Ride Away Read online

  “It’ll be good to get home,” Deed said, patting the nose of the extra horse, a steady buckskin that he favored. “Seems like I’ve been gone a long time.”

  “Well, you have, Deed,” Blue said and glanced at the station, “but one of us needs to go on to El Paso. Just bought a fine stallion . . . from August Magnuson. Figured we’d breed him with some of our best mustang mares.”

  “Magnuson? He’s got some mighty good horseflesh. Usually wants a lot for ’em, too.”

  Blue smiled. “He’s in a bind for cash. Made us a mighty good offer. Couldn’t pass it up. Silka agreed.” His smile got wider and he glanced at the former samurai who nodded agreement. “At least, I hope you’ve got money from the trail drive.”

  “In my gear.” Deed motioned toward the coach. “I can go on. I’ll take what we need to pay Magnuson and give the rest to you two. We did well.”

  Blue looked around and said, “Good. Sorry we didn’t get here sooner. That must’ve been a bad bunch.” He closed his eyes briefly and said a silent prayer for the dead souls.

  “Came out of the earth, it seemed like,” Deed said.

  The Oriental asked, “How many hurt?”

  “Two passengers as well as the shotgun guard are dead. So is the station manager. Another passenger, a German farmer, got hit hard in the shoulder,” Deed said. “He’s inside being cared for by his wife.” He shook his head.

  “What happened to your driver?” Blue asked.

  “Last time I saw him, he was running for that barn. I think the stock tender’s in there, too. Haven’t had time to look. Or cared to.” Deed motioned toward the barn, then turned toward three painted Indian horses standing with their heads down, adorned with paint and feathers tied to their manes and tails. He gathered their simple reins and led the ponies to the water trough, then let them loose in the corral. Blue and Silka tied their own horses to the trees and headed for the coach’s downed horses.

  As they walked, Deed asked, “Ever hear of a gunman named James Hannah?”

  Blue nodded. “Most have, I reckon.”

  “Yeah. Doesn’t look like a gunman though.”

  “Hai, what does gunman look like?” Silka asked, a slight smile working its way onto his flat face.

  “Some would say Holt, I guess. Or me.” Deed bit his lower lip.

  Silka waved his arms in disagreement. “No. You are fighter. Warrior. Big difference.”

  Deed rubbed his mouth with his thumb. “Anyway, Hannah was a big part of our making it. He and I just took the station manager’s body to his house. We’ll bury him later. Wherever Mrs. Forsyth wants.”

  “Where’s he headed? James Hannah,” Blue said, glancing at the station again.

  “Going to El Paso, I think. Why?”

  Blue said, “Well, it’s one more gun.”

  “Yeah, a good one.”

  Finally Tade Balkins and Billy Lee Montez emerged from the barn; the one-eyed Mexican holding his shotgun and looking both ways with each step. Tade’s face was taut and his rapid-fire speech made it obvious he was coiled and nervous. Silka’s presence seemed to make him even more on edge.

  “Any more of those red devils left?” He glanced at Silka without meaning to do so, then looked away.

  “They’re gone—or dead. We killed their leader and that sent the rest running,” Deed said, motioning to the bodies lying across the yard.

  “Thank God for that,” Tade shook his head.

  “Yes, thank God,” Blue repeated.

  “Never had ’em come at me like that before. Holy damn!” Tade shook his head again. “They got Hank early on. My guard, ya know. Was. Then the bastards cut down my two lead horses. Damn them to blazes. They were great Morgans. Two of the line’s best.”

  “O soroshi,” Silka said solemnly.

  Tade stared at him as if the old samurai had just given a war cry. Both Corrigan brothers recognized the Japanese word for “awful,” but added no comments of their own. It seemed to Deed that the driver was more upset about his two horses dying than losing his guard. He introduced Tade to Blue and Silka, and asked to be introduced to Billy Lee. After mumbling an introduction, Tade walked over to the coach while the others exchanged greetings.

  “Hard to believe. Those red bastards didn’t even try for the gold.” The stagecoach driver shook his head and motioned toward the heavy box under his seat. It was filled with gold coins, certificates, and bars for the El Paso Bank.

