Rio Largo

“I’ve heard of feuds like this,” Clayburn went on, “but never taken part in one. Always figured all the killin’ was senseless. But after what they did to Mrs. Tovey—” He glanced down. “There I go again, shootin’ off my blamed mouth. Maybe I should sew it shut until this is over.”

“I can’t stop thinking about her, either,” Kent admitted. But he had to, for all their sakes. He stood back up. The three sentries were well out in the grass, wriggling on their stomachs like oversized lizards.

“Do you reckon maybe Steve and his brothers planned this all along?” Clayburn asked. “To take over the entire valley, I mean? Julio never was too happy about you layin’ claim to the other half.”

The possibility stunned Kent. He had taken it for granted that Dar’s sons shared Dar’s outlook, and that there were no hard feelings. But now that Clayburn mentioned it, he recalled a few comments the brothers had made. Little things, like Steve saying how the DP could triple its income if they owned the north half as well as the south. Or Armando, commenting that if it had been up to him, he would have fenced off the entire valley long before Kent came. Or Julio, always so touchy about the Mexican half of his heritage, always so critical of everything and anything from north of the border. Had their true feelings been there in front of him the whole time, and he had been too blind to see it? Kent took the blade of grass from his mouth and crushed it. His stupidity had cost Nancy her life.

“They didn’t keep us waitin’ long,” Clayburn said.

Kent glanced toward the Rio Largo. A vaquero on horseback was heading their way, holding a trimmed branch with a strip of white cloth tied to the end. “No one is to shoot. Spread the word.”

“Yes, sir.”

The vaquero was smiling. The fading sunlight gleamed off silver conchas on the man’s belt, hat, saddle, and bridle, and his saddle horn and stirrups looked to be part silver.

“That’s the one they call Hijino,” Clayburn said. “I don’t know much about him. He’s new.”

Bristling with weapons, Demp and Shonsey and other hands formed a semicircle around Kent and the foreman. “I’d like to see him try somethin’,” Demp said. “We’ll send him back belly down.”

“No shooting,” Kent stressed.

Hijino had his arms out from his sides. He passed Tilden, who rose on his knees and covered him. As casually as if he were enjoying a Sunday ride, Hijino came on until he was ten yards out, then drew rein. “Buenas tardes, Senor Tovey.”

“What I can do for you?” Kent demanded.

“The patron sent me. Steve Pierce. He would like to parley, as you gringos say. He will ride out halfway to meet you. Him, Armando, and one vaquero. They will be unarmed, but the vaquero will not. Senor Pierce says that you may bring two men with you, but only one may be armed. All they want is to talk.”

“Don’t trust them, boss,” Jack Demp urged.

“Steve Pierce gives his word, senor,” Hijino said. “Julio’s death has shaken him. He loved his brother very much.”

Kent was incredulous. “Julio is dead?” He glanced at Clayburn. “Why wasn’t I told?”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it, Mr. Tovey.”

Leaning on his saddle horn, Hijino said, “What do I tell the patron? Will you meet with them under a flag of truce?”

“Don’t do it,” Shonsey said. “I don’t trust them.”

All eyes were on Kent. He sensed that he was about to make a decision that could decide the outcome. Would it be more bloodshed, or peace? “I have no choice. Fetch my horse.”

Hijino’s smile widened. “You will not regret it, senor.”

Chapter 24

Timmy Loring was scared witless. They had been caught in the open, framed in the square of light from a window. He was about to do as they had been commanded, when John Jesco exploded into motion. Before Timmy could quite comprehend what Jesco was up to, he had seized Dunn, hauled him off the horse, and pushed him toward Timmy, bellowing, “Into the house! Use him as a shield!”

Timmy’s Colt was in his hand, but he did not remember drawing it. Jamming it against Dunn’s spine, he backpedaled. Dunn started to twist away. “I’ll blow a hole in you as big as an apple! I swear!” Timmy warned.

Off in the dark, rifles spat flame and lead. Slugs whined to Timmy’s right and left. Several struck the porch, and sent slivers flying.

Jesco answered them. He drew his Colt and banged off three shots with incredible swiftness. Timmy thought Jesco was shooting wildly but then someone cried out, “I’m hit!” It dawned on him that Jesco had fired at the muzzle flashes, with remarkable effect.

Timmy nearly stumbled on the top step, but he gained the porch, and pulled Dunn after him. A rifle banged near the corral, and he fired back. Then he was at the door. Reaching behind him, he opened it and kicked with his boot. The door slammed wide. Another instant, and he was inside, still hauling Dunn after him.

Jesco backed inside, squeezing off another shot as he cleared the threshold. Pressing his back to the wall, he reloaded, his fingers flying.

Timmy had never seen anyone reload so fast. He was glad Jesco was there. No one else could have done what Jesco did, and hold the seven cutthroats at bay long enough to make it indoors.

“You’re only delayin’ things,” Dunn snarled. “Both of you are as good as dead.”

“Shut your mouth.” Jesco spun the cylinder, then twirled the Colt, cocking it as he did, and trained it on the outlaw. “Or you can die here and now.”

If looks of raw hate could slay, Dunn’s would have reduced Jesco to bleached bones.

More lead peppered the front of the house. A slug drilled the window to the left of the door, and a vase on a table crashed to the floor.

“Stop firin’, damn it!” came a roar from outside. “We don’t want to hit Lafe by mistake!”

“Is that Saber?” Jesco asked.

Dunn nodded.

In the sudden silence, Timmy could hear his ears ringing. “What now?” he whispered. Were it up to him, they would slip out the back. So what if they were on foot. The important thing was to go on breathing.

Jesco sidled to the window, but did not show himself. “Saber? Can you hear me?”

“Of course,” came the gruff reply.

“Leave, now. One at a time, at a gallop. Or I shoot Dunn.”

Timmy felt Dunn move, and tensed, then realized Dunn was indulging in quiet mirth.

“Do you really expect him to do what you want, cowboy? You don’t know him like I do. The only person he cares about is himself.”

Saber’s answer proved Dunn right. “Go ahead and curl him up if you want. But me and my pards ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“Told you,” Dunn said.

Jesco cupped his left hand to his mouth. “Mr. Tovey and the rest will be back soon. You don’t want to be here when they do.”

Cold laughter wafted on the breeze. “I wasn’t raised in a turnip patch. Your boss is likely off across the river, swappin’ lead with the Pierces. The boy and you are on your own, and that’s an awful big house.”

“What does he mean by that?” Timmy wondered.

Dunn responded instead of Jesco. “You can’t cover all the windows and doors. Sooner or later my friends will find a way in, and that will be that.”

Jesco glided toward the stairs. As he went past Dunn, his right arm streaked out. “I told you to shut up.”

Like a tree felled in a forest, Dunn pitched to the floor and did not move. His other temple was bleeding from a gash wider and longer than the first.

“That should keep him out of our hair for a while,” Jesco said. “Go check the back door. Be sure the bolt is thrown. I’ll be upstairs but I won’t be long.”

Timmy shriveled inside. The rear of the house was dark, not a lamp lit anywhere. He moved slowly down the