The Reckoning Read online

  Ike fessed up. “Well, you got me there. I never even saw you wearin’ a holster.”

  “Sometimes it helps to keep people in the dark, like you have been doing with us. I only wear the firearm on special occasions, and this seems like one of those occasions.”

  Ike nodded. “Well, my guess is we’re gonna need your gun before this day is over, so welcome to the fight.”

  The three covered the distance to Jefferson in little more than an hour. The early morning dew kept the dust down, but the cold more than took its place. Once in the small town, they stopped at the few scattered buildings and asked the settlers to gather together on the main street. Convincing everyone to do that wasn’t easy. They were three unknowns to the townspeople, with an unusual request. Ike had to threaten one family before they joined their neighbors outside. When the locals were finally together, he told them Kelly and his men would be coming to burn their town down and scatter them that evening. He wasn’t sure they believed him, but he’d done all he could. They’d either stay inside with the lights out or not.

  Ike had each family fill buckets with water from nearby Jefferson Creek and pre-position them inside buildings so if fires did start, they’d have a head start in putting them out. The second thing Ike told the families to do was to stretch several ropes tight across the narrow main street at just above ankle level. The mounted riders wouldn’t see the suspended ropes in the dark until it was too late.

  The townspeople dispersed, and Ike and his gang searched for hiding places. When Kelly rode in, Ike planned to be the last person the raider ever saw.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Kelly came out of the main ranch house and strode to the bunkhouse as the sun dipped toward the tops of the mountains. The major had given him the go-ahead for the raid. It would be tonight. He yelled at the men as they gobbled their dinner in the bunkhouse. “Don’t nobody go to sleep on me now—remember, some of you are goin’ ridin’ tonight.” The sun would set shortly, and daylight would fade soon afterward, no match for the high mountains that rose to the west.

  Kelly brought his plate back to the chuckwagon for seconds. “Your vittles are worse than usual tonight, Boots. Throw me some more of that garbage.” Kelly held his tin dish out toward the ranch’s cook.

  “Seconds is a rare compliment from you.” Boots smiled and slopped more stew on the top hand’s plate. “Eat up. I hear you and your boys may need some extra get up and go tonight.”

  Kelly leaned toward the cook. “Don’t you be talkin’ about that. Nothin’ ain’t gonna happen tonight that concerns you.”

  Boots’ smile disappeared, and he dropped his gaze back to his cook pot.

  The sun balanced on a distant mountaintop as dinner broke up. The temperature was already dropping. A gentle breeze blew cool air as shadows lengthened like dark fingers across the land.

  Kelly’s booming voice took command of the hands as they straggled back to the bunkhouse. “Y’all line up over here, so’s I can see you. I got somethin’ special I need some volunteers for tonight!”

  The cowboys milled around looking at each other, hands jammed in pockets.

  “Anybody who likes shootin’ things up will want to be part of this,” Kelly said.

  One hand went up. “I’m in.” It was a newer ranch hand who’d been at Emerald Valley for only a couple of months. The man pushed his dirty cowboy hat further back on his head and stepped forward, thumbs in his waistband.

  Kelly looked him over and rubbed his beard slowly. “You’ll do. Who else? I need four men for some fun tonight. We’re gonna see if we can’t shake this valley up. Now, who else wants in?” Kelly thought about Scratchy. He would’ve volunteered, but he wasn’t there. He’d gone on his last ride.

  Men’s gazes dropped down to the rough, wooden floor slats.

  Kelly kicked dirt at one of the bunks. “Now, you boys know better’n to hang back when somethin’ needs doin’—what’s got into you? We’ve traveled too many miles together, rode too many rough trails, and drank too much bad whiskey for you to leave me hangin’ like this.” Were the hands mad because Scratchy was gone? His brother was still getting under Kelly’s skin even after he was dead.

  “Okay—there’s extra pay in it, now who’s in?”

  The men still shuffled their feet.

  “Five dollars each more.” When no one responded, Kelly held his hands out in a gesture of “what’s going on?”

  No one spoke.

  “You bastards. All right, I’ll throw in a standdown Saturday night so you can go into town and throw your money away on women and cards.” He scowled.

