Split Trails Ranch

I was happy to see her awake and propped up on some pillows. She reached out, and I gently sat on the bed, hugging her as best I could without aggravating her wound. The tears came then, long suddering sobs that went on forever before reducing down to sniffles. She suddenly sat up, pushing me back and looking into my eyes. "Go get her back, Daddy! Bring my sister home!"

"I will baby. I promise. Now you need to rest. You don't want her to see you like this. I'll be back soon."

I was almost to the door when she spoke again. "Daddy?"

"What, baby?"

"After you get Jessica back, I want you to kill them. All of them."

I kept my voice as even as I could. "I will baby. I promise."

Split Tails Ranch, chapter 8

I joined Claire in the parlor. She had regained her composure and her eyes were steady. She had her Remington on, her shotgun and rifle beside her on the sofa. I knew what she had planned.

I took her hands, and kissed her gently. "You can't go, honey. None of you. If we go together, and things go bad, there will be no one alive to keep the ranch going and look after our family. Sabrina, Henri, and Paris all need you. You're the glue that holds this family together. Please don't fight me on this."

Tears welled again. She looked like she was going to argue but nodded. "I know. I just wish I could go along. I want you to promise me something. When you get to Kramer first, take my shotgun and shoot his balls off. Give him a minute to think what his life is going to be like going forward, then use the other barrel to blow his head off. Promise."

"If I can, I will."

If you can't, just kill him. And I want you home. You've got a new set of responsibilites."

She placed my hand on her stomach. "I missed my monthly twice now. Your little colt if growing, and he's going to need his father."

All the gun battles, the stampedes, the time I'd nearly died of thirst in the desert or froze to death in the Colorado winter, all the times I'd been in terrible danger were nothing compared to what I was feeling now. I was terrified and floating at the same time. I wrapped Claire in my arms, hugging her gently, even though I wanted to crush her to me. She grinned for the first time since any of this had started. "Hug me like a man! You won't hurt the baby and I need to feel your strength!"

I complied with joy, smothering her with kisses. It was the first time she had seen me with tears in my eyes, and she tried to kiss them away. We finally broke, and I slid down and kissed her stomach. "Be strong little man. I'll be home soon."

Brad came rushing in grinning like crazy, and saw me. His grin got wider until he remembered why he was there. "Better come outside, Zeke. We got company coming."

I wondered who it could be. It seemed here lately the only visitors we had wanted to kill us. I picked up Clair's ten gauge and walked out on the porch. Two wagons and about a dozen riders were coming through the gate. I saw why Brad was grinning. Only one man could sit a horse like that. The white stallion he favored stilled shined in the sun despite the trail dust. I called my wife outside.

They stopped in front of the house, the horses lined up, the ladies sitting in the wagons grinning. I stepped down, pulling Claire along. The older man dropped down off the white, still athletic despite his age. I held my hand out. "Hello, Pa. It is truly a pleasure to see you again."

He shook, then hugged me, then did the same to Brad. The others had dismounted, and we walked down the line shaking and hugging, making introductions as we walked. We reached the wagons and four women stepped down. Claire gripped my hand tightly, suddenly unsure of herself.

"Claire, this is Emily, my sister-in-law, Paul's wife. This is Jane, another sister-in-law, Rob's wife. This is Maria Conchita Dolores Soto Walters, my step-mother. And this is Jenny, the baby of the family. Family, this is Claire, my wife." The group grinned. Maria was on me constantly to find someone, and when Brad and I took off to look for gold, she told me to find a wife while I was at it.

Fourteen-year-old Jenny launched herself into my arms, crying and hugging me. I was her favorite brother and everyone knew it. As soon as she turned me loose she locked down on Claire, crying with happiness.

I told them what had happened, leaving out none of the details, showing them a photograph of my family. I went against the norm at the time of the man being the centerpiece of the photo, sand I stood behind Claire as she sat, the girls to either side. When Jenny found out she had nieces, and that one was wounded and in bed, she charged in. My father, brothers, and the rest of the family listened to my story, the faces getting grimmer as it unfolded.

Pa turned to his riders, hands he'd had for years. "Get fresh mounts, boys, we got some more traveling ahead of us."

