“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 us, Emmett,” Checker said, and placed a hand on the rancher’s shoulder. “We’re here—and we’re staying.”
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.
When they were finished, Checker said, “When I was coming here, I passed a fine-looking woman. She turned off. West.”
“That’d be Morgan Peale. Owns a little spread just on the far side of my pond,” Emmett said, savoring the last of his coffee. “She’s a widow. Real looker, she be. But tough as old leather. Kept that ranch a-goin’ after her man was killed. Hoss kicked him. Two years back, it were.” He took another sip. “We try to help out when we can. You know, spring roundup an’ such. Charlie Carlson over north o’ hyar, he does, too.”
“A.J., she’s got London Fiss riding for her,” Checker said.
Bartlett looked puzzled. “Wonder if she knows?”
To Emmett’s question, Checker explained Fiss had done time in prison for robbing banks and stagecoaches. The old rancher watched the Ranger closely as he spoke, then added, “You like that black man, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Any riders workin’ for you right now?” Bartlett changed the subject; his interest was obvious.
“No. Not now. I always hire short riders when we need ’em. Can’t afford no regulars. Not yet anyway. She’s got Fiss. Charlie’s got a few.” He looked around the table. “ ’Sides that, I’m growin’ my own.”
Both boys smiled and agreed.
“We work our beeves nice an’ slow. No need for them to wander. Good grass. Good water.” Emmett grimaced. “That’s why that devil woman wants our place. She’ll be after the others soon as we go down.”
“Got an idea I want you to chew on, Emmett,” Checker said, and pushed his chair away from the table. “But it’s one we’d have to act on quickly.”
“Well, I’ll sure listen. Andrew, ya call in Rikor, an’ stand lookout. Would ya do that, son. Shoot in the air if’n ya see anybody comin’.”
“Yes, sir.”
The three men walked into the main room and Checker outlined what had been forming in his mind. It was the same idea, but with more reasoning behind it. Waiting for Lady Holt to attack—in whatever way she decided—was not what they should do. Instead, they should leave. It would mean leaving the ranch and herd unguarded and accepting that the buildings would probably be burned. He thought the cattle would remain where they were; there was no advantage in moving them at this time. If they stayed here to protect the ranch, they would eventually be killed. All of them.