to feel a red-hot lance of pain when he tried to move.  Biting back a groan, he rolled onto his side.  Where was Zeke?  By slowly craning his head, Gary was able to see the young jumper calmly grazing less than two feet away.  With grim determination, he managed to roll onto his hands and knees.  He knelt like that a moment, head hanging, until a wave of dizziness had passed.  Everything hurt, especially his back and his ribs.  It took him several tries, but he finally got to his feet, staggering over to retrieve his mount.  Zeke merely eyed him docilely.  The mad dash through the ravine had run off all the youthful energy he had displayed earlier that day.

******************

“We can still take ‘im,” Sykes murmured, eyeing his target eagerly over his gun sight. “One shot.  Right through the head.”

“No, you dummy!” Hicks hissed, slapping the gun down.  “You wanna let the whole world know where we are?  No!  We gotta be quiet about this.”

Scowling at his partner, Sykes had to concede the point.  He put the gun away and pulled out a huge knife.  “So, let’s go see how loud a man can scream with his throat cut,” he chuckled.  

Hicks nodded and started to get to his feet.  Suddenly, he froze.  A moment later, he dropped back down, dragging Sykes with him.  He had barely glimpsed two riders approaching from around the next hill.  “I don’t think they’ve seen us yet,” he hissed.

*****************

For several seconds, Gary just stood there, hanging onto the saddle horn as if it were a lifeline.  The back of his shirt was wet.  Something warm and sticky was causing it to cling to his skin.  Belatedly, he recalled the pain that had burned across his back.  ‘Crap,’ he sighed.  ‘Shot again.  I really gotta look into having that bull‘s-eye tattoo removed one of these days.’  With Herculean effort, he mounted the weary jumper, clinging grimly to the saddle as the world did a sickening dance around him.  He glanced up just once to see that the sun was still high above him, but well past the noon position.  How much time had passed, he wondered, since he had eluded his pursuers?  And where was the ranch from here?  Carefully, he looked around, realizing, for the first time, that he was lost.  Hanging his head in exhaustion, Gary tried to ponder his options.

“Gary?”

Was that . . .?  

“Gary!  Oh, man.  Cuz, we cain’t let you out of our sight for a minute!”  

It was Buddy!  What was he doing out here?  Gary cautiously raised his head to see two figures riding towards him.  Was that Clay, or was he seeing double?  Then he noticed the feather sticking out of the hatband.  

“Hey,” Gary murmured tiredly.  “Good to . . . um, h-how . . .?”

“Polly cut our shoppin’ trip short a few hours ago,” the songwriter explained as he pulled up next to the bay.  “Said you were in some kinda . . . Christ, cuz!  What happened?”

“Sykes and Hicks,” Gary mumbled, wincing as Buddy pulled aside the edges of the blood soaked material.  “Left ‘em stuck in a ravine . . . somewhere.  Ellie!  Is she okay?”

“Don’t know,” Clay replied truthfully.  “We split up ‘cause we had no idea where ya’ll were headed.  She may be back at the house by now, tryin’ to find help for you.”  Wincing, he peered closely at the exposed wound as Buddy peeled aside the bloody shirt.  “This is deep, Gary, and you’re still losin’ blood.  We better get you to a hospital.”

“Sure,” Gary sighed.  “Great vacation.  Unique.  A tour of the better hospitals of the southwest.  Think we could sell it as a package deal?”

“Only to you, cuz,” Buddy chuckled as he took Zeke’s reins.  “Only to you.”  With his other hand, he pulled out a hand-held radio.  “We found him,” he reported.  “We’re headed back to the house and we’ll need a doctor.  Ellie isn’t with ‘im, though.”

“She’s okay,” a tinny voice replied.  It sounded like one of the younger twins.  “She rode up about half an hour ago.  We tried to call, but you must’ve been in a ’dead zone.’  We’ve already got an ambulance on the way, and Jake‘s on the horn with the Sheriff‘s office.  How bad is he hurt?”

Casting his cousin an anxious glance, Buddy kneed his cowpony into a trot as he replied.  “Better than the last time, but he’s hurtin’.  We’re about three miles west southwest of the main house.  Have the ambulance meet us, if it can.”

They had gone only a few steps when Gary began to sway dangerously in his saddle.  Clay, who had been riding close beside his cousin, moved quickly to catch the injured man, a look of guilt and despair twisting his handsome features.  Wordlessly, he slid from his pony and onto the saddle behind Gary.  Steadying the nearly unconscious man against his own chest, Clay took Zeke’s reins from Buddy.

“You lead Cochise,” he told his brother, his face grim.  “I’ll take care of Gary.”  

Buddy just nodded, leading the way at a slower pace.  Speed might be essential, but Gary was in no shape for a jolting ride.

*****************

“Damn!” Hicks groaned.  “Which one is the real Treyton?  They all look alike from here!”

“Why didn’t you let me shoot the lot of ‘em,” Sykes growled as he watched the three men ride away.

“Because you’ve only got three bullets left in that gun,” Hicks reminded him.  “You didn’t have a full clip to begin with, and you wasted the rest back in the canyon.”  As soon as the trio was out of sight, Hicks stood up.  “Let’s get that truck turned around and get outta here,” he said.  “We’ll have ta ditch it and steal something else in town.  It won’t be hard to pick up their trail again.  Four men looking just alike, and one woman in a honkin’ big vehicle like they got?  A blind man could follow them.”

Moving quickly, the two escaped cons clambered back down the hill and retraced their way to the ravine.  It took them a few tries, but they finally got the truck turned around and were headed back to the area where they had broken down the fence.  Soon, they promised themselves, they would have their grisly ‘trophy,’

****************

The ambulance, and a Land Rover with two deputies inside, met them after they had ridden a little over a mile.  The twins pulled the horses to a stop as they spotted the two vehicles bouncing over the rough ground.  Clay carefully lowered Gary’s semi-conscious form into the waiting arms of his brother, who then gently eased him onto a soft patch of grass, being careful to keep his back from coming into contact with the ground.  

The injured man nodded his thanks, a weary smile tugging at his lips.  Sweat beaded his brow as he tried not to move any more than he had too.  Glancing up, he saw a large crimson stain across the front of Clay’s denim jacket.  Frowning in puzzlement, he turned his head just enough to look at Buddy’s chest, where he saw a smaller stain smeared across his other cousin’s clothing.

“You guys’re a mess,” he mumbled weakly.  “Wh-what happened?  Are ya hurt?”

“Nope,” Clay sighed.  “It’s all yours, pal.”

Gary looked from one to the other, bewildered.  His eyes widened slightly as the grim words penetrated the fog that was creeping across his brain.  “Oh.”  He nodded slightly as his eyes drifted shut.  A long, shuddering sigh shook his body, then he fell ominously still.  Alarmed, Clay reached down and grabbed his cousin’s wrist, sitting back with a relieved sigh of his own when he found a weak, but steady, pulse.

A moment later, the two vehicles pulled close and the ambulance attendants jumped out, quickly setting up their equipment.  As the EMTs eased their patient facedown onto the stretcher, Buddy and Clay looked on anxiously.  The twins watched with open concern as the medics took Gary’s vital signs with quick efficiency, then cut away his jacket and shirt to reveal the source of all that blood.  A deep furrow ran diagonally from a point about six inches above his waist on the left side to another point just to the right of Gary’s spine, where it joined the shoulder.  Buddy shivered as a chill ran up his own spine.  His cousin had just missed total paralysis by less than a hair!  Clay’s expression was bleak, but otherwise unreadable.

Gary’s eyes had fluttered open as his clothes were cut away.  The chill air had stirred ‘goose bumps’ on his exposed flesh.  He tried to raise his head, curious about all the fuss, only to have someone push him back down.

“Just hold still, fella, and let us do all the work.  That’s a nasty lookin’ crease you have there, son,” one of the medics murmured as he set up for an IV.  “Pretty deep on the upper end here.  Gonna need a whole bunch o’ stitches.  How’d it happen?”

“T-tryin’ t’ get away,” Gary murmured, just loud enough for the twins to hear.  He winced slightly as the needle was quickly inserted into a vein.  “They, um, they were chasing us . . . in a truck.  Big, heavy truck.  Couldn’t climb, though.  Aahh!  Wh-what . . .?”

