Seven

Two days later, the chilly morning air held a bite to it as Roan pulled himself into the saddle of his borrowed horse. His body screamed with pain, and it was all he could do to stifle a groan. Even in the saddle, he tried to pretend every muscle wasn’t quivering like a horse ridden too hard. Sweat popped out on his forehead from the exertion.

While he took control of his rebellious body, he took a last look around the large compound. His gaze swept to the bunkhouse, corral, barn, and the two dwellings. Another building appeared to be a small smithy. He thought it odd that the kitchen of the main house faced the compound. That was the entrance everyone used rather than the front of the house. That said they were casual people.

It was pretty here. And peaceful. Trees, tall and thick, grew on each side of the gate.

Movement caught his attention as Marley strode from the headquarters. She smiled up at Roan, gripping her shawl tighter around her. “Will you come back, Mr. Penny?”

Roan stared at the dark hair that curled possessively around her shoulders, remembering how silky it had felt when he’d touched it. She was beautiful, possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and had kind ways. Whoever married her and lived on the Aces ’n’ Eights would be a lucky, lucky man.

“Would you care if I didn’t, Marley Rose McClain?” He found himself unable to move from her dark gaze.

Her face turned somber. “A great deal. It would pain me if you didn’t—if I never knew what happened to you.”

Proof that someone cared about him shattered his inner calm. He hadn’t expected to find that anywhere, not truly. But especially not with this woman.

“I’m not sure of my plans. I guess it depends on what happens when I get to Mose’s.” He glanced down at his clothes. Everything he had on—from his wool shirt and trousers to the thick jacket and hat—was borrowed. “Appreciate the clothes.”

“You’re welcome. Nothing much was left of those you came with.” She rested a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. The sleepy-eyed boy had stolen from the house to say his farewells.

“Bye, Matt,” Roan said. “You take care now and don’t chase after too many girls.”

“I won’t, Mr. Penny.” Matthew giggled, then asked, “Are you still blind in your eye?”

“A little, but it’s getting better.” Roan could see Marley a whole lot clearer. He wished he knew how to tell her what her kindness to him had meant. Maybe the letter he’d left for her would suffice.

Jessie McClain handed her husband a heavy burlap sack. “Here’s some food, honey. Come home safe.”

Roan watched Duel’s lazy smile and saw the couple’s gazes lock. How would it be to have a wife to love him like that?

“I intend to, darlin’.” Duel pulled Jessie close and kissed her.

Roan watched Jessie curl her arm around her husband’s neck, then he quickly turned away to give them privacy. Though he’d been young when his mother died, he had no memories of his father showing her a speck of consideration, much less love. Duel and Jessie’s passionate kiss and their little furtive touches only sharpened the contrast to the stark bleakness of Roan’s life. Mose had rarely spoken of life with his wife, but the few times he had, reverence had filled his voice. This must be what the lonely man had tried to explain to Roan.

This sort of love was the farthest thing possible from the brothels where Roan had sometimes gone when the long, lonely nights clawed at him. He’d only done it a handful of times, repulsed by the cheap perfume and fake laughter. Afterward, he’d gotten drunk on rotgut whiskey, trying to forget the sadness that washed over him.

“I’ll be back before you miss me,” Duel told Jessie.

Jessie’s satisfied sigh told Roan he could safely look again.

“Now get on up there, honey,” Jessie said. “The quicker you leave, the quicker you can ride back.” She turned to Roan and reached up to shake his hand. “Mr. Penny, it was a pleasure. I hope you’ll ride back with my husband. You’re welcome here.”

“Thank you, ma’am. And also for patching me up,” Roan answered.

“You should still be in bed, but I reckon you know what you’re able to do.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be fine.”

“Keep a candle burning in the window, Jess.” Duel patted his wife’s bottom and mounted up.

“I always do, dear.”

Somehow, Roan didn’t think her words pertained to tallow and flame.

“I hope you get your friend buried without any trouble.” Marley reached to shake Roan’s hand. “I’m just glad my father is going along.”

He was too, even though this was his fight and not Duel McClain’s. Still, Roan was practical above all else and knew he was in no shape to take on the hooded gang by himself just yet.

“I can’t very well talk to him unless I go, Marley Rose.” Duel glanced at Roan.

The words ran through Roan, sparking his curiosity. He hadn’t known the big rancher long at all, but he’d already learned that the man divvied up his words in fits and starts, not speaking until he had something to say. Whatever it was could bear hearing. Mose had taught him that it paid to listen to wise elders.

With Marley, Jessie, and a few of the children waving as they left, they rode out toward San Saba County.

Roan loped beside Duel’s black gelding, trying to lessen the jolts to his battered body. “You have something in mind, sir?”

