Bittner, Rosanne (42 page)

Tess
sighed, rubbing her hand across her forehead. "I don't know about murder,
Harriet. I... overheard him in his study one night, talking with Casey Dunlap
and Sheriff Higgins." She told Harriet all of it, praying she was not
ruining John's plans by doing so. "Jim Caldwell might not have pulled the
trigger himself, but I have no doubt he would dearly like to see my husband
dead. Personally, I believe Casey Dunlap shot him. But we might never be able
to prove that. One thing John
does
want to prove is that... that your
husband is behind a good deal of the cattle rustling that has taken place in
west Texas. He was strangely upset when my husband caught and killed Derrek
Briggs and his gang." She blinked back her own tears. "I'm sorry,
Harriet. If John gets the evidence he is after and this whole thing comes to
court, I will have to testify to what I heard. There is no doubt in my mind
your husband has been rustling cattle, probably selling them in Mexico, where
it would be easier. I couldn't go to the Rangers with my story because Jim
Caldwell is too highly respected in these parts. No one would have believed me
without definite proof, and I knew your husband was too smart to leave any
evidence anyplace on his own land, namely the stolen cattle. He has to be
caught some other way, and that is what John is trying to do."

She
met Harriet's gaze, seeing the deep hurt in the woman's eyes.

"You
don't have to leave El Paso. Your women friends won't desert you, Harriet. Most
of the women in these parts have been through their own hells of one kind or another.
I... I discovered something about my own first husband that devastated me. He
was a complete coward when the farm was raided. He hid under the bed while I
fought off those Comancheros all alone. He never even came out to help when
they set the house on fire and dragged me off. I guess that is part of the
reason John Hawkins became so easy to love. He was all courage and daring. He
made me feel so safe."

Harriet
slowly nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. "This land has a way of
making men ruthless, Tess. But it was the war that made my husband ruthless.
When you send a ruthless, desperate man into a land where there is basically no
law but those he sets for himself, you end up with a man who hardly knows right
from wrong anymore. The fact that the Indian situation was much worse when we
first came here only made matters worse. It hardened him even more. I hardly
know the man now, but then, in many ways I never did." She quickly wiped
at another tear.

"What
will you do?"

Harriet
took a deep breath. "I will leave."

"He'll
want to know why."

"And
I will tell him. I just won't tell him how I know." She took her fur cape
from the chair. "Will you testify against him?"

Tess
stood up. "If I am asked, I won't have any choice."

Harriet
nodded, hooking the front of the cape. "I understand. And I won't blame
you. I thought about begging you not to, but I have a feeling he will be found
out anyway. And men like my husband can't keep running Texas. He calls those
like your own husband violent and uncivilized, but his own behavior is no
different." She picked up her gloves. "I just don't know how I will
explain this to our sons, or what I will do with the ranch. I suppose I will
have to hire an attorney and sell the place."

"You
don't know yet what will happen, Harriet."

"I
do know." Harriet turned and walked around the table to the kitchen
archway. "I will think of you often, Tess Hawkins."

Tess
walked a little closer. "And I will remember you and pray for you,
Harriet." She walked the woman to the door, and Harriet stopped and
glanced at the cradle. The baby's little hands were flailing about, one foot
sticking up in the air where it had come out from under the blanket. He was
making tiny gurgling noises. She looked at Tess.

"I
am considered a wealthy woman, Tess. But you are wealthy in your own way. You
have a strength I never had, and great courage and daring, just like the man
you married. He isn't really the father, is he?"

The
remark startled Tess, but it was spoken calmly, and with surprising sympathy.
Tess studied Harriet for several silent seconds. "No. A woman often simply
does what she must."

Harriet
smiled sadly. "Yes, she does. I hope you have at least learned to love the
man."

Such
curious questions. "I love him very much. And John loves me."

"Then
you are a lucky woman. I never did learn to love my husband, and I am not so
sure he ever did love me." She turned and opened the door. "Don't
worry. I will keep your little secret."