“Sorry,” the other medic murmured.  “You’ve got a lot o’ dust ‘n’ grit in here.  Have to clean some of it out before we bandage this baby up.”

“A little warning would be appreciated,” Gary grumbled.  He carefully turned his head to look at the deputy taking notes a few feet away.  “L-last I saw of, unh, of those two, I left ‘em in th-that gully.”  A chill sweat had broken out on his forehead as the medics applied thick gauze pads to his wound.  It was taking everything he had not to scream curses at the two men, who he knew were only doing their job.  

“I know what you mean about a warning,” the younger medic chuckled.  He glanced up at the twins.  “That other fella, back at the ranch, warned us that you guys were all stamped outta the same mold.  God!  You must be turnin’ heads everywhere!”

“Oh, yeah,” Gary said through gritted teeth.  “We’re h-havin’ a b-ball.”

“Are you sure it was Sykes and Hicks?” the deputy taking notes asked.  “Could you see their faces?”

“J-just one of them,” Gary grunted as he was helped to a sitting position so that the medics could finish bandaging his wound.  “The big one l-leaned out his window a few, umph, a few times.  H-he was . . . was trying for a b-better aim, I guess.”  

“There ya go,” the older of the two medics told him as he taped down the end of the bandage.  “Let’s get you loaded up, now.”  He looked over to the deputies.  “The rest of this’ll have to wait ’til the Doc gets through with ’im,” he reported.  He looked at the three horses and the twins.  “We don‘t normally allow this, but if one of you would like to ride along . . .”

“I would,” Clay spoke up quickly.  He gave his twin a pleading look.  “Do ya mind?”

“No,” Buddy replied with a shake of his head.  He knew how badly this was hitting his brother, and how badly he needed to do this.  “You go ahead,” he added.  “I’ll take the horses back and get someone to drive me out there.  It won’t be long.”

“Thanks,” Clay said with a sigh of relief.  He clapped his brother on the shoulder in farewell, then hurried to help load Gary into the back of the ambulance.  A minute later, their charge safely strapped in, the big van was pulling away.

Buddy just nodded and turned to retrieve the horses.  If he hurried, he could catch a ride in with Polly and Jake.


*****************

Gary endured the jolting ride back to the main road in stoic silence.  He ached from head to toe, anyway, from his previous injuries and that wild ride through the ravine.  Falling onto the hard-packed ground earlier had not helped his sore ribs one bit.  The crease across his back burned like the dickens, but was a minor nuisance by comparison.  The fact that he was strapped down flat on his back on the narrow gurney wasn’t helping matters at all, though.  By the time he reached the hospital, he was barely conscious.  The ordeal of having his wound thoroughly cleaned, stitched, and dressed, left Gary exhausted.  Even with the numbing effect of the xylocaine, he could feel every tug as the ER physician sewed him up.  He was cheered considerably, however, by the news that he would not have to stay overnight.

Polly was allowed in after the nurse had injected him with a powerful antibiotic.  With a wound that deep, they were taking no chances.  Blushing furiously, Gary tried to tug the bloody band of his jeans back over his hip.  

“Don‘t put those back on,” she insisted as he fumbled with the snap.  Her young friend was having little success due to having to move so carefully.  “I brought you some clean clothes from the RV.  You bled all over these.  Don’t look so flustered, Gary,” she told him, her face grim.  “I’ve seen you in a lot less than this.  Want me to get one of the others in here to help you?”

“If you don’t mind,” Gary murmured, his face scarlet from embarrassment.  He hated feeling so helpless, but, truthfully, he could barely move his arms.  He didn’t feel as if he could even hold onto his cane.  He would not only need help getting dressed, he would likely need help just to walk!

Polly just nodded and quickly stepped out.  A moment later, Buddy and Clay both entered and helped their cousin to clean up and put on fresh clothing.  Gary stared regretfully at the pile of rags that had been his jeans and underwear.  His shirt and jacket had been disposed of earlier after being searched for anything retrievable. This trip was proving pretty rough on his wardrobe.  With one of the twins supporting him on each side, Gary limped through the double doors to rejoin Polly and the rest of the Treyton clan.

“How’re you feeling, Gary?” Polly asked.

“Like a tooth that needs to be pulled,” Gary grumbled.  “Can we go now?”

“In a minute.”  She opened a bag and pulled out a new denim jacket and snugged it gently around his shoulders.  “It’s too chilly today to go without a jacket.  Now, let’s get you out of here.”

Ellie stepped forward, her face a portrait of remorse.  “When I looked back and you were . . . I just knew those . . . those . . . that you were . . . I should’ve gone back,” she groaned.  “Gary, I’m so sorry!”

“You did the right thing,” Gary assured her.  “If you hadn’t . . . they, well, they would’ve used you to get me and-and then we’d both be dead.  Y-you did the right thing,” he repeated lamely.  He rubbed one hand across his eyes as a feeling of lethargy began to creep up on him.  He looked over at Polly.  “Did they give . . . give me som’in for pain in that shot?” he asked in a slightly slurred voice.  “Sstartin’ t’ feel . . . woozy.”

“We’d better hurry up and get him to bed,” Polly told the twins.  “Jake is pulling the RV up right now.  Just hang in there a moment longer, hon,” she said to Gary.  “They must’ve given you something like Stadol.  It’s a pain-killer, but it can knock you for a loop.”

“Yeah,” Gary sighed.  “Loopy.  Tha’s wha’ . . . feel . . . loopy.”

“Oh, dear,” Polly sighed.  “They must’ve given him a big shot.  Hang on to ‘im, boys.  I’ll get a wheelchair.  He’s not gonna make it on his own.”

A few minutes later, they had a softly snoring patient strapped down to the sofa once more and were headed back for the ranch.  Polly kept a careful eye on the sleeping figure while the other three held an impromptu war council.

“That’s twice they’ve singled Gary out instead of me,” Clay growled as he drove them back onto the highway.  “You’d think those idiots would know the difference by now.”

“Not from a distance,” Jake commented reasonably.  “All they need is a picture of a dead body that looks enough like you to fool that Jaggs fella you were telling us about.  It’s just been Gary’s luck to be the one they catch out alone.”

“You don’t know Jaggs,” Clay grumbled.  “That sadistic SOB won’t settle for anything less than a body part.  Preferably a head.  That’s probably what Sykes was doin’ with that knife in ‘Vegas,” he told Polly with a shudder.  “A little ‘souvenir’. . . complete with fingerprints.”

“That is gross!” the tech groaned.  “This Jaggs fella must be some piece of work.”  She turned back to her patient as he gave out a low moan.  He stirred fitfully, then was silent once more.  A quick check showed that he was okay.

“He makes ‘Jack The Ripper’ look like a choirboy,” Clay grimly agreed.  “They’ll be doin’ the world a favor when they put the needle to that animal.  There were rumors that he was the one that killed his parents and two brothers.  Because of bein’ grounded.  He was twelve at the time and was tried as a minor.  Yeah, I know.  His records were sealed because he was a juvenile.  It‘s been said he brags about it from time to time.  Like he was proud of wipin‘ out his whole family.”

“So now he’s got his sights fixed on you,” Buddy grumbled.  “As if that weren’t bad enough, he sends two yahoos who keep goin’ after the wrong target.  Why do they keep attackin’ Gary?  Just because he’s the one they find out alone?”

Jake started pacing the narrow space as he considered the answer.  “It may be just that simple,” he told them.  “It’s like what you guys do at ‘branding time,’ or however it is you mark your stock these days.  They watch and wait until they can single one out from the herd, so to speak.  Which is a cheery thought.  Those morons being able to watch us that closely without us seeing them.  It’s just been Gary’s luck to be caught out both times.”

“Then I’ll make sure he’s never left alone again,” Clay promised.  “If those jackals want a fight, they’ll have one.  From now on, he ain’t to be let out of our sight for one minute.  If he has to go to the bathroom, one of us goes with him.”

“Let’s extend that to include all four of you,” Polly suggested.  “It may well be that those bozos have set their sights on Gary because his injuries made him an ‘easy kill,’ so to speak.  That doesn’t mean they won’t jump the first one they catch out on his own.  The best way to deal with this, for now, is not to give them a single target.”

