Bret could understand both viewpoints. “Guess it depends on your memories and what you have later. I’m glad I left my former home in Fort Worth and came here. I made a lot of mistakes getting here but I’m still glad I came.”
The sheriff nodded and gestured with his hands. “That’s the way I feel. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I like being sheriff and I like the town and the friends I’ve made. I hope the county will help me buy a house instead of us living over the jail. My wife would still cook for the prisoners but she sure hates where we live.”
Bret thought maybe the sheriff had reformed. He appeared to be genuinely fond of Palo Pinto. “I don’t blame her. Can’t be pleasant for either of you.”
“You got that right, especially when we have a loud drunk or a hanging. Guess you don’t know but we hang a man from inside the jail. She hates seeing that space. I can’t convince her that the jail isn’t haunted. When we have a storm, I can half-way believe it’s a meeting place for ghosts and ghouls.”
“I wouldn’t enjoy that at all.”
“I hate anything to do with a hanging. Some men may deserve it, but I still hate being a part of one.” The sheriff tipped up his canteen for a long drink then looped the handle strap around his saddle horn.
“I reckon we’ve given them time to get moved toward the ranch. When we get them in jail I’m gonna find out who owns the land where the herd was parked. Would have done that by now but didn’t want to take a chance on the wrong people learning I was curious.”
Rick appeared to mull over the sheriff’s statement. “Unless I’m wrong, this is part of Mr. Potter’s land. Poor old fella doesn’t get out much now but is too stubborn to sell or lease his land. He’s a friend of my grandfather’s. Reckon he’s the oldest and Gramps is eighty-five.”
Sheriff Haney climbed into the saddle. “That means one of the men in this gang knows Potter won’t catch them on his land. Burns me up to see a person used like that.”
Bret mounted his horse. “You know if Potter has relatives that might include one of these rustlers?”
“Can’t say I know the man, although I’ve met him a couple of times.” The sheriff looked at Rick. “You know?”
Rick shook his head. “He doesn’t have any kin that I know of. He and his wife had a son but he died young. He’s never mentioned anyone else.”
Bret rode alongside the sheriff. “Don’t you suppose Winfield has guards watching for trespassers?”
“His is a big ranch from what I’ve heard. I’m hoping the arrival of the cattle will create a distraction. If I could figure out exactly where they’re headed, we’d circle around and meet them there. As it is, I’m not familiar with his ranch.”
Keeping to an ambling gait, they rode toward Winfield’s ranch. With a bright full moon overhead, the cattle were easy to keep in sight. But what would happen when they got on Winfield’s land?
Chapter Twenty
Charlotte couldn’t sleep and jumped at every sound. As far as she could tell the rifle was now in perfect working order. She hoped she wouldn’t need to fire the gun but she thought the intruders would return.
She heard Davie whisper, “Mama?”
Sliding from bed, she went to the door. “What is it?”
“The dogs are making their low growl so someone is prowling close to the house. Did you bring the rifle in here?”
“I have the rifle in my hand and the revolver in my pocket.”
“You’re still wearing your clothes?”
“I sure am. I had no way of knowing whether or not I’d be able to sleep. I haven’t. I’m going toward the front of the house.”
“I’m coming. You might need some help.”
“You’re correct and I think we should stick together, son. I hope Jimmy and Susie remain asleep.”
She and her oldest son moved silently but swiftly through the house. At the front window, the bright moonlight flooded the yard. A stocky man of medium height and a tall thin man approached the house stealthily. The tall one carried a gunny sack with wriggling contents.
Davie said, “I’ll bet they’ve got another snake in that sack.”
“I wouldn’t take that bet, son. Stay behind me. I don’t want you caught in crossfire if I have to shoot those two.”
She waited until the men were about ten yards from the front porch before she opened the door and stepped outside with the rifle aimed at the closest man, the stocky one. “Strange time of night to come visiting.”
The look of surprise on each man’s face was comical—if she hadn’t been so angry with them. She was a good shot but she’d never aimed at a person. At this point she was willing. These men should not have endangered her children.
The stocky man stretched out his hands. “Now, lady, you don’t want to point that at me. You could get hurt.”
“Stop where you are or you’re the one who’s going to get hurt. With two fingers, take your gun and drop it.” Her heart pounded loud enough to hear and her breath caught in her throat. He didn’t stop.
He gave a laugh that sounded more like a snort and kept moving toward her. “I’m not dropping my gun for a woman. That rifle ain’t gonna fire anyway.”
She shot his knee. Hating she’d had to do so, she couldn’t let him get close enough to take the rifle from her.
He screamed and plopped onto the ground. “Are you crazy? You could of
