Blood Bond: Arizona Ambush

At that moment, Sam almost felt some admiration for the crusty old cattleman. He could appreciate the loyalty Boyd felt toward the men who rode for the Devil’s Pitchfork brand.

The riders gathered and the whole group struck out, again following the trail left by the stolen herd. Stovepipe brought his horse up alongside Sam’s and said quietly, “That was good trackin’, son. Couldn’t have done better myself, I reckon.”

“You don’t fool me, Stovepipe,” Sam said. “I’ll bet you picked up some of the same sign I did.”

The range detective grinned.

“Well, you was doin’ such a good job of leadin’ the way, I didn’t see no need to get in your way.”

“So you let me take the credit with Boyd, so maybe he’ll trust me a little more.”

“Credit’s somethin’ I never cared overmuch about,” Stovepipe admitted.

After another hour or so of following the trail, the riders began to get into an area that seemed a little familiar to Sam. Of course, most of the rugged landscape in the Four Corners region looked similar.

The rock formations jutting up from the arid plains were infinite in their variety, however, and Sam began to see some he was sure he had seen before.

That meant they were getting into the area where he and Matt had been bushwhacked.

And that meant they weren’t that far from the canyon where he had left Matt with Caballo Rojo’s people.

Elizabeth Fleming was there, too, Sam recalled. He had spent a considerable amount of time wondering how his blood brother was doing, and that included wondering what was going on between Matt and Elizabeth.

Sam didn’t have any real romantic interest in the redheaded Eastern teacher himself, but he knew how Matt was any time he was around a pretty girl.

Flirting came as naturally as gun-handling to Matt Bodine, and Sam hoped that hadn’t led to any trouble while Matt was supposed to be recuperating from those bullet holes in his hide.

Chapter 27

Matt made good on his promise to sleep with one eye open after the attempt on his life.

Not literally, of course, but with the skills developed during a dangerous life on the frontier, he slept lightly that night.

His instincts remained on alert to warn him of anything that wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. He wished he had his guns, but Caballo Rojo had ordered something done with them.

The only weapon he had was a fist-sized rock he had managed to sneak into the hogan. If anybody attacked him, he planned to brain the varmint with the rock.

The result of all that was that Matt was still tired when he rolled out of his blankets the next morning, but nothing else had happened.

Well, one other thing, he amended as he sat up and looked across the hogan.

Juan Pablo was back.

The Navajo was as stone-faced and unfriendly-looking as ever, Matt saw. He hadn’t heard Juan Pablo come in, and he felt a slight prickling of his nerves. He should have been aware of the man’s arrival.

Juan Pablo was standing up, though, so it was possible he had just stepped into the hogan. His wife knelt by the fire, preparing breakfast. If there was going to be any sort of reunion between them, obviously they intended to wait until they were alone for it, which was just fine with Matt.

“Good morning,” he said as he got to his feet. As soon as he’d seen Juan Pablo, he had wondered about Sam. “Is Sam back, too?”

Juan Pablo shook his head.

“The half-breed followed the trail of the men he sought toward the settlement of Flat Rock two days ago,” he answered. “I have not seen him since.”

Matt was disappointed that Sam hadn’t returned to the canyon. He asked, “Where have you been all that time since?”

Juan Pablo frowned, as if tempted to tell Matt that was none of his business, but then he said, “It took a day to return from the spot where I left your friend. The other day I spent cleansing myself of his presence.”

“And now you’re dirtied yourself up again by comin’ back here where I am.”

Juan Pablo grunted.

“You said that, white man, not I.”

“Well, I’m not gonna be here much longer. I’m leaving today.”

And so was Elizabeth, he thought, but he didn’t mention that just yet.

“Fine,” Juan Pablo said with a curt nod.

“Aren’t you gonna ask if I’m in good enough shape to travel?”

Juan Pablo’s silence was an eloquent indication of how little he cared about the answer to that question.

The man’s wife had a pot of stew ready. When she held out a bowl to him, Matt shook his head.

“Thank you,” he told her. He had exchanged very few words with her, and neither of them had understood what the other was saying.