A full moon bathed the landscape in a spectral glow. He was humming to himself, filled with a sense of wellbeing for the moment and the future. Though he’d hoped to be married sooner, Zoe had insisted on an engagement period of six months. She wanted everything done in the proper manner, and she needed time to plan the wedding. The way he’d felt tonight he could refuse her nothing. He told himself six months wasn’t long to wait.
The buoyant mood suddenly evaporated. As the buckboard rolled into the compound, he spotted two horses hitched outside the corral. A moment later two men rose from where they were seated in shadows at the front of the house. When they stepped into the moonlight, he saw that it was Heck Thomas and Chris Madsen. He brought the buckboard to a halt, swearing softly under his breath. He knew without asking that it was bad news.
“Look who’s here,” he said, stepping down from the buckboard. “Where’d you come from?”
“Guthrie,” Thomas replied. “We’ve got trouble, Bill.”
“Figured that when I saw you. What’s the problem?”
“A warrant’s out on the Dunn brothers.”
“On what charge?”
“Horse stealing.”
Thomas quickly related the details. The sheriff of Payne County had obtained a warrant against the Dunns on charges of horse stealing. There was evidence that the brothers bought rustled stock from horse thieves and later resold it after altering the brands. Evett Nix had learned of the charges only that afternoon, and he’d moved quickly to forestall the Dunns’ arrest. In effect, he had made a deal with the Payne County sheriff.
“We bought some time,” Thomas concluded. “The sheriff will hold off till we finish our investigation. But if we don’t move on the Dunns, he will.”
“What’s his hurry?” Tilghman asked.
“Longer he waits, the more horses get stole. He wants the Dunns behind bars.”
Tilghman was thoughtful a moment. Some months ago, when he’d posed as horse trader in Ingalls, he recalled the saloonkeeper mentioning that the Dunns had horses for sale. He saw now that their ranch was actually a way station for rustled stock. As well, it explained their connection to Doolin and the Wild Bunch. Thieves were drawn to thieves.
“Birds of a feather,” he said at length. “The Dunns probably met Doolin through the horse thieves. All that crowd knows one another.”
“Likely so,” Thomas agreed. “We’re gonna find out pretty damn quick. Nix wants us to raid the Dunns.”
Madsen chuckled. “Told us to tell you it’s a direct order. He figured you’d object.”
“Nothing’s changed,” Tilghman said. “All we’ll do is tip our hand to Doolin.”
“Orders are orders,” Madsen said. “Besides, if we don’t, the sheriff will. Might as well be our play.”
“You’ve got a point there, Chris.”
Thomas held his pocket watch to the moonlight. “Quarter till eleven,” he said, glancing at Tilghman. “You reckon we could hit the Dunns by sunrise?”
“Yeah, I suppose so.” Tilghman’s gaze went past him to the house. “You boys seen Neal Brown?”
“Gave us short shrift,” Madsen said in a bemused tone. “Wouldn’t say where you were, and told us to wait for you outside. Not the friendly sort, is he?”
“Neal figures I’m in the wrong line of work.”
Thomas eyed him closer. “Where you been, anyway? Never saw you in duds like that.”
“Well, Heck, you might say I dressed for the occasion. I popped the question tonight, and she said yes.”
“You’re gonna get married?”
“C’mon, I’ll tell you about it while I change clothes.”
Tilghman led them into the house. They pumped him with questions and laughingly joshed about the bliss of wedded life. The commotion awakened Brown, who grumpily went to make a pot of coffee. Then, figuring it might be a long time between meals, they all trooped into the kitchen. A short while later everyone sat down to a hurriedly prepared breakfast.
They toasted his engagement with flapjacks drowned in sorghum.
* * *
The moon heeled over to the west. The lawmen were some twenty miles north of Chandler, their horses held to a steady trot. All around them, the plains were awash in moonglow, the terrain clearly visible. Their thoughts were on the job ahead.
On the ride north, Tilghman had described the layout of the Dunn ranch. The main compound, he told Madsen and Thomas, was situated on Council Creek southeast of Ingalls. The house was set back off the creek, with a low knoll to the rear. To the west was a large corral, and east of the house was a roofed storm cellar. He recalled a stovepipe protruding from the storm cellar, and they all agreed that visiting outlaws were probably quartered there. After some discussion on tactics, they had agreed on a plan. Their raid would be staged from three directions.
Some miles south of Council Creek, the lawmen suddenly reined to a halt. Ahead, like an illusory phantom, a rider materialized out of the moonlit night. Without a word being spoken, they spread out, hands resting on the butts of their pistols. The rider slowed to a walk, then halted a few yards away. There was a moment of tense silence.
“Howdy,” Tilghman finally said. “You gave us a start.”
“You like to scared the pee outta me, too.”
The voice startled them even more. They peered closer, squinting in the moonlight, and saw that the rider was a girl. She was dressed in men’s clothing, pants stuffed in her boot tops, a vest over her shirt, and a weather-beaten hat. She looked to be no more than sixteen or seventeen.
“I’ll be switched!” Thomas said, amazed. “Your folks know you’re out so late, missy?”
The girl stiffened. “Don’t see as how that’s any of your business.”
Her voice was tough, high-pitched but oddly hard. Staring at her, Tilghman suddenly realized that she was armed. The stock of a Winchester protruded from her saddle scabbard and a holstered pistol was strapped around her waist. He casually motioned off into the night.
“You live around here?”
“What’s your name, Nosey Ike? You gents ask a lotta questions.”
Tilghman