  The men looked around at each other but still didn’t respond.

  “Standdown for everybody, not just the volunteers, and I buy the first drink, dammit!”

  At this, some of the men broke into half smiles.

  “Well now, that’s better. I need hands that want to go ridin’ and shootin’. Now, who’ll it be?”

  Three more men stepped forward.

  “About time, you beggars and thieves.” Kelly had his volunteers but wondered if he’d lost the men when he dispatched Scratchy. “You four stay here, the rest of you ne’er-do-wells get on out of here and get back to work!”

  He turned his back on the hands filing out and told the remaining four to huddle around. Kelly looked the men over. “I need a number two man, sorta like a deputy.” Kelly looked at the first volunteer. “You stepped forward first, you be my deputy. You’re big enough, I just don’t know if you’re mean enough.”

  “Mean don’t mean much in a fight, Mr. Kelly, but I’ll do whatever needs to be done. As long as I’m goin’ on this little outing, I might as well have a say in how I get killed.”

  Kelly laughed. He liked being called Mr. Kelly. “All right, here’s a man who knows what he is and what he ain’t.” He turned to the other men.

  “Okay, if we get separated tonight, and I ain’t around, you three listen to him, got it?” He turned to the new hand. “What’s your name anyway?”

  “Collins.”

  “You got a first name?”

  “Collins works just fine.”

  Kelly nodded, then strode around the bunkhouse. “You all know what’s gonna happen tonight?” A couple of the men nodded. “Damn, this must be the worst-kept secret ever.” Kelly kicked at the warm iron stove with his boot and dislodged it a few inches.

  Kelly nodded. “Sit down. Now here’s what we’re gonna do.” He proceeded to outline how they were going to dress up in Indian gear, paint and all, and ride right down the middle of Jefferson yelling and screaming like Indians. They’d carry lit torches and hurl them into the little settlement’s buildings, each one catching the one next to it on fire. Then they’d shoot up the settlers’ houses.

  One of the hands said, “Can we kill ’em?”

  “I don’t care what you do with ’em, just don’t let anyone get a real good look at you. Stay in the dark, keep away from lights.” Kelly said, “If they see you, kill ’em.” Scratchy would have been asking why right about now. Kelly never thought he’d miss him. “We’ll ride back and forth through town a few times, light some buildings on fire, yell and throw the lances at doors. That oughta do it. Now go get your Injun gear on. Last stall in the barn, under the hay. And take your saddles off. Any man who can’t ride bareback, I’ll shoot him right here. Just raise your hand.” No one did. “Okay, meet me back here and be quick about it.”

  The men filed into the barn, donned the buckskin clothing, and joked as they painted each other up and put feathers in leather headbands. When they were all back together at the bunkhouse, one of them said, “But Boss, we ain’t got long hair, and we got beards. We don’t even look like Indians.”

  Kelly said, “You all look like Indians to me. Now, let’s go.”

  It was about fifteen miles to Jefferson, and the party covered the distance in little under an hour. The sun was gone, and an early evening dark lay over the land. As the raiding party rode toward town, faint
light shone from some of the nondescript structures in the distance.

  Kelly said, “Town don’t look like much. This shouldn’t take long.”

  When the outlaws reached the edge of Jefferson, all the lights suddenly went out and cloudy darkness reigned. Kelly put a hand up. “Everybody be on your toes. Don’t know what’s goin’ on, but light them torches, boys.” He passed around a lit cigar that did the trick. “Well, don’t just sit here with those flames lightin’ us all up, get to it.” They spurred their horses toward what passed for Jefferson’s main street, its only street. Two of the cowboys galloped in between the few buildings and threw their torches as they passed. Suddenly, the first horse tumbled head over heels in the faint starlight, tripped by a rope stretched tightly across the street. Invisible in the darkness. The horse flung its rider off and onto the dirt street. The cowboy got back to his feet and went for his gun, but a shot rang out that dropped him where he stood. The other raiders pulled their horses up in the middle of the street and looked around for the shooter. A second shot split the still night, and another cowboy slowly toppled off his horse. As he fell, he threw his torch at the nearest building and a small fire erupted. Two settlers ran out from the structure and doused it with buckets of water, then disappeared back into the dark.