She
walked out, and Tess went to the doorway. She watched Harriet climb into the
buggy. "Goodbye, Harriet," she said softly. She waved, but the other
woman did not look back.

"There
they are!" John watched the herd of cattle snaking its way along the
Conchos. "Eight men. There are only eight men." He could taste
victory, feel Tess in his arms.

"I'll
be damned," Ken muttered. "All this time I still couldn't hardly
believe it. I mean I did, but you know... Jim Caldwell, of all people. I don't
reckon we'll be lucky enough to see him down there."

"Hell,
no. He's home pretending to be a good citizen of Texas. But you can bet Casey
Dunlap is down there!"

They
could hear whistles and calls now as the rustlers urged the cattle to keep
moving.

"You
just remember we
need
Dunlap," Ken warned.

John
felt on fire with hatred and revenge. "I'll remember." He had ridden
from Camargo to Juarez to wire Fort Bliss, telling Captain Booth to send help
to Fire Canyon at the northern end of the Conchos. Thank God he'd gotten the
information he needed early enough to have time to make the long trip back to
Juarez and to the Conchos before Dunlap arrived. If he had not come to Mexico
early in the winter, he never would have found the information he needed in
time. The long ride to Juarez had been tiring. He'd ridden practically night
and day, and he'd had to board Sundance at Juarez and rent another horse, after
nearly riding Sundance to death.

He
was still weak himself, and his ribs were hurting. He wondered if he would
always have this pain whenever he strained himself physically; but right now he
knew the pain was worth what he was seeing.

"This
is the real prize, Ken," he said quietly.

Both
men watched the procession from a cluster of boulders on the hillside along the
river. Their horses were tied a few yards below the hill out of sight, where
four other Rangers waited.

"I
have the letter I told you about, signed by Caldwell himself," John said.
"But Dunlap is our real key. I'll finally have the proof I need to nail
Jim Caldwell!"

Ken
spit a wad of tobacco at a grasshopper. "You've been workin' on this a
long time. You must be anxious to get home to that wife of yours." Both
men waited for the men and cattle to move farther into the canyon.

"She
must have had the baby by now," John commented. "I promised her I'd
be back before that happened."

"Oh,
I expect she'll forgive you."

"I
don't know. It's going to be hard on her, considering the circumstances."

"A
baby is a baby. All women love babies. Don't matter where they come from or
even if they ain't the most perfect baby they ever seen."

"Yeah,
well I'll still feel better when I'm with her. Let's go."

They
both remained crouched as they moved back down to their horses.

"Remember,
Dunlap is the one with the snakeskin boots," John reminded the other four
men. "A couple of you know him by sight. He's tall and thin, and I expect
he'll be riding at the front of the others. Be careful who you shoot at. Much
as I'd like to slice his heart out myself, we've got to take Dunlap
alive."

"Them
ain't words I ever thought I'd hear
you
say," Ken returned.

The
others grinned and mounted their horses. "We'll watch out for
Dunlap," one of them told John. "He's all yours, Hawk."

They
headed for the north end of the canyon, where they would chase the rustlers
toward the south end. Ken and John would be waiting for them. There would be no
room for escape.

Ken
and John headed south and waited behind thick underbrush as the outfit of men
and cattle gradually came their way. After several long, anxious minutes, both
men pulled out their rifles and moved out from behind cover, still on
horseback. They leveled their Winchesters at the men who approached.

"Dunlap!"
John had the man in his rifle sight, and it was a struggle to keep from pulling
the trigger. "Hold it right there!" he shouted. "Texas Rangers!
You're under arrest!"