“I don’t know that goin’ back to the ranch is such a good idea, then,” Clay murmured thoughtfully.  “What if they grab one of the others for a hostage?  We can’t ask the whole brood to hole up like settlers at the fort ‘til this is over.  Fences need to be mended, stock tended to, chores done.  Runnin’ a ranch ain’t somethin’ ya can do by remote control.”  He fell silent as he considered their options.  “No.  As long as those two are after me, we can’t stay there.  I won’t put my family in danger.  We’ll go back just long enough to say ‘good-bye’ and pick up anything we mighta left.  Then it’s back on the road.”

The others quickly saw the sense in this.  Jake had grown especially fond of little Joey and hated the idea of the child falling into the clutches of the two felons.  He didn’t even want to think of what those two sadists might put an innocent child through!

*****************

“But you’ve barely had time to say ‘hello!’” Claire protested.  “You can’t go running off so soon!  At least stay through the weekend.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Clay said with a shake of his head and a sigh.  “Now that I finally feel welcome, what I want most is to sit here and soak in it for a while, but I cain’t.  It’s just not safe for you or the kids.”  He quickly went on to explain how his past was catching up with him in the form of the two escaped felons.  “We’d been kinda hopin’ they’d be caught before they could cross the state line,” he admitted, “but they obviously weren’t.     We’ve all talked it over and agree that it’s for the best.  Buddy and I’ll try to come back when this business is finished, but we need to get Gary home before those two kill ‘im.”

“We’ve been tryin’ to convince ‘im to take a flight out of San Antone,” Buddy grumbled, “but he’s as stubborn as they come.  Insists that he cain’t wait to meet my folks.  I tried to tell ‘im that it meant drivin’ clear across the state, but he don’t seem to care.  Either that, or he’s too drugged up to understand that Houston ain’t exactly next door.”

At the mention of Houston, Clay shot his brother a strange look.  Before he could say anything, though, Ellie broke in.

“This is all my fault,” she sniffled.  “If I hadn’t insisted on that stupid picnic . . . and on horseback! He was in no shape for any of this to begin with!”

Clay stepped up to his baby sister and pulled her into his arms.  She resisted at first, more out of habit than anything, then leaned into his embrace and openly wept on his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, sis,” he told her softly.  “If anyone’s, it’s mine.  I was the one that got myself thrown in prison.  I was the one that crossed paths with a psycho.  And I’m the one they’re really after, not Gary.  Hey!” he exclaimed, pulling back a little.  He put one finger under her chin and tilted her tear-streaked face up to meet his hopeful smile.  “There’s gonna be a family reunion next May.  We’ll all be there.  As soon as we know the particulars, we’ll arrange to get all of you invited to meet the rest of the clan.  Cousin Lois says we’ve got a few dozen uncles, aunts and cousins we never knew existed.  I’ll have the whole lot of you flown up there and back.  We’ll spend a coupla weeks together, then.  How does that sound?”

“Just wonderful,” Ellie sighed, burying her face against his chest once more.  “You promise you’ll be there?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Clay assured her.  “Now, c’mon out and say ‘good-bye’ to Gary.  He’s been worryin’ about you.”

“Me!” Ellie exclaimed, surprised.  “Why would he be worried about me?” she asked as she dried her eyes with a tissue.  “He was the one hurt!  I just ran like a coward.”

Clay gave her a sad smile as he guided her towards the door.  “Oh, I don’t know,” he replied.  “He seems to have some crazy idea that you were blamin’ yourself for all this.  I tried to tell ‘im that was nonsense.  That ’Hard-Hearted Hannah’ would never give it a moment’s thought, but he thinks you’re sobbin’ yer eyes out over this.”

Ellie looked up at her tall handsome brother, wondering how she had never seen this gentle, caring side of him before.  “I think I liked it better when I hated you,” she sighed, leaning her head against his broad chest.  “It didn’t hurt so much to see you go.”

“I love you, too, sis.”

*****************

They found a still groggy patient propped up on a wedge-shaped cushion that Polly had picked up at a medical supply center near the hospital.  He opened his eyes as Ellie knelt by his makeshift bed and took his hand.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, gazing at her tear-streaked face.  “Wha’s wrong?”

“I got you shot,” Ellie sniffled.  “Or have you forgotten so soon?  I’m so sorry, Gary!  I should’ve known better . . . the shape you were already in . . .Now this . . . I’m so . . .!”

“N-not to blame,” Gary told her, his voice still slurred from the drugs.  It was obvious that he was fighting to stay awake.  “Y-you didn’t know ‘bout those guys.  We never tol’ you.  An’ I knew wh-what kinda sh-shape I was in better’n you.”  He reached up gingerly, wiping a tear from her cheek.  “N-not your fault,” he reminded her.  He closed his eyes briefly as the medication tried to drag him down into oblivion again.  “Now, give me a hug and go on,” he told her.  “They tell me it’s at least six hours to Houston from here, an’ it’s already gettin’ dark.”  He bit back a groan as she obeyed his instructions with just a little too much enthusiasm, then looked her in the eyes once more as she drew back.  “Y-you okay, now?” he asked.  When she nodded wordlessly, he lay back with a sigh.  “Good,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering closed.  “Be good to yourself, Ellie.”  His eyes sprang open as he recalled something he had wanted to tell her.  “Z-Zeke,” he said.  “M-meant to t-tell you.  He took all those jumps i-in the canyon like a champ.  Great horse.”  His voice grew even fainter as the drugs kicked in once more.  A moment later, he was asleep.

Ellie kissed his hand, much as he had done hers the day before, and laid it across his chest.  Wiping her eyes, she turned to see Clay watching her with concern.  “I’m okay,” she told him.  Raising her chin, she met his gaze levelly.  “He’s been a good influence on you, big brother,” she said.  “Or something has.  You’re a lot more of a man than I remember.  A much nicer man.  I’m . . . I’m proud to call you my brother.”

“That musta hurt,” Clay murmured, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyes gleaming mischievously.  

“You have no idea,” Ellie sighed.  “It’s not easy getting used to liking you.  Not . . . not after a-a lifetime of . . . of hate.  Of senseless, baseless jealousy.”

With a wry chuckle, Clay stepped up and pulled her into a gentle hug.  He found that he liked feeling this close to his family, and regretted the years of lost opportunities.  “If it helps,” he told her, “I’ll yank your chain every now ‘n’ then, just for old times sake.”

“That would help,” Ellie giggled, relaxing into his arms.  “Make the transition a little easier.  That way I don’t have to go cold turkey.”

“A firebrand like you?” Clay laughed, stepping back to look at her.  “Not a chance.  You’ll be writing me nasty letters in no time.  I’m sure there’s a few names you haven’t called me, yet.”

“Maybe one or two,” Ellie smiled.  “I’ll have to check my list.”  With a shuddering sigh, she turned and took a step toward the door of the RV.  “Gary’s right.  It’s getting late.  You guys need to hit the road if you want to get to Houston by morning.”  She paused at the door to look back at her cousin, then her brother.  “You guys take care of each other.  I don’t wanna go to any funerals before that reunion.”  With that, she stepped out of the door and practically ran to the house.  

Bemused, Clay watched as she disappeared inside.  For the first time that he could recall, he wished that he could stay longer.  He felt closer to his family, now, than he ever had in his life.  So long as Sykes and Hicks were on the loose, however, it wasn’t safe.  As the others came back from wherever they had gone to give them some privacy, he promised himself to come home more often.  He needed to tear down some of the barriers that he had helped to build between himself and the people he could now admit that he loved more than anything.

“Time to go, bro,” Buddy said, clapping his brother on the shoulder as he settled himself into the driver’s seat.  

“Yeah,” Clay murmured as he pulled the door shut.  “Time to go.”  To himself, he added a silent, ‘For now.’

*************

Because they’d had such a late start, it was decided to pull into a campground just to the east of San Antonio.  Gary had dozed fitfully most of the way, the pain medicine giving him little ease.  No matter how he lay, now, he couldn’t find a single position that didn’t aggravate one injury or another.  By the time they were settled in for the night, he was starting to feel a little warm as well as being too tired to make it to the big queen sized bed under his own power.  

Clay and Buddy half carried him to the back bedroom while Polly fixed him a glass of warm milk to wash down the medication.  She hoped that the sedative qualities of the milk, in combination with the pain pills, would help him get the sleep his body needed to fight off infection.  She hated that he was already flushed with a low-grade fever.  He still seemed to have trouble sleeping at the best of times.  Perhaps she should stay awake and watch him tonight?

