# The Reckoning

##

###

### Rand Osborn

#### Osborn
Copyright (C) 2020 Rand Osborn

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved.  
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Published by Osborn

e-book formatting by bookow.com

## Dedication

This series is for Ben Bythewood... a good man, friend and fan of the work presented. We lost a special man but God gained a warrior. Until we see you again... Godspeed brother.

Tim Ward, without your input and friendship, this manuscript would not be fun and readable! Thank you my friend!

## Acknowledgments

The cover is from the talented hands of Mark Buxkemper. I'm always amazed at your ability to create with nothing more than a pencil and paper. You can view more of his works and order your personal picture drawn by Mark at www.markbuxkemper.com

## Table of Contents

  1. Book 1
  2. Chapter 1
  3. Chapter 2
  4. Chapter 3
  5. Chapter 4
  6. Chapter 5
  7. Chapter 6
  8. Chapter 7
  9. Chapter 8
  10. Chapter 9
  11. Chapter 10
  12. Chapter 11
  13. Chapter 12
  14. Chapter 13

## Book 1

## Chapter 1

The sun was setting; and RJ, Reed Justus II, so named after his famous, or infamous, uncle by his father who loved his older and more traveled brother, was enjoying the view from the rocky outcrop with the high ground on which he currently was holed up.

He could see movement below him, and he figured his options were getting thinner by the minute. He knew once the beautiful sunset happened, the men below would be on him, and his fight would be over.

He glanced over at the tied up man beside him.

The man smiled a toothy grin at RJ before speaking. "I'll make a deal with you RJ."

RJ leaned back with his back to the valley below, but a big rock protected him.

"What deal Arlo?"

The tied up man growled. "Dutch, my name is DUTCH!"

RJ smirked. "You were Arlo when we were kids and friends I might add... your damn dog was named Dutch!"

RJ shook his head and smirked. "What's your deal Arlo?" He had nothing to lose, and he liked needling his one-time childhood friend.

Arlo "Dutch" Mueller decided to let the dig go. "You let me go now..."

"And, you'll let me live?"

Dutch Mueller smiled a serpent like smile. "Oh hell no RJ, you let me go now, and I'll make sure they kill you fast. I know my father will want you to pay for all the trouble you've caused, but since I'm mostly uninjured and since we were once friends... well, it'll be quick if you let me go now."

Dutch Mueller was still smirking. He felt he had the upper hand, even though he was currently tied up and technically captive.

RJ shifted and grimaced. Pain racked his side where Dutch's bullet passed through during their gun battle yesterday morning, when Dutch and a dozen of his friends paid RJ a visit to force him from his ranch.

"Your side bothering you RJ?" Dutch smiled. He felt confident this was almost over.

RJ pulled his Colt .45 and cocked it and pointed it directly at Dutch Mueller. "You need to understand something Arlo. If I die tonight, just before I take my last breath, I'm putting a bullet in your brain!"

Dutch Mueller stopped grinning. He believed his old friend.

"Arlo, I'd suggest you pray your friends stay far enough away tonight that I don't feel the need to send you to Hell before I arrive right behind you!"

That pretty much ended this part of the conversation.

Dutch decided to try a different approach.

"Why didn't you just take my father's offer for your ranch? He made you a good offer!"

RJ uncocked the hammer on his Colt and laid it on the rock for easy access if a fight was to occur. He decided to give one last look at the valley below before the darkness overcame the area.

He grabbed his Henry repeater and started scanning the valley below. He decided to answer Dutch's question while looking for any movement.

"My family has owned that valley for over fifty years. My father, uncle and aunts were born there. Just because your father wanted the land to bring in the railroad and was willing to swindle his way into owning the land doesn't make his paltry offer a 'good one' Arlo."

Just then RJ caught a movement in some scrub oaks a mere hundred yards away and just to his left. He could see the red kerchief that the cowboy would use to cover his face during a dust storm. That kerchief was wrapped around his neck, so RJ aimed just below that and to his left at the only slightly open spot he could see.

BANG!

