“The boss cried for hours,” Ray said. “We all heard him, clear over to the bunkhouse. But we don’t blame him. We’d have done the same, I reckon.”
Wheeler took up the account. “Then he came out and hollered for Clayburn, and damn, Mr. Tovey was mad. He knows who did it. He found a clue in the kitchen.”
“A clue?” Timmy bleated.
Wheeler nodded. “Mrs. Tovey had time to write the name of her killer on a sheet of paper. Maybe she saw him through a window. Or maybe she was at the table when he came in through the door.”
“However it was,” Ray said, “we know who to string up.”
“Who?”
Wheeler and Ray looked at one another, and Wheeler said through clenched teeth, “Julio Pierce.”
Timmy’s blood chilled. That cut it. There would be hell to pay. Gallons and gallons of hell, and all the gallons were red.
“The boss is gatherin’ everyone up,” Wheeler said. “Every last puncher. They should all be in by tonight.”
“Tomorrow we ride for the DP,” Ray said. “Heaven help them if they try to stop us.”
Wheeler nodded. “He’ll demand they turn Julio over. If they don’t, well, that’s just too bad. There are more of us than there are of them, and Mr. Tovey isn’t about to take no for an answer.”
“Fetch your horse,” Ray said.
Timmy hurried into the trees. He had the reins in hand and was about to lead his mount from the shadows when Jeb Wheeler hissed, “Stay under cover, boy! Don’t say or do anything, you hear me?”
More riders were approaching. Only this time they were coming from across the river.
Timmy’s mouth went dry. He counted six. They came to the crossing and splashed across the Rio Largo. He did not understand why Wheeler and Ray just sat there. The three of them should ride to the ranch for help.
Jeb Wheeler held up a hand and announced, “That’s far enough.”
Shock spiked through Timmy. One of the six was Julio Pierce. He almost drew and squeezed off a shot, but Wheeler had instructed him not to do anything. He did not know any of the vaqueros. One gleamed with silver everywhere.
“Let us pass,” Julio said. He and the others had spread out, the one with the silver on the right, nearest the trees.
“Like hell,” Ray Ornley spat.
“You have your nerve, comin’ here like this,” Jeb Wheeler said. “She was as fine a woman as ever lived.”
Julio acted perplexed. “If you are talking about my mother, si she was. She is the reason I am here.”
Now it was Wheeler who was confused. “Your mother? What does she have to do with anything? We’re talkin’ about Nancy Tovey.”
“You murderin’ bastard,” Ray snarled.
“What?” Julio’s surprise seemed genuine. “Are you saying Nancy Tovey has been killed?”
Timmy was as confounded as everyone else. He was amazed none of the vaqueros had spotted him but they were focused on Jeb and Ray.
“Out of our way, gringos.” The man with all the silver was leaning on his saddle horn. A pearl-handled Colt glistened in his holster. “We are after those responsible for the death of Juanita Pierce.”
“She’s dead, too?” Wheeler exclaimed.
Ray Ornley pointed at Julio. “First things first. We know you beat Mrs. Tovey to death, you son of a bitch.”
“Me?” Julio blurted.
“Don’t listen to them, patron,” the one with the silver said. “They seek to confuse you. Think only of your mother and your father. Kent Tovey and the Circle T have much to answer for.”
Wheeler’s hand was on his revolver. “Are you accusin’ Mr. Tovey of murderin’ Juanita Pierce? Why, that’s plumb crazy.”
Julio snapped out of his befuddlement. “That is exactly what I am doing. First Berto, then my father, now my mother. Your intent is plain.”
“Mister, we don’t know what in hell you’re jabberin’ about,” Ray Ornley said. “We had nothin’ to do with your ma and pa dyin’.”
The vaquero wearing the silver smiled. “You lie.”
“We’ll let Mr. Tovey get to the bottom of this,” Jeb Wheeler said. “Shed your hardware. We’re takin’ you to the Circle T.”
Again it was the one with the silver who responded. “You expect us to hand over our pistolas? Now who is crazy?”
“We’re not talkin’ to you, whoever you are,” Wheeler said.
“I am called Hijino,” the fancy vaquero revealed. “Remember that name when you are both in hell.”
Julio Pierce motioned. “No, Hijino. Something is not right here. How can both my mother and Nancy Tovey be dead?”
For a few seconds Timmy thought bloodshed would be averted. Julio was not angry anymore; he was baffled more than anything.
“Hand over your artillery,” Wheeler insisted.
Hijino uttered that mocking laugh of his. “Si. We will hand over our pistolas so you can shoot us in the back. We are not stupid, gringos.”
“We will not hand them over,” Julio said. “But we will go with you peacefully. I very much want to talk to Kent Tovey.”
“Not wearin’ your pistols, you’re not,” Ray informed him. “For the last time, you’re on the Circle T, and you don’t go a step further unless you hand over your revolvers and rifles.”
“I promise no harm will come to you,” Wheeler said.
“Oh, no,” Hijino scoffed. “Not until they get us to their rancho, patron. You heard them. The Tovey woman is dead, and they blame you. You will not leave their ranch alive.”
“I did not kill Nancy Tovey,” Julio insisted.
“Then why did she write your name right before she had her head bashed in?” Wheeler demanded.
Julio jerked as if pricked with a knife. “She did what?”
“See, patron?” Hijino said. “They make up lies so they can hang you. Gringos are fond of hanging. With your permission, I will dispose of these two, then you can have your revenge on Kent Tovey.”
Fury turned Ray Ornley red. “I’d like to see you try to dispose of us, you stinkin’ greaser.” And with that, he drew.
So did Hijino. Timmy saw it, and marveled. The pearl-handled Colt was out so fast, it was almost like magic. It boomed, and Ray Ornley twisted and went limp and oozed from his saddle.
Jeb Wheeler sat frozen a few seconds. Then, growling deep in his throat, he clawed at his six-gun.
Hijino shot him. Once, through the chest, smack through the heart. Hijino laughed as Wheeler fell. Wheeler’s mount bolted.
“You should not have done that,” Julio Pierce said.
“It was them or us, patron.” Hijino casually began to replace the spent cartridges. “I was only protecting you.”
“What do we do now?” another vaquero asked.
“Do we push on to their rancho?” a third wanted to know.
“I must think.” Julio ran a hand across his brow. He was staring at the bodies, at the spreading pools of blood. “Can it be true? What they said about Nancy Tovey?”
Timmy stared at the bodies, too. Jeb and Ray were friends of his. Part of him boiled with rage, with the desire to draw and start shooting. But another part warned that he was outnumbered six to one, and if he gave in to his rage, he would surely end up like Jeb and Ray.
“Does it matter?” Hijino had asked.
“Of course it matters!” Julio declared. “Don’t you see? Both my mother and Nancy Tovey. I must talk to Steve and Armando. There is more to this than we thought.”
Hijino finished reloading. He gigged his white horse closer to the bodies, then reined around so he faced his companions. Wagging his Colt, he said, “This holds six shots.”
Julio’s eyebrows pinched together. “Most pistolas do. What is your point? We must get back.”