Watching her husband and daughter, Anne couldn’t help but grin at both of them. That faded a bit when she saw the grim shadow that fell over Joseph’s face after Laurie went into the house. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Those are horses and they’re getting closer.”
“You think it’s someone from town?” Her face brightened a bit and she added, “I’ll bet it’s just some of the boys coming home after drinking.”
“When the boys go out drinking, they sneak home like they think I’m going to scold them. Those horses sure as hell aren’t sneaking.”
“Then maybe they’re just passing by,” Anne said as she moved in closer to place her hands around the back of her husband’s neck. “Why are you so worried?”
“I don’t know. Please, just get inside and wait there for me to come get you. If you hear trouble, don’t try to come out. Just take the kids, get the rifle and hide.”
Some of the color drained from her face. “Now, you’re really starting to scare me, Joseph. Do you think there could be—”
“I don’t know,” he interrupted. “That’s what bothers me.” Taking his wife by the hand, he led her to the front door and stepped inside. He grabbed one of the shotguns from the rack on the wall. He headed outside again.
Anne stopped at the threshold. “If there is…” Glancing back to the rooms where her children slept, she winced and then continued in a voice that she hoped her daughter couldn’t hear. “If there is trouble, maybe you should fetch Sheriff Stilson.”
Opening the shotgun and fitting in a few fresh shells, he said, “The sheriff’s too far away.”
“Then at least go to the bunkhouse. If it’s empty, you’ll know it’s the boys out having some fun. If it’s not, at least get a few of them to come with you to check on those noises.”
Joseph nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
Seeing the calm returning to her husband’s face, Anne reached out to place her hand on his cheek. “Of course it’s a good idea. It sure beats running out there with a loaded gun to spook someone else who might also be carrying a gun.”
“I’ll check the bunkhouse first. Now please, just stay in here and watch over those kids.”
“I will.” Anne leaned forward to press her lips against Joseph’s. The hand that had been on his cheek slipped around to the back of his head so she could ruffle his hair while holding him close and prolonging their kiss. She opened her mouth just a bit so she could nibble on his bottom lip before easing away. “Hurry back,” she whispered. “I’ve got plans for you.”
“Me, too, darlin’.”
Joseph stepped out and started to close the door. Before shutting it all the way, he stayed just long enough to see her step to the rack and reach for the second gun on the wall. Only then did he close the door tightly and put the house behind him.
The thunder of those horses was impossible to miss. Before, it had been a subtle grind in the distance, but now it had grown into a low roar. Joseph’s hands reflexively tensed around his shotgun as he ran for the nearby stables. He pulled open one of the main doors and made a quick count of the animals inside. Most of them were gone. After fitting the reins around his own horse’s neck, Joseph climbed onto its bare back and rode it outside.
His regular workers kept their horses in the stable, but some of the less-established ones preferred to tie them up outside the bunkhouse where they could see them. As Joseph rode up to the bunkhouse, he saw no animals there. Then he swung down and ran up to the door.
“Hey!” he shouted while knocking. “Anyone in there?”
He waited for a few more seconds before knocking again. There was no reply, so he opened the door and stepped inside.
It was empty.
According to his wife, that was a good sign. Joseph, on the other hand, wasn’t so quick to be appeased. He climbed back onto his horse and rode straight toward the sound of approaching thunder.
SIX
Joseph often said he knew his land well enough to walk it with his eyes closed. In the darkness that fell upon the ranch that night, he put that boast to the test by snapping his reins and coaxing his horse to go faster to meet the approaching horsemen. Every so often, he would veer one way or slow down somewhere else to avoid obstacles he knew were there. But he did such things without thinking. His mind was busy contemplating why his innards had twisted into a knot.
Once the sound of the horses was loud enough, Joseph pulled back on his reins and came to a stop. He stared into the shadows and was soon able to make out the shapes of the oncoming riders. He couldn’t be certain, but it looked like there were at least a half dozen of them. The rancher could only guess how many more were hidden in the darkness.
Taking hold of his shotgun, Joseph felt his heart quicken in his chest as he watched them draw closer. He figured the men had spotted him by now, but not one of them was slowing down.
As they drew closer, Joseph raised his shotgun and sent a loud blast over the riders’ heads. The flash from the muzzle lit up Joseph’s face like a photographer’s powder and a roar rolled through the air like a clap of thunder. He then brought his gun down and replaced the spent shell.
“Hold up,” one of the riders shouted.
Joseph had lowered his barrel, but found himself bringing it up as he moved in a bit closer.
The rider who’d spoken raised one hand and waved it until all of the other men had slowed to match his pace. From there, they moved in a single wave toward Joseph.
Despite the uneven numbers, Joseph sat tall in the saddle and rode forward with a challenging glare in his eyes. “You men are on my property,” he said while squinting to get a better look at the rider’s face.
“Sorry about that. Did we wake you?”
Joseph held his ground. “Who are you?”
The man who rode forward quickly straightened up. His close-set eyes were narrowed at first, but widened as if to soak up every last detail of Joseph’s face. His own face was dark and appeared sunken in the moonlight, though it wouldn’t have looked any friendlier in better light.
“You’re Van Meter,” the man said.
“That’s right. This is my land.”
“You take a shot at everyone who happens to ride across your property line? I feel awfully sorry for your neighbors if’n they have dogs or little ones running about.”
That elicited a chuckle from the men behind the rider, but not so much as a smirk from Joseph.
“I just wanted to get your attention,” Joseph said. “Now that I got it, I can show you the quickest way onto the trail headed south or point you toward Ocean. There’s plenty to do in town, if that’s what you’re after.”
“We were in town. We didn’t see no ocean.”
“If it’s the Pacific you’re after, you’ll need to ride west.”
Cocking his head a bit, the rider looked to a skinny, pale-skinned man behind him and asked, “Why do you think they call that town Ocean, Bertram? Maybe our host, Mister Van Meter, knows.”
The other man didn’t answer. All he did was shrug and lean forward with both hands piled over his saddle horn. At the moment, Joseph realized he was the only one brandishing a weapon. The riders simply looked back at him.
“From what I hear, the town didn’t have a proper name when it sprung up,” Joseph said. “Then someone came along complaining about not being able to see the water and an old man wrote the word Ocean on a sign. He pointed to it and said, ‘There’s yer damn ocean.’”
The riders broke into laughter. A few of them even had to swipe at their eyes after a time. No one laughed more than the riders’ leader, who nodded and tried to speak a few times, but couldn’t get anything out.