She wasn’t satisfied and reined the wagon to an abrupt halt. Fading sunlight sought her face; bright eyes sought the black man’s face.
He grinned and knew they weren’t going any farther until he shared more. He eased his horse alongside the wagon seat and reined it to a stop. She had hired him only after he made clear she knew of his past. As the problems with Lady Holt had increased, Morgan relied on his protection more and more—and sought his counsel often as well. Her husband had been killed from a kick in the head by a horse he was breaking. She had held the ranch together by sheer grit.
“Mrs. Peale, he is John Checker. A Ranger. One of the best. Not a man to mess with.” Fiss ran his fingers along the butt of the hanging shotgun. “He’s the one who brought me in.”
“You hate him, then.”
“Suppose I should. But there were a lot of lawmen closing in on me.” He looked away. “I was cornered. In a tiny adobe hut. Checker told the others to wait a quarter mile back and he came in alone.” The black man licked his lower lip. “He rode up to the door. No gun in his hand. Reined up, leaned forward and said, ‘Awful hot. Too hot for a gun battle. What say you ride back to town? With me. You’ll be safe. You have my word.’ ”
Her face was a question as Fiss continued. He surrendered and they rode back to the posse. Checker made it clear to the waiting lawmen that the black man was not to be harmed. A wild-eyed deputy pulled a gun, yelling Fiss had taken his family’s money from the bank.
“Checker drew on him, faster than you could hiccup. Made the deputy drop his gun—and nobody tried anything after that. Rode into town real peaceful-like. He and the Rangers stood guard until the district judge came in.”
“Why do you think he did that?” she asked.
Fiss told her about a small boy getting away from his mother and running in front of him as he escaped from the bank robbery. He swerved his horse out of the toddler’s way, stopped and went back. He reached down and pulled the boy onto his saddle. Then he rode over to the distraught woman and handed off her crying child.
“Checker heard about it. Told me so. Thought I could be trusted—and deserved a break. He made sure the judge heard that story, too.”
“Interesting man,” Morgan said. “Wonder if he’ll stick around?” She snapped the reins and the wagon moved again.
Chapter Ten
Nightfall wasn’t too far away. As he entered the ranch yard, Checker saw a silhouette on the barn roof.
He waved.
A slim figure waved back. It was Rikor. A smart location for the young sharpshooter, Checker thought. The young man was as steady and brave as his parents.
Reining up, he yelled, “Emmett! A.J., what’s for supper?”
Emmett stepped into the doorway, holding a Sharps .50 buffalo gun that would tear a man apart. He patted the gun and smiled.
“How long we got, John, ’til they come?” Bartlett appeared from his position on the west side of the house. In his hands was another Sharps carbine.
Checker swung down, wrapped the reins and the lead rope around the hitching rack near the front porch and told him what had happened without directly answering Bartlett’s question. Hammer barked his greeting and Checker gave him the attention he wanted.
The two young boys were setting the table and talking as if it were an ordinary day.
“John, there ain’t no way I branded them beeves,” Emmett declared. “Hell, a greenhorn could see a smoke- over like that a mile away.” He shook his head. “Guess it don’t really matter. That she-devil’s got her cap set for my place—an’ that’s that.”
“I know you didn’t steal her cattle, you old cougar. If you want, I could try to negotiate a sale,” Checker said, studying the rancher’s wrinkled face.
“What? Are you tryin’ to insult me?”
Checker pushed his hat back on his head. “No, Emmett. I’m trying to do whatever you want to do. It’s your place.”
“Right. That’s what it is. My place. Me an’ my boys. We ain’t movin’.” He patted the rifle again. “My Almina’s buried hyar, by God. A.J. told me what ya said. That we should run. I cain’t do that, John.”
Checker nodded. “Figured you’d say that.”
“Come on in,” Emmett said. “Got supper near ready. Ain’t much, but it’s fillin’.” He motioned toward the packhorse. “What ar’ ya carryin’?”
“Food. Bullets. Thought they might come in handy.”
Emmett grinned. “We’ll give ’em what-fer. Rikor’s up on the barn roof an’ he can see if they start a-comin’— from anywhere.”
Bartlett bit his lip and asked again, “When do you expect them, John?”
Checker hitched his heavy gun belt and said there was no way to know for certain. They could come right away. They could wait until they had reinforcements. He thought the latter was most likely, guessing Jaudon’s men would be reluctant to face them this soon. Without a pause, he said there was a real possibility that Rangers or troops would join the effort. Or both. Lady Holt had that kind of pull with the governor, he thought.
Emmett and Bartlett were stunned at the likelihood of Rangers being involved, or cavalry. Neither had thought of that.
“My God, you don’t think Rangers would come at us, do you, John? Not really?” Bartlett asked. He rolled his shoulders to let the tension escape.
“I wouldn’t put it past her, A.J. All she has to do is convince the governor that it’s the right thing to do,” Checker said, and added, “You know Citale.”
The studious lawman stared at Checker without speaking. “That would mean we’d be shooting at…our friends.”
“That’s what it would mean,” Checker said. “And they would be shooting back.”
“They might refuse.”
“Might. Then they would be fired. Like us.”
“Damn!”
“Yeah.”
Emmett looked at both men. They were longtime friends. “Hey, I don’t expect you boys to do nothin’ like that. You’ve already done a bunch. We’d never made it through last night without you showin’ up.” His shoulders rose and fell. “That devil Englishwoman got the governor to take away your badges. That’s more’n anyone should have to pay. On my account. You boys ride back an’ patch things up. We’ll get along. Honest.”
“Now you’re trying to insult
Emmett Gardner looked away for a moment. “Let’s eat, and then I’ll change places with Rikor, so he kin git some chow. He’ll be wantin’ to hear what’s up.”
They walked inside and the two boys eagerly greeted the tall Ranger and he returned their enthusiasm.
“Are they comin’ back?” Andrew asked.
Checker studied the boy. He deserved more than a fairy tale. “Yes, Andrew. They’ll be comin’ back.”
“Figured.” The boy looked down at his well-worn boots, then back into Checker’s face. “I can shoot.”
Checker patted him on the shoulder, then Hans’s shoulder.
Hans looked up. “I can fight, too, sir.”
“I know you both can.”
Emmett joined them and changed the subject to eating. They ate in silence as most western men did. Downing a venison stew, biscuits and coffee. The boys drank milk, fresh from their milk cows in the barn. Hammer enjoyed some leftovers in his bowl in the corner.