  Deed glanced at Blue, then Silka, then back to the high-strung driver. “They got the station manager, too, while you were hiding out in the barn.”

  “Caleb Forsyth? They killed Caleb? My God, that’s awful!” For an instant, it looked like Tade was going to kick the closest Indian’s body. Either he didn’t get the bite of Deed’s remark or chose to ignore it.

  “Yeah. You lost two passengers, too. Another, Mr. Beinrigt, is hurt bad. We carried him into the station.”

  Silka walked over to the coach and muttered something in Japanese. Tade licked his lips and stared at the dead drummer still wearing his top hat, as if seeing the body for the first time, then gazed at the expressionless Silka. “Where are the womenfolk?”

  “They’re inside. They’re all right.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s good.” Tade walked over to the two dead horses. “I’ve got to get going again. Mail’s gotta get through, ya know.”

  It was Blue who spoke first and his words were practical. “Well, we can’t leave these dead horses here to rot. Maybe we can pull them out of the way. We’re going to need to hook up some of the team in the barn to haul the dead ones away.”

  “Sure. Sure.” Tade was already gathering strewn-about clothing from the broken-open luggage and laying the garments and suitcases in the coach. One mail bag was ripped apart so he gathered the loose envelopes and boxes and placed them inside the coach as well.

  “We’re going to need your help here,” Deed said.

  Tade looked up. “Oh, sure. I wasn’t thinking. Wasn’t thinking.”

  Billy Lee Montez laid the shotgun against the coach and helped untangle the harness. The two rear horses were eager to get away from the nightmare of snarled leather. The left rear horse reared and snorted. Billy calmed the frightened horse into standing again. Unharnessing the animals was slow work, but gradually they freed one of the downed middle Morgans and the animal stood, shook itself, and was ready to be led away with the other two. The remaining middle horse had a badly broken leg and couldn’t stand. Mercifully, Deed shot the animal, then knelt, touched the dead animal’s head, and said a silent prayer. Blue and Silka watched without comment.

  Billy said, “I bring grease for de axles.”

  “Let’s get these horses out of here first,” Blue affirmed. “We’ll need some horses to pull them.”

  “Sí. I bring two hosses. Enough?”

  Silka nodded. “Velly good. Bring rope also.”

  Billy hurried away and Blue and Silka walked the three unhurt coach horses to the holding corral. Returning to their own horses, they led them to the water trough and then retied them to the outside of the corral gate. Billy brought a set of harnessed horses and they finally got the three dead horses dragged away into a long ravine, surrounded by brush. Tade urged them on while leaning against the coach and watching the old samurai walk among the downed Comanches, using his long sword to assure himself that they were all dead since James Hannah had obviously missed one.

  “What do you want to do about these dead Indians? The ones close in here?” Deed asked. “They’ll bring coyotes and buzzards—and smell like hell.”

  Tade shook his head. “Well, I’ve got to get this coach going. Hate to leave you with that mess, but I gotta.”

  Blue shook his head. “You’re full of all kinds of good news. We need to drag these Indians off someplace out of sight and smell.”

  “I guess I’ll help,” Deed said.

  “Well, those Comanches will come back to get them. Count on it.” Blue motioned toward the horizon w
ith his good hand.

  Silka agreed. “Hai. They will come. It is their way.”

  “Sí,” Billy added.

  Blue recommended they wait until the coach left, then haul the dead Indians beyond the stage yard and out of sight. The stage could be moved up closer to the station so the passengers wouldn’t have to walk among the dead to get on. The dead passengers and the shotgun guard would require separate graves. How and where the dead station manager would be laid to rest would be Atlee Forsyth’s decision. Deed reminded Tade that two suitcases on top would need reloading and the removal of some arrows. There were a few bullet holes too; but not much could be done about them.

  The anxious driver said he would take care of the suitcases. After greasing the axles, Billy Lee helped Tade lead out the fresh team and harness them to the coach. Tade was obviously eager to get moving again. He headed to the station to get something to eat and tell the passengers that the coach was ready. The Mexican disappeared into the barn again.

  After lifting the dead drummer from the stage and laying him on the ground, Deed, Silka, and Blue headed for the house, talking to each other.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “So the drive went well? Your wire said so,” Blue asked his brother, patting him on the back, as they walked toward the station.