It took a half hour before they had wrangled the new horses, complimenting the mounts. I promised them when we got back we'd visit Senor Gomez.

My father and brother rode beside me and Brad, as we told them the story of how I came to own the ranch. They grinned, then turned serious. "That letter you sent Marshall Jenkins started a storm, son. Those brands come from three different states and a territory. We've heard rumors of an organized ring of rustlers, but his is the first concrete proof they're all being funneled through one man. I'm here as your father, but I'm also here as a Ranger."

I had never mentioned to my family that my father was a Captain in the Texas Rangers, as I'd never bothered to tell them my brother Paul was in the Arizona Rangers, a Lieutenant on the fast track to being Captain. Rob, my second oldest brother, owned a small ranch and served as County Sheriff, and one of the brands shown was one he was keenly interested in, as the owner had been discovered murdered, along with his wife and five-year-old daughter. It was a remote ranch, and the crime wasn't discovered for almost three weeks. He still tried to trail them, losing them when they passed into Indian Territory and he had to give up and return home.

"There's a couple of U.S. Marshalls heading up this way, wanting to talk to you. I would have thought they would have already been here." I looked at Paul, the hairs on my neck rising. "If that's true, they may have met a bad end."

Pa sighed. "Well then, it'll be just another thing to hang them for."

I drew up. They noticed and stopped. "I'm truly proud to see you, but if you're expecting me to obey orders and follow your direction, we need to part ways right now. These people have my daughter. They attacked my family, killed one sister-in-law, wounded two others, and most of my men. That and the fact that they have her, let along if they beat her or worse, turned me into Judge, Jury, and Executioner. There won't be any arrests, no trials, no chance for them to escape or get off with a slick lawyer. They won't even get a burial, I'll leave them where they're laying and burn everythign down around them. Understand?"

Paul started to object, but Pa stopped him. "We got no jurisdiction here son. We're just private citizens until the Marshalls show up and swear us in as Federal Deputies. Until then, we're just here to support family. Rob, Paul, you hearing me?"

They nodded. Paul didn't seem pleased at all but he let it slide. Pa grinned. "That being said, this is your show Zeke. What can we do?"

Right then was when I missed Bud most. He was better at Carlos in the woods, and I thought Carlos was a ghost. Grinning, I asked if I could get Jacinto to help him scout.

Jacinto was Jacinto Torres. He wasn't Mexican, he was a full blood Apache, first cousin to Geronimo. Pa had helped him out of a scrape in Mexico, and he had returned the favor in Texas. They had a long complicated relationship, actually being on opposing sides in fights twice. When Geronimo surrendered and his people were sent to reservations, Jacinto showed up with his wife and two boys. Pa put them in Mexican clothes, and sent them to a remote part of the ranch. When the Army came calling looking for strays, Pa said all he worked were Americans and a few Mexicans, but he was welcome to look. A Lieutenant interviewed Jacinto. He spoke fluent Spanish, a result of having a Mexican wife his tribe had captured as a child. The oficer looked at their beat up clothes, saw he had a single shot rifle and no sidearm, thanked them and proceeded to leave. He was talked into staying for dinner, enjoying the meal immensely.

When he reported to the Captain that he was just a harmelss old Mexican with a cheerful family, they left it at that and went looking elsewhere. What the Lieutenant didn't understand was that most of the laughter that night was directed at him, for eating a meal with one of the most dangerous warriors of the Apache Nation and not having a clue. Jacinto put the old rifle up, slid his Winchester into it's scabbard, and buckled on his two Colt Navy revolvers after he left. Most of the old hands knew who he was and thought the whole thing was hilarious.

He and Carlos nodded at each other, took spare horses, and left. I knew by the time we got there they would have a rough idea of how many we faced and how fortified they were.

"What about them?"

I looked where Paul was pointing, seeing the troopers in the distance. "We came to an agreement. We run the show, they just back us up. They want this settled just as bad as we do, before they get tasked with cleaning them up alone. This way they can turn in a report that they handled the situation with the help of some locals, and everyone's happy. Besides, just as soon as we switch mounts we'll leave them in the dust. If they're lucky, they may get there after the shooting is over."

