Chapter 17 – Riding Double

Molly sat underneath her broken-out window and wondered how long this could go on. Every time she tried to move away from the shattered glass that littered the floor someone took another shot at her. It was almost as if they could see every move she made.

Finally it got dark enough that she could crawl away from the window to get food and water. Immediately she thought of Joe and Jamie, and wondered how they were. It broke her heart to think that one of them might be severely wounded or dead when it wasn't even their fight. She had to find a way to get back to the shack to see who needed her help.

She was just about to crawl back to the window when a shadow passed in front of it, and she raised her rifle just in case. A man she recognized as working for Nance Tesson appeared right outside the window, with a .45 pointed where she'd been sitting most of the day. She heard the hammer of the gun as it was pulled back and jerked on the trigger just as he raised his eyes and peered into the darkness that was her salvation. Molly felt the blast of the gun and heard him drop on the porch, followed by four or five minutes of silence. The next sound she heard was a horse galloping away from the ranch. Did that mean it was over?

She crawled back to the window with her rifle and peered over the sill. There was no movement on the porch; no sound anywhere on the ranch beside the mares milling about the corral. She pulled herself carefully to her feet and remained out of the light, just in case she wasn't alone. Nothing. Molly poked the end of the rifle out the window, anticipating a shot; there was none. Carefully she scooted to the other side of the window and over to the door, opening it ever so slowly. Still nothing. Finally flinging it open wide, she again showed the end of the rifle outside. In return, she heard Galead nicker from inside the barn, but no other sound.

She stepped out onto the porch and approached the body carefully. His gun lay out in the open and she kicked it out of reach before poking him with the barrel of the rifle. Whoever he was, or had been, he was definitely dead, and a sob caught in her throat. 'He was going to kill you,' she reminded herself.

From the bunkhouse she heard a voice call out, "Miss Hooper, are you alright?" It was Jason, one of the new ranch hands.

"I am," she answered, relieved to be able to say that at last.

Jason came running out with his gun drawn, followed by the other three men that Hancock had hired. In a rush of words they explained not getting into the apparent gunfight, unsure of just who or what was involved. "It's alright, I understand. You did the right thing," she told them, then continued with, "Jason, would you saddle my horse? I have to go find Hancock and Delacroix."

"We're goin' with ya, Miss Hooper," Jason told her, as the men ran to the barn. In less than ten minutes three of the new hands, including Jason, rode out towards the old road into Yuma with Molly. 'Please let them be alright,' the girl thought as she rode.

XXXXXXXX

Nothing had gone the way he planned it. Delacroix was still alive; at least he had been when Hancock carried him inside the shack. Now Nealy was dead, killed by the man that Conrad Sanders despised so much, and he wasn't any closer to getting rid of them then he had been when this started hours ago. Before he had a chance to finish the job he'd been begging them to give him for weeks, he heard riders approaching. Knowing that they sure weren't his men, Nance Tesson snuck off to his horse and headed the back way towards his ranch. It was time to come up with a new plan. And he needed to have one in place before Wolcott and Bircken could castigate him for the failure of this one.

He assumed that by now Pitchford and Danly had taken care of Molly Hooper. That would ultimately solve the problem, he was well aware, but her two hired hands had become a thorn in his side; particularly since he had been so eager to handle them personally. He had to go back over the plan, step by step, to determine just where it had gone wrong. That would allow him to better prepare for the next time. Assuming he would be granted a next time by the rest of the consortium.

When he got back to his ranch there was no sign of Pitchford or Danly. Nance left his horse tied out front of the house and went inside, greeted only by his dogs. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat down in his favorite armchair to go over the plan in his head one more time. The more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that what went wrong was his own fault. If he'd killed Delacroix with his first shot he wouldn't have been in such a hurry to shoot Hancock. Damn! Why hadn't he taken more time? Now he'd have to listen to the Mayor and the Marshall, as well as Bircken and Wolcott.

And where exactly were his two missing men? The last thing he needed was for their task to go awry. How hard was it to kill a girl, anyway? He heard a horse outside and rushed to the front door, wanting and needing good news. What he saw didn't make him happy. Danly, by himself, with a sour look on his face.

"What happened?"

"She got Mel," Danly explained.

"Did you get her?"

Danly shook his head. "No. She got help from her ranch hands." That was true, although the timing was slightly distorted. Couldn't you trust anybody to do their job anymore?