“Here ya go, sweetie,” Polly told him, placing the pills in his hand.  She waited until he had put them in his mouth and rolled the medication to the back of his tongue.  “Now, drink all of this.  It’ll help you sleep.”

Gary made a face as he drained the glass.  He preferred his milk ice cold.  As a chaser to a big slice of pecan pie, still warm from the oven.  This warm stuff was for little kids or old people.  Handing the glass back to his self-appointed nurse, he eased back onto the mattress.  Lying flat on his back seemed to be the least uncomfortable position he could find.  Maybe because it was still a little numb.  ‘Funny,’ he mused as a gentle fog slid over his mind.  ‘That shoulda worn off by now.’

As Gary drifted off to sleep, the story Ellie had told him earlier replayed itself through his mind.  Had it really been just a few hours ago?  So much had happened in so short of a time!  As his mind began to drift under the influence of the medication, he couldn’t help but wonder what it must have been like.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The hot West Texas sun beat down heavily on the lone figure as he sat atop his trail-weary mount.  The young bay whickered and shifted his feet as he cropped at the sparse summer grass.  His rider rested one arm on the saddle horn, staring down at the scatter of dwellings that lay at the base of the gentle slope.  Uvalde.  A typical small town consisting of a general store, a bank and two saloons.  With a few houses thrown in for variety.  The main industry in this area was ranching.  Dirt farmers had to scratch out a living as best they could while competing with the more prosperous cattlemen for what little arable land, and water, could be found in these parts.

“C’mon, Zeke,” he sighed, straightening up and flicking his reins. “We got work to do.”

Half an hour later, they strolled down the main street, stopping in front of the more impressive of the two saloons.  This one had clean windows.  The young man dismounted, slapping Zeke’s reins against the hitching rail.  The motion wrapped the leather straps around the post several times, effectively tethering his mount with no wasted effort.  Shouldering his saddlebags and knocking some of the trail dust from his clothes, the tall, lean figure stepped onto the walkway and through the swinging doors.  Warm greenish-brown, heavy-lidded eyes, the color of coffee with just a hint of cream, peered out of a deceptively youthful face.  They swept the room as he pushed back his white, wide brimmed Stetson, revealing a thick shock of dark hair.  

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the harsh sunlight to the dim interior of the barroom.  It proved to be cleaner than most small town taverns he had been in, with few patrons at this time of day.  Moving slowly, stiff from the many hours he had spent in the saddle, he stepped up to the bar.  

The slender young woman tending the bar had her back to him.  She was dressed in a dark blue, low-cut, off-the-shoulder number that seemed to be the style for women in her occupation.  She had her raven-dark hair carefully arranged in a loose coil, with a tortoiseshell comb holding it in place.  Her skin, what he could see of it, was olive hued and smooth.  When she turned to take his order, he was pleased to see that God had seen fit to be as gracious with her face as he had been with the rest of her.  Generous, full lips framed a mouth that shaped a dazzling smile.  And her eyes were a rich, dark brown of a shade so deep a man could fall right in and be lost forever.  All this in a heart shaped face that seemed an artist’s dream come to life.  

“What can I get you, stranger?” she asked.  Her voice had a low, throaty quality that sent shivers up his spine.

“Um, beer,” he murmured, his own voice a little dry and husky.  “I-if it’s cold.  Water, if it’s not.  Could you tell me where I might find the sheriff?” he asked as she poured him a tall glass of crystal clear water.  “I rode by his office, but nobody seems to be there.”

“He’s probably out looking for the guys that robbed the Overland stage,” she shrugged, setting the glass in front of him.  “That seems to be where he spends most of his time these days.  You got some kinda trouble?”

“N-no,” the young stranger replied, taking a long draft of the liquid before answering.  God, he was dry!  “No, I just have to . . . to check in with ‘im about . . . something.  That’s all.  Any idea when he might be back??

“He usually takes his lunch right here around one,” she shrugged.  “I’m Toni, by the way,” she added, holding out a hand that fit perfectly into the rest of the package.  “Do you have a name?”

He had been staring at the slender hand as if mesmerized.  “Hmm?” he mumbled. Quickly snapping back to the present, he took her hand in a firm, but gentle grasp.  “G-Gary,” he stammered.  “Is there a boardinghouse in town?  And a livery?  I’ve been on the trail for nigh onto a week and I’d like to see if I remember what a bed feels like.”

Toni had to laugh at that.  Pointing to a flight of stairs leading up the back wall, she told him, “We got a few rooms upstairs and a stable ‘round back.  Five dollars a week for the room, two for the livery.  Two more and I can have Philippe draw you a hot bath.”

“That would be great,” Gary sighed, placing two five dollar gold pieces on the counter.  He took the key she gave him, shifting his saddlebags to a more comfortable position.  “Thank you kindly,” he murmured as he turned for the stairs.  “If you could send that bath up right away?  I don’t care how hot it is, so long as you knock the chill off.”

“I’ll see what we can do,” she promised, her eyes mysterious.  “Third room on the left is yours.  The bathroom is second on the right.”  As he turned to go, she placed a hand on his arm and, in a breathy whisper, told him, “Mine is right across from yours.”

His sunburned skin reddened even deeper at her implied suggestion as he stared back into her ink black eyes.  Gary seemed startled, at first, almost frightened.  This was quickly replaced by a look of such infinite sadness . . . Toni had to wonder what tragic secret this soft spoken stranger was hiding.

“I-I don’t know that I’d be good company tonight,” he murmured.  He gently pulled his arm from beneath her hand and turned back the way he had come.  “I’d . . . I’d better see to my horse.  Can you ask that Philippe fella to have that bath ready by the time I get finished?”

“No problem,” Toni assured him as he disappeared out the door.  “We’ll talk later,” she added to herself.  “Count on it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later, having seen to the needs of his mount, Gary was settling into the hot, soapy water with a heartfelt sigh.  ‘God!’ he thought.  ‘That feels great!’  He could already feel tense, knotted muscles starting to loosen up.  ‘I can do this,’ he told himself for the hundredth time.  ‘Just a day or two, and I’m free to take care of my own business.’  After a couple of minutes, he felt more relaxed than he had in weeks.  Still . . . He looked over to where his long coat hung on a hook within arm’s reach.  Stretching just a little, he was able to dip into his right-hand pocket and pull out his long leather wallet.  He didn’t have much in it, just a few dollars, a couple of letters, and a much handled photograph.  

Gary pulled out the faded picture, staring at it with a longing and sorrow that he was unable to deny.  Still, he would have to . . . for a while, at least.  Just long enough to get this job finished.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“My, you clean up good,” Toni observed as the young stranger came down the stairs sometime later.  

Gary nervously ran a hand through his still damp hair as he took a seat at a table in the back.  He was dressed in a clean white cotton shirt, faded jeans, and the same well worn boots, having scrubbed what had felt like half of Texas out of his hair, and off of his hide.  He had then scrubbed out his other clothes, leaving them to dry on the balcony railing.  That little feature had been a pleasant, and welcome surprise.  It could come in handy as more than just a clothesline.

“You ready for some lunch?” the pretty brunette asked as she brought him a fresh glass of water.

“Yes’m,” Gary replied, a quick grin flickering across his pleasant features.  “Anything but jerked beef and hardtack will do.”

“I think we can do better than that,” she told him with a laugh.  A few minutes later, she set a large bowl of beef stew and a plate of hot biscuits in front of him.

Gary took a moment to savor the aroma of the hot, well seasoned food before digging in as if it were his first meal in days.  A short time later, as he was doing equal justice to a piece of apple pie, his eye was drawn to the front door.  He watched as a man wearing a tin star stepped through the swinging doors.

He was a lean, gray haired, hawk-faced man with a high, broad forehead.  He was quick to smile at everyone who greeted him, but Gary noticed that it seldom reached his eyes.  Before he could take a seat at one of the tables, Toni approached him, laying a hand familiarly on one arm.  She whispered something, pointing with her chin toward where Gary sat with his back to the corner.  The older man nodded once before making his way through the light lunch crowd to Gary’s table.

Gary savored the last bite of his pie as the sheriff pulled up a chair.  He didn’t want to seem too nervous, trying not to arouse any suspicion.  As it was, he was sure the other man could hear his heart pounding clear across the room.

