Ned and Cletus rushed outside cradling rifles. Skeeter pointed to the spot where the four riders disappeared. 'They're gone now,' he said.
'How many?' Ned snapped.
'Wasn't but four. They was way up yonder on that mountain slope.'
'I don't see a damn thing,' Cletus said.
'They rode into them trees. Haven't seen 'em since.'
Ned lowered the muzzle of his Winchester. 'Probably just passin' through,' he said.
'Prob'ly same ones I saw ridin' in,' Cletus added. 'Like I told you, they didn't have no guns that I could see. Just sat there watchin' us.'
Ned grunted and turned back inside. 'To hell with a bunch of Indians,' he said. 'All we need right now is to find Frank Morgan an' find out how he aims to hand over that money for his kid.'
Cletus and the others came inside, closing the door behind them.
'May not be that easy,' Cletus said. 'You say he's wounded. And he's got a sidekick. Could be we'll have to go take that money away from him now.'
--------
*Twenty-two*
Frank awakened to the sweet smell of coffee, or so he thought. He tried to lift his head, using all the strength he could muster, and still he failed.
'Take it easy, Frank,' a woman's voice said. For a moment he didn't know who was speaking to him. Nor did he have any idea where he was.
He stopped struggling, gazing up at the same sod roof he'd seen before, and now things began coming back to him.
'No sense in fightin' it,' another voice said, and then Frank saw Buck Waite standing over him.
'I keep ... blacking out,' he mumbled. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't regain his senses.
'You got a bad fever in that shoulder, Morgan.'
'I can't ... just lie here.' Events were coming back to him in fragments ... his ride to Ghost Valley, the men he killed along the way, and the gunshot from behind that took him down when he least expected it.
'That's damn near all you'll be able to do for a spell in the shape you're in.'
'The girl ... your daughter, she told me you overheard them talking down in the ghost town. One of them said ... they had Conrad.'
'Appears that way. He's hardly more'n a boy, from what I saw an' heard of him.'
'Have they harmed him?'
'Looked like somebody had cut on one of his ears, but he was okay when they took him inside. I got close enough to the cabin so's I could hear 'em.'
'The bastards.'
'Ned Pine is damn sure a bastard. Victor Vanbergen ain't much better. That's a rough bunch they got with 'em too, but the one who brung your boy is the worst, if my opinion makes any difference.'
'What was ... his name?'
'Cletus. I didn't stay long enough to hear 'em say he had a last name.'
'I don't know anyone who's named Cletus.'
'He looks like a rough customer. Carries a shotgun an' a pistol. Got a Winchester too. He didn't come all this way on no sightseein' trip.'
'I've got to get to Conrad before they hurt him. He's not cut from the same cloth as the rest of us. He won't stand a chance against them.'
'How is it that a boy of yours can't take care of himself?' Buck asked.
'We never were around ... each other. His mother and I were separated when he was born.'
'Here's some special tea, Frank,' Karen said, offering him a steaming cup. 'I laced it with a bit of Pa's corn squeeze, so you'd like it better.'
Frank pushed himself up on one elbow, noticing that his left shoulder and arm were badly swollen.
'That bark tea will help some,' Buck said. 'It's an old Indian remedy for fever an' poisoned blood. Drink as much of it as you can.'
Frank allowed Karen to hold the cup to his lips so he could take a few swallows. Despite the whiskey, the tea was bitter, harsh on his tongue.
Dog was watching him from the foot of the bed as he slowly sat up and took the cup in his right hand.
'The storm's let up,' Buck said. 'Those boys down in the valley ain't goin' nowhere. They's waitin' on you to show up with money to pay for your son's release.'
'I'm gonna release 'em, all right,' Frank said, trembling with a curious weakness before he took several more swallows of tea and whiskey. 'I'm gonna kill every one of the bastards as soon as I can walk.'
