Holding Their Own XI: Hearts and Minds (21 page)

Again, Butter wasn’t thrilled about being left behind with a dying teammate. “And if they catch you, sir?”

Bishop glanced at his watch. “If I’m not back in two hours, make a drag stretcher and head directly south. You’ll eventually hit either the highway or Fort Davidson. But don’t worry. I’ll be back. I’m not planning on trying to retake the valley. I just want to see what’s going on.”

Katherine strolled across the front porch, her best riding boots and spurs clicking and jingling across the planks. She paused for a moment, scanning the gathered men under her employ.

Mack had managed to mount 14 riders, all of them armed. Given the losses of the last few days, it was an embarrassingly small number, but she was confident her foreman had done his best.

No one moved to help her climb into the saddle. Katherine Baxter wasn’t some frail, city girl who needed help with a stirrup.

With the grace of a longtime rider, she was up and pulling on the reins in a flash.

“Riders coming in,” a sentry shouted from the nearby barn’s rooftop. “Looks like Abe Pomelos and two of his men.”

Mack acted instantly, motioning for his crew to spread out and prepare for an attack. Katherine overrode his concerns. “Wait! It’s okay. He wouldn’t just ride in like the welcome wagon if they were up to any shenanigans. Especially with only two guns.”

The ranch’s second in command didn’t like it but heeded his boss’s command.

Abe galloped up the lane, flanked by two of his riders and slowing their pace to a gentle trot as they entered the courtyard. The rival rancher scanned the gathering of mounted hands and shook his head. “Looks like we got here just in time,” he said to Katherine. “You look like you’re heading out to look for trouble.”

“You had to have seen the fires last night, Abe. I want to see the valley with my own eyes,” she tersely replied.

Nodding his understanding, Abe adjusted his hat and delivered the bad news. “The house is gone, Katherine. We rode along the north ridge on the way here. It’s a complete loss.”

“Damn it!” she spat, “I knew it in my heart, but… those sons-ah-bitches are going to pay for that. I swear it.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Abe said. “One of my ranch hands just got back from Meraton and has heard of that Bishop fellow we met yesterday. I thought you might be interested in what he had to say.”

“Go on.”

“It seems this Bishop has quite the reputation as an enforcer, rabble-rouser, and hired gun. According to my man, he was involved in that massacre of U.S. Army troops last summer. He’s also been given credit for shooting up no less than three towns, and he sports quite a few notches on his gun barrel. He’s known far and wide as a stone cold killer.”

Tilting her head, Katherine seemed pensive, contemplating the Intel. “Kind of fits now that I think about it. He drove up to your place in that van like he owned the entire county. I knew that man’s swagger was a sure sign of trouble.”

“It gets worse,” Abe continued. “It seems Bishop’s wife is a big shot with the Alliance down in Alpha. That’s supposedly how he gets away with the killing… she protects him, even spins some of his deeds into positives for the government. Somehow she even managed to get his name cleared after all those National Guardsmen were murdered.”

“So, he’s not only ruthless but well-connected politically,” Katherine observed. “Those are the worst kind. Maybe we should contact Sheriff Watts and see if he applies the law equally to all.”

Abe disagreed, “Won’t do no good. From what I gather, Bishop is his own law. Hell, one rumor has it that Sheriff Watts is even on the wife’s payroll.”

“Figures,” the lady rancher barked. “I never have liked Watts. Makes sense that he’s on the take.”

For a moment, Katherine sat and pondered the information just received. Finally refocusing on Abe, she stated, “Our dispute over that land is a family matter. We made a mistake yesterday by not stopping that Bishop fellow right in his tracks.”

“So far I follow,” Abe replied.

“We need to join forces and run them off. If even half of what you heard is true, the Alliance didn’t send their henchmen up here for no reason. If they control that valley, then eventually they control both of our spreads. We can’t let that happen.”

Now it was Abe’s turn to think things through. After a bit, he countered, not quite buying into the lady’s open-ended plan. “Let’s say for a moment I do help you push them off. Then what?”

“Then we’ll settle our differences afterward the best way we can… cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, there’s one big-ass ogre blocking the way, and we need to deal with him.”

It took Abe a bit to consider all the angles, but he finally agreed. “I’ll meet you at the north pass in an hour with 25 men. We’ll ask them to leave, and if they don’t, we’ll help ’em along.”

“We’ll be there.”

Bishop found the perfect outcropping to observe the basin oasis below. After double-checking that the sun would not reflect off the optic, he began studying the men who’d done their best to kill him just last night.

Only two of the shooters were visible from his angle, one man on sentry duty watching the backdoor game trail Bishop had used to escape just a few hours ago. The other fellow was eating breakfast, reclining in the shade of a small oak.

The house had burned to the foundation, a second patch of smeared earth not far from the old barn. All three of his team’s pickups were still right where the Alliance men had parked them.

Also, a white panel van was now parked directly alongside the lane leading from the road. Bishop was sure at least nine or ten men had pushed his team out of the valley, and there was no way all of them could’ve arrived in that single truck. It was a puzzle, but not an important one.

Bishop began a slow, methodical search of the terrain, certain that any commander as competent as the one that had kicked their asses last night would have posted more than one sentry. Where were the rest of his men?

