"Wish me luck," Bart told Molly and Bret as he checked the cinch one more time on Noble's saddle.
"You don't need luck," Bret answered. "Just be your charmin' self."
"Will do," Bart agreed as he mounted the gelding. In a few seconds he was gone, headed north up the road towards Braxton and Settler's Creek.
"Come in and I'll fix breakfast. Which I would have done before if Hancock had wanted any."
Bret shook his head. "He'll eat when he gets hungry. Right now he's only got one thing on his mind, and that's findin' us some men for a crew. Otherwise we're gonna be mighty tired hombres."
Molly sighed. "Still, God only knows what he ate yesterday, no supper last night, and nothing but coffee this morning. How does he keep going like that?"
"I gave up tryin' to figure out Hancock's eatin' habits a long time ago. But I am starved, Miss Molly."
Bret gave her a big grin and Molly laughed. "I think you were born hungry," she told him.
"That woulda been a question for my momma," he told her. "Besides, I'm gonna fix that fence we ain't gotten to yet. Man needs a big breakfast before he starts that."
"Fine. I'll go tell the cook and she can get started," Molly answered him as they walked inside. "You can sit at the table and keep me company. Or you can help."
"I'm afraid my cookin' skills are limited to beans, bacon, rabbits, and coffee."
"No eggs?"
"Forgot eggs. Yeah, I can make those, too."
Molly chuckled. "Just enough to keep a man alive."
"That's right. And don't you forget it."
XXXXXXXX
"He headed north this morning," the lookout Jeremiah had posted on the Hooper ranch reported.
"And it's the one Conrad wanted you to watch?"
"Same fella. Tall, thin, rides a buckskin gelding. You want me to tell Nance or go straight to Donny?"
Jeremiah gave it careful consideration before answering. "Go to Donny. I don't want Nance to start changin' orders at the last minute. Remind him – no killin'. No matter what Tesson may or may not have told him. We're gonna do this my way, whether it takes longer or not."
"You're the boss," the cowboy reiterated. "I'll be back after I see Donny."
"Good. Let me know when it's been handled."
XXXXXXXX
It took a while to get to Braxton, and the men he encountered there didn't seem to be any more inclined to take a job at the ranch than they had in Yuma. He spent most of the morning there, in the saloons, cafés, stores and businesses before finally giving up and riding on to Settler's Creek.
Settler's Creek was smaller and a whole lot more interested in what he had to offer, and by late afternoon he had four men that were more than willing to ride down to the Hooper ranch, with the possibility of two more. He left instructions and made arrangements for everybody to show up on Monday morning and finally got himself something to eat at the little diner next to the sheriff's office. Everybody seemed friendly enough, and there was no talk of or gossip about 'curses' or anything similar. Only one man had heard of the trouble Molly was having and he didn't seem too worried about taking a job at the ranch.
It was dusk by the time Bart pointed Noble back towards Yuma and Molly's place, and his attention was somewhere other than the large stand of boulders and Mesquite trees he was passing. He was totally unprepared for any kind of attack when it came, and he certainly didn't expect to find a lasso yanking him off the back of his horse. He crashed to the ground hard and Noble neighed and reared before prancing sideways and appearing to look around for his missing rider.
As Bart tried to scramble to his feet and escape the rope the man on the other end gave it a good yank and upended the gambler once again, and this time he hit his head on one of the smaller rocks and lost consciousness. Donny Worby and the friend he'd brought along to help took their time, beating and kicking the comatose gambler until they were tired and bored. Then, for good measure, they left him hog-tied, gagged, and a bloody mess, running Noble off in the process.
The gelding made straight for the Hooper ranch, and by the time he got there it was pitch black outside. Bret had just joined Molly in the house for supper and assumed, when they heard Noble whinny, that Bart was finally back from his sojourn. When no one knocked on the front door and the gelding whinnied again, both of them went to see what was causing the delay. The horse was there, but no Brother Bart. Noble was agitated and sweaty, and Bret came to the only reasonable conclusion – Bart was somewhere hurt.
"I'll hitch the wagon," Bret yelled back at the girl as he practically leaped off the porch and went running towards the barn. In less time than she thought possible the wagon came roaring out of the barn, and he stopped at the porch to turn the reins over to her. "I'm takin' Noble," he called and mounted the gelding. For once there was no fight put up by Bart's horse. Bret gave him his head and Noble went back the way he'd just come, with Molly and the wagon following behind.
Bret simply couldn't control the animal, so he kept the reins in his hand and held on tight. Several miles north Noble pulled up and crab-stepped his way up to the stand of trees. Bret saw the form on the ground next to the rocks, even in the dark, and slid down from the gelding. "Bart!" he gasped, the name slipping out before he gave a thought to Molly. Between the distance she was behind him and the noise the wagon made, she didn't hear the panicked utterance.
He removed the gag and untied the rope binding Bart's hands and feet, but there was no response from the body on the ground. Just as Molly arrived with the wagon, Bret picked his unconscious brother up and placed him gently in the wagon bed. Suddenly he thought of something and reached in Bart's coat pocket. His wallet was there, but everything that had been in it was gone. Was this just a robbery gone wrong?