There was immediate yelling and screaming. "I'M HIT! I'M HIT!"

From another direction RJ heard. "IS IT SERIOUS?"

"DAMN IT! I'M HIT! WHAT KIND OF FOOL QUESTION IS 'IS IT SERIOUS'?"

RJ smiled to himself. He decided to add to the conversation. "THAT HOLE WILL KEEP YOU WARM TONIGHT!"

The man hit yelled back. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU JUSTUS!"

"YEAH... WAIT IN LINE YOU SONOFABITCH!"

Dutch smiled at RJ's pluck. "You really are a bastard RJ."

RJ looked over at his one-time friend. "That's about the nicest thing you've ever said to me in twenty years Arlo."

They both had to laugh at the exchange.

RJ sat back and waited. He would wait until dark before moving to a different area. His shooting pretty much verified to the men below where he was, and he had no intention of being here when ten to twelve men converged on this position.

Arlo still wanted to talk. "You lost our horses this morning, and you're outnumbered and severely outgunned RJ... what do you hope to prove by holding out?"

RJ looked at Dutch. "At this point, just to irritate you and your father is reason enough."

The real reason was the series of telegraph wires he sent to every known town his uncle Reed Justus had been seen in, that RJ knew about over his uncle's years of moving about. RJ figured at this point, the only chance he possibly had is if Uncle Reed Justus came to help. RJ knew his uncle wouldn't stay away if he knew what was happening to his family's homestead and what had happened to his baby brother.

## Chapter 2

_Three weeks prior_ – It was a normal day for Sheriff Thaddeus Ricks, or Thad to his friends, when he got the telegram from Reed Justus II. He would hand deliver the message to the occupant in his cell sleeping off another night of drinking too much.

"Reed, you got a telegram from someone named Reed Justus!" He yelled out as he sat down at his desk and placed the telegram in the middle of the desk.

Reed was coming off a three day bender that usually followed a successful end to a job well done. That job was finding a lost boy. He happened to be near a town and had heard the town put up a reward of a thousand dollars to find the boy, dead or alive.

Most thought the boy was probably killed by a mountain lion, or coyotes... turned out the boy had simply wandered away and instinctively was near a small catch pond where he had plenty of water.

Reed followed the tracks and sign directly to the pond and to the boy resting under a tree.

The townspeople were ecstatic and appreciative; for Reed it was an easy thousand dollars payday, which literally only took him a day.

So, he had money and time and a celebration ensued until the telegram.

"You sending telegrams to yourself?" Thad liked Reed and even though he was supposed to arrest the old scout for drinking to excess in public, he merely allowed him to sleep off his wild partying in an empty cell.

Reed sat on the side of the uncomfortable cot and rubbed the week's growth of whisker on his chin. He smelled and looked a sight.

"Where's my hat Thad?"

"Lost it in a card game."

"I bet my _hat_?" Reed was rubbing his head.

"You didn't have any money left on your person... remember, you gave me five hundred to keep and you made me promise to not give it back until you were stone cold sober."

Reed made a face. He had a pounding headache and he needed a bath, shave and a haircut.

"I must be a sight!" He raised his hands and gave his underarms a whiff. He jerked his head away in disgust. "Damn, I really smell!"

Reed stood up and started to the front of the jail. "Did you say I have telegram?"

Thad picked it up and held it out to Reed. "Yep, and it's from 'Reed Justus'."

Reed made a face and opened the letter. He immediately straightened up. "Did you read what was in here?"

Thad caught the serious tone. "No, it was addressed to you, from you, which I found interesting."

Reed handed it to Thad. "Not from me, from my nephew named after me."

Thad read the telegram and stood up from the desk he was sitting. "Oh holy hell!"

"You got that money I entrusted with you?"

Thad went over to a small safe he kept under the desk and with a few turns, opened it and pulled out the wrapped up $500 and handed it to Reed.

"I'm going to need to get some supplies and clean myself up before I head out."

Reed was patting his chest and rubbing his beard growth as he was talking.

Thad decided to help. "You go and get a shave and a bath; I'll get Biscuit saddled and supplies ready for you."

