Chapter Two
Little Rock, Arkansas
April 1868
Cash Coulter paced back and forth in the small study at the home of his friend, Stephen Ramsey, hands on his hips as he thought about the situation. “It’s obvious someone close to you is feeding the rustlers information. One of your men, or…” His voice trailed off, not liking the direction his thoughts were taking him.
“Or who?” Stephen turned from where he leaned against a window frame, looking out at the charred barn. Another reminder of the attacks he’d experienced over the last several months.
He’d fought off pitying looks, denials of work, and those who sought to take advantage of a man they considered a cripple since losing a leg at the Battle of Atlanta. Through it all, he’d married Helen, his childhood sweetheart, moved his growing family to Arkansas, and found contentment raising cattle and tending their farm. A few months ago, raiders began targeting his land, feeling secure a man such as him couldn’t resist their attacks. It had taken Helen’s prodding before he relented and contacted his old friend, requesting the help Cash had offered in those last moments before Stephen’s service to the Confederacy ended.
Cash shoved his hands in his pockets, not wanting to voice the suspicions rooted in his gut.
“Are you going to tell me what’s eating at you, Captain, or make me guess?”
Shaking his head, Cash stepped beside Stephen, clasping him on the shoulder. “I haven’t been your captain for a long time. Just a friend.”
The corners of his lips twitched. “Fine. As my friend, tell me who you think is behind the rustling.”
“Who is the one person who’d like to see you fail?”
Stephen’s face went slack as the implication of Cash’s words sank in. Casting his gaze down to his missing leg, he fisted both hands.
He’d always been strong and determined to succeed. The loss of a leg and only partial use of his left arm didn’t stop him from marrying the girl he’d loved since they were children, chasing each other around the schoolyard. His parents loved Helen. Her father tolerated Stephen, not hiding the fact he believed his daughter could do much better than the son of a poor dirt farmer.
Returning from battle as a cripple intensified the man’s objections to Stephen wedding his only daughter. Nevertheless, the marriage happened, followed by one son and a life as far away from Helen’s father as she’d allow.
“He’s still in Tennessee. Never made a single attempt to visit Helen or his grandson. I can’t imagine why he’d care after all this time.”
Cash crossed his arms, leaning against the desk. “You can’t? What of her grandmother’s will?”
Stephen’s face twisted in disgust as he pushed away from the wall. “Helen doesn’t get the inheritance for four more years when she turns twenty-six. I’ve already told her I don’t want any part of it. The money will be in her name to do with as she wants.”
“I’ve been here almost a month. It’s a small house, hard to ignore even private conversations. Helen’s made no secret of her desire to be closer to her father now that her mother is dead. Maybe he’s trying to make her wish a reality.” Cash watched emotions play across Stephen’s face, hating the pain he saw. “Think about it. The rustlers tend to scatter your herd rather than take them. The one time we ran across the gang, they shot over our heads. No one is as bad a shot as those men. The fires have all been set away from the house, causing little damage. And they’ve hit no other ranches. Maybe they don’t want to harm you, but are just sending you a message—trying to frighten you into leaving.”
“Sending me a message?”
“That’s what my gut is telling me.”
Stephen’s breathing became labored as he absorbed Cash’s words. He didn’t believe Helen would be involved. The same belief didn’t hold true for her father. If she’d written him, indicated how much she missed him, his father-in-law might take action, hiring thugs to intimidate Stephen into selling. He rubbed his eyes, feeling tired and beaten down.
“The only way to know for sure is to capture one of the men and make him talk,” Cash continued. “At some point, you, Helen, or someone else will be a victim, whether intentional or not. I can track them and bring one back.” He’d been a bounty hunter after the war, then became a deputy in Splendor, Montana. His tracking skills were sought after by lawmen and business owners who needed those services.
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Trust me. Those men won’t be hard to find. I’ll leave after supper.” Cash walked toward the door, turning at Stephen’s response.
“No. If that’s what is needed, we both go. This is my problem. I won’t let you ride out alone.”