"Get outta here, before I shoot ya myself," Nance growled at Danly, who took his boss at his word and rode away.

'Damn. Double damn,' though Tesson. He went back into the house and slammed the door. The whiskey bottle stood on the table and he refilled his glass before sitting down heavily in his chair. There must be a way to take care of the three problems that he'd kept insisting he could eradicate. "Now what, Nance old boy? You been braggin' all along you could take care of this. So why don't you?"

"That's a good question, Nance. Why don't you?"

"Don't you knock, Sanders?" Nance almost growled at the marshal.

"Would you have heard me if I did?"

Tesson shook his head. "Probably not." He pushed the bottle at the lawman. "Drink?"

Conrad pushed it back. "No, thanks. I came out to investigate somethin' goin' on out at the old deserted shack about two miles from here. What happened? Is it over with?"

"Yeah, it's over. But not the way it's supposed to be over."

"What about Molly?" Sanders asked.

"Alive and well," Nance replied disgustedly. "Delacroix's hit, but I don't think he's dead. Hancock got to him before I could finish him off. Nealy an Pitchford are gone, too. It just all went wrong. I'll have another plan by mornin'."

"Nance?"

"Yeah?"

"It's already mornin'."

XXXXXXXX

Bart heard one horse leave less than a minute before the other riders arrived. Molly was at the head of the group, and she'd brought Jason, Sam, and Grimes with her.

"Bret," Bart whispered as he shook his brother slightly.

"Huh?" came the half-awake reply.

"Molly's here with three of the boys."

"Molly? She's alright?"

"She's fine, Pappy, which is more than I can say for you. Molly! In here!"

The girl was the first one through the door. Sam and Jason stayed outside to take a look around; Grimes inspected the body. "Joe! Hancock, what happened?" She rushed to Bret's side; he'd passed out once again from the pain in his shoulder and blood loss. "Sam! Go to Yuma and bring Doc Bradley back to the ranch. And tell him to hurry!"

Sam left, as instructed, and Jason came in with a canteen. "Thought ya might need this," he told Bart as he handed him the canteen. "Can ya use some help?"

"Yeah," Bart answered, "help me get some water down him, would ya?"

Jason did his best to pull Bret up so that Bart could get him a drink. "Joe. Joe, wake up for a minute. I've got water."

That was the magic word. Bret's eyes fluttered open and a tiny smile creased his face. "Been waitin' a while for that," he murmured as Bart held the canteen up to his brother's lips and tipped it so that the clear liquid went where it was supposed to. Bret drank for a long minute and only when he was through did Bart take big, gulping swallows himself.

"You were here the whole time without water?" Molly queried.

When Bart stopped drinking, he answered. "Yep. Horses got away before I could grab a canteen. I had to practically drag him in here."

"Don't talk about me like that, I ain't dead yet," Bret babbled softly.

Molly saw the bloody kerchief wrapped around Bart's left hand. "You're hurt, too."

"Nothin' to worry about." He turned his attention back to Jason. "Did you find the horses?"

"Yes, sir, right close together. You wanna try the stallion or the gelding?"

"The stallion. Just bring the buckskin with us. Help me get him up in the saddle and I'll ride behind him ta hold him up. Molly, let's go. I wanna have him there when the doctor gets to your house." Bart picked his brother up carefully and carried him outside. Sunrise was just about to break over the horizon. "Alright, Jason, help me here." It took a few minutes and a lot of maneuvering before they got Bret into the saddle. Bart swung up on Blackthorn behind his brother and gathered the reins in his hands. "Hold on, Pappy, we're goin' for a little ride." Bret grunted in acknowledgment and Bart did his best to hold onto the stallion while keeping Bret upright. Every step of the horse jarred the wounded man, and Bart took it as slowly as he dared.

Thankfully the distance was short and they arrived before the doctor. "Bring him in the house," Molly instructed once again, as Bart and Jason did just that. Grimes followed them back to the ranch with Nealy's body in a 'dead-man carry' over his horse, and left the two bodies together on the porch. In just a few minutes Sam and the doctor arrived; by that time Bret had drifted back into an unconscious state.

"Alright, everybody out," Doc Bradley ordered. Molly and Jason left the room; Bart stood firmly planted next to the bed. "You too," Doc reiterated, but Bart shook his head.

"Not leavin'," came the reply.

Doc shrugged his shoulders. "Could get ugly. Looks like the bullets still in there."

Bart shook his head. "I've seen worse."

"Alright, let's get started then."