“I’m Sheriff Marley,” the lawman introduced himself.  “Toni tells me you were asking for me.”  It was almost a question.

“Um, yes,” Gary murmured.  He fished a letter out of his shirt pocket and handed it to the older man.  “I’m supposed to touch base with all the authorities along my route.”

Marley studied the letter carefully, then handed it back to the dark haired younger man.  “Wells Fargo,” he murmured, eyeing Gary speculatively.  “They ship a lot of gold and currency.”

“Yessir,” Gary nodded, tucking the letter back in his shirt pocket.  “We’re lookin’ into alternate roads between El Paso and San Antonio.  The road running through Uvalde is one of several we’re considerin’.  Do you have much trouble with the locals?”

“A little petty theft,” he shrugged.  “A couple of stages have been held up, but I’m sure it wasn’t by any of our people.  So, this could be a boost for our little community.  If we are chosen, how long before the first shipment rolls through?”

Gary paused to drain the glass of milk Toni had brought to wash down his pie.  “We’re . . . I’m not really supposed to say, but . . . considerin’ what you said about the holdups . . .”  He looked up as another man came through the door, relaxing only when the stranger took a seat near the front.  “They had to go ahead and plan a big shipment for this week.  I’m mainly here as an advance scout.  If everything is clear, then I send word back and go on to the next town.  On the other hand, if I think a route is too dangerous, then I ride back to the last stopover, Del Rio in this case, and we pick another road.”

“That wouldn’t be very good for us,” Marley murmured thoughtfully.  “We could use the extra business.  You may not have noticed, but we’re a bit off the beaten path, here.”

“I know,” Gary sighed, pushing his plate aside.  “Trouble is, those stage holdups.  Once I report that . . .”  He spread his hands in a helpless gesture.  “My hands are tied.  I‘m gonna have to recommend a different route.”

Marley shook his head sadly, as if regretful that a few troublemakers could spoil everything for the whole town.  “You said a run is coming through this week,” he mused.  “How much time do we have?”

“I have to ride all the way back to Del Rio,” Gary reminded him.  “In order to get there in time, I’ll have to leave at first light.”  He slid his chair back, preparing to leave.  “I regret raisin’ yore hopes, just to knock ‘em down,” he told the sheriff as he rose to his feet, “but I have to look after the safety of our drivers.  You understand.”

Marley nodded wordlessly, his expression thoughtful as he watched the younger man return up the stairs to his room.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warm, comfortable, and well fed for the first time in more than a week, Gary stretched out on the bed to await the next act in this little stage play.  When that U.S. Marshal had approached him in Abilene, Gary hadn’t known what to make of the man . . . at first.  Was he looking for recruits, or laying a trap?  Both, it had turned out.  When he’d explained to Gary about the two stages that had been wiped out, passengers and all, the younger man paid rapt attention.  The fact that two children had been slain in the second robbery had cemented his decision to help.  

“What we need is someone who knows the area,” Marshal Canfield had explained, “but isn’t known in the area.  Folks I’ve talked to say that, over the past few months, you’ve ridden through every backwater and dry well in the territory, just about.”

“Did they tell you why?” Gary had asked cautiously.  He hadn’t liked it that this lawman had been asking people about him.

“Not many knew,” Canfield had nodded solemnly.  “If you help us, you’ll have access to every resource the U.S. Marshals and the Texas Rangers have available to help in your search.  Will you do it?”

Gary had reluctantly agreed.  It had been the images of the children that had swayed him.  In his mind’s eye, he had seen familiar, beloved, faces on the bullet torn bodies of the little boys murdered in the last robbery.  What kind of heartless monster could do such a thing?  These holdups had to be stopped before more innocents were slaughtered.

A gentle rap on the door interrupted his reverie.  Gary swung his feet off the bed, quietly reaching under his pillow for his revolver.  Slowly cocking the hammer back as he eased up to the door, he deliberately slurred his voice as he asked, “Who’s there?”

“Toni,” a soft voice replied.  “You decent?”

Damn!  He’d forgotten about her!  “Just a moment,” Gary said as he lowered the hammer on his pistol.  He let his gun hand dangle by his side as he thumbed open the lock and opened the door.  

Toni’s smile froze as she noticed his guarded expression.  “If I’m intruding . . .” she murmured cautiously.

“No!” he hurried to assure her.  Gary swung the door open wider, smiling hesitantly as she stepped into the room.  “Sorry.  You caught me nappin’,” he mumbled, as if still half asleep.  He backed away from the door, the gun still dangling by his right leg.

“You always sleep with that thing?”  the woman asked, indicating the firearm.  

“Wha . . .?  Oh, um, o-only when I’m on the road,” he stammered.  Gary stepped over to the bed and slid the pistol back into the holster hanging on the bedpost.  “It pays to be cautious.  Now, um, wh-what can I do for ya?”

A slow smile stole across her face as she strode boldly up to the handsome young man, crowding him against the nightstand.  “We-ell,” she purred, running a finger down the row of buttons on his shirt, “I just thought, since you’re obviously too much of a gentleman to go into a lady’s room, I’d come to yours.  If I have to tell you why, you’ve been alone with that horse too long.”

The off-color remark caught Gary completely off guard.  His jaw opened and closed several times as he blushed a bright crimson.  Then he started laughing.  A single, startled bark, at first, then another as he gently pushed her back a step.  He bit his lip, his shoulders shaking as he tried to stifle the guffaws that were trying to break through.

“Where the blazes did that come from?” he chuckled as he wiped tears from his eyes.  

“Just wanted to see which way the wind was blowin’,” Toni replied with a mischievous grin.  “I’m glad you think it’s funny.  Probably means you like girls.”

“Oh, yes,” Gary replied as he finally got himself under control.  “I definitely think the Good Lord got it right with Adam and Eve.  So, um, you . . . you wanted to . . .”

“Well,” she purred, “you did say you’ve been on the trail for . . . weeks.”

“N-not quite a week,” he stammered, feeling a little hemmed in.  “P-pretty close, though.”  He wiped the moisture from his cheeks as he side stepped around her.  “I-I don’t think you should be here, Miss.  O-once people start talkin’ . . .”

“Ha!” she snorted, following him around the end of the bed.  “They’ve been talkin’ about me since I can remember.”  Toni grabbed him by the shoulders, stopping him in his tracks.  Putting one hand up to cup the back of his head, she pulled him down until she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips.  “It’s time to give ‘em somethin’ to talk about,” she whispered.  

“I-I don’t think . . .” Gary murmured.

“Then don’t.”  Toni raised herself almost on tip-toes, her lips lightly brushing his before giving in to the hunger that had been stirring in her since she had first spied this lean, handsome man.  He resisted, at first, denying her entry to his innermost being.  Then, as if he, too, felt the same need, his lips parted and his arms slid around her tiny waist.  The fingers of her left hand intertwined themselves in his thick, dark hair as her right slid downward to . . .

Cre-eeak.

Gary broke off the kiss, his mind reeling as he turned to face the balcony door.  A tall, broad shouldered man had one hand still on the knob as the other was bringing up his gun.  Practically flinging an indignant Toni away, Gary rolled himself over the bed, snatching his gun out of the holster in a fluid motion that ended with him getting the drop on the intruder.  

“Just come right on in,” Gary calmly told the stranger, emphasizing the order with a twitch of his gun barrel.  “Miss Toni, why don’t you go see if . . .”

Gary never got to finish what he had to say, as a crashing pain shot through his head.  Dazed, he fell to his knees, his gun spinning away under the bed.  Painfully, he turned his aching head toward this new attack in time to see the vase in Toni’s slender hands . . . just before a blinding flash, and then the lights went out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His head wasn’t the only thing hurting when Gary came to some time later.  His shoulders were burning.  By contrast, he could barely feel his hands.  Blinking back tears of pain, he slowly opened his eyes to find that his chin was resting on his chest . . . and he was no longer wearing a shirt.  His arms were stretched straight above his head, out of his sight, but he could see his feet.  Sort of.  It was dark, but he could see well enough, by virtue of a light shining behind him, to tell that his feet were just barely touching the rocky floor of some kind of cavern.  Or a mine shaft.  

