The Texas sun had set hours ago, and darkness was thick on the prairie. An uncharacteristic fog had settled around the river, and the only light provided was from the meager light of the stars, but only a small amount could burn through the heavy gloom. Chad hated the dark, especially when he had to be out in it. The idea of driving cattle at night just made no sense, but apparently Sheppard wanted to do a sneak approach to the water rather than do it in broad daylight.
It was just so blamed dark. Chad doubted he could hit the side of a barn, let alone a trespassing cowboy, on a night like this. They were waiting at the river where they expected Sheppard to approach. It had the best grass and good entry points for the cows to get a drink; up and down from where they were situated were high banks with few crossing places.
He could just make out the glowing embers of cigarettes, marking where some of the men were waiting. A stamp of a hoof now and then was the only sound besides the gentle murmur of the river. He felt a presence beside him and almost jumped out of his skin.
"Easy there," a familiar voice rasped, "it's just me."
"Jess," Chad breathed, relieved. "A man could start believing in ghosts out here without hardly trying."
"I know what you mean," Jess whispered. "But that's not what I'm afraid of right now."
"You afraid, Jess?" Chad asked, his own voice quivering a touch.
"I'd be a fool not to be. I don't like this, not one bit. I got the feelin' somethin's about to go down."
"You and me, both."
Chad heard a quick breath, something he took for half a laugh. "I reckon I should have lit out this afternoon, instead of just talkin' about it," Jess said, humor in his voice.
Chad was about to reply when all of a sudden, it started. He heard the low rumble of hooves, characteristic of cattle on the move.
He heard the low call of Slater from down the river. "Get ready!"
With sweaty palms, Chad gripped his rifle. "This isn't right, this isn't you. You're better than this," Joe's voice sounded in his mind. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Blasted fog, giving him the creeps.
Jess moved away and Chad almost called him back, fear rising in his throat. How could it be that a man younger than himself could have more experience on the taking of life? Chad couldn't handle it. He just couldn't. Just when he had gone to finish Jeb, he knew that he really couldn't have pulled it off. Now, it was the same. Right or wrong, he couldn't gun down unsuspecting cowboys. Why shouldn't they be allowed to use the water? It was for everyone. He couldn't…murder.
He made a decision. He untied the black's reins from a tree. Suddenly, Jess was beside him. "What're you doin'?" he hissed.
"I can't do it, Jess."
"You ain't…turnin' yellow, are you?" Jess sounded hurt.
"No, I'm not yellow." As best as he could in the darkness, he looked Jess in the eye. "This is the bravest thing I've done in a long time. I'm bucking the tiger, Jess. I'm warning Sheppard."
Jess grabbed Chad's arm in a vice grip, bruising flesh. "Think on what you're doin', Coop. You'll get yourself shot, by either side!"
"Sorry, Jess. This is what's right. I've got to stop those men!"
"Coop, just listen to me. I can't let you go through with it!" He applied more pressure to his grip than Chad thought possible.
"Jess, let go of me now!" He pulled his hand back, ready to punch Jess if necessary.
BANG!
Jess jerked, and for a moment Chad thought the other man had been shot. However, the shot came from far off. It sounded like it may have come from the direction of the herd, which was still a distance away. "What was that?" Chad asked.
"I don't know—wait, listen!"
The two men stood breathlessly, listening. Then, Chad heard it. It was a man shouting, then another answering. "Is that coming from the herd?" Chad asked.
"I can't tell," Jess whispered back.
Next, they heard Slater yell, "Men, get mounted! Sounds like somebody started our party without us! Fifty dollars to the man who brings down the one who done it!"
If Slater wanted the man dead, then Chad wanted to help keep the man alive. He and Jess were mounted in no time and joined the rest of the McTavish men as they rode toward the Sheppard outfit. After riding what Chad estimated to be about half a mile he could just begin to make out the white faces of cattle. In front of them was a man mounted on a pale horse, waving his arms in the air and shouting, "Ambush! Ambush!"
Sheppard men leapt into action, many coming to the front, guns firing. Chad heard a bullet whiz by his head like an angry wasp. One of the McTavish men wasn't so lucky; he fell with a scream. The men in Chad's group were at a disadvantage. They were out in the open, while the Sheppard outfit had the high ground. Many were already laying flat on the ground, firing. Confusion reigned as more McTavish men went down, horses and men equally getting hit.