Reed peeled off a hundred dollar bill to hand to Thad for supplies.

Thad held up his hand to stop Reed. "Forget about that Reed, you'll just owe me, you know I'll eventually need your help. Just get cleaned up and your horse and supplies will be waiting for you in the livery."

Reed shook his head. "'Ppreciate it Thad!"

Both men half ran out of the sheriff's office and headed in opposite directions.

Thad to the livery and to the general store; Reed to the barber and bath house.

He'd eat once on the trail, but he wanted to start out as fresh as possible to help his family.

***

Once in the bathhouse, he didn't have long to really enjoy the bath for what it was. He was in a hurry.

"Please head to the general store and get me some new britches and a couple of shirts... I wear a large hat size... grab me a black one please."

The Chinaman helper understood the orders and was out the door before Reed was in the hot water of the tub. He reached over and grabbed the telegram one more time to make sure he read the wording correctly.

'Reed. Family in trouble. Mueller killed Titus. Ranch threatened. I'm in dire trouble. Come quickly. Reed 'RJ' Justus.'

Titus was Reed's younger and more stable brother. He would stop in and visit whenever he was near, but he wasn't liked by his sister-in-law much at all.

Sarah Townsend Justus was a small fidgety woman with a sour disposition towards her rough around the edges brother-in-law. She was appalled when Titus insisted on naming their only son after his older and wilder brother, but he prevailed.

Reed had only been around RJ a few times, and he could tell the boy had potential and promise. He was nothing like his namesake, and that secretly pleased Reed.

He knew he was a bad influence, and so he stayed mostly away.

For RJ to go to the trouble of finding him, meant the problem was beyond serious; and Reed would stop at nothing to get there. Just finding out his baby brother was killed, pained him. He knew Artemus Mueller and what he was capable of. He had actually hired Reed to find some men responsible for cattle thievery several years prior... killing Titus meant there would be a reckoning; and one that Reed would follow through until one or both of them were dead.

Right now, he would ride and travel as fast as he could the three hundred miles to the family ranch just east of Nacogdoches... right after his bath, shave and resupplies.

He planned to be gone within the next 2 hours at the most.

## Chapter 3

"You need some assistance?" It was Sheriff Thad Ricks offering.

Reed was freshly cleaned with a new set of clothes and about to mount Biscuit, his solid roan mare, to ride east from Ft. Worth towards Nacogdoches and then on to his family's ranch in the piney woods of east Texas.

"Naw Thad, this is personal, but I appreciate your offer." Reed was tightening the cinch and checking his Henry repeater, his saddle bag pistol, a .38 caliber Colt, and two hidden Derringer pistols he kept in matching shoulder holsters. He carried a Colt .44 as a sidearm that he had used on many an excursion over the years; but this time it wasn't for a client, he would be trying to save his family from a known tyrant.

He reached over and shook Thad's hand and mounted up Biscuit and trotted out of the livery.

"You have enough flour and hardtack in those saddlebags to last a few days." Thad was informing as Reed was riding.

He waved. "Thank you again Thad... I hope to see you again real soon."

And with that Reed was heading east. It would take him a couple of weeks. He really wanted to go by train to get there faster, but he figured that the train stations would be watched by Mueller's men; and they would ambush him rather than allow him to get a drop on their boss.

No, he would have to get there as fast as possible but go the much slower way, by horseback.

***

Artemus Mueller was a bull of a man, mostly considered stolid in demeanor until he decided it was easier and faster to get personal wealth just by taking it from others.

To attain his fortune he essentially peeled off several hundred head of cattle; all from surrounding ranchers that never missed a few head here and there, and he pushed them rather quickly to market.

That was 20 years prior; and the money he made grubstaked him to a more legitimate business model of gathering and pushing longhorns to market during the cattle drives of the late 1870's.

His reputation as a hard man to cross solidified when he locked horns with none other than Wyatt Earp when he was a marshal in Dodge City, Kansas. No gunplay ensued, but Artemus Mueller was the first cattleman to hold off his cattle from going into Dodge because of Earp's hardline ways.