While we rode Paul and Rob filled me in. The cattle were stolen, usually after they killed the rancher and whatever hands they could. They usually split the herds into small groups to leave less trail, going different ways before coming together about fifty miles from the ranch. The murders and thefts seemed to stop in a hundred mile circle around my ranch according to reports from local sheriffs. The marshalls, the Rangers from both states, and local law had corresponded for three months, putting the picture together. "I'm sure they know we're looking. One or two of those sheriffs had to be in on the steal. He has to have more locals in on it than that fella you plugged. Somebody has to let them pass through their range, turning a blind eye." It was agreed a little back trailing would be in order as soon as we resolved our issues.

It took another day to reach our objective. Carlos and Jacinto rose from the ground in front of us, completely hidden until they revealed themselves. The news was grim.

The box canyon was pretty big, but the entrance was only about a hundred feet wide. The outlaws had built a wall of upright logs about fifteen feet high across, it, the only access a thirty foot gate. The walls of the canyon were about fifty feet high and extremely steep, basically a sheer wall. It was completely surrounded by rough terrain, no access from horseback. To get to the walls took a pretty good hike through some very thick woods and brush.

"Whoever's running the show is either pretty sharp or took good advice. Besides the six guards he keeps on the wall, he's got others posted on the rim going halfway back. Plus he has men stationed at least a mile out, and they use mirrors to communicate. If anyone shows up, they flash them a signal. If it's dark, they have signal fires prelaid, all they have to do is light them and get away. You won't get far with a head on attack."

"I figured it would be something like that. They've been at it too long to be caught flatfooted. Any ideas?"

Paul grinned. "Use the troopers to keep them distracted. If they're watching them, maybe they won't be watching us. Leave a few of your men with them, let them get a good look at those red shirts. Jacinto thinks he's found a way in. It's pretty far back, but it's a natural chimney and only about thirty feet high. We could climb down and the walls of the chimney would keep us from being seen, maybe slip in at night and be in position by daylight."

"How many guards on the rim?"

"Carlos says six. There may be more, but it's a chance I think we have to take. They don't go around the whole canyon, just around the points of easier access. I guess they think no one in their right mind would try the hard way. When you fire the first shot, I'll have my men take them out of the fight."

We refined our plans over a quick lunch from the baskets the women had packed. It worked well, because we didn't have to build fires and maybe have someone see the smoke. We drank from a stream, the water surprisingly cool. I would have dearly loved coffee, but we didn't want to take the chance. As dusk came and we prepared to move out, my father warned us all.

"My colonel gave us one simple maxim to believe in before we went to battle. No plan survives contact with the enemy. Things are going to come up, resistance might be much stiffer than we expect, there may be a lot more men there than we think, the terrain might be harder to navigate than you thought, the variables are endless. We're all going to have to think on our feet and adjust. Good luck to all of us."

The troopers had arrived by then, and the Lt., my father, and brother Paul held a council. The Lt. could see the benefits to the plan of using them as a distraction. He grinned, pointing to two pack mules. "We may have an advantage. Those packs contain an eight pound howitzer, ten balls, and eight grenades clusters. We'll try to range the gate, and keep the rounds outside if we can. We don't know how many civilians that may be held against their will. The desperado known as Preacher is famous for kidnapping family members to ensure cooperation, and if he's there, there may be others besides your daughter. Something you might want to bear in mind when you attack. We know your feelings on surrender, but if they open the gate and try to flee they belong to the U.S. Government. Understand? I can't stop what you're doing behind closed gates, but if they surrender to us your actions cease. There is no give on this. None. Don't ask. Understand?"

I nodded, thinking to myself I'd need to tell my men that if we got that close to drop anyone who tried to open that gate. And If the man known as Preacher or Butch Kramer somehow managed to flee and surrender, well, it was a long time between trial and sentencing. All manner of things could occur.