  “Real good, big brother. Got top price. Those boys were eager to get beef headed east.”

  “Hontou?” Silka asked.

  “Yeah, really.”

  All three laughed. Deed said again that the cattle-drive money was hidden away in his gear. He added, “Lost three steers crossing a river. Another five were trampled during a stampede. But we picked up twenty stray head along the way. Willy found most of them. Unbranded stuff.”

  “What started the stampede? A storm?”

  “Yes and no. One night the herd was tense, wouldn’t settle because a storm was coming. You know how Willy can start burping when he’s nervous,” Deed explained. “Well, he belched so damn loud after eating, it took us half the night getting the herd back together,” Deed said, chuckling. “Some of the men took to calling him Boom.”

  “Is he worth keeping? That could’ve been bad.”

  “Willy works harder than three men,” Deed said. “Belches louder than three men, too.”

  “Sure. Your call.”

  “He’ll stand.”

  Blue glanced at his younger brother and started walking again. “While you were gone, we had some terrible tragedies around here.” He paused and frowned. “The Regan family was murdered in their home. Looked like Comanches hit the Bar 3.”

  “My God! Jason and Martha . . . their kids? That’s awful, Blue.”

  “Yeah, it was; Isaiah Tuscott came to our ranch just after dawn to tell us,” Blue said. “He was going there to help Jason with an addition to their main house. We rode there as fast as we could. Little Jeremy had hidden. We found him and brought him home to stay with us. But he was the only one that made it.”

  “How’d you know it was Comanches?”

  Shifting his shoulders as if to remove an unseen burden, Blue explained about finding arrows, a tomahawk, unshod horse tracks, and that the adults had been scalped.

  Deed grimaced. “I’m surprised the war party attacked at night. Thought they were afraid a warrior killed would never find his way to heaven. Did they burn the ranch house?”

  “No.”

  “That’s strange too.”

  “Yeah. You know, usually a ranch is pretty empty during roundup and trail-drive time, but Jason doesn’t go on the drives anymore. That busted leg of his won’t hold up. So it was he and his family except for their six-year-old son, Jeremy. All dead. And scalped.” Blue looked away. “You remember Ol’ Joel, don’t you? They got him, too. Bless his soul. Looked like he fought them for a long time.”

  “Damn. How long did he work for the Regans?”

  “Must’ve been thirty years, at least.”

  Blue straightened his back. “It gets worse. The Wilkon Bank foreclosed on the Bar 3. Had a big loan, according to the bank president.”

  “So who owns the Bar 3 now?”

  “Same fellow who bought the bank. Lives in El Paso. It all happened not long after you left for Abilene,” Blue said. “He bought the H-5 and the Roof-M, too.”

  “That’s convenient,” Deed snorted. “So only three ranches around here now. His combined spread, the Lazy S, and us.”

  “Hai. It is so,” Silka agreed. The former samurai studied the brothers without saying more, then examined the station area, and looked at the Corrigan boys again.

  “I take it you don’t think it was Comanches,” Deed said, cocking his head.

  “Not sure. Once I got him to talk about it, Jeremy said some things about white men attacking the place,” Blue said, a little above a whisper. “And the whole thing with the bank loan. Don’t know why they would have borrowed money. Not them anyway. Must have been a cash-flow problem.” He rubbed his chin. “I can understand the H-5 and Roof-M selling out. They’re both small. Probably tired of it all. You know, they’ve been putting their trail herds with the Bar 3 the last couple of years.”

  “Well, I saw the Bar 3 herd on the trail when I was coming back. A big one. At least three thousand head,” Deed said. “Didn’t recognize any of their hands on the trail. Or their trail boss. Thought it was strange. Now it makes sense. So, what happened to the money from their drive?”

  “Bank has no record of any deposit like that.”

  Silka’s face hardened. “Hai. Blue, you know it was not Comanche. You know it was this Agon Bordner.”

  “Who’s Agon Bordner?” Deed asked.

  “The guy who bought the bank—and the Bar 3 and the other two.”