He was one of many that eventually convinced the town leaders that without cattle money coming through, their town was doomed to failure. So, Wyatt Earp was asked to leave and Mueller and other cattlemen brought their money and cattle back through.

When he decided the Justus ranch had the perfect layout for the MKT Railroad, he, at first, offered to purchase the thousand acres but was rebuffed by Titus Justus.

Then, Artemus decided to use the courts and 'Eminent Domain' to seize the land; but Titus Justus was a fighter and he wouldn't let it go and was willing to lose the ranch by bankrupting himself rather than being forced to sell to the government, or to Artemus Mueller by absentia.

It grew ugly, so other tactics were needed.

When Mueller had an underling sell Justus some plow horses which he later claimed were stolen, then the law arrived to arrest Titus.

A gun fight ensued and one Titus Justus was killed by sworn deputies of the law including his son Arlo 'Dutch' Mueller.

All legal in the eyes of the law.

When RJ, Titus' son, decided that the injustice was too much, deputies put out a wanted poster and a reward for the capture 'Dead or Alive' of one Reed 'RJ' Justus for threats against law officials; and when a deputy came up shot, RJ was prime suspect.

All trumped up but legal in the law's eyes.

When Dutch and a dozen deputies cornered RJ, the fight was supposed to be quick and easy and end the Justus threat.

But, three dead deputies and Artemus' son, Arlo aka 'Dutch' was taken prisoner, the stakes were raised.

Now, the wire went out that the fugitive 'RJ Justus' was a desperate criminal that had taken an outstanding citizen hostage and was on the run.

Actual good lawmen with good reputations were in route to help find the criminal.

During this fight, RJ's uncle Reed Justus was about halfway to the ranch. He had no idea it had escalated to that point, but he would find out the moment he was near a town and a newspaper.

It was a bad time, and it didn't look good for the Justus name or lineage.

***

"Wake up!" RJ was kicking Dutch Mueller's feet.

He kicked them again, but harder. "WAKE UP ARLO!"

Arlo 'Dutch' Mueller began to stir. He couldn't believe he was able to rest, little less sleep, with his hands tied behind his back and his feet tied together and the rope tethered to RJ, but he obviously was able.

"Your friends are moving up the hill and it's time to move."

RJ was looking down the several hundred yards to the area they were both in the night before. He could see men canvassing the area.

Arlo tried to stretch a little. "Why don't you just give up? You don't have a prayer!"

RJ shot his prisoner a look. "Shaddup!" He stood up and jerked the rope for Dutch to get up. RJ had untied Dutch's feet before awakening him.

"It's time to move... get up!"

Reluctantly Dutch got to his feet. His hands were tied behind his back and he was stiff, tired and genuinely in a foul mood.

"What's your plan RJ? Hmmm? You just plan to keep on running until you run out of supplies and energy?"

RJ closed the distance between the two men until they were face to face. The sudden movement up so close slightly startled Dutch.

"I plan on exhausting your men and wearing your ass out until everyone will beg for me to quit... especially you, you sonofabitch!"

He pushed Dutch away and grabbed the rope. Arlo could tell by the cut up Yucca plants nearby that RJ had cut into the plants to the meaty areas and had been eating them. They had moisture, and they could be filling.

"Did you cut out enough yucca for me?"

RJ was pulling the rope and moving fast away from the area they had just slept/rested. He was leaving enough sign a blind man could follow; but he secretly hoped his uncle would be on this trail and find him before the men below finally caught up with them.

"Why should I feed and water a dead man?" RJ shot a look at Dutch as he spoke the line.

The look caused Dutch to shudder; he believed his old friend.

"That ain't like you RJ; you ain't one to let someone suffer!"

RJ stopped and looked at Dutch. "Well Arlo, people change... you're one to know that statement better than most!"

And they kept moving, mostly in silence for the next few hours.

***

Reed had stopped at a small group of buildings on the outskirts of Nacogdoches to get a new shoe for Biscuit who threw one on the rough terrain a few miles outside of town.