“Son of a…” Stephen cursed when Cash pointed out the fire in a canyon not far from the ranch. He counted five men. “How did you know where to find them?”
“Their tracks were easy to follow. My guess is they move their camp after each raid.” Cash’s gaze followed one man in particular. He seemed to keep his distance from the others sitting around the fire playing cards and joking. Even when he settled near the campfire, he planted himself away from the rest of the gang. “The one closest to the horses is who we want.”
“Why him?” Stephen turned toward Cash, his brows raised.
“He appears to be a loner. They may not notice him missing as soon as someone else.” Cash thought a moment, his eyes focused on his target. “It may be hard to break him, though.” His experience told him the quiet ones who kept to themselves were often the most difficult to crack. They had an internal pride, some private code which secured their silence.
Stephen nodded, understanding. They’d do what needed to be done in order to obtain the information they wanted, even if it meant extracting a little blood.
“You get some sleep, Stephen. I’ll wake you after they’ve all bunked down. We’ll make our move then.”
Cash took a position so he could keep watch on the camp and the surrounding area. He watched his friend lower himself onto the ground, Stephen’s right leg supporting his weight as he shifted on the wooden prosthesis he wore on his left. The hinged knee and ankle allowed him more stability when riding, but Cash knew the contraption slowed him down when performing many normal activities. Stephen preferred his crutch most of the time.
Observing how he struggled, Cash made a decision, knowing Stephen wouldn’t like it. Then again, he wouldn’t like many of the decisions Cash had made since the war.
If Stephen truly understood the man Cash had become, he wouldn’t want him anywhere near his wife and son. The man Stephen knew during the war hadn’t drawn a clean breath since the Battle of Atlanta. He’d been replaced by someone Cash seldom recognized. A darker, somber, damaged version of the man he’d been before all the battles, endless carnage, broken souls, and twisted humanity that greeted him each morning.
Only one man knew of the changes in Cash, the dark side no one else saw, and he’d take his knowledge to the grave. Beau Davis, his fellow deputy in Splendor, had lived through a similar hell. Unlike Cash, he’d been able to keep his inner rage under control, not letting it defeat him. His work as a bounty hunter hadn’t lessened the violence buried within him. Neither had his work as a deputy in Splendor, a town he’d grown to love. If Gabe Evans and others in the town had any idea of the demons he kept hidden, he knew his days as a small town deputy would come to an end, along with any peace he’d been able to find.
Waiting until he heard Stephen’s deep breathing and the men in the camp bedded down, Cash made his way through the thick stand of trees. They’d made their camp along the Arkansas River, a few miles downstream from Stephen’s ranch. The dense brush provided the perfect cover for what he hoped would be an easy job of convincing the man hunched alone, yards from the others, to abandon his friends.
Getting to within a foot of the man, his gun drawn, Cash tapped him on the shoulder. His head whipped around, only to be greeted by a hard fist, then another. He dragged the unconscious man away from the camp, stopping once to stuff a bandanna in his mouth and tie his hands behind him.
Cash muttered a curse as he began to tire. The man was much larger and heavier than he first suspected. Breaking through the trees, he came to a halt at the look in his friend’s eyes.
“What the hell? You should’ve woken me.” Stephen stared at the unconscious man before locking his gaze on Cash. Standing, he shifted his weight to his right leg, adjusted the prosthesis on his left, then walked toward the man who now moaned as he regained consciousness. Yanking the bandanna from his mouth, he stepped back and waited.
Shaking his head, he looked up at the men towering over him. Staring, he focused on Cash’s face.
“Captain?”
Cash’s eyes widened. Dropping to a crouch, he took a good look at the man he’d disabled and dragged through the dirt, cursing when recognition hit.
“Wyatt?” He mumbled another curse. “What the hell are you doing riding with this bunch?” Cash stood, helping him up and untying his hands.
“Here.” Stephen handed Wyatt a flask filled with whiskey.
Wyatt tipped it back, taking a swallow.