Chad lost track of Jess in the mix but he couldn't worry about him at the moment. The man on the pale horse was in the line of fire! He was charging off to one side when his horse fell, spilling the rider to the ground and almost rolling on top of him. The memory of Joe getting crushed in a similar way rose up before Chad, overwhelming him. He charged forward, intent on rescuing the man.
He pulled his horse to a halt beside the man, holding out a hand. The man had gained his feet, but his horse had run away. The man reached for Chad's outstretched arm—and yanked him from the saddle. Chad grunted as he hit the ground. His head struck the ground hard and his breath rushed out in one whoosh. "Wait," he gasped, but the man could not hear him. The man must have mistaken Chad's intentions. Why should he think Chad was anything other than one of the men trying to kill him?
Chad tried to move but was paralyzed from lack of breath. He could only lie helplessly as the man jumped aboard Chad's horse with an athletic move that seemed familiar.
The events around him that happened next were lost to Chad as he tried to rise. Not only was the wind knocked out of him, he was also bleeding on the back of his head where it had struck the ground. He felt dizzy and sick when he rolled over to his stomach, attempting to get onto his hands and knees. He finally managed to get his legs under him, but fell back down almost immediately. The sudden movement caused his stomach to reject his supper. He flopped away from the mess and just laid there, waiting for the nausea to pass.
An indeterminable time passed and the steady gunfire eased. A few shots rang out, further away, but soon those died out as well. A few riders were approaching him, but Chad didn't care. His head hurt so badly death seemed welcome. Someone dismounted, spurs jingling as the person walked toward Chad. "Coop," the man called. "Coop, is that you? Are you alright?"
"Jess," Chad breathed, relief washing over him like cool water.
A match flared to life and Chad cried out and threw his arm over his eyes as the light caused a spike of pain. "Sorry," Jess apologized. "Just gotta take a quick look." Jess' hand went under Chad's neck, lifting it to inspect the back of his head. Chad heard Jess blow out the match before pressing a cloth on the wound. "You're bleedin' pretty bad there, Coop. What happened?"
"Horse spooked. Threw me. Hit my head on somethin' hard."
The brief silence that followed spoke volumes. Jess probably suspected Chad's words were not the truth; maybe he had even seen what had happened. Whatever the case, he did not voice his suspicions, but rather quipped, "More than likely the ground hurts more than you do, what with your head bein' as hard as it is."
"Ha. Ha."
"He alright?" somebody else asked. It sounded like Slater. Chad had guiltily hoped that he would be among the casualties.
"He will be, if this bump on the head don't scramble his brains any more than they already were."
"You always this clever, Jess? Or am I out of my head and imagining all this?"
Jess put a canteen to Chad's lips. "Quit whinin' and just drink."
Chad took a small sip and rinsed out his mouth before spitting the water onto the ground, trying to rid his mouth of the acidy taste of the contents of his stomach. Jess tried to get him to drink again, but Chad pushed it away. "What happened, Jess?"
"Somebody tipped off Sheppard's men. They were ready for us; we didn't stand a chance. But they did turn their herd back."
"Who was it? Did you see who warned them?"
Slater answered, his voice triumphant. "Couple of the boys went after him. I recognized him. He was that new ranger!"
"How—" Chad was cut off when he heard horses coming, and fast.
"Who's that?" Slater's friend asked.
"Drop your weapons! This is the Rangers!"
"Get outta here!" Slater yelled, already turning his horse and galloping toward the hills. The other man followed close behind.
"Come on, Coop, we gotta get movin'!" Jess tried to pick Chad up off the ground, but Chad was too dizzy and could be of no assistance. He tried to push Jess away.
"No, Jess, leave me! You've got to get out of here before they catch you! There's no time!"
Jess was a stubborn man. He propped Chad against his horse's side and mounted. He reached a hand down to Chad. "Grab on! I'll pull you up!"
The rangers started to fire, and Chad knew their time was up. He slapped the bay on the rump as hard as he could. With this action, coupled with the gunfire behind him, the horse no longer could stand still. He bolted away while Chad yelled, "Go, Jess, just go!"
Jess had no choice but to go where his horse carried him, but he managed to control him to a prancing stop twenty yards away. In the dawning light, Chad could make out the young man looking over his shoulder. Chad sunk to his knees, his hand raised in a salute. Jess waved back, his mouth set in a firm line, regret marring his handsome features. A gunshot sounded, breaking the moment, and Jess was off as fast as his horse could carry him. He soon disappeared over a rise, vanishing from sight.
Chad lay down, awaiting his fate. He doubted he would ever see Jess again.