  Deed glanced at Silka. “That’s a mighty big spread. Biggest around here. Even bigger when you add in the H-5 and the Roof-M.”

  “It is so,” Silka declared and studied Deed’s face.

  Blue explained he hadn’t met Agon Bordner, only heard that he lived in a big house in El Paso, adding that he thought a man had a right to take advantage of a situation if he could. It was like him to view everyone in a positive light. Almost as much as their late mother had.

  Silka looked at him and grinned. “He is velly fat, they say.”

  Blue quickly added Bordner had a fine reputation in El Paso—that he was active in the Baptist church there, even sang in the choir.

  “What happened to the Merefords and the Hansons? Are they still around?”

  “No. Both families left right away, right after they sold,” Blue said. “And that’s even worse. Comanches hit their wagons somewhere north of here. Killed them all.”

  “That’s awful. Awful.”

  “Yeah, they were good folks,” Blue said.

  All three men were quiet.

  Deed was the first to speak, “Well, who’s running the Bar 3 now?”

  “A fellow named Dixie Murphy’s the new foreman. Met him once in town. A hard man to like. But I’m sure he’s a good cowman.” Blue licked his lips and changed the subject. “How many of our boys are coming back?”

  “Just the regulars. Willy, Harmon, Chico, Little Jake and Too Tall are bringing back the chuck wagon and the remuda—and Judas.”

  Judas was the name they called a large, black longhorn steer that led their herds to market. The rest of the drovers had hooked on to a drive headed for Wyoming. Too Tall was what everyone called their cook, a short, stocky man with a temper to match. Deed said Taol Sanchez hit town with a big herd of over two thousand, two days after they got in. Oldest son of Felix Sanchez, the owner of the huge Lazy S, he was also happy with the prices received for his beef.

  Blue stopped walking and turned to Deed. “How are those folks doing, the ones inside?”

  “About like you’d expect, I guess. Mrs. Forsyth’s trying to go on,” Deed said, glancing at the station as they resumed walking. “The Forsyths had turned this into a damn good relay operation, you know.”

  Looking around at the rea
died coach, Deed added, “Guess Mrs. Forsyth and her kids will need to go in the stage. To somewhere safe. El Paso’s the next big town. Unless they want to go into Wilkon. Don’t think they have much money. Won’t be easy for her.”

  A black snake slid across their path. Blue reached for his holstered gun as it stopped and hissed.

  “Let it go. He’s not disturbing us,” Deed said and knelt beside the snake. Behind him, Silka drew his long sword.

  “It’s all right. No one will hurt you,” Deed spoke to the agitated reptile.

  Neither Blue nor Silka moved, but watched the snake. Slowly, it uncoiled and resumed its journey. Silka said something in Japanese. Deed stood and the three men began walking again with no further mention of the reptile. Blue knew his younger brother had a sense for nature that few could match. It reminded him of their mother.

  Silka thought he should remain outside and let them bring him something to eat, instead of going into the station. Not everyone liked to have Orientals near, he indicated. Both Corrigan brothers rejected the idea.

  “If they don’t want you, they don’t want us,” Deed said and slapped Silka on the back.

  The old samurai faked being hurt by the affectionate display and smiled.

  Stepping inside, Cooper growled as they entered, then hurried to greet them with his tail wagging. Deed bent over to return the greeting. They were surprised to see Atlee Forsyth serving Hannah, Rebecca, and Tade around the long table as if nothing had occurred. Large bowls of beef stew, baskets of biscuits, and fresh coffee were being enjoyed. Hermann Beinrigt was lying down on the couch, and Olivia was putting a wet rag on his forehead. Little Elizabeth stood next to her, holding a bowl of water. Deed walked over to them and put his hand on the farmer’s good shoulder.

  “How’s he doing, Mrs. Beinrigt?”

  “He ist fair, I think. Much blut ist lost. Du save his life.” Olivia held out a slightly shaking hand.

  Taking hers with both hands, Deed leaned toward her and smiled. “He saved mine.” Releasing the handshake, he stood and introduced his brother and Silka who removed their hats.

  Olivia looked up and greeted both.

  Stepping next to Deed, Elizabeth declared, “My papa is dead, you know. He is in heaven.”