The blacksmith was a bull of a man with huge arms and chest. His loquacious nature revealed to Reed what had happened to the Justus Ranch and that RJ was wanted for killing deputies.

The blacksmith didn't know he was talking to Reed Justus so Reed used that for his advantage.

"I heard Titus had a woman... you hear what happened to her?"

The smith stopped pounding the shoe to ponder the question. "I haven't heard... I'd guess she's still on that ranch... pushing out a woman would be big news... I suppose she's still there."

Reed shook his head. He was trying to act nonchalant with the conversation. To help that, he changed the subject.

"I heard it's going to be a cold winter this year."

The smith kept pounding, and he transitioned the conversation to the weather; and that was the last thing stated about the Justus problem between Reed and the blacksmith.

***

Reed circumvented Twin Forks and headed straight for the ranch. It took him a full day's ride, but he was trying to be as cautious as possible. He now knew his nephew was on the run because of being wanted for killing deputies, but he didn't know where to begin his search.

He hoped his sister-in-law Sarah would be there and give him answers.

He rode over the last rise overlooking the ranch. It looked pretty much like it did the last time he was here. That would have been close to eight years prior. He could see some cattle in the distance and a mule in the corral near the barn.

Nothing looked out of place. No movement. Nothing.

Reed was mounted on Biscuit and trotted her down to the yard area about one hundred yards from the ranch house.

Nothing met him. No dog. No person... nothing.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He felt a weird sense he was being watched. He also knew if that was true, he had better keep his hands away from his guns.

If it was Sarah, she would be nervous and one to shoot first and ask who she shot later.

He walked Biscuit up to about 20 yards from the front of the house.

He looked around.

Nothing. Eerily silent. It felt like no one lived here, but livestock in the corral belied that fact.

He looked around and decided to dismount.

About halfway with his dismount, he heard a female's voice and the familiar sound of a shell being jacked into a chamber of a repeating rifle.

"THAT'S FAR ENOUGH!"

Reed stopped with his leg halfway on and off the saddle. She had timed her command perfectly to catch him at his most vulnerable position.

"May I finish my dismount Sarah?"

She didn't say yay or nay for about five seconds. "SLOWLY! AND KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!"

Reed finished, and he never moved his hands even when he almost lost his balance removing his boot from the stirrup.

He held his hands high and faced Biscuit. His back was now facing where the woman's voice came from.

"May I turn around Sarah?"

Reed thought his using her name would calm her down, but she didn't care. She figured any man that Artemus Mueller sent would know who lived here.

"WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

"May I turn around?"

"SLOWLY!"

Reed did as he was ordered. He turned to see his sister-in-law with a Winchester .44-70 pointed straight at his chest. She must have been in the barn when he rode up.

She was about 30 yards away.

His hands were up.

"Sarah?"

She hadn't lowered her rifle.

"Sarah, its Reed."

For a brief moment, she was processing what he had just said. Then, she looked more closely at his face.

She lowered the Winchester. "Never thought I'd be happy to see you."

It wasn't a warm reunion.

Sarah Townsend Justus never cared for her brother-in-law. Never liked his ways. Didn't like him coming around and made no pretense in the opposite.

She walked past Reed on her way to the house. "You must be hungry. I'll fix you something to eat."

She was so matter-of-fact with her delivery, it almost unnerved Reed.

Even with the loss of her husband, Reed's brother, Titus; the disappearance and possible death of her only son, RJ; the threat of losing her home, she still had disdain for her only possible living family member and the only one that could possibly bring justice to her family.

Reed always knew Sarah pretty much hated it when he would visit, but she wasn't even putting on a false air now. He realized at this moment, she pretty much hated his presence, and he wasn't wanted.

"Yes Sarah, I can eat and thank you for the offer."

He dutifully followed her to the ranch house. He would ask his questions and eat her cooking and by her actions, he would leave the ranch as soon as possible. It was obvious he wasn't welcome even though he was here to help.

## Chapter 4

RJ had pushed over a mile of rough terrain. It was the piney woods of east Texas and there were slight rises but nothing one would consider a hill or mountain. He would push and hole up and watch the trail behind him.