“I answer to Duel. It’ll wait a bit I reckon.”

The informal use of first names reminded Roan of Mose, and look what had happened to him. “I prefer to keep things as they are.”

“Whatever suits you, son.”

They rode east, cutting a trail along the Colorado River before turning south. An hour later, they stopped at a wide creek to rest the horses. Roan clamped his lips together to keep a sharp cry from escaping when he dismounted, then stumbled away from the water’s edge to lie in the shade of a live oak. The ride was giving his battered body another beating, and he’d be hard-pressed to continue.

Duel dropped to the ground and made himself comfortable against the same tree trunk. “Come work for me,” he said out of the blue.

The offer stunned Roan. “Pardon me, but you don’t appear in need of another ranch hand.” From what Marley had said, the rancher already had a full bunkhouse.

“You’re wrong. One up and quit yesterday, rode out last night. And Hardy Gage is getting up in years, even though the stubborn cuss won’t admit it.” Duel removed his hat and wiped his forehead with a faded bandana. “I can use a man like you who’s willing to work. It would sure help me out.”

Working cattle would be a welcome change from planting crops that shriveled and died under the Texas sun. He had an obligation to Mose first, but even so, the offer intrigued him. And working on the ranch would let him get better acquainted with Marley Rose. He had an idea of how to help get her books in print.

“You’d trust a hard-luck drifter? I’ve been between hay and grass all my life, sir.” And had learned to make do with the little he had. Still, what was wrong with being flush for a while?

“I’m a good judge of character, and you remind me of myself when I was younger. A little over twenty years ago, after burying my first wife, Annie, and my stillborn son, I saddled my horse and drifted from town to town. I didn’t have two cents to my name or much care about staying alive. In fact, I prayed to die. Thank God I found Jess, and she and Marley Rose gave me a reason to live again.” Duel glanced toward a gaggle of geese dropping from the sky onto the water downstream. Roan followed his gaze to the birds taking their rest before they resumed their flight south for the winter.

Maybe that’s what he needed to do. Take a break and work on the Aces ’n’ Eights while he regained his strength.

“Mind if I think on your offer? I have a friend to bury first, then I’ll go from there.” One thing at a time was all he could promise.

“Sure. Take as long as you want.” Duel opened the burlap bag beside him and handed Roan a cold biscuit and a slice of ham before reaching for his own.

Roan watched the rancher carefully. Duel appeared rock solid in everything he did. Roan had seen a few men like him and always admired them. They had honor and decency. Duel sure as hell wasn’t like Blackie Culpepper, his outlaw father. McClain would fight to keep every single one of his children. That was the right kind of man in Roan’s book.

Soon it was time to ride. The rest wasn’t near long enough, but Roan climbed back into the saddle, anxious to be at Mose’s place. All sorts of things raced through his mind, mostly questions about what was laying in store.

Twilight was still an hour away when they reached the small homestead. Shadows of the burned-out hulk of the cabin writhed across the ground. Roan’s gaze went to the figure of his friend, lying where he’d fallen. No one had had the decency to move him. Vultures feasting on the bloated figure shrieked in protest before rising reluctantly into the sky.

The stench of decayed flesh filled Roan’s nostrils. He reached for his borrowed bandana and held it to his mouth and nose. Grief overtook him, and he knelt beside the still form of the man who’d taken him in and shared what little he’d had. Tears ran down Roan’s cheeks, and his shoulders shook with sobs.

“Mose, I’m sorry it took me so long to get back. Judgment day is coming for those murdering scum, I promise you that.” Roan wiped his eyes. “I won’t rest until I get them all.”

Duel looped the reins of his horse over a tree limb. “I reckon I’ll find a shovel in the barn. We need to get him into the ground.”

“Yeah.” Roan shot a glance toward the barn, the only structure left standing. Thick memories circled him like bees buzzing around their hive. Every second of the attack came back with crystal clarity. The face of the one man he’d seen. The smell of fear and despair. The voices he knew he’d recognize again. He finally stood. It was time to get to work.

Duel plucked a Bowie knife and hat from the dirt. “These yours?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Roan wiped the dried blood from the knife on a thatch of nut grass and stuck it into his boot. Then adjusted the hat on his head.

While Duel headed to the barn, Roan went to his horse for the blanket he’d brought from the ranch. He wrapped Mose in it and secured it with a length of rope.

Duel emerged with a shovel and a piece of an old quilt. “I don’t know why this was in the barn, but maybe it meant something to your friend.”

Roan closed his eyes as memories swirled of the way Mose had thrown his wife’s quilt around his thin shoulders the night before the raid, saying he felt her near. Roan tucked the memory away and went to take the quilt sewn by Mose’s wife’s hand. “Mose would want to be buried with that.”

