The whole town might be in danger, Sam realized as an icy finger traced a trail down his spine. Porter might try to slaughter all the citizens and then burn Cottonwood to the ground to cover up the massacre.
Surprise was the only thing Sam had going for him, and considering the odds, that was going to be only a slight advantage.
He picked up Bickford’s pistol and tucked it behind his belt, then found the rifle that the guard on the lead wagon had dropped. Armed for bear now, Sam retreated behind the wagon and peered around the end of the vehicle, waiting to see what was going to happen.
He didn’t have to wait long. Heavy, hurrying footsteps thudded on the ground, and Ambrose Porter ran through the trees and up to the creek, trailed by several of the deputies. At least all of them hadn’t come with Porter, Sam thought. Porter must not have been able to find the others, who could have been playing cards at the hotel, eating at the café, or involved in some other activity that kept Porter from locating them easily. So the odds were only six to one. Right now, Sam would take any stroke of luck he could get, even that.
“Bickford!” Porter called as he spotted his partner’s body lying on the ground. “What the hell?”
Dropping to a knee, Porter grabbed Bickford’s shoulder and rolled the man onto his back. He recoiled at the smell that drifted up from Bickford’s clothes.
“What in damnation happened here?” Sam heard Porter mutter. Then the man straightened and turned toward the wagon.
Sam realized too late that even though Barnabas had closed the door, he had neglected to replace the padlock, so Porter knew right away the door had been opened. Sam saw Porter stiffen with that realization. Then Porter said to the deputies, “Get ready. We may have to kill all the prisoners.”
Before Sam would stand by and let that happen, he would take his chances and shoot it out with Porter and the other men. He tightened his grip on the Winchester and tensed his muscles, ready to leap out into the open and start firing.
A second later, the thunderous roar of gunshots filled the night—but they didn’t come from Sam Two Wolves, Ambrose Porter, or any of the crooked deputies.
Instead, it sounded like a small but intense war had just broken out in the streets of Cottonwood.
Chapter 25
“I don’t like it,” Frankie Harlow said with a frown on her pretty face. “I don’t like it one damned bit.”
It didn’t surprise Matt that Frankie felt that way. But her reaction to his plan wasn’t going to change his mind, either.
“This is just a scouting expedition,” he told her as he tightened the cinch on his saddle. “I just want to get the lay of the land on the Kane place tonight. If there’s any action, it’ll be later on, and maybe you can get in on it.”
Thurman Harlow had followed the two of them into the barn after supper. He spoke up now, saying, “I ain’t so sure that’s a good idea, Frankie. You run too many risks already. You ought to let me and the boys and Mr. Bodine take care of Cimarron Kane and those pesky kinfolks of his.”
Frankie gave a defiant shake of her head. “You may need an extra rifle, and you know I’m a good shot, Pa.”
“Yeah, there ain’t no denyin’ that,” Harlow conceded grudgingly. He turned to Matt. “You say you’re just gonna have a look around tonight?”
Matt nodded. “That’s right. If we’re gonna hit Kane, we need to plan it out first and figure out the best way to go about it. Since his bunch outnumbers us, we’ll have to grab hold of every advantage we can find.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Harlow said.
“It makes even more sense for you to take me with you,” Frankie added to Matt. “What if you can’t find Kane’s spread? I can take you right to it.”
“You gave me good directions,” Matt reminded her. They’d had a long talk over supper about how to get to the Kane ranch from the Harlow farm.
Frankie glared at him and said, “If I’d known you were going to leave me behind, I might not have told you as much.”
Matt had his horse ready to ride. He smiled at Frankie and her father and told them, “Don’t wait up for me. I don’t know when I’ll be back. If I run into any trouble, it may take me longer.”
“If you run into any trouble, you could wind up dead,” Frankie pointed out.
“I don’t intend to let that happen.”
“You’d damned well better not.”
With that, Frankie stepped closer to Matt, reached up and put her hand on the back of his neck, and pulled his head down a little so that she could press her mouth to his. She had taken Matt by surprise, but he didn’t try to pull away.
After a moment, Thurman Harlow said dryly, “Don’t mind me or nothin’. I’m just the girl’s pa, is all.”
Frankie broke the kiss, pulling away from Matt as she said, “Sorry you had to see that, Pa, but I was damned if I was gonna let Bodine ride away without giving him a proper good-bye.”
Harlow held out his hand to Matt. “I’ll just shake and wish you luck, if that’s all right with you.”
Matt smiled as he gripped the man’s hand. “I’m obliged for it,” he said. “Before this night’s over, I’m liable to need all the luck I can get.”
He gripped the saddle horn and swung up onto the stallion’s back. As he turned the horse to ride out of the barn, he lifted a hand in farewell to Frankie and her father. They returned the wave. Matt glanced back as he left the barn, and saw the two figures standing there in the lantern light. Harlow put an arm around his daughter’s shoulders and squeezed. Matt wasn’t sure if the man was trying to comfort her—or holding on to her to keep her from jumping onto a horse and following him.
Following the attack that morning, the rest of the day had passed quietly. Matt had spent most of it riding in a wide circle around the Harlow farm, borrowing one of their horses to do so because he wanted to keep his stallion fresh. It was already in the back of his mind to go on the offensive against Cimarron Kane, and he knew that to do so he would have to have more information about the enemy’s stronghold. After getting directions to the Kane ranch at supper, he had announced his intention of taking a ride up there.
A thin sliver of moon hung in the eastern sky. Down in Texas they would call that a Comanche moon, Matt mused, because it didn’t give off much light and the thicker darkness would conceal the movements of Comanche raiders as they slipped up on some unsuspecting homestead.
The darkness tonight in Kansas would serve to conceal him as he approached the Kane ranch. He didn’t know if he could move as quietly as a Comanche, but when it came to stealth, he’d had a mighty good half-Cheyenne teacher in Sam Two Wolves.
Matt came to the main trail, which was a thin silver ribbon in the faint light from the moon and stars. He crossed it and continued north. The Kane spread was another two or three miles in that direction.
The boundless prairie didn’t offer many landmarks, especially ones that could be made out easily on a dark night such as this one. Because of that, Matt had to proceed carefully. He didn’t want to ride right up to the house without seeing it until he was practically on top of it. If he did that, the Kanes would hear his horse coming and be ready for him. He had a feeling that a proddy bunch like that might shoot first and ask questions later if they had an unknown visitor after dark.
He came to a dry wash. Frankie had said that the Kane place was half a mile north of that wash. Matt reined in and dismounted. He found the place Frankie had told him about where the banks of the wash had caved in enough for him to lead his horse into and back out of it. He didn’t mount up again but instead went forward on foot, knowing that the hoofbeats of a horse and rider could carry a long way out here on the plains.