“Amen,” said Abe, and ordered another bourbon. Then he turned toward Jason. “This Miss Electa your sister works for: What’s her story?”
“She’s one of the Morton girls,” Jason answered, a bit surprised by the question. “The unmarried one. She teaches our school. Why?”
“Just wonderin’, that’s all. No warrants or anything?”
Jason was shocked. He said, “On Miss Electa? Certainly not!”
Abe had turned to stare at Davis. “Sorry,” he said. “Had to ask.”
But why? Was he asking because Jenny worked for her, or did he have some kind of personal designs on Electa? Jason didn’t ask. He was too embarrassed to pursue it.
“Don’t ya think that’s a riot, Jason?” Ward, to his left, elbowed him in the ribs.
“What?”
“Key-rist! About what Abe said to young Steve McCord! MacDonald’s man?”
“Oh, yeah. Pretty slick.”
“Well, you don’t need to sound so all-fired excited ’bout it.” Ward drummed the table with his fingertips.
“Sorry, Ward. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
Barely audibly, Abe muttered, “Don’t we all.”
16
Sampson Davis finally gave up and went home, leaving Jason, Ward, and Abe in the saloon with nobody to keep an eye on. But Matt MacDonald’s worries were beginning to trouble Jason. What if this time there actually
He wasn’t tired, not nearly ready for bed, and he announced, “Guess I’ll ride out to the Double M. Just to make certain.”
Ward stared at him as he rose. He looked like he was wavering between riding along, just to make sure that his boss didn’t do something stupid—like go the rest of the way crazy—or just slugging him in the jaw to keep him in town. But in the end, he stood up, too. “All right. Count me in.” He didn’t look too happy, though.
Abe Todd seemed annoyed, but sighed and said, “Well, if you boys’re gonna ride out there for nothin’, I reckon I might’s well tag along and get the lay of the land.” He knocked back the last of his drink and stood up.
They readied their horses and left town within a half hour. It was dark, but the moon was bright and there were plenty of stars shedding their light, so Jason set the pace at a slow lope. The path they traveled was safe, having been worn bare by various riders coming and going, usually in a hurry. It was too chilly for snakes, and so they traveled fairly carelessly, taking their time. Until they heard the shots, that was.
Jason automatically fanned Cleo into a hard gallop, and Ward and Abe were close behind. They came over the ridge just before they hit Matt’s ranch. They saw the backfire from shots inside the ranch windows, and heard the whoosh of arrows hitting the sides of the ranch house.
“Well, I’ll be double damned and deep fried,” Abe muttered as he slid off Boy and sent him back down to the shelter of the ridge behind them. Ward and Jason followed suit with their horses.
“Why they attackin’ at night?” Ward asked, skirting a barrel cactus. “They ain’t supposed to do that!”
“Search me,” said Jason, and got a shot off at the nearest brave just before he could fire his arrow.
The three of them were down in the brush, now, hidden from observers, and sighting carefully through the weeds and cactus. There weren’t many Indians, Jason was sure of that. Just a handful, really. He made out three more over in the weeds where he’d shot the first brave, and one shadowy figure over by the barn. He figured if he could see three in the brush, there were at least three more he couldn’t see. That still, however, didn’t make a raiding party. He thought that these few had probably broken off from a larger group and were operating on their own.
Anyway, he hoped so. He’d hate to run this crew off and have the main force show up in their wake.
Abe muttered something that told Jason he was thinking the same thing, and heartened, Jason let fly another shot. It missed, but he felt better.
Ward took down a second brave, and Abe, who had thought to grab his rifle, knocked off the one trying to break into the barn. The few left in the brush slithered off, and Jason didn’t see them again until they’d mounted their ponies and were making a getaway into the distance.
“Hello the house!” Jason called, deciding he didn’t want to get himself shot by Matt MacDonald, who’d probably take him for an Apache.
After a moment, somebody—probably Matt, himself—yelled back, “Who’s out there?”
Jason called out, “The law, Matthew! We ran your Indians off, and we’re lookin’ for a drink. You wanna thank us, don’t you?” He knew full well that Matt didn’t want to thank him, but he got a kick out of asking, anyway.
“Come on down.” The reply was grudging, but at least there was an implied drink in there somewhere.
“Sounds friendly enough,” said Abe.
“Optimist. Ward, you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna get the horses.”
Jason nodded. “All right. See you in a few.” Ward traipsed back through the weeds and over the rise, while Abe and Jason walked down the slope toward the ranch house. More lights went on in the house as somebody lit
