“You would have to be a miracle worker,” Hannah said. “But I reckon that’s your line of work.”
I had seen all I needed to. I had the lay of their homestead worked out, and a fair notion of how best to go about the chore that would earn me the thousand dollars. But I could not bring myself to leave. I sat there admiring the sunset and liking them, and hating myself for it. Twilight shrouded the Dark Sister when I stirred and commented, “I better be on my way. I have a long ride in that buckboard ahead of me.”
“You’re welcome to stay the night,” Hannah kindly offered.
Lord, I was tempted. But I was being foolish. “Thank you, no. I have an early appointment in Whiskey Flats I must keep.” Rising, I stretched.
Ty hefted his rifle. “Keep your eyes skinned for cowboys on the way down the mountain. We’ve seen them skulking about a lot of late.”
“They’re probably searching for their missing cattle,” I guessed.
“If they are, they’re going about it mighty peculiar,” Ty said. “Clell and me caught sight of a bunch of them the other day riding out of a canyon on the south side of the mountain.”
“What is so peculiar about that?”
“The canyon doesn’t have a lick of water or graze,” Ty said. “It’s nothing but rocks and boulders. No one would hide cows in there unless they wanted the cows to die of thirst or hunger.”
“Maybe the cowhands didn’t know that,” I suggested.
“Except that it was the second time we saw them there in the past couple of weeks,” Ty enlightened me.
“I’ll ask the Tanners about it.” Yet another lie. The antics of their cowboys were of no interest to me. I thanked Hannah for a fine time, shook her hand, and shook Daisy’s hand, then climbed on the buckboard and lifted the reins.
“Remember,” Hannah said, “we’re counting on you. Any help you need from me, you have only to ask.”
“It will all work out. You’ll see.” I clucked to the team and did not look back. My mood was as black as the night. It didn’t help that there was no moon and twice I nearly blundered off the track.
Dark Sister was half a mile behind me when hooves drummed to my rear. I twisted in the seat, half expecting to find some of the Butchers. But the four riders who came up alongside the buckboard, a pair on either side, were cowboys. Two I recognized from the restaurant: Hank and Skeeter. The former had his hand on his Colt and started to snarl something when he recoiled as if I had smacked him.
“It’s the parson!”
The others appeared mad more than anything. Skeeter had his revolver partway out but shoved it back into his holster. “What in tarnation are you doing this far out from town?”
I wondered how much Gertrude had told them. She was not supposed to say a word to anyone about who I was or why I was there.
“Making the rounds,” I said.
Skeeter scratched his chin, then declared as if it were the world’s greatest hunch, “He’s been to visit the Butchers, that’s where he’s been!”
“You shouldn’t ought to do that, Preacher,” Hank declared. “Who knows what you might have seen?”
I remembered what Ty had said, and fished for information. “Like you and these others coming out of a canyon on the south side of the Dark Sister?”
Suddenly one of the other cowboys reined in close, grabbed hold of the traces, and brought the buckboard to a stop. I opened my mouth to protest just as he palmed his six-shooter. The
“This varmint knows too much,” he growled. “The only way to be safe is to buck him out in gore.”
Bewildered, I got out. “Can’t we talk about this, gentlemen?”
“No, we can’t.” The cowboy took deliberate aim.
Chapter 7
I don’t know what made me do it. Instinct, I reckon. Self-preservation, folks call it. I never have liked having guns pointed at me, and when that cowboy pointed his with the intent of shooting me, I did what I always do when that happens. Instead of sitting there calmly and trying to talk the cowboy out of blowing my brains out, as a real preacher would, I dived off the buckboard, drawing my Colt from my shoulder rig as I did. Fortunately I had unbuttoned my jacket after leaving the Butchers, and could get at it quick-like.
Maybe the sight of a parson whipping out a revolver startled him. He was a shade slow in squeezing the trigger. I fired first. My slug caught him high in the forehead and did to his skull what he had been about to do to mine.
I rolled up into a crouch. The other three were too stunned to do anything. Evidently it did not occur to them that I could not leave witnesses.
Skeeter was reaching for his revolver when I shot him square in the face. Pivoting, I sent a slug into Hank. It cored his chest and he flopped backward off his saddle as if kicked by a mule. That left number four, who had his Colt almost clear of leather when I shot him. A hole appeared where his left eye had been and the rear of his cranium exploded.
Two of their mounts bolted. The buckboard’s team shied and would have run off, but I got hold of them.
The first thing I did was reload. The second thing I did was go from cowboy to cowboy and go through their pockets and then through their saddlebags. They did not have much, barely thirty dollars. The third thing was to smack the remaining mounts on the rump, but only after untying the two bedrolls. I unrolled them and spread them out over the buckboard’s bed, then hoisted each body up and in. I had to be careful not to get blood on my clothes. Fortunately, only one bled much, and only for a little while.
I could not leave the bodies lying there in the open. Come daylight, buzzards would gather. It would arouse interest should anyone spot them.
Wheeling the wagon, I headed back toward the Dark Sister. Along about then, what I had done sank in. I just killed four men who worked for the woman who had hired me. She might not take too kindly to the loss.
Their horses would show up at the LT by afternoon. The Tanners would start a search. Since it was likely they knew that the cowboys had been in the vicinity of the Dark Sister, that was where the search would start.
I had been hasty in running off the horses. I could use them now. But I had two strong legs, and while I didn’t much like it, I carried the bodies a couple of hundred yards and hid them in a ravine. I gathered up rocks and what boulders I could lift to cover them. It took hours. It was well past midnight when I wearily climbed back on the buckboard and rolled toward town.
Whiskey Flats was as dead as a cemetery. The saloon had closed, and the streets were deserted. I had rented the buckboard for the day, so I was obliged to take it direct to the livery. I figured to leave it parked out front and take the team into the corral, but no sooner had I brought it to a stop than one of the big double doors opened and out limped the livery owner.
I figured he would be mad. “Sorry it’s so late,” I apologized. “I lost my way in the dark.”
Anyone else, he likely would have lit into like an angry rooster. But to me he said, “That’s all right, Parson. I won’t hold it against you.”
Just like that, he took it off my hands and I was free to head for Calista’s. She gave all her boarders a key, so soon I was in my room on the second floor, lying on my bed and wondering what in hell I was going to do if the finger of guilt was pointed at me. I could still finish the job, but there would be complications.
I fell asleep fully dressed. My last thoughts were of the Butchers, and how nice they were, and of Daisy.
I awoke at eight, famished. I used the outhouse, then went around front to the restaurant. The buzz of talk stopped when I entered. Right away I looked down at myself, afraid I had blood on my clothes and did not know it, but no, my clothes were fine. I smiled and nodded at the townspeople and a pair of cowboys as I angled to a corner table and sat with my back to the wall.
“How did your visit go?” Calista was as fresh and as pretty as a rose in full bloom and smelled just as nice.
“It went fine. Hannah asked me to have a word with the Tanners on her family’s behalf.”
