“He’s my sister’s boy,” Kent revealed. “I told you about her once.”
Clayburn smacked his forehead. “Loring! I plumb forgot, it’s been so long. So he’s hers? Why didn’t you say so when he first showed up?”
“He didn’t want to be treated special because he’s related to me,” Kent said. “It was important to him that he be considered just like all the other hands.”
“I’ll be damned,” Clayburn said. “I respect him for that. So will the men when they hear.”
“Look after him, Walt. He’s a good boy, but he doesn’t know enough yet. Help him. You and Jesco both.”
“Jesco,” Clayburn said. “We could use him.”
“He must be off with Timmy somewhere.” The blackness started creeping over Kent anew.
“I’ll find them. I promise.”
“Give that paper to my lawyer. It should be legal. Tell Timmy to bury me next to Nance. And Walt?”
“Sir?”
“Let the men know that no rancher has ever been prouder of an outfit than I’ve been of them. I mean that.”
“You made it easy to be loyal to the brand,” Clayburn said.
Suddenly an oath blistered the night air, followed by a gunshot. “They’re attackin’! Look to your guns!”
Shots boomed on all sides as the night burst with thunderous fireflies. A man screamed. Then a horse neighed.
Clayburn dropped flat, and drew his Colt. “Did you hear that, Mr. Tovey? They’ve snuck up on us! I have to move you! We have to get you out of here.”
There was no answer.
Chapter 27
“Are you sure this will work?” Timmy Loring asked, making no attempt to hide how nervous he was.
Jesco removed Dunn’s hat, and jammed his own hat on Dunn’s head. They had already taken off Dunn’s shirt and replaced it with his. “The only thing I’m certain of in this life is being born and dying. Everything else is a roll of the dice. Including this.” He wrapped his arms under Dunn’s. “Lend a hand.”
“He weighs a ton,” Timmy complained.
“Corpses generally do.” Grunting, Jesco side-stepped to the chair, which they had positioned near the shattered window—but not so near that those outside could see it.
“I suppose he does look like you from the waist up,” Timmy said. “The two of you were about the same height.”
“Where’s that broom I had you fetch?”
Timmy scooted over to where he had left it propped against a wall. “Here. But won’t they notice?”
“Not as dark as it is. Do exactly as I told you, and you’ll be fine.” Jesco stepped behind the chair, pried at the cuff of Dunn’s left sleeve, and fed the broom’s handle into it, across Dunn’s back and into the right sleeve. The effect was to give the impression that Dunn was holding his arms out from his sides. “See?”
“I don’t know.” Timmy was still skeptical.
“Get ready,” Jesco said, and moved aside so Timmy could come crouch behind the chair. “Just remember to keep your head down.”
“What will you do for a shirt and a hat?”
“I can go without for now.” Jesco edged to the left of the window frame and called out, “Saber? Are you still there?”
“Where in hell else would I be?” was the rejoinder. “What do you want, cowboy? Unless you’re ready to throw down your guns and come out, we have nothin’ to talk about!”
“Would you talk for ten thousand dollars?” Jesco shouted.
“How’s that again?”
“Kent Tovey doesn’t much like banks. He always keeps a lot of cash on hand for payrolls and such, in a safe in his bedroom. I bet you didn’t know that.”
“No, I didn’t. Why are you tellin’ me? Seems to me you would want to keep a thing like that secret.”
“I’ll toss the money out to you if you’ll give your word that you and your men will light a shuck.”
Brittle mirth greeted the proposal. “How stupid do you think I am? Why in hell are you bein’ so generous?”
“For my friend’s sake,” Jesco replied. “He took a stray slug. I’ve done all I can, but he needs help. I have to get him to San Pedro, or he’ll die. What do you say? Ten thousand dollars just to ride off?”
“I’d like to oblige you,” was Saber’s answer. “But there’s a little matter of trust. I don’t trust you not to shoot whoever comes over there for the money, and you can’t trust us not to jump you when you’re on your way to San Pedro.”
“It’s a chance I’m willin’ to take if you are.” Jesco waited expectantly. Everything depended on the outlaw’s greed. He thought he heard whispering. Evidently, they were talking it over.
“Sorry, mister. No deal. But thanks for the information. After we buck you out, we’ll help ourselves.”
“I’ll burn the house down before I let you get your hands on it.”
“All that money?” Saber was appalled.
“Why don’t we talk it over face-to-face?” Jesco offered. “You come to the porch. I’ll come to the window.”
“And have you fill me with lead the moment I show myself?” Saber snorted. “Not likely.”
Jesco added the frosting to his bait. “I’ll show myself first. With my arms out from my sides and my hands empty. How would that be?”
“I suppose that would do.” Saber tried to sound as if it were of no consequence, but his tone betrayed his bloodlust.
“Give me a minute.”
“Take as long as you want.”
Jesco darted back to Timmy. “You heard. He fell for it. Count to a hundred, real slow, to give me time. Then push the chair to the window. Whatever you do, don’t show yourself.”
“What if they don’t shoot?”
“They will.”
“What if all he really wants to do is talk? He’ll wonder why you don’t say anything.”
“It won’t come to that.” Jesco ran to the hallway and down it, to a room on the left. Nancy’s piano occupied a far corner. Past the piano was the window. He had tested the latch earlier, and it did not make noise. Nor did the window as he slowly slid it open high enough for him to slip over the sill. Just as quietly, he closed it behind him.
The night air was cool on Jesco’s face. Drawing his Colt, he padded toward the front of the house. He had only gone a few feet when he sensed danger. He whirled, thinking as he did that it was his nerves and nothing more, of how silly he would feel when he saw no one was there.
But someone was.
Steel glinted in the starlight. An inky figure was almost on top of him. Jesco had the illusion he was being attacked by a set of clothes. Somehow he got his hand up and caught a wrist, establishing that his assailant was flesh and blood. The illusion was due to the man’s skin, which was as black as the night.
Jesco was slammed against the house. His own wrist was seized. Why the black had not shot him was anyone’s guess. Maybe the man enjoyed carving others up. Or maybe the black wanted to take him alive in order to inflict a long, slow, agonizing end.
Jesco considered himself strong, but the black proved stronger. The knife inched toward his neck. Exerting every sinew, he bent his back into a bow.
It did no good.
Another few moments, and the steel would bury itself in his throat.
In the dark, a stone’s throw from the front of the house, four figures lay with rifles to their shoulders. A fifth man, skinny as a rail, was on his back facing the house, his legs crudely bandaged, a pistol in his hand. Nearby was a sixth figure, his head half blown away.
“What’s takin’ that cowboy so damn long?” Twitch groused.