We all retired for the night, depending on the watch to wake us at midnight. We intended to ride for most of the way, stopping when the brush got too thick and going the rest of the way on foot. My siblings and I slipped on the moccasins we always carried with us. They were better footwear for what we planned, making little noise and letting us feel every branch and stone to make sure we didn't alert whatever prey we were stalking. Jacinto had taken every one of us up in to the mountains whe we turned fourteen, and we spent a summer learning how to live with the land, how to move like a ghost, and how to kill with bow, knife, club, and hands. We were lucky enough to have Jacinto's son with us. He and I were closest in age and we were a little closer, and I had seen him in action. He preferred his Apache name, Lionkiller, given to him when he stalked and killed a mountain lion that had been killing calves. He was eleven when he did it.

It was going to take most of the night to get to the chimney. Our hopes were to be in position and have the place scouted by dawn, ready to catch them unawares. They would never suspect an attack from the rear and would be ill prepared.

The men chosen to go with us were all proven woodsmen, and one lean puncher from Tennessee was almost as good as Jacinto and Carlos. You didn't see him until he wanted you to. The moon was full, which meant we could navigate the bush better. It also meant there was a better chance of someone seeing us. That made us move more slowly than I would have liked, but we were at the chimney by four, and this time of year the sun didn't come up until a little after six.

Jacinto and Carlos scouted, looking for movement, before waving us forward. We'd prepared the ropes, tying them to a windswept pine with a solid root system. Jacinto went first, then Carlos, then me. Bud, Rob, and the other followed quickly, and in less than half an hour we were all down and ready. We eased along, stopping to listen once in a while, looking for guards.

It was a good decision, because we found two, sitting back from a fire drinking coffee and complaining. One snapped his head up. The other laughed. "Ain't nothing out there. No way to git in here. You're jumpin' at shadows Red. We been doing this rotation for almost a year, and the biggest thing that's happened was when that rattler crawled into your bedroll. Damn good thing it was cold, or you'd be long gone."

He was laughing while reaching for more coffee. Red snorted. "Weren't near as funny from my side. That thing could have bit me right on the ass. I'm damn lucky..."

His luck ran out right then. Jacinto put an arrow into his right eye, and the steel head came out the back of his skull. He dropped without a sound. His partner heard the thud and stood up, trying to see what happened in the darkness. "Red?"

Red couldn't answer right then. I rose up right behind him, driving the knife through the back of his neck, severing the spinal cord and killing him instantly. I wiped the blood off on his vest before we dragged them back into the shadows, rolling them in their blankets. A casual glance would make you think they were asleep.

It was almost daylight when we got into position in the treeline, as close as we could get without being seen. There was fourteen of us, six with rifles, the rest with shotguns, all with at least two pistols. I had my three in their holsters, plus the one Red had been carrying, him not in need of it anymore.

We heard the commotion when the soldiers showed up and hailed the bandits. "This is the United States Army! We're here investigating reports of stolen cattle, so open up."

Chapter 9

Butch Kramer appeared on top of the wall, wondering why his sentries hadn't notified them. He had no way of knowing all three were currently tied up back in camp. They weren't very good sentries. "Sorry, boys. No stolen cattle here. We're just private citizens on our own land, minding our business."

"Really? I thought Zeke Walters owned this spread."

"He doesn't need it all, so we lease some of it from him."

"He know that? He told us you were trespassing and he wanted you gone. You got a lease agreement?"

"It a gentlemen's agreement. We didn't think paperwork necessary."

"Well, we'll have to sort that out. Open the gates, please. If you have nothing to hide we'll leave you in peace."

Kramer frowned. Damn those Walters brothers! He'd had a good thing going for quite a while before Buck got stupid over a whore and got himself dead. Every time his men went up against them they got the short end of the stick. Even his women outfought him, and he didn't even want to think about what two litle girls did to Preacher's crew. Between them they had lost a bunch of men, and all they had to show for it was a little blond hellcat that cussed them better than any hand he'd ever seen. He had to admire her, though. She fought them to a standstill, standing over her downed sister at the end. He was surprised to hear that she intended her last bullet to be hers, and if that little gun hadn't malfunctioned she would be dead right now. That crazy preacher keeps insisting she was his blood daughter, and it's his right to flog her. It was all Butch could do to keep him away from her. If he lost, he needed her to be in good shape, to trade for his life and freedom.