“Sally,” Tyree snapped, exasperation edging his voice, “I aim to put myself in harm’s way. No point in us both getting killed.”
“And that’s exactly why I’m going with you, Chance,” the girl said stubbornly, “to see you don’t get killed.”
Tyree threw out his arms and turned to Pettigrew. “Zeb, make her see reason.”
The old man grinned. “Tyree, when love comes in the door, reason flies out the window. And there’s an end to it.”
“And I do love you, Chance Tyree, and that’s why I want to be at your side,” Sally said. “I want to be at your side always, through the good times and bad.” Her eyes searched Tyree’s face. “Can you understand that?”
For a few moments, Tyree was speechless. Then came the dawning realization that this pretty, brave and wonderful girl had just said she loved him. He took Sally in his arms. “I understand perfectly. Then I guess it’s you and me.”
The girl nodded. “You and me, Chance, together, for now and for always.”
“For now and for always,” Tyree repeated, liking the sound of it.
Pettigrew sniffed. “Damn it all,” he said, “if them wasn’t the purtiest words I ever did hear. Now you two get out of here afore I start to caterwaul.”
Sally and Tyree swung into their saddles and rode out of the barn, turning their horses toward the north.
“You two be careful,” Pettigrew called out after them. “And come back in one piece.”
The two young riders loped onto the brush flats, the lights of Crooked Creek falling behind them. Ahead lay a hidden trail and the dangerous dark of the night.
Chapter 24
The moon swung into the sky and the land around them was bathed in pale light as Sally and Tyree entered the canyonlands and rode north along the bank of Hatch Wash. Around them lay a vast country of deep shadows and brooding silences, the mesas and ridges standing like ghostly sentinels, guarding the troubled night.
As the two riders looped east toward the cabin, an owl urgently questioned the darkness as they passed, its call carrying no echo, a lost and lonely sound that went unanswered.
Sally and Tyree left the yelps of the coyotes behind them as they reached the creek under a roof of stars and rode toward the cabin. There was no wind, as though the land was holding its breath, waiting for what was to come.
Ahead of them, Tyree saw a dull, red glow in the sky that puzzled him. It was only a faint smear of scarlet against the brighter light of the stars, but Sally saw it too. She turned to him in the saddle. “Trees on fire maybe? Or grass?”
Tyree shook his head. “I don’t think so. I reckon it’s a campfire, a mighty big one at that.”
“Tobin?” the girl asked.
“Could be,” Tyree answered. “He’s a pale, bloodless creature and he might be feeling the night chill.”
As they drew closer to the ruined cabin, the reason for the glow in the sky gradually became apparent. A huge bonfire burned in the yard, fed by wood scavenged from the ruin, a few heavy logs flaming at its base.
Tyree reined up and slid the Winchester from the scabbard. He swung out of the saddle and told Sally to do the same. The girl dismounted and stepped beside him. “I . . . I don’t understand, Chance. Why this?”
“It’s a beacon, Sally. To bring us here. They knew we’d see it and wonder at it.”
“Like moths to a flame,” the girl said, her face revealing her unease.
“Something like that,” Tyree said. “And I’d say Tobin and Darcy already know we’re here.”
They left their horses where they were and walked toward the bunkhouse and cabin. There was no one in sight, the only movement the flickering flames of the fire, the only sound the crackle and snap of the burning logs. As they reached the sidewall of the bunkhouse, a log at the center of the fire fell under its own weight, sending up a cascade of bright red sparks that danced into the darkness.
Where were Tobin and Darcy?
Tyree, his senses tuned to the danger, felt their presence, as though even now they were watching him, waiting before they moved in for the kill.
Sally was right behind him, close enough that he could hear her fast little breaths. His mouth dry, Tyree transferred his rifle to his left hand and wiped a sweaty palm on his jeans before again taking the gun in his right.
Tyree stepped around the corner of the bunkhouse, pushed the door open with the barrel of the Winchester and stepped quickly inside. The glare of the bonfire bathed the place in a shifting scarlet-and-orange light. It was empty.
Closing the door behind him, Tyree motioned Sally to follow and they walked on cat feet toward the corral. He had repaired the pulled-down fence and all the horses were still there, standing around quietly, without any show of alarm.
Slowly, Tyree worked his way past the corral toward the barn. A single cloud drifted across the face of the moon, deepening the shadows around them, and something big jumped in the creek, its splash loud in the silence.
Tyree stopped in midstride and studied the barn. The doors were open and the building was shrouded in shadows, an angled wedge of moonlight falling across the dirt floor. The tin rooster at the peak of the roof caught a brief passing breeze and swung, creaking, in Tyree’s direction, as though annoyed by his intrusion.
Turning to Sally, Tyree whispered, “Stay here. I’m going to check out the barn.”
The girl’s eyes were scared. “Be careful, Chance,” she said. “I don’t like it here.”
Tyree managed a weak grin. “That makes two of us.”
He stepped toward the barn door, trying his best to keep to the shadows. At the entrance he stopped and levered a round into the chamber of the Winchester, an intimidating
He heard a horse stomp its foot and blow through its nose somewhere in the dark interior. All the horses Tyree had taken after his fight with Daley and his men were in the corral. That had to be Tobin’s mount, or Darcy’s.
Quietly, Tyree took a step into the darkness of the barn, his rifle up and ready. He took another, his eyes desperately trying to penetrate the gloom.
But he never saw until too late the loop that dropped from above him and settled around his upper body and arms. The loop tightened, pinning his arms to his side. Then, from somewhere over his head, Luther Darcy yelled, “I got him, Tobin!”
Tyree struggled against the imprisoning noose, but Darcy yanked it tighter. From out of the darkness Tobin’s face swung into view. The man had no need for dark glasses at night, and his staring, pink eyes looked strangely lifeless, without expression.
Tobin drew back his first and crashed it into Tyree’s unprotected chin. Tyree took a step backward under the force of the blow, then sank to his knees, his head reeling. He desperately tried to free his arms, but the big sheriff now had the rope and he looped it again and again around Tyree, trussing him into immobility.
“Darcy, get down from there,” Tobin said, looking up at the gunman. “I’ve got him knotted up as tight as Dick’s hatband.”
Darcy, who’d been standing on a crossbeam just inside the barn door, dropped to the ground and with amazing agility and grace landed lightly on his feet.
“Let’s take him outside,” Tobin said. “I want to watch his face when I start to burn him.”
“Where’s the girl?” Darcy asked Tyree.
Tyree tried to kick out at the gunman, but Darcy stepped back, easily evading the swinging boot, then slammed the back of his right hand across Tyree’s face, the loud crack making a horse snort and stamp uneasily.
“Where is she, Tyree?” Darcy asked again. “I’ve got big plans for that little whore.”
The smoky taste of blood in his mouth, Tyree said through split lips, “You go to hell.”
Darcy smiled, his teeth flashing white under his mustache. “It doesn’t make no never mind. She hasn’t gone