Reese Bennett's exhaustion flew away as soon as he heard the gunfire ahead. With Parmalee in the lead, they charged into the valley, the rising sun to their backs. A few mounted men fled at the rangers' approach. One lingered momentarily, waving. "Who's he wavin' at? Us?" Reese wondered aloud. "Cocky son-of-a-gun."
The main group of lawmen broke up, some chasing after one group of men, some, another.
"Bennett!"
"Yes, Cap'n?"
"Check for wounded."
"Yessir."
Secretly he was relieved not to be stuck chasing down the fleeing outlaws with the rest of his comrades. He'd rather not spend any more time galloping around than necessary. However, once he started to ride around, he soon wished he'd gone along with the others. The carnage wasn't the most he'd seen in one place before, but it was still bad. Cactus shied when Reese tried to ride him up to a body. "Steady, Cactus, you can stay here."
He dismounted and walked toward the man, fearing that he'd find the body of that nice young man, Joe Riley. Guilty relief swept over him when he realized that it wasn't the boy but some other cuss he didn't recognize. Reese put the man's hat over his face in respect before moving on to the next man, one he remembered from McTavish's outfit.
He moved quickly, never lingering over any of the bodies. He finally figured he'd found all of them, five total. Not a single one was still alive. A few injured horses were moaning on the ground. Reese regretfully put them out of their misery.
Sadness weighing down his body, he pulled himself into the saddle. Movement caught his eye—and his heart leapt in his chest. It was Joe's horse! He spurred Cactus into a quick canter over to where the buckskin stood…near a body.
"No, no, no!" Reese shouted, dismounting before Cactus was stopped completely. "Joe? Speak to me, boy!"
The man groaned, holding up a hand. "Stop shouting, sir. You have a voice like a bullfrog and my head is killing me."
Reese staggered to a stop. "What—you're not Joe."
"No, regretfully not."
Reese walked the last few steps to where the man lay. He was young, about Joe's age, with a bloody handkerchief wrapped around wavy dark hair. He was lying on the ground, his head turned slightly to the side in order to keep from touching his injury to the ground. His eyes were tightly pinched shut in pain. Reese felt inclined to feel sorry for the man, but soon that sympathy was lost in anger. "Where's Joe? What have you done with him?"
"Nothing…I don't even know who that is."
"Oh really? You just happened to have his horse? Just borrowed it, did you?"
"Horse? Mister, if I had a horse, I'd be long gone."
"Joe's is standin' right here. What happened? He clobber you on the head when you stole it from him?"
"No, somebody stole my horse and I hit my head when he yanked me off."
"That must've been why you decided to help yourself to Joe's horse then."
"NO!" the man shouted, and then winced at his own volume. He weakly propped himself up on one elbow. "I don't even know anybody around here named—BUCK!"
"Buck? What…." Reese was astounded as the young man got to his feet, dizzily staggering over to the buckskin horse, who stood calmly. The stranger fell against the horse's neck, almost hugging the animal. This man was crazy. He turned toward Reese, who was nervously fingering his pistol.
"You know Joe?" he asked Reese. "How? How long has he been here? Where is he?" The man looked insane, the bandanna slipping over one eye.
Reese scratched his head. "You should know! You have his horse! Wait…how do you know Joe?"
"Doesn't matter. He's in trouble! We've got to find him!" The young man carefully picked up a dark hat off the ground and hung it from its stampede string around his neck. Straightening slowly, he started to make a move to mount the large horse.
"Now, just hang on a minute, you," Reese commanded. "You're under arrest."
"Sure, sure, but we don't have time for that right now."
"You stole Joe's horse! For all I know, you killed him and left his body someplace."
The man turned his head, his one visible eye full of anxiety. "Joe is my friend. I would never hurt him…not intentionally."
Reese crossed his arms, feeling his resolve weaken under that mournful gaze. "Well, how do we even know where to look?"
"I'll know."
"How?"
A small, tight smile spread across the face of the stranger. "Same way Joe found me." He pulled himself up into the saddle labouredly.
"Yeah? And how's that?"
"Go where the trouble is."
The long echoing crack of a rifle sounded, followed by a few short blasts from a handgun from somewhere behind them. Strangely, the gunfire was coming from the opposite direction from where the majority of the rangers had ridden. The young man jerked with each shot before spurring the muscular buckskin toward the fight. Reese had no choice but to swing up on Cactus and follow. The boy was fleeing arrest, after all.