  Kelly fired at the retreating ghost-like figures as they ran back into the building. “What the hell is goin’ on? Throw them torches and start shootin’ at anything that moves!”

  The other two hands jerked their horses back and forth in the street, looking for something to shoot at. One rode for the tallest building and threw his torch just as another taut rope tripped his horse. He hit the ground hard, and while he lay there coughing, a figure stole out of the dark and stood over him.

  ****

  Ike towered over the wrangler. “You want to live, you throw your pistol to me and stay face down on the ground.” Ike lever-cocked his Winchester rifle, pulled the hammer back, and waited for the man’s next move.

  The hand hesitated and drew his gun slowly out of the holster. He started to toss it to Ike, but at the last minute, he spun it and aimed the barrel at him. As the outlaw pulled the trigger, Ike’s slug hit him in the forehead, and the ranch hand’s bullet screamed harmlessly past Ike’s ear. Kelly turned toward the shots. He waggled his pistol and told the last hand, Collins, to move out in front of him. Collins rode a little way down the street, then stopped and turned back. Kelly had his gun drawn, looking for a target to shoot at, any target. A clear moon cast eerie shadows.

  Ike’s steady voice rang out from the darkness in the still night air. “Get down off the horse, Kelly.”

  Kelly turned toward the sound. “Who’s that? Come out and show yourself, you coward.” He fired several rounds in the direction of the unseen voice, then looked at Collins who was still sitting his horse, staring at him a short distance away. “What’re you doin’? Get goin’ and start killin’ some of these settlers. They know we ain’t Indians by now. Kill ’em all, don’t matter no more anyway.”

  Collins got down off his horse, smacked it on the rump, and stood in the street looking squarely at Kelly. Two other figures joined on Collins from the shadows of the nearby buildings. Lamps went back on in a few houses.

  Kelly fired a wild shot at Collins and yanked his horse away to flee the small town.

  “Hold it right there, Kelly!” the professor shouted. Walnutt raised his carbine and took aim over his outstretched arm. A shot rang out, and Kelly’s horse tumbled out from under him. He hit the ground and rolled. He came up shooting, but a bullet from Buster hit him. He dropped his revolver and grabbed at his leg. Ike kicked the man’s six shooter away.

  Ike came out from the shadows and told Buster and the professor to keep an eye on Kelly. He went over to “Collins” and hugged his brother hard. “Nice to see you, little brother. Let’s go find out what this bastard knows about Sue.”

  Ike stood over Kelly. The top hand looked up at the two brothers with their guns trained on him. Blood flowed from his leg and mixed in with brown earth to form a spreading dark puddle in the dim moonlight.

  Kelly sneered at Rob. “I should have knowed you wasn’t no good when you volunteered so fast back at the ranch. Nobody regular would have done that,” and he spit at him.

  Ike leaned down toward the defiant outlaw. “Looks like you only have a few minutes left to live if somebody doesn’t tie off that leg. And those buckskins you’re wearing don’t have a belt. You’re bleedin’ out. The first thing you’ll notice is that you feel a little lightheaded, then dizzy, then your sight will start to narrow. Then, nothing.”

  Kelly reached up toward Ike. “Gimme your belt. I’ll tie it off myself.”

  Ike shook his head but took his belt off. “I’ll do the wrappin’. You do the talkin.” He put it around Kelly’s leg, then cinched it tight through the belt loop and held it there. “Now tell me true, Kelly, you and Manning killed my father back in Lawrence, didn’t you?”

  “What? Who are you?”

  “Name’s Ike McAlister. Not Porter. My folks were Jonah and Allison McAlister. They had a spread outside of town and ran the newspaper in Lawrence that you and Manning didn’t like.”

  Recognition registered in Kelly’s eyes. “You. If Scratchy wasn’t such a bad shot, you’d be dead now, and I wouldn’t be down here on the ground bleedin’.”

  Ike had just found out who shot him and why. It was another piece of the puzzle, but he was no closer to finding Sue. “Where’s this Scratchy?”

  “I already took care of him. And it was Manning who killed your old man. I never rode on that raid.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Ike loosened the belt and blood flowed again.