Noble was standing stock still and offered no resistance when Bret grabbed his reins and led him to the back, where the horse was secured for the trip to the ranch. "You drive," Bret instructed the girl and climbed into the wagon bed with his brother.
Bret used his handkerchief to try and wipe some of the blood from Bart's nose and mouth, but the younger man showed no sign of consciousness. "Who did this to you, son?" he asked tenderly, not expecting any kind of an answer. Noble snorted and Bret stared at the gelding with a new-found respect. "You did good, Noble," he told the horse, who snorted again as if in acknowledgment.
It seemed to take an eternity to return to the ranch, and when they did Molly pulled up in front of the house. "Take him inside – there's a bedroom in the right corner." She hurriedly went to the kitchen and returned with a bowl of water and clean towels. Bret carried his brother into the spare room and laid him on the bed. "Who would do this?" she asked when she got into the room.
"I don't know, but I'm sure as hell gonna find out," Bret growled. Finally, there was a soft moan from Bart and Bret was instantly at his side, while Molly tried to finish the job Bret had attempted in the wagon. The younger of the two men had a black eye and a nasty purple bruise on his right cheek; his lip was split and swollen. It was obvious someone had beaten him, and from the look of his clothes the punishment wasn't confined to his face. Bret and Molly, working together, got his jacket off, and then his shirt, and the girl was appalled by the size and multitude of the scars on his body.
"Is this from the war?" she asked in horror.
"No, he's been through a lot."
"Too much for one man." She touched his ribs, which were rapidly discoloring, and he gasped.
"Are they broken again?" Bret questioned.
"I can't tell," Molly answered.
Very quietly from the bed they heard, "Don't think so." His eyes remained closed, but it was clear he was at least partially conscious. "Get . . . get my boots."
Bret removed his brother's boots as requested, then returned to the head of the bed. "Better?" he asked.
"Thanks," came the whispered reply.
"Who was it? Who did this?"
"Don't know. Never saw 'em."
"Can you open your eyes?" Molly asked.
"No."
"Do you want me to go get the doctor?" Bret asked.
"No."
"Anything else bad?"
"Left arm." Molly felt around for a moment and when she touched his forearm, right below the elbow, his eyes flew open and he let out a howl. "Found it."
Molly poked and prodded as gently as she could, and both she and the patient came to the same conclusion – the bone wasn't broken. "I can wrap your arm, and your ribs," she told Bart, "but that's about the best I can do. I'm not sure Doc Bradley could do much more."
"Do . . . do what . . . you can. I'll be alright." He looked up at Bret. "How bad . . . is it?"
"You've looked prettier. Can you tell me what you remember?"
"Ridin' back. Got near the stand . . . Mesquite trees. Lassoed, like a dang . . . steer. Got pulled down and hit . . . the rocks. That's all."
"No idea of who it was?"
"No. I . . . I think . . . ouch . . . there were two of 'em."
Molly looked at Bret. "Can you help me sit him up?"
"I can. On three – one, two, three." Bret pulled his brother upright and Bart gritted his teeth against the pain.
"You get on his other side and we can do this easier," Molly told Bret, who then moved to the other side of the bed. They worked the wrap back and forth several times until Bart felt like a Thanksgiving turkey. The girl wrapped his forearm in a similar fashion and was finally ready to put his shirt back on. Again she needed Bret's help but they got him dressed at last. Bart looked from one to the other.
"Thanks. You find Noble?"
Bret chuckled just a little. "That horse of yours is somethin' else. He came back here to get us, and I rode him back to you."
"You? On Noble?"
"I know. And he didn't fuss, just took us straight to ya. Reminds me, I gotta go take care of him and the wagon. I'll be back in a bit. You stay put." He pointed at his brother, who nodded slightly in answer.
"Yes, sir."
"Do you want anything?" Molly asked once Bret had gone back outside. "I have some coffee. Or I can fix you something to eat."
"Coffee, please. Not really hungry."
She looked at him skeptically. "Did you eat anything today?"
"Yes, momma." He started to try and get out of bed and she put her hand on his chest. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Up."
"No, sir. You sleep here tonight. You're not moving around with those ribs."
"But – "
"But nothing. Sit still. I'll go get you some coffee." Before she pulled her hand away, he grabbed her wrist.
"Thanks, Molly."
"For what? If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be hurt. I can at least take care of you." She put two pillows behind him, so he could remain sitting up, and went to the kitchen for the coffee. Bret returned from feeding and bedding down the horses and walked into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of the black liquid. "He should stay here tonight, in case he needs anything," she told his brother.
"I'm stayin' here, too, in case anybody gets any bright ideas."
"Such as?"
"Comin' after you."
"Where are you gonna sleep?" the girl asked.
"In a chair in his room." Before she could say anything, he put his hand up. "I've done it before. Plenty of times. He's done it for me, too. I'll be fine."
"If you say so. Then what?"
"We'll see about the rest tomorrow. This was either a random robbery or it was meant to send a message. There'll be no answers tonight. Come on, let's get him that coffee."