Chapter 1

Money, Power and Death

Hank Meyers sure left behind quite a mess. In a year's time, since he had gotten married and left the ranch, regardless of his assurance that he would stick around and continue to work for them and fix the things he had broken, they had cleaned and repaired most of the damage that was caused by his love-struck outburst. They had fixed what they could and replaced what they couldn't. A year later they were still finding destruction left over from that time. The door to the bunkhouse since then had been replaced but wasn't closing correctly and a repair in one of the beds in the bunkhouse was beginning to splinter again. Joe was going to try to repair it with another patch job, but he was afraid it wouldn't hold up too much longer before it would need replacing. Why Tolliver decided to give that bunk to Charlie, the biggest man on the roster, Little Joe would never understand.

His kin would be home within the week along with their hands and he was expected to have these projects done before their arrival. He wasn't expecting anybody before then, so he was naturally alerted when he heard someone ride into the yard.

He came out of the bunkhouse to meet the visitor.

A man with creamed coffee skin, broad chested, with a thick muscular build which he hid under a tan colored suit, sat high on a gold gelding. His cheeks were jowled and freckled, giving him the appearance of being his father's age.

"Hello Mister. Can I help you with something?"

His hair was tight curls kept short and close to his head. Light brown almost blondish but reflecting the color of his skin. His eyes, when they met his, were a ghostlike blue. The gentleman slid from his horse. He was perhaps broader than Hoss, thinner around the waist but a bit shorter than his middle brother, though not by much. He approached Joe, reaching out a gentleman's hand.

"Good morning." His voice was baritone.

With his broad size and deep voice Joe found this man to be altogether intimidating though he didn't seem like the type to just go stirring up trouble. His demeanor was calm. Deportment upright and proud, like his business here was purely professional. Joe took the gentleman's hand cautiously. After all, he was at the moment all alone and wished not to offend.

"I am looking for the master of the house."

"I'm sorry to say he isn't home quite this minute."

"Do you expect him soon?"

This stranger spoke with a thick accent. He was a foreigner of some kind. It sounded a bit like French but not entirely. There was something definitely different about it though.

"Soon enough." Joe kept his answers vague not knowing how much to divulge. "I must say that's a fine horse you've got there mister." He pointed out. An appropriate horse for the man. A stalky horse for a stalky man, Joe thought.

"Hmmm," The man grunted. "Percheron. It's a breed that comes from France."

"Well bred."

The man didn't seem in the mood for small talk. He certainly wasn't here to discuss his horse.

"I should wait for his return?" He said as sort of a question.

"You might find yourself waiting longer than you anticipated." He only said this because he felt uncomfortable with this stranger hovering about. "Perhaps there is something I could help you with." The stranger eyed Joe with scrutiny.

"Who are you, that you think you could help me?" Joe sniggered uncomfortably.

"Names Little Joe. I'm one of his son's."

The gentleman glanced over at the bunkhouse wondering why the son would have come from there. He must have concluded that this wasn't too unreasonable of a prospect.

"Awe, the youngest." This caught Joe off guard.

"You know my father then?"

"Only through stories."

"All good I hope." He said with a smile. The man offered no assurance that this was true. That feeling of eeriness was beginning to creep in. "So what is it you need?"

"Are you currently the man of the house, or is there another I should be speaking to?"

"I'm afraid, right now, it's just me." Again, Joe had admitted more than he was comfortable with, but was at a want for options.

"I have travelled a great distance searching for someone."

"My father?"

"No. But I believe it is somebody your father could help me find. Since he is not here it will have to be you."

"If I can mister. Now, just who is it you're looking for?"

"Your brother."

"My brother?" He asked astounded. "Which one?" He sniggered nervously again. "I've got two."

"Well actually, Little Joe, you've got three." Joe furrowed, wondering what poor information this man received. "Clay is it?"

He was simultaneously embarrassed that his newest brother had slipped his mind as well as bothered by the man who sought him. Last Clay was here he had made some trouble with the local miners. Though this man didn't come across as a miner. Mine owner perhaps, judging by his noble bearing. His skin color would make that less likely. "It's that third one I'm interested in."

"Yeah, what do you want with him?"

"We have some personal business to discuss."

"I regret to inform you, he doesn't live here."

"So I've heard. Perhaps you could tell me where I can find him."

"Mister, I'm not rightly sure. He left a few months back. We haven't heard from him since."

Upon Clay's departure Joe would find himself from time to time thinking of him. Wondering where he had gone to. Praying he was living the best life he could and hoping someday he would return. He wished so bad to know where he'd gone off to, if just to have peace of mind. This was one moment Joe was glad he didn't know. He wasn't one to lie, but he sure didn't want to give up his brother so easily. Not when he'd barely gotten to know of his existence. Somehow, he didn't think this man had any interest in doing Clay any good.