Less than 20 minutes later, motion on the opposite side of the canyon drew Bishop’s attention. An image of dozens of horsemen soon filled his optic.

“This can’t be good,” he whispered, counting at least two dozen armed riders.

Then Katherine Baxter came into the Texan’s view, she and an older man obviously in charge of the mounted brigade.

It wasn’t only Bishop that noted the newcomers. Men were now moving in the valley, the Texan counting four individuals rushing for cover.
Four?
He thought.
Did we hurt them that badly last night?

Evidently, Katherine had learned a hard lesson from the schooling Bishop and his team had given the rancher two nights before. Rather than come in from a single charge, her men split into several small groups and began moving off in different directions.
Smart,
Bishop thought.
Don’t bunch up like before. Approach the target from multiple vectors.

After watching her riders begin their descent, Miss Baxter and the older gent spurred their mounts and rode directly toward the valley at a measured pace. Halfway down the trail, she raised a white flag.

“They want to have a powwow with the shooters,” Bishop whispered, now completely puzzled by the string of events. The only logical explanation he had come up with for the men who’d attacked his SAINT team was that they were a bunch of mercenaries under contract to the ranchers. Now, that reasoning didn’t make sense. Why would Kathy need a white flag to speak with her own hired guns? Why bring so many men? Why split up like they were preparing for trouble?

Wanting answers, Bishop decided to move closer. Given the men who occupied the valley were now completely distracted by the oncoming ranchers, he thought it was worth the risk to move a bit further down the trail.

He found the grenade booby trap right where he’d left it.

“Maybe we did hurt them worse than I thought,” he mumbled. “That’s why they didn’t pursue us this morning. They’re shorthanded.”

Bishop continued slowly, working his way through the thick underbrush until he was only 20 yards from the burned out shell of the old house.

One of the shooters rose from his fighting position and began his march toward Katherine and her white flag. Bishop knew instantly the now-exposed man was in charge of the team that had taken the valley last night. He held himself with the confidence of command, his step the measured gait of a military officer.

When Miss Baxter and her fellow rider were within earshot, the commander raised his palm to signal that they were close enough. The two riders heeded, reigning their mounts to a halt.

Katherine’s voice carried across the quiet valley, “I’ll come right to the point,” the lady began. “I want you and your Alliance thugs out of here. Right now.”

Bishop couldn’t hear the response, but it obviously wasn’t what Kathy wanted to hear.

“I don’t give a shit,” the woman barked in retort. “We know who you are, Bishop. We know your reputation as a murdering marauder and enforcer for those power hungry hooligans down in Alpha. Now I’m only going to ask one more time. Pack up and get out, or we’ll move you out.”

For a moment, the Texan thought he was hearing things. “Did she just call that man by my name? What the hell? Are there two of us walking around with the same weird handle? Poor guy.”

The man sitting next to Katherine now spoke, “We don’t recognize the Alliance’s authority, Bishop. Nor do we need your help. We didn’t know who you were yesterday when you offered to move those squatters off our property. That aside, we never expected you to burn the place to the ground. Now, why don’t you and your henchmen head on back to Alpha before more people get hurt?”

The real Bishop was stunned. The man talking to the ranchers was an imposter, either by accident or intent. The Texan’s head was spinning.

The conversation with the riders ended with Katherine snapping a harsh, “You’ve been warned.” She and her mate pivoted their steeds and began riding away. When they were near the far side of the valley, Katherine dropped the white flag to the ground.

A moment later, the thunder of hooves sounded from all directions, a dozen cowboys charging the four men surrounding the burned-out home. The report of multiple rifles quickly followed.

Bishop soon realized that the riders charging up the valley were a feint… a distraction… a head fake. The majority of Katherine’s men had dismounted and were now firing from the surrounding rocks. They were using cover with braced firing positions. “Smart,” Bishop whispered. “Very smart, old gal.”

The defenders fought like they had against Bishop’s team, two riders falling, and another shooter in the rocks screaming out in agony as he was hit. Still, there was no question in the outcome, the numerical superiority of ranch hands was overwhelming.

The hailstorm of accurate bullets quickly began taking a toll on the four men trying to hold the valley. Bishop saw one fall in the first volley, another go down less than a minute later.

The riders circled after their initial pass and then charged again. This time, with the defenders reeling, their speed and numbers came directly into the fray.

Bishop watched a group of riders pass right in front of his position, one of the men shot out of the saddle as a bullet tore through his chest. 

It was over in less than two minutes, the rancher’s forces now circling, checking the dead and wounded.

The Texan saw an opportunity to retrieve one of the trucks his team had left behind. The valley was a swirling mess of horseflesh, downed men, and general confusion in the aftermath of the battle. In a few seconds, he was out of his load vest and hat.

Waiting until no one was in the immediate vicinity, he darted out of the brush and to the man lying nearby. Bishop scooped up the cowboy’s hat and lever-action rifle and then walked with purpose toward the dead fellow’s nearby horse.

The animal was a bit suspicious of the stranger, but Bishop managed to grab a handful of reign, and then began leading the mare toward the pickups. He said a prayer that no one had snatched the keys from the sun visors.

Keeping the horse between himself and the majority of the surviving ranchers, Bishop continued with his stolen hat low, eyes darting here and there, ready to mount up and ride like hell if discovered. At worse, he could use the horse to help transport Grim.