“Ramsey? I thought you died at the Battle of Atlanta.” Wyatt took one more swig, then handed the flask back.
“Not hardly, Jackson. Those Union bastards took my leg, not my life.” Stephen glared at him. They’d both been first lieutenants under Cash’s command, although their duties couldn’t have been more different. Stephen commanded an infantry platoon, while Wyatt Jackson handled special assignments known only to Cash and his superiors. Stephen always suspected the jobs included spying and assassinations, but he’d never asked.
“Wyatt, answer my question. What are you doing with those rustlers?” Cash’s patience had ended. He needed answers.
“I’m not with them, Captain. I’ve been watching the gang for several weeks. There’s a bounty out on one of them and I aim to collect it.” He rubbed his jaw, wincing at the lump already forming. Swearing, he looked at Cash. “Did you have to hit me so hard?”
Cash ignored the question, letting the information Wyatt provided roll over in his mind.
“What’s he wanted for?”
“Murder and robbery in Tennessee.” Wyatt nodded toward the camp. “I couldn’t get him alone and didn’t want to face the entire gang, so I decided the best approach was to join them. I met up with them a few nights ago.” He glanced over Cash’s shoulder toward the camp. “You know, it won’t be long before they notice I’m gone.”
Cash moved so he could see the camp, watching as one man stood to toss another log on the fire, not bothering to look around before returning to his bedroll.
“What do you know about them?” Cash crossed his arms, narrowing his gaze at Wyatt.
“Besides being wanted for murder? Not much. All served the Confederacy, then banded up after the war ended. They rustle cattle, robbing a stage or bank when it suits them. Someone hired them to scare a local rancher—encourage him to sell out.”
Cash shot a look at Stephen. It had been over a week since the last raid on his place.
“Do you have a name of who hired them?” Stephen asked.
“No. I didn’t ask. I’m not here to dig into their business. All I want is to get the man I’m after and ride out.” Wyatt scowled, then scrubbed a hand along his stubbled jaw. The last few months had been a nightmare. “He attacked my sister and murdered her husband.” He let out a breath, taking a few steps away, his face showing the misery he felt. “I’d gone into town for a drink and a few hands of cards. I got tangled up with one of the women and didn’t make it back to the farm until late. I found my sister huddled in a corner, her dress torn, blood all over her.” He looked up, his eyes haunted in a way Cash had seen many times during the war. “He raped her, then murdered my brother-in-law. She killed herself a week later.” His voice broke and he turned away from them.
During the war, Cash had given Wyatt orders that would haunt most men, but he carried them out without comment. He’d never shown an ounce of emotion—until this attack on his family. Cash didn’t need to dig too deep to know how Wyatt felt. His family had also been slain by raiders while tending their Louisiana farm. Tracking them, he’d felt the initial satisfaction of revenge, followed by lengthy bouts of depression and anger. Even now, Cash fought to keep his demons from consuming his life.
“You don’t intend to take him in, do you?” Cash already knew the answer.
Wyatt turned, his face contorted in pain. “No, Captain, I don’t.”
Cash walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Trust me, Wyatt. Revenge won’t help.”
His tortured eyes met Cash’s. “You won’t talk me out of this, Captain.”
“I’m no longer your captain, but I am your friend. We won’t stop you from your mission, but I’m asking for something in return.”
Wyatt’s eyes widened. “What’s that?”
“Stephen’s farm is the one the gang is raiding. We need to know who put them up to it.”
“We need a name,” Stephen added.
Wyatt moved up to within inches of Cash’s face. “If I get you a name, you’ll let me ride out with my man?”
“Yes.”
Wyatt nodded, saying nothing more. Turning away, he moved silently through the darkness to rejoin the men who still slept, unaware of his absence. Slumping against a tree, he stared at the man who’d caused the deaths of two people he loved. Glancing over his shoulder in the direction where Cash and Stephen kept watch, he vowed to get the name and ride out of Arkansas with the man he’d come for all within a few days. He’d grown weary of the hunt. It was time to complete his duty and find the justice he sought.