"That kid is a rambler. I suppose he and I have that in common. I was never the type to stay in one place for too long. Probably because the trouble I'd get into everywhere I'd land. That's another thing he and I have in common."

"You're not a miner?"

"Me? No." He said in a nice round voice.

"What's your interest in my brother?"

"I told you. We have some personal business between us."

"Did he wrong you in some way? Is that it? You're coming back to exact some revenge?"

"Now, Little Joe. You're starting to pry. Little boys who stick their nose in where it doesn't belong can wind up getting themselves in a world of hurt." Joe was taken aback by his response.

"Yeah? Well you made it my business, coming here asking about him." He shot back.

"Hm, I suppose I did." The conversation had taken a sour turn. Perhaps it was Joe who started it by asking the questions he did. It was the stranger whom slaked his demeanor. "I didn't mean any harm. You see Clay's come into a lot of money. I want to make sure he gets it." He likely would have believed him more if he started with this. Now, especially after his attack on him, he thought better of it.

"I'm sorry. I can't help you."

"It is me who is sorry," Joe was wary of the man now. "For having troubled you."

He tipped his hat and walked away with his horse. He was on the other side of the stables before he mounted up and rode out.

That was a strange interaction, but Joe was glad it was over. The man was gone without causing further trouble. In any case, he was not his trouble anymore. He was Clay's. He hoped that wherever Clay was, he'd be safe. He considered tracking him down just to warn him of the danger that was following him. Likely Clay knew already. Clay admitted as much that trouble seemed to follow him wherever he goes. This was just living proof of that.

"God speed brother. God speed."

~.~

Though the rest of the day had passed without incident, Joe had spent it mulling over the conversation he had with the stranger. The man had left him unsettled, even to the point where he considered leaving the ranch unattended just to chase after his long-lost brother. Track him down in hopes of finding him before this man did. He wasn't entirely sure this stranger was even a threat. But it was weird to have responded in the way he did. The man gave him an eerie feeling, but was he a threat to Clay?

After hours of wrestling with it in his mind, he cemented that he just could not take the risk. He'd never forgive himself if he let his newfound brother fall, knowing he could have done something to help, instead doing nothing. He had resolved that he would do everything within his power to find his long-lost brother before this man could.

Once that was settled in his mind, he just had to work out the details. He would need supplies enough for a long journey, for who knows where it would lead him. He would pack what he could tonight. Stop into town for whatever more supplies he might need and talk with the sheriff to make him aware of the situation and what he planned on doing on the matter. He hoped to illicit his aid.

After a long night of worry he awoke early the next morn. Joe, after saddling his horse preparing to make the trip into town, had brought Cochise out and was letting her drink from the trough. This was where he had left her, walking back to the house.

He had one more task to complete before he could set out. That was to leave a note for his pa, informing him of everything that had transpired and what he planned to do of it. According to their last telegram, they were due back within the week. They would receive it then. He left his gun belt and jacket on the table. He'd write the note, grab his gear and walk out. That was the last he'd planned on being home for as long as it would take.

Before he could make it inside however, the sound of a running steed stopped his progression.

Somehow, he had expected the stranger from yesterday but in his place was a petite little girl. Well, young woman at least. The horse she rode skid to a stop. Her presence and haste threw him off. He wasn't sure how to address her. She addressed first.

"Little Joe?"

"Yes. Ma'am." He replied wiping his hands on his trousers preparing to take hers in his.

"Get inside." She too had an accent. Though clearly not the same as yesterday's stranger.

"Excuse me?" He smirked his response.

"Don't ask questions just go." She was clearly agitated.

"What?"

She opened her mouth as if to speak but was silenced by the horses riding in behind her. "I'm sorry." She draws her gun and aims it at Joe. He stepped back in a shrill of fear. He was about to be executed and he had no idea why.

"Woah woah woah. Stop!"

She hesitated pulling the trigger. It was not Joe's pleas which stopped her. It were the new companions who were riding into the yard. Her attention was drawn to the horses that came in behind hers. Though she didn't break eye contact with Joe, nor lower the gun, she slighted her head ever so to acknowledge their coming. The large Mulato that was here yesterday was with another man Joe has never seen before. White? No. Possibly Spaniard, like the girl. The Spaniard slid from his horse slowly approaching the girl.

"Ma'am just put down the gun." The Spaniard had an accent too. One that didn't seem so much as Spanish though.

The Mulato slipped from his horse as well.

"I will not. I do not care if you kill me. I will kill him first."

The men glanced at each other. Perhaps they didn't know the girl after all. Lawmen he was beginning to get the impression otherwise why would they care to save him? It was by heavens chance that these men showed when they did. For there was no one in the house. The bunkhouse was empty too. The question remains, will they be able to stop what was about to happen to him?

"Why? What is your purpose for this?" The Spaniard asked.