  “I swear. I weren’t nowh…”

  Ike loosened the belt more.

  “All right! I was there, but I don’t even remember your folks. We killed a lot of men that raid. That’s the truth.”

  Ike tightened the belt. “Tell me about my sister.”

  Kelly clammed up. Ike relaxed the belt again.

  “Stop! I don’t know what happened to her.”

  “Yes, you do. You killed George Pinshaw because of something he knew, then bushwhacked my sister because of somethin’ Pinshaw said he told her about you. Didn’t you!”

  “How’d you know that?”

  “One of your .36 slugs was still in a cottonwood out by that stream where you killed Pinshaw. The same kind you fired at me in the Wildfire. Buster figured the rest out.”

  “You mean that old drunk? He don’t know if it’s today or tomorrow, much less anything else.”

  Buster stepped out of the shadows, unholstered his old Colt, and leveled it at Kelly. “I know you killed Pinshaw and you killed Sue, too.”

  “You don’t know nothin’, you worthless drunk.”

  “I’ll tell you somethin’ I do know. I know I just plugged you, and good.”

  Ike loosened the belt, and Kelly reached a hand to his leg. “Stop!”

  “Tell me about Sue. Where is she?”

  “She’s dead, and you ain’t never gonna find her.” Kelly ran his hand over the still-tender welt that Sue’s bullet dug along his cheek.

  Ike saw red. He punched Kelly hard and was set to wade in again when Buster grabbed his arm.

  “Hear him out, Ike.”

  Ike leaned down an inch from Kelly’s face. “She gave you that crease before you killed her, didn’t she? That would have been just like her.” Ike slapped Kelly across the face hard and took the belt back off Kelly’s leg. He got up, cinched it back around his waist, and turned to Rob. “We’re done here. Let the coyotes have him.”

  Kelly screamed as blood flowed steadily from his leg again. “Wait, I’ll tell you. I do know somethin’ about her.”

  Ike drew his colt and pressed it against the gash on Kelly’s cheek. “Last chance. Talk.”

  “Okay, okay, but put the belt back on.” He reached up toward Ike, who stayed just out of reach.

  “Talk.” />
  Kelly spilled his guts in rapid-fire fashion. “About halfway between town and the ranch, there’s an old game trail that leads west up into the mountains. A couple miles in is where I saw her last.

  “What did you do to her?” Ike fired into the dirt next to Kelly’s head.

  Kelly scowled, but didn’t answer the question. “Put the belt back on, and I’ll tell you more.”

  Ike cinched the belt back on and pulled it tighter than it needed to be.

  Kelly screamed and reached to loosen the tourniquet.

  Ike slapped his hand away. “If I take this off again, it ain’t goin’ back on. Talk.”

  “Somebody knocked me out, and when I woke up, she was gone. That’s all I know. I swear. I couldn’t make somethin’ like that up.”

  Ike cocked his Colt and aimed at Kelly’s forehead.

  Just then, someone put a hand on his gun and pushed it away.

  Lorraine. Ike’s eyes widened. “What’re you doin’ out here? You’re supposed to be back in town.” He was almost sputtering.

  “Ain’t nothin’ in that town that needs me more than bein’ right here right now with this skunk. Besides, I’m part of this gang. Remember?”

  Kelly looked up at her. “Nice to see you, Miss Lorraine. Tell these varmints to let me go, willya? Tell ’em how good me and the major been to you since your husband got killed.”

  Lorraine nodded. “He’s right. They’ve been extra special kind to a widow, and now that you mention it, Kelly, I’ve always wondered why. There wasn’t any call to be nice to me, except out of the goodness of your hearts, but then you and him ain’t got no hearts, so it couldn’t be that. So I always wondered what the reason was. Tell me, Kelly, tell me how my husband died.”

  Kelly grimaced. “He got run down by that stampede, simple as that.”

  Ike loosened the belt again, and blood flowed freely.

  “Tighten it!”

  Lorraine leaned in close to Kelly. “How’d that stampede start? There weren’t no lightnin’ that night, no thunderstorm. It was real clear.”

  “It was just a stampede, nothin’ more to it. No one but cattle know why they stampede, and they ain’t talkin’, they’re stupid.”