“If so, there is nothing we can do about it,” Steve said. He glanced at Trella and Dolores. “But getting back to these two. I do not think we should take them along. There will be shooting. A lot of it.”
“You talk about us as if we are not standing right here,” Dolores said. “But you can not leave us here unprotected.”
“I agree,” Armando said.
“Four vaqueros will stay,” Steve proposed. “If the cowboys attack, Dolores and Trella and the servants can hide in the root cellar.”
Dolores shook her head. “What if the cowboys burn our casa down around us? No. You can not spare the four vaqueros. We are going, whether you want us to or not, and this is final.”
“I do not like putting you at risk” Steve said.
Dolores refused to be denied. “We are safer with you than by ourselves. Or would you rather Trella and I end up like Mother?”
All eyes were on Steve. He smacked the table, and looked fit to strangle someone, but he said, “Get ready to go.”
Timmy Loring rode like the wind. He had to get word to Kent Tovey and Clayburn. They must learn about Hijino. Everything was not at all as it appeared. He was not quite sure what was going on, but Mr. Tovey and the foreman would figure it out.
Timmy wondered what they would do. Maybe send a rider to the Pierces with word of the slaughter he had witnessed. They must grab Hijino and question him, find out why he did what he did.
The Circle T’s buildings were a lot farther from the river than the DP’s. Timmy still had a couple of miles to go when he spied a rider galloping west. The man spotted him, and immediately changed direction to intercept him.
Reining up, Timmy waited. His horse nickered and stamped. “You won’t believe it!” he declared when he recognized who it was. “You just won’t believe it!”
“Believe what?” Lafe Dunn asked.
Excitedly, Timmy told him about the shooting, ending with, “Then Hijino up and trotted off as casually as you please! What do you make of it? Him blowin’ the wicks out of his boss and those other vaqueros?”
“There’s more to this than anyone suspects,” Dunn responded. “A lot more folks will die before it’s over.”
“Maybe not.” Timmy arched his spine to relieve a slight cramp in the small of his back. In doing so, he placed his right hand on his revolver. “Once Mr. Tovey hears about this, he might offer to meet with the Pierces. To sit down and talk.”
“They will refuse. By now they don’t trust him.”
“Knowin’ Mr. Tovey, he’ll persuade them to listen to reason.” Timmy had dallied long enough. “Well, I have to go.” He gigged his mount.
Within a dozen yards, Dunn was alongside him. “I’ll ride with you, if you don’t mind. I’d like to hear what Mr. Tovey has to say.”
“Be my guest.” Timmy rose in the stirrups, but he could not see the house or stable yet, and they were the highest structures. “What were you doin’ out this way, anyhow? It looked as if you were lightin’ a shuck for the high country.”
Dunn gave a start. “What makes you say a thing like that?”
Timmy shrugged. “Call it a hunch. I wouldn’t blame anyone for stayin’ shy of this mess. Look at all the people who have died.”
“Quite a few,” Dunn said. He turned from side to side, surveying the valley far and wide. “And you’re next.”
Dunn’s revolver swept at Timmy’s head. Timmy tried to duck, but the barrel slammed into him above his ear. He felt himself start to fall. Unconsciousness claimed him, but not for long, because when he opened his eyes, he was being hoisted onto his saddle, his wrists bound in front of him. His hat had been jammed on his head.
“There. Anyone spots us, they won’t suspect anything unless they get close, and I won’t let anyone get that close.”
“What’s the big idea?” Timmy’s head hammered with pain, and drops of blood trickled down his neck.
“It will come to you, boy.” Dunn gripped the reins, climbed on his mount, and headed west toward the distant peaks.
Timmy absorbed that while marshaling his strength. “You’re the one behind all this!” Another insight jolted him. “It was you who murdered Mrs. Tovey!”
“That I did, boy. But it’s not my brainstorm. I’m followin’ orders, just like Hijino.”
“The two of you are workin’ together? Why? What do you hope to get out of it?”
“Don’t strain your brain, boy,” Dunn said.
“Quit callin’ me that! I’m not no boy!” Timmy bristled. “I do a man’s work. I’m entitled to some respect.”
“All any of us are entitled to, boy,” Dunn replied, “is a hole in the ground and maggots eatin’ our innards.” He brought their mounts to a gallop, ending conversation for a while.
Timmy considered wrenching the reins from the big man’s grasp and racing to the ranch, but Dunn could easily shoot him before he went a hundred yards. Nor did jumping Dunn and trying to wrest a weapon from him promise much success. Dunn outweighed him by more than a hundred pounds, and was built like a stone wall.
Hours rolled by. Once, to the northeast, Timmy thought he spied riders, but they vanished moments after he set eyes on them, and might have only been cattle.
By late afternoon, the foothills were near enough that Timmy was seized by a sense of imminent danger. Something told him that Dunn would stop soon, and when Dunn did, Timmy wouldn’t like it. If he was going to do something, he must act soon, but for the life of him, Timmy could not choose the best course. He wished Jesco was there. Jesco would know what to do.
The foothills rose in arid contrast to the lush, irrigated grassland. Largely barren except for a few isolated springs, they were shunned by cattle and most everything else. Dunn climbed the first one, and rode over its crest to the other side. “Here will do.” He drew reins. “It’s where I’m to meet the others.”
“Who?” Timmy asked, not really caring. Staying alive was all he could think about. He must not give up, not so long as breath remained.
Dunn did not answer. Dismounting, he palmed Timmy’s Colt, which he had wedged under his belt, and pointed it at Timmy. “Get down. Nice and slow, if you don’t mind, and even if you do.”
Awkward because of his bound wrists, Timmy did as he was instructed. He tried to swallow, but had no spit. “What do you aim to do to me?”
“Need you ask?” Bending down, Dunn slid his other hand into his left boot and produced a knife. “If you’re wonderin’ how, don’t worry, I’m not goin’ to shoot you. Not right away, anyhow.” Smirking, he hefted the knife. “I like to whittle some first.”
Chapter 21
Saber watched Twitch splash kerosene on the front wall of the Wolf Pass Saloon. “Hurry it up, slowpoke. We have a lot of ground to cover before nightfall.” The long, hard ride would do them good, he reflected, after the easy spell they had enjoyed.
Careful not to get any on his boots, Twitch upended the last of the kerosene. “Dunn won’t mind if we’re late, cousin.”
“I will,” Saber said. “By now, the cowboys and the vaqueros will be at each other’s throats, and we need to be there to pick up the pieces.”
Creed came out of the saloon holding a full bottle of whiskey. “I’m takin’ this along.”
Saber’s lips pinched together. He had given explicit orders. No liquor from here on out. Everyone else had heeded. If he let Creed go unchallenged, the others might brand him as weak. “You can’t survive a few days without coffin varnish?”
“Killin’ always gives me a powerful thirst,” the black said, “and we have a heap of killin’ to do.”
“How much of a heap depends on how many of that cow crowd are still breathin’ after the gun smoke settles,” Saber said. “With any luck, there won’t be but a few.”