Pain seared through the back of his head as he raised it enough to look around a little.  Mine shaft, he decided, forcing his mind to function through the agony.  Biting his lip, he tilted his head back even further, until he could see the ropes that were cutting off the circulation to his hands.  Already, they were puffed and swollen.

“So you finally decided to wake up,” a familiar voice murmured in the semi-darkness behind him.  “We were afraid she’d hit you too hard.”

Gary waited until the speaker had stepped around to stand in front of him.  “Sheriff Marley?” he mumbled groggily.  “Wh-what’s goin’ on?  Why’ve you got me . . . got me strung up like this?”

“Two reasons.”  Marley perched himself on a rocky outcropping, idly running what looked to be a coiled lasso through his hands.  “One: we can’t have you running back and rerouting that gold shipment.  Two: we need to know exactly which road, and when to start watching for it.  You may have noticed that there are a lot of back roads between here and Del Rio.”

A fact Gary was well aware of.  It was why he had chosen that particular route for their little trap.  In spite of the discomfort, Gary couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter.  “And why should I tell you anything like that?” he asked.

“To spare yourself any more pain,” Marley replied.  

The calm, matter of fact way he said it sent a chill up Gary’s spine.  For the first time, he noticed that it wasn’t a rope in the renegade sheriff’s hands.  It was a whip.  A particularly nasty looking variety with several tiny barbed tips.  It was made for the express purpose of stripping the hide off of something.  Or someone.  It was custom made to inflict pain.

“You can go to hell,” Gary told him, his voice equally as calm.  Inwardly, he was practically quaking with fear.  Dying was one thing.  He had lived through the worst kind of war any country could face, where death was a constant companion.  He had no fear of death.  What turned his insides to jelly was the idea of dying by inches.  Of suffering horrible pain and mutilation.  Which was apparently what Marley had in mind.

The hawk-faced man stood up, a deceptively gentle smile on his lean features as he circled around behind his prisoner.

“Why go anywhere,” he asked, “when we can create our own version right here?”

Gary tried to crane his head around to follow his captor, only to be stopped by the pain in his head and neck.  Twisting his body around didn’t help, either. His feet barely had any purchase on the ground as it was.  Turning merely shortened what little play he had in the ropes that bound his wrists, making his feet leave the ground and spinning him back around.

He was still trying to follow Marley with his eyes in some way when the first crack sounded, accompanied by searing pain as the barbed tips tore through tender flesh!  Gary bit back an agonized howl, determined not to give his tormentor the satisfaction.  Crack!  Another white-hot lance of pain seared through the muscles of his lower back!  Already, his vision was beginning to darken around the edges as he fought not to cry out.  He had to make this convincing.  If he gave in too quickly, they could become suspicious and the trap would fail.  

Crack!

‘I can do this,’ he told himself as he fought the pain, and the urge to scream.  He had been treated at least as bad in the prison camp before he had escaped.  This would be a cakewalk.

Yeah.  Right.

Crack!

He counted six more before he stopped feeling anything at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Just make sure they’re pressed for time,” Canfield had told him the day before Gary set out from Abilene.  “They have to think the gold shipment is gonna slip through their hands if they don’t hurry.  We don’t want them to have time to get suspicious.”

“We’ve been over this a dozen times,” Gary had replied solemnly.  “You just get to work on yore end of the bargain, and leave me to take care of mine.  I can hang in there a day or so, if I have to.  Just have yore men in place and we’ll catch these baby-killers.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Wake up, sweetie.  You need to drink this.”

“God!  He’s burning up!  What’s happening to him, now?”

“Yeah.  He was fine a coupla hours ago!”

“I don’t know!  We have to get some fluids in him, get that fever down.  C’mon, sweetie.  You gotta wake up just a little.  Gary?  Gary, you gotta . . .”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Wake up, handsome.  Drink some of this.”

A metal rim was pressed against dry, cracked lips.  Cool liquid trickled past them, soaking into the parched tissues of his mouth.  Gary let that first scant mouthful swish around, loosening the crusty film, which coated his gums and teeth.  Another trickle, and he was able to expel the foul tasting mass.  

“Good man,” a soft voice murmured.  “You ready to talk yet?”

Gary slowly raised his head for a moment, just long enough to notice that he was no longer hanging by his wrists.  In fact, he was lying on his side on the cold, dusty floor of the mine.  Iron manacles bound both hands in front of him, shackling him to a massive support pillar.  As if they really needed them.  His back and shoulders burned so fiercely that just the effort of raising his head had almost caused him to black out again.  Answering at this time was beyond his power.

A soft hand gently brushed sweat dampened locks from his forehead.  “That’s okay, cowboy,” the woman crooned.  “You go back to sleep.  We’ve got time.”  The hand moved on to stroke the bare, blood-caked skin of his left shoulder, causing him to flinch involuntarily.  “Lot’s of time.”

Licking his lips, Gary made a dry, croaking sound.  The closest he could come to speech, at first.  “N-not . . . not if . . . if your . . . your sh-sheriff . . .”  He swallowed painfully a couple of times, unable to go on.

“I’ll have a talk with him,” the voice purred.  The unseen hand trailed along the curve of his ribs, tracing a path to the belt of his jeans.  “He just wants a little information, then we can find us someplace . . . private.”

A dry, choked laugh burst past swollen lips.  “Y-you . . . b-believe . . . that?” he gasped.  “Th-that he’ll just . . . t-turn me . . . loose?”

“Sure.  Why wouldn’t he?  Just give him what he wants, and we go our merry way.”

Gary rolled halfway onto his stomach, trying to push himself into a sitting position.  The resulting pain that seared across his back stopped him.  He paused there, propped on his forearms, as fine beads of sweat popped out over every exposed bit of intact skin.  ‘I can do this,’ he grimly told himself.  ‘I can damn well do this.’  With a muffled grunt, he managed to pull his legs under him as he struggled into a kneeling position.  He was finally able to look the young woman in the face as he spoke.  Toni gazed back at him with an amused gleam in her eyes.  She was dressed in a set of men’s clothing that was at least a size too large for her tiny frame.

“H-how . . . m-many?” he asked, his breath coming in labored gasps.  “H-how m-many has he . . . k-killed?”

Leaning back against the wall of the shaft, Toni rolled her eyes upwards as she calculated her reply.  “Himself?  Seven.  If you mean in our little side venture . . . fifteen,” she finally told him, her shoulders lifting in a shrug.  “If you count the two agents for the Overland Express who came through last month.  Why?”

“And I-I’m an . . . an a-agent for W-Wells F-Fargo,” he reminded her.  “Wh-what do . . . do you think . . . he plans t-to do . . . with m-me?”

Toni sat back, her face thoughtful.  “I see your point.”  Her face fell as reality sank in.  “Too bad,” she sighed.  “I really liked you, handsome.”

Gary sat back on his heels, his pain almost forgotten, as he stared at the young woman in open-mouthed amazement.

“Th-that’s it?” he asked.  “Just, ‘Too bad?’ He’s a cold-blooded m-murderer!  He’s killed children for God’s sake!”

“Granted,” Toni sighed.  “We shouldn’t have done that.  But what were we to do?  They were too young to leave on their own, and too old to take a chance on them being able to point us out later.”

A deeper chill than he had ever known shook Gary right to the bone.  ‘We.’  ‘Us.’  “You were there?” he asked.  “You actually . . .?”

“Of course,” Toni smiled proudly.  “Had to earn my cut.  Besides, I’m the best shot in the whole gang.  Now, why don’t you tell me which road that gold shipment is coming in on and when is it due?  J.T. can get real nasty with people who stand in his way.”  She leaned in close, the scent of her sweat filling his nostrils as she reached around him.  He bit down on a sharp curse as she traced a slender finger along one of the deep gashes that crisscrossed his back.  “This is nothing,” she told him in a breathy whisper.  “He has this little thing he does with branding irons.  I really don’t think you want him to get started on that.  He’s been known to get . . . carried away.”

Sickened, Gary turned his face away from the black-hearted beauty before him.  ‘How can such a lovely face hide such a hideous soul?’ he wondered.  Then he recalled the reason he was in this hellish situation.  

“H-how long . . .” he paused to swallow past the dryness in his throat.  “How long w-was I out?”

“A few hours,” she told him with a shrug.  

Relieved, Gary let himself slump against the wall.  He still had time.  “So, it’s still, what?  Tuesday?”