After wrapping the quilt around the blanket-clad body, they eased Mose over the borrowed horse and walked toward the family cemetery. A little while later, as the shadows deepened, they laid the gentle man into the newly-dug grave beside his wife and children and covered him with dirt. Roan imagined the happy reunion that had taken place when Mose flew up to his family that terrible night. He could almost hear Mose’s deep laugh that had seemed to come all the way from his toes.

Thinking of Mose’s happiness instead of the way he’d died made the day a little more bearable. Almost.

He and Mose had shared happy times. They’d read each other’s moods by the look in their eyes, not by words. Roan knew he’d never have another friend like Mose Mozeke. So he remained with his head bowed, and told him how much his friendship had meant.

Duel stood reverently until Roan finished, then put a hand on his back. “It’ll be dark soon. How about we make a fire, get coffee boiling, and eat something?”

“I have to find my horse first—if those riders left her.”

“I’ll help you look. Where do you think she might be?”

“Antelope Creek. She loves the wild rye that grows along the banks. I left her there with Mose’s mule. That ornery mule never would go in the barn, so Mose usually let it roam around.”

“Lead the way. We’ll find them if they’re there. At least they won’t be hungry.”

Roan tugged up the collar of his jacket and set off for the creek, with Duel beside him. The ride and then the burial had sapped his strength. If he didn’t lie down soon, he’d fall. But the creek wasn’t far, and they were soon there.

The mare began snorting and raising Cain before Roan even got near. Roan hurried his pace when Shadow came into view, ignoring the driving pain. He threw his arms around her neck and pressed his face against her hide. That horse was pitiful looking, but to his eyes, she was the prettiest animal he’d ever seen. A thatch of dark gray mane fell over her eyes, and one ear lay folded over where it’d been damaged before Roan got her. Shadow’s dappled gray body quivered, and she nickered softly in welcome.

“You’re not much to look at, girl, but I’ll sure claim you,” Roan said. She was worth little to others and probably wouldn’t get a second glance. Maybe that’s why the raiders had left her.

Duel must’ve sensed that Roan was hurting too badly to swing up on his own and helped him onto Shadow’s back. Roan rode her to the burned-out cabin while Duel brought the other two and the mule.

Later, after they’d eaten, Roan lay next to the fire, satisfied with the outcome of the journey. He’d taken care of Mose, found his hat, knife, and horse. Tomorrow, he’d look for his Colt among the ashes.

His glance slid to McClain, sitting by the fire on a stump, holding a cup of coffee. “Thanks for coming, sir. I was in no shape to do this alone.”

“Glad to help.”

That the man had dropped everything to help a stranger, in the midst of dealing with losing his cattle, amazed Roan. He’d imagined men like Mose were too rare to find another, but it looked as if—in this, at least—his luck was holding steady.

Duel rose and stared out toward the town of San Saba. “Some real bad stuff started here in 1880, and lasted until three years ago when the Texas Rangers rode in. A mob of men who hated former slaves and white abolitionists ruled the town. They lynched and burned and took whatever they wanted. By the time it was all said and done, a whole lot of people died.”

“I didn’t hear anything about that.” Roan’s ears perked up. “Do you think what happened here was connected?”

“There are always pockets of resistance after that type of hate burns into a man’s soul and can change him into someone he doesn’t know. There’s bound to be resistance by broken men unwilling to change.” Duel turned. “Mose’s killing has all the markings of the same type of crimes that occurred back then. That mob wore hoods too. I think it’s possible the two bunches could belong to the same faction.” He released a troubled sigh. “God help us if it’s a new group.”

The rancher’s words chilled Roan. “You should be safe, seeing as your ranch is in McCullough County.”

“Son, no place was safe back then. The war—and that’s exactly what it was—spilled over into every county around. It might still be raging hot if not for Walter Early and Sheriff Charley Bell of Brown County. They stood up to the group of terrorizing bastards. They were the ones who called in the Texas Rangers and quelled the violence. Yep, it was bad stuff.”

Long after Duel climbed into his bedroll, Roan lay there, listening to the sounds of the night, reliving his own horror. The carnage and the flames flashed through him like jagged bolts of lightning each time he closed his eyes.

Mob rule left no one safe.

Surrounded by the heavy night shadows, Roan glanced toward the house and thought he saw Mose smiling in the blackened doorway. Maybe he was trying to tell Roan not to worry, or reassure him that he was in a better place now, free from pain and loneliness. Or it could have been nothing more than a trick of the light.

One thing Roan knew. Mob rule or not, he was hell-bent on making them pay.