“With whiskers and a tail?” Jesco stood over the body and felt for signs of life. “As dead as Mrs. Tovey. It’s a good thing she’s gone to her Maker, or she would be mighty upset. She was right fond of this cat.”
Luck once again favored Hijino.
The sun was almost gone. Steve and Armando had delayed going to meet Tovey, thanks to an argument with their sisters. Little did Dolores and Trella realize, but they had sealed their doom.
“Enough is enough. We must go, or Kent Tovey will think we are up to something,” Armando said.
Trella stepped in front of him, her hand on his chest. “Please! One last time I beg you to reconsider. I have a bad feeling about this.”
“As do I,” Dolores said.
Steve moved past them to his horse. “We are taking Hijino. The rest of the vaqueros will have us covered.”
Roman nodded. “That we will, patrón. At the first sign of treachery, we will shoot them from the saddle.”
Trella would not relent. “What will talking to them accomplish? How can you trust them, when they have killed Mother and Father and Julio?”
“And Berto,” Paco said. “Do not forget Berto.”
“I must learn why,” Steve said. “I must hear it from Kent Tovey’s own lips.”
“You are a fool,” Trella said.
Dolores clasped Armando’s hand. “We do not want to lose the two of you, too. Take us with you.”
Hijino stiffened. If the women went along, he could not carry out his plan. “It is too dangerous, señorita,” he made bold to interject.
“Don’t worry,” Steve Pierce assured his sisters. “Kent will respect a flag of truce. He will grant us that much.”
“You speak of him as if he were the man we once believed him to be,” Dolores said. “A man of honor and decency. But he has proven he is not.”
“You are jumping to conclusions.” Steve stepped into the stirrups. “Now out of our way.”
Armando strode to his horse and mounted, the saddle creaking under him. He smiled down at Dolores and Trella. “Have confidence in us. We are not idiots. We will not let anything happen.” He palmed his revolver and handed it to Paco.
Steve gave his Colt to Roman. “Remember, no one is to shoot unless I do this.” He made a chopping motion with his arm.
“Sí, patrón.”
Trella stamped a small foot. “Don’t go! You never listen to me because I am the youngest, but this time you should.”
“You are adorable when you are angry, sister,” Steve said, and gigged his mount toward the cowboys.
Armando flicked his reins and caught up with Steve.
Tingling with expectation, Hijino followed. He loved a good challenge more than anything, and this promised to bury him unless he did it just right.
“I did not say anything back there,” Armando remarked to Steve, “but I hope you are right. I do not share your respect for Tovey.”
“We will make this quick,” Steve said uneasily, as if he were having second thoughts. “It’s getting dark.”
Three riders came to meet them. One was Kent Tovey. The second was Clayburn, the Circle T’s foreman. Both were unarmed. The third rider, Hijino was delighted to see, was Jack Demp. He suppressed a laugh. The stupid gringos were playing right into his hands.
Midway between the two forces, they reined up. Hijino contrived to knee Blanco slightly past Steve and Armando, and near Demp. He rested his right hand on his silver saddle horn, and smiled.
Clayburn started right in. “It took you long enough. What kept you? This was your idea, remember?”
“Now, now, Walt,” Kent Tovey said. “The important thing is that they want to talk. Maybe we can settle this without more bloodshed.” He paused. “But first I need to know something. I saw your vaqueros moving bodies. Was one of them Timmy Loring?”
“Who?” Armando said.
“It was Julio and some of our vaqureos,” Steve said. “Now I want to know something, Kent. I want to know how you could turn on us after so many years of being our friend?”
“I’m still your friend,” Kent Tovey declared. “May God strike me dead if I am lying.”
Armando flushed with anger. “You can sit there and say that? With our father and mother and our brother dead?”
“I had nothing to do with their deaths,” Kent said. “Nor am I entirely convinced you had anything to do with my wife’s.”
Hijino grinned at Jack Demp. Beads of sweat peppered the cowboy’s brow below his hat brim. Demp was nervous, and kept placing his hand on his hip and lowering it again. A man should not be so high-strung , Hijino thought. Tricking Demp would be child’s play.
“We liked your wife, señor,” Armando assured Tovey.
“Nancy was our mother’s best friend,” Steve added. “We would never harm her.”
Clayburn glared from one brother to the other. “Well, someone sure as hell did, and if it wasn’t you or your vaqueros, then who?”
“I can not answer that,” Steve admitted. “But if we agree to end hostilities, we can sit down together and try to piece things out.”
The moment for Hijino to act had come. Suddenly straightening, he raised his hand toward his hip, and exclaimed loud enough for those at the river to hear, “Do not touch that pistola, gringo!”
Jack Demp, startled, blurted, “What?”
“I will warn you only once!” Hijino cried.
Blinking in confusion, Demp unwittingly did exactly as Hijino was hoping he would do; he reached for his Colt.
“No!” Hijino shouted. He drew and fired, just as Demp’s fingers closed on the revolver. Hijino shot him in the head. The cowboy never stood a chance. “Watch out! It is a trick!” he yelled at Steve and Armando. Then he sent a slug into Kent Tovey’s chest.
“No!” Steve Pierce bawled.
Hijino swiveled to shoot Clayburn, but Kent Tovey’s horse shied and came between them. Before he could apply his spurs, the cowboys and the vaqueros began firing, each side seeking to protect their own. Rifles blasted in a ragged volley. A slug creased a furrow in Hijino’s shoulder. Swinging onto Blanco’s side, he reined around and raced for the river. He looked back and saw Steve Pierce and Armando trying to flee. Both were hit, repeatedly. Armando fell. Steve succeeded in turning his mount, only to have a slug rip through his throat.
Hanging from his saddle, his shoulder throbbing from his wound, slugs whizzing all around, Hijino chortled with glee.
Everything had worked out exactly as he wanted.
Chapter 25
As soon as Jesco was sure the doors and the windows were secure and no one else was in the house, he blew out the lamps.
“I’d rather have the light,” Timmy said.
“Would you rather be shot?” Jesco countered. They were in the hall. Bending, Jesco grabbed hold of Dunn by the leg, and dragged him into the parlor. “Mrs. Tovey always kept a butcher knife in the top drawer under the kitchen counter. Run and fetch it for me.”
“You’re not fixin’ to cut him up, are you?”
“He deserves to be, but no,” Jesco said. “In the hall closet you’ll find some blankets. Cut one into strips, so we can tie this hombre to a chair.” The young cowboy jangled off, and Jesco glided to the parlor window. Glass crunched under his boots. It had been shot out, and wind rustled the curtains.
Removing his hat, Jesco risked a peek. Something was going on over at the stable. The double doors were open, and several outlaws were moving about. The rest were well hidden. He did not see them anywhere.
Backing away, Jesco replaced his hat. He turned just as a broad shoulder slammed into his gut. A human battering ram lifted him off his feet and slammed him into the wall.