Toni sat back with a throaty chuckle.  “You thinkin’ that you still have time to warn your people?” she asked.  “That knock on the head I gave you was just to keep you quiet for a spell.  To get you here, we had to pour one of the doc’s little potions down your throat.  This is Wednesday morning.  Face it, cowboy.  Time is runnin’ out.”

“For some of us,” he murmured, too softly for her to hear.  A stone rattled in the passageway behind him.  Carefully turning the upper half of his body, Gary sought out the source of the noise.  A reddish glow brightened the mineshaft as two large men walked in with a cast iron kettle slung on a pole between them.  They set it down a few feet from the prisoner, giving him a good view of its contents.  It was filled to the brim with white-hot embers.  Two iron rods protruded from this grim montage.  Toni’s earlier warning echoed through his mind as the sheriff casually strode into the chamber.

Marley was slipping on a pair of heavy leather gauntlets as he stepped up to the pot.  Grasping one of the hot irons with a gloved hand, he withdrew it to reveal a glowing metal tip.  Squatting next to the shackled prisoner, he held the branding iron just inches from the younger man’s face.

“Now,” he sighed.  “Where were we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Make it look convincing, they had told him.  After just a few applications with the red-hot irons, Gary figured he had gone above and beyond what anyone could reasonably be asked to endure.  He told Marley what he wanted to know.  

“Good man,” the renegade smiled beatifically.  “Now, was that so terrible?  Just think of all the pain and suffering you had to go through, just to tell me everything anyway.  Wouldn’t it have been so much easier just to cooperate?”

“You’re a sick bastard,” Gary wheezed.  “Y-you’re s-sworn to . . . to uphold . . . the law.  Pro . . . protect th-the t-town . . .”

“And I do protect the town,” Marley replied, his voice deceptively gentle.  “None of this touches the citizens of Uvalde.  Sykes and Hicks live well beyond the city limits.  The ‘good people’ of the town still consider Toni an outsider, in spite of her having lived there since she was little more than a child.  And I’ve only been sheriff here a few years.  I was a hired gun in a small range war, at first.  I kept it going as long as I could, but they eventually settled their differences in spite of everything.   When they needed a lawman, I was the only professional left standing.  Then the stage company decided they needed a shorter run from San Antonio to El Paso.  Much like your company.  As easy as that, we were in business.  Sykes and Hicks had worked with me before, so they were eager to join up.  And Toni?  Well, I couldn’t leave my little girl out of the fun.”

The bandit/sheriff spoke of this so calmly, Gary realized that he was quite likely the most evil creature that had ever crawled out of the lower sewers of Hell.  The news that Marley and Toni were related made it easier to understand her actions.  She had inherited her father’s dark soul.

“S-so,” Gary stammered, “wh-what ha . . . happens, now?”

Marley took the time to lay aside his instruments of torture before answering.  He then squatted down to look into his prisoner’s face.

“Toni, Hicks and myself go to meet your friends,” he replied evenly.  “Mr. Sykes is going to join us later.  After he’s finished here.  We can’t let your body be found, you see.  It might cause the good people of town to get suspicious.  That wouldn’t be in our best interests.  Don’t you agree?”

Gary just stared back silently.  He didn’t want to let on that he was not as weak as his captors believed.  In spite of the pain from his injuries, he still harbored hope of escape once the odds became tilted a little more in his favor.  

“Well,” Marley sighed, straightening to his full height.  “We’d best be going.  You didn’t leave us much time to prepare,” he admonished his captive.  “I hope this doesn’t turn into a running gunfight.  I’ve always found those to be much too chancy.”  He turned to the smaller of the two men, smaller being a deceptive term in his case.  “Be quick about it,” the sheriff told his man.  “You don’t have time to be creative.  Besides, you don’t want to miss all the fun.”

Toni squatted down next to Gary, gazing into his pain-filled eyes.  “Too bad, handsome,” she sighed, tracing a delicate finger along the line of his jaw.  “Coulda been fun.”  Her hand slid down to a deep, oozing burn, her nails performing a teasing dance that brought a choked cry from her victim.  “Especially now,” she purred into his ear.  Reluctantly, she drew back from her little amusement, holding a hand out so that her father could help her to her feet.  “You had your chance, cowboy,” the young outlaw told him as she turned to go.  “Good-bye.”

A moment later, it was just Gary and his soon to be executioner.  Sykes set about scattering the ashes and embers from the still glowing pot, making sure some of them rolled against Gary’s exposed skin.  The younger man jerked back with a choked cry.  He tried not to react too strongly, as if he barely had the strength to get out of the way.  As a result, he received another nasty burn on his left arm.  He shot the brutish thug a venomous glare, giving the chains a weak rattle.

“At least . . . at least let me die l-like a man,” he pleaded.  “N-not chained like an animal.”

“Why not,” Sykes shrugged as he loomed over the helpless prisoner.  “All the same to me.  Less likely to give me any trouble this way.”

“So you . . . you gonna bury me h-here, then?”  He scuffed his booted feet on the stone floor.  “Hope . . . hope you brought a-a pick ax.”

Scowling, Sykes considered this problem.  He could kill the agent where he lay, but Marley had insisted that the body not be found.  Ever.  That would mean dragging the carcass to a deep shaft further back in the mine.  Or he could just march his victim back there and throw him in, an idea that he found appealing.  The pit was deep enough to accomplish both goals at once.  Sykes was a great believer in economy of effort.

Chuckling evilly at this solution, the big man reached down and easily yanked the ring from the rotting timbers.  Using the chain like a lead rein, he jerked Gary to his feet.  

The younger man swayed unsteadily for a moment, his head swimming.  For a moment, he feared that he would blackout.  Then his head cleared and he nodded to his captor that he could walk on his own.  As soon as the taller man turned his back, Gary lashed out with his left foot, catching Sykes behind the knee.  With a startled cry, the outlaw stumbled, releasing his hold on the shackles as he clutched at the nearest upright to maintain his balance.  Gary quickly drew back with both arms and then swung the heavy chains with all his waning strength.  His aim was true.  The big eyebolt caught the other man just behind his right ear, instantly rendering him unconscious.  

The big thug had no sooner hit the ground, than Gary was on him, searching his pockets for the keys to the cuffs.  A few moments later, he had removed the shackles from his own bloody wrists and used them to bind Sykes to a stone column.  Let the big man try getting loose from that!

Fortunately, there were few passages in this played out mine.  Using the light from a torch he had snatched from the wall to follow the gangs footprint on the dusty floor, he quickly found his way out.  Two horses were tethered just a few yards from the mouth of the tunnel.  Gary was pleased to find that Zeke was one of them.  He had grown to appreciate the heart and stamina of the young bay.  Moving as fast as his injuries would allow, Gary clambered into his saddle, taking up the reins of the other horse before looking around to get his bearings.  

Toni had said it was still morning, he recalled.  That meant the sun was shining on him from an easterly direction.  Those hills to his left, he recalled, looked down on the town from the southwest.  The road he had directed them to ran through a small valley near the base of the tallest one.  The gang wouldn’t have much of a lead on him.  Gary still had time to let Marshal Canfield and his posse know that the trap was set.  He would have to ride hard and fast to get ahead of Marley and his cohorts.  Turning Zeke’s head in the direction of the lawmen’s camp, Gary gave the young steed a sharp kick on the flanks.  Zeke leaped ahead, quickly achieving a full gallop.  The other horse trailed behind.  If Zeke tired before they reached the camp, he would switch mounts to spare the younger horse.  

This precaution proved unnecessary, as Gary found a pass that saved him several miles.  It was still over an hour until noon when they stumbled into the clearing where the base camp had been set up just that morning.  Exhausted, feeling everyone of his injuries with a vengeance, the young man had just enough strength left to dismount under his own power, and take two tottering steps toward the lawman’s tent before his knees gave out.  Strong arms caught him before he hit the ground, easing him onto a hastily spread blanket.  Dimly, he heard muttered curses as a cup of cool water was pressed to his lips.

Gary drank greedily, at first, then pushed the cup away, his news too urgent to delay.  He turned pain-clouded eyes up to stare directly into Canfield’s concerned visage.

“M-Miller’s Pass,” he reported.  “I t-told them . . . Miller’s Pass.  A-around one, like . . . like you said.  N-not much time to get r-ready.”