There
was a temporary look of shock on the men's faces, and Dunlap let out a string
of filthy expletives while guns were pulled and men whirled their horses. They
began shooting in every direction, quickly aware that more Rangers were riding
hard toward them from the north end of the canyon. Horses whinnied and cattle
bellowed and began to stampede from the noises of gunshots magnified by the
echoing canyon walls. Three of the men headed back north, and five, including
Dunlap, charged south, shooting at Ken and John as they tried to get past them.
Ken shot down two of them, but John felt helpless. He could so easily blast
Casey Dunlap out of the saddle, and he dearly wanted to do just that. But he
had to keep him alive. He hated to do it, but he shot the man's horse instead,
depending on Ken to take care of the other two. His only goal was taking Dunlap
alive.

Dunlap's
galloping horse tumbled headfirst, its hind quarters flipping up into the air
and throwing Dunlap to the ground. John charged his horse up to Dunlap, who had
lost his handgun in the fall. His eyes were wide with a mixture of surprise and
fright, and he turned to run, looking frantically for his gun. Seconds later
someone tackled him to the ground, and he already knew who it was. John Hawkins.
His heart pounded with fright. He had no doubt Hawkins knew he was the one
who'd shot him. The Ranger would be out for blood, and everyone knew what that
meant.

He
rolled over, landing hard blows into John's face, wondering somewhere in the
back of his mind why the man didn't just shoot him.

John
jerked him to his feet, hatred and vengeance overflowing in his soul as he
returned the punches, throwing vicious blows to Dunlap's midsection, his face.
Kill! He so dearly wanted to kill him! "You back-shooting bastard!"
he growled, landing more blows.

In
spite of his bony frame, Dunlap was tough and did not go down easily. One hard
blow finally landed him on his back, but as John reached down to jerk him up
again, Dunlap kicked hard at John's ribs, delighted to see he had apparently
found a weak spot. John doubled over and stumbled.

Quickly
Dunlap jumped up and grabbed John's six-gun from its holster, cocked it, but
before he could fire, a shot rang out, and he screamed with the horrible pain
in his right knee and crumpled to the ground.

John
wiped sweat and blood and dirt from his face. He was on his knees, still
grasping his ribs when he heard the shot, saw Dunlap rolling on the ground and
screaming, holding his knee. He saw his own gun lying on the ground, then
looked up to see Ken standing there.

"You've
saved my ass enough times. I figured it was time I returned the favor,"
Ken said.

They
exchanged a look of mutual understanding and appreciation. "Thanks,"
John told him. "The bastard kicked me right in the spot where I was
wounded." He grabbed up his gun, looked at the still groaning Dunlap, who
had both hands wrapped around his knee. He looked back at Ken, and Ken nodded.
Ignoring his own pain, John walked over and placed a foot on Dunlap's chest,
pressing hard to hold him down. He cocked his gun and aimed it at the man's
face.

"I
want the truth, Dunlap, or I'll shoot out the other knee!"

"Goddamn
it, help me! My knee! Jesus, my knee!"

"How
about
both
knees!"

"You
son-of-a-bitchin' half-breed bastard," Dunlap cursed. "Why don't you
just... shoot me! Everybody knows... you always kill your man. You're no
better... than a murdering outlaw!"

John
pushed harder with his foot, making it harder for Dunlap to breathe.
"Here's how it is, Dunlap. There's nothing I would like better than to
kill you... slowly. But I need you alive. You're going to tell the truth about
shooting me in the
back!
And you're going to tell the truth about Jim
Caldwell! And until Ken and I both hear you say it, you're going to suffer more
and more, understand? I won't mind a bit shooting out your other knee, and I'll
by-God do it! I'll shoot off your fingers one by one if I have to! You won't
die, Dunlap, but you'll by-God
wish
you
were dead! You know I'll
do it, you back-shooting bastard, so start talking! You're the one who shot me,
aren't you!"

Dunlap
struggled to breathe. He knew Hawkins would do exactly what he threatened to
do. He'd hang anyway, but for now he couldn't stand the pain. "I... shot
you... you stinking breed!" he answered through gritted teeth.