"Revenge. Something special was taken from me." They look to Little Joe. It wasn't true. He wanted to tell them but was afraid to speak out of turn. "His brother kill my father. It is righteous for me to kill him."

This was all so confusing to Joe, who was just trying to understand why there was a gun to his head. Furthermore, why a little girl was behind it.

"Ma'am, I think you and I may be after the same thing." This cemented Joe's lawman theory, but he was beginning to think not Spaniard. French. He sounded French.

"Don't ma'am me. How could you possibly know what it is I want?"

"You've been looking for Clay? We too are looking for him."

Lawman. Must be lawman. Not the Mulato though. He couldn't be lawman. Who was he to the Frenchman?

"You? Why you?"

"If you put down the gun, we can talk."

"No. Answer my question."

She jabs the gun in the air, barrel at Joe's face, as a threat. She was being awfully cavalier with the thing. One flinch of the finger and Joe would be a goner. He looked to the others, these strangers to get him out. They were his only hope.

"Money. Clay has come into a bit of it."

They weren't lawmen.

"By cheating and lying." Came her response. "The dirty scoundrel."

"Maybe some, but he is an heir to a whole lot more. He just doesn't know it yet."

Attorneys?

"So, you want to give him money?"

"We want to take it."

What color Joe had, washed from his face. The men who were here to save him, were never here for honorable intentions.

"You want to take money from him he doesn't know he has? That is the stupidest thing I have heard."

"Not as stupid as killing a man before you can get what's owed to you."

"What are you talking about?"

"What do you think we're talking about? Money."

"Money? What should I care of money?"

"We can make you a rich woman."

"I don't care to be rich. I just want revenge."

They rambled their way through trying to convince her, but she was lost in her head thinking of her own advantage.

"You might be right. Your brother cheated my father out of some money in a poker game. My father died when he called him on it. I want that money back. The money he died for."

"How much is that?" The Frenchman asked.

"2 hundred dollars."

"2 hundred, great. We can do that."

"I don't want it from you. I want it from him. From Clay. Can you do that?"

"We can work together to do that."

"I will take that money, then I will take his life."

"You want to kill him? Even after you get your money?"

"I did not think of this before. He owe my father 2 hundred. I will take it. But he owe my father more than this. He owe my father his life. A life for a life. This to me is worth more. If I cannot have this, then there is no deal."

"I think if we work together, we can all get what we want."

"How do you propose?"

"This boy is Clay's only living relative." The Mulato shifted. "We use this boy to make him give us what we want."

Joe suddenly understood his role in this. They vied for his life only because they needed him to get to Clay.

"You not be playing with me?"

"Very much, I think we can be partners."

"You are French?"

"Yes. I am French and he is Haitian."

"A Frenchman and a Haitian? Very interesting connection."

"And now a Spaniard. That's if you'll join us."

"Not Spaniard." She corrected "Mexicano."

"Mexican. All the better. How about it? Are you with us?" She considered. "Lower the gun. Isn't it getting a bit heavy?" It took a bit longer as she considered.

"Call me fool but I will trust you." She lowered the pistol and stood upright. "I do not trust easily, so this say much." She said facing her new compadres. "But if you betray me. I do not forget easily either. I have long memory."

"We've gathered." The Frenchman answered. "What is your name?"

"Maria."

Joe saw his chance as they were occupied with introductions, he was currently not their focus. He barreled through her darting for his horse. He took the chance they wouldn't shoot him. They wanted him alive. This didn't make it any less nerve racking. He jumped on top his saddle and turned Cochise, kicking her on. Cochise responded readily, bolting out but Joe was stopped. He was grabbed and pulled backwards out of the saddle as Cochise kept going. He hit the ground in a heavy thud pushing the air from his lungs.

Feeling her master leave the saddle Cochise had strolled a few paces and stopped down a way waiting for direction.

"That bastard."

The Mexican cursed picking herself off the floor and charged in a fiery temper to Joe who was underneath the weight of the Haitian struggling for control.

"You rat bastard!" She spurned, rolling her R's.

She kicked at him, getting shoulder first, then head, but by the second kick Joe had his arms up protecting his head. The Haitian too protected Joe from her wild kicks, batting away her strikes as they came, so the kicks hardly made contact as the Haitian shielded Joe. The Frenchman got in front of her pulling her away from the insolent young man.

"Let me have him!" She demanded, shouting and cursing.

"We've got him in our control. Let's not go spoiling the fun too soon." The Frenchman mollified.

"Disrespect me. I will show you what happens."

She was talking to Joe as she dusted herself off, but it was the Frenchman who answered.

"I believe you, but not now. You'll get your chance."

"Filthy rat bastard."

She spit, like a guy would spit. Clearing the dirt from her mouth or displaying her disgust. She stood proper again and reached for her hat which was knocked off her head in the assault. Dusted it off before placing it proudly.

"Alright. I am with you. What is your plan?"