“My men are already in place,” the Marshal told the injured man, his voice gentle.  “You’ve done your part, friend.  Rest easy.  We’ll take it from here.”  Canfield tried to push the younger man down onto the blanket, but Gary refused to lie back.

“I’m going with you,” Gary insisted, struggling against the older man’s restraining grasp.  “There’s just . . . just three, now, that I kn-know of.”  He quickly told of his findings in town and his subsequent kidnapping.  “The girl,” he concluded sadly.  “I-I think she’s the . . . the one that killed the ch-children.  She’s . . . she’s as twisted as her father.”

“All the more reason for you to stay here,” Canfield argued.  “You’re in no shape to go ridin’ into a gunfight.”

“I-in no shape for . . . ridin’ a’tall,” Gary agreed.  “I have to . . . to see this through, though,” he insisted.  “I can’t . . . can’t get the picture o’ those baby’s out of . . . out of my head if’n I don’t.”

Canfield looked down at the younger man’s earnest, pain twisted features.  He had only figured on the outlaws beating the information out of the ‘agent,’ not on this hideous torture.  With a sigh, the lawman nodded, giving in against his better judgment.    

“You’ll stay back,” the lawman insisted, “and out of sight.  I can’t keep my end of the bargain if you’re dead.”

“Yes,” Gary responded grimly.  “You can, and you will.  If you have to, y-you can tell ‘em I died to make this t-territory safer for them.  Don’t think . . . don’t think for a minute you’ll get off that easy, friend.”

Canfield sat back with a sigh, amazed at the younger man’s stubbornness.  “Someone get this man a shirt,” he called out to anyone in general, “before he freezes to death.”

“N-not much danger off that,” Gary murmured, a strained smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

Looking closer, Canfield knew what he meant.  Gary’s face was already flush with fever.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“This isn’t good,’ a soft voice murmured.  “Gary, you have to wake up, sweetie.  Get me another pan of water, Jake.  And ask Clay if he knows where that doctor went?  His fever is gettin’ worse.”

“They said he needs time for those antibiotics to kick in,” a man’s voice replied.  “It’s only been a few hours, Polly.”

“I know that!” the woman insisted.  “I work around this stuff all the time.  But, he should’ve come around by now.  Instead, he’s mumbling about outlaws, and holdups, a-and dead babies.  It worries me that he’s talkin’ about death at all.”

“Just hang in there, Gary,” the man sighed.  “Just hang in there.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The two men sat atop their horses, keeping out of sight beneath the crest of the hill.  Another man lay on his belly just a few feet away.  Concealed beneath a couple of small bushes, he had a pair of binoculars trained on the opposite ridge.  He smiled as a brief flicker of reflected sunlight rewarded his patience.

“They’re coming, Marshal,” the Ranger, Taggart, reported.  “Four . . . no . . . six of them.  You must not’ve seen the whole gang, mister,” he added, glancing back at Gary.  

“I’d ‘ve been surprised if I did,” Gary murmured.  He wiped his right hand across his fevered brow.  The skin was still hot and dry to the touch, in spite of having drunk as much water as he could tolerate.  There was no help for it.  They had not seen fit to include a doctor in their party, and he dared not go back to the one in Uvalde as yet.  He just prayed that he had enough strength left to see this business to its end.  He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, wincing with a muffled hiss as the borrowed shirt rubbed across the mass of raw flesh that was his back.  

“I still say you should’ve stayed back in camp.” Canfield grumbled.  “You’re in no shape to be here, friend.”

“I think we’ve already had, um, had this discussion,” Gary replied grimly.  “I’ll stay back,” he promised once more, “and out of the fight.  But I have to . . .”

“There’s the wagon,” Taggart hissed.  A boxy looking conveyance, painted in red and with the words ‘Well’s Fargo’ boldly emblazoned on the sides, was just entering the western end of the shallow valley.  A team of four dark horses pulled it at a fairly rapid pace. The driver’s seat was enclosed on both ends, and only one man sat atop it.  “And there’s our gang of cutthroats.”  Six riders appeared from amongst a copse of trees, riding hard to cut across the wagon‘s path.  The deputy looked up at his commander, a questioning look on his face.

“Wait until they’ve actually fired on the wagon,” Canfield ordered.  “Our boys are safe as long as they stay inside.”

Catching sight of the approaching gang, the driver flicked the reins, urging the team to break into a gallop.  The lead rider aimed his gun and fired.  And missed.  

“I would have to say that cinches the matter,” Canfield nodded.  “Let’s finish this, gentlemen.”  With a loud cry, he spurred his horse into a full gallop, almost leaping over the crest of the hill.  He was quickly joined by the third man who had scrambled into his saddle a moment after the first shot was fired.  Gary rode as far as the crest before he was crisply reminded of his promise.  “Stay out of this!” Canfield snapped.

Fuming at having to sit on the sidelines, Gary reined in his mount.  From where he now sat, he had the best view for what transpired next.

Canfield and his deputy were only the vanguard of almost a dozen Texas Rangers.  They galloped over the rim of the valley at a dead run, quickly moving to cut off the outlaws’ only avenue of escape.  

Thwarted, Marley proved to be as insane as he was evil.  With a wild, animal gleam in his icy blue eyes, the renegade fired at the on-coming posse.  Screaming profanities, he charged the nearest of the riders, shooting him out of the saddle.  As the deputy fell, his horse stumbled, leaving a gap for Marley and another, smaller, figure to ride through at breakneck speed.  Behind them, Canfield spun his mount, taking careful aim.  One shot and Marley fell from his saddle.  A second shot missed the other rider, who spurred the hapless horse unmercifully, charging up the side of the hill towards Gary’s position.  Marshal Canfield and two rangers gave quick pursuit, but not quick enough.

Thinking to block the outlaw’s escape, Gary steered Zeke directly into the rider’s path.  As the other horse drew closer, he recognized the escaping figure as Toni.  The look on her face was one that would give the devil nightmares.  The same hellish light blazed from her angelic features as had marred the face of her father.  ‘Stop,’ he silently begged her.  ‘Please stop.  Don’t make us kill you.’  Even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was too late for her.  She had long ago crossed the line into the realm of madness.  Her words and actions back at the mine had already convinced him of that.  

Planting himself firmly into her path, Gary tried to reach for his gun.  Already weak and feverish, clinging to his saddle by sheer will alone, he never had a chance.  Toni leveled her six-gun at his chest . . . and fired.  Without a moment’s hesitation.  At almost the same instant that he felt the bullet tear into his body, the black-hearted killer jerked upright, pulling back on the reins so hard that her horse stumbled to a complete halt.  Her lifeless body was flung from the saddle, landing in a heap at the feet of Gary’s steed.

Numb, he stared down at the raven-haired beauty, saddened that it had come to this.  His only consolation came in knowing that she and her gang would be killing no more children.  Gary heaved a long, shuddering sigh, suddenly feeling cold and exhausted.  Pain tore through his body at the movement.  Looking down, he noticed the bright red stain spreading rapidly across his chest.  A creeping darkness was already eating away at the edges of his vision.  It was suddenly all he could do just to breathe.

Strong arms caught Gary as his body slumped in the saddle.  Eager hands eased him to the ground as muffled voices called his name.

“Damn you, Chandler!” Canfield snapped.  “Don’t do this to me!  Don’t you dare die on me!”  He yanked the bandanna from around his neck, wadding it up and pressing it firmly against the hole in the younger man’s chest in a pathetic effort to staunch the outpouring of blood.  “How can I help you find your family if you’re dead?” he moaned.  “Dammit!  I got you into this!  I’m . . .”

A pale hand clamped over his arm, halting the flood of words.  Canfield tore his eyes away from the awful crimson stain that was spreading over his hands to gaze into the clear brown eyes of the dying man.

“N-not . . . not much y-you can do . . . here,” he gasped.  “Y-you g-got . . . got to k-keep . . . your p-promise.”  Briefly closing his eyes, Gary paused to lick suddenly dry lips before continuing in his halting plea.  “Y-you find them.  T-tell them that . . . that I l-love them . . . a-and th-that . . . that I’ll be w-watching . . .”

Whatever else he was going to say was lost as his strength failed him.  The last thing Gary Chandler heard was the desperate voice of Marshal Peter Canfield calling his name.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Continue to Installment 5

Email the author: Polgana54@cs.com
 
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