His side ached terrible, and he was bleeding. Not as bad as it was the moment he was shot; but bad enough he knew he needed to stop and try and stop the bleeding.

His shirt was soaked through with his blood, and he felt lightheaded.

Dutch Mueller hadn't spoken in over an hour, and he was biding his time. He felt if he waited long enough, RJ would collapse and he would just call out and his men would be on him; and that would end this little soiree.

RJ stopped and pulled some of the yucca he had cut up and stored in a wrapped up kerchief.

"I could use some of that."

RJ just glared at Dutch. "Sorry Arlo, not enough to spare." He re-wrapped up the cache and kept moving.

Dutch was somewhat impressed with how much pluck RJ had, because he himself was secretly quite tired and needed to rest.

"How 'bout we rest a few minutes RJ, if you ain't gonna feed or water me, you can at least let me rest my feet."

RJ needed to rest himself. He was purposely walking through areas and breaking twigs and overturning rocks. He wanted his trail to be obvious.

He had a plan to let Dutch go, but he needed to push a little farther and tire out his prisoner a little more.

"We'll rest when I'm tired Arlo, not a minute sooner."

They heard the sound of a horse behind them. Then, men talking. Dutch's men were closing in.

"Why don't you just quit now RJ, my men will be here soon enough, you're just making them angrier by continuing and they'll take it out on you before they kill you."

RJ was counting on them losing their composure. He needed them tired and ready to quit.

RJ looked up ahead, and over the next rise, he could see an open area. He would stay on the upper side of that open area. If he was lucky, it would be a canyon, a drop off would be better.

He was miles and miles away from home, and he was in an area he didn't know well.

He kept walking and pulling the rope.

***

Sarah was busy making coffee and eggs and some biscuits for Reed. She hadn't spoken a word except to tell him where he could wash up.

When the coffee was ready, she poured him a cup and he sat down. She didn't offer any sugar or cream because she liked her coffee black and didn't understand why anyone would waste valuable things like cream and sugar in coffee.

Reed didn't mind, he liked straight black coffee, and he thought Sarah made a decent cup of coffee and said so.

She didn't respond to his compliment.

She served his breakfast and sat down across from him.

He started to eat without speaking.

"I suppose you're here because you heard what happened to Titus."

Reed had just taken a bite of eggs and was about to take a bite of biscuit. He took a swig of coffee to wash down the food before answering.

"RJ sent me a telegram." He reached inside his vest pocket and pulled out the paper with the message. He handed it to her.

As she was reading it, he added what he learned from the blacksmith.

"When was the last time you saw RJ?"

She folded up the paper and placed it on the table. Reed saw her eyes well up with tears. Emotion wasn't something he had ever seen from Sarah. It was so unlike her demeanor, he stopped eating, stopped doing everything until she answered.

"Three days ago, Dutch Mueller showed up here with a dozen men. They were trying to force us off the land. Said it was ordered by the courts but Dutch's father is Artemus Mueller and that man OWNS the damn courts in the area!" She hit the table with her fist. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She was gritting her teeth and spitting out the words.

Her tears weren't from sadness or fear; they were from anger and resentment.

"RJ was saddled up and about to head to town for supplies. Once the shooting started, RJ was able to charge Dutch while shooting. He was shot in the process by Dutch. RJ made the men scatter because he's a good shot. He hit a few of them. He knocked Dutch out by bending his pistol over his head. He was reacting more than anything.

"He grabbed Dutch and threw him over his horse. I don't know what he was thinking but he took off heading east. He was leading the men away from here I suppose."

"You don't know if he's alive or not?"

Sarah cut Reed a look. "I haven't seen a man since that morning. If RJ was dead, Artemus Mueller himself would probably ride up telling me this ranch can't be run by a woman!"

Reed shook his head in agreement.

"And, if RJ has Dutch, you can be damn sure he'd kill him before dying himself. If that happens, woman or not, Artemus Mueller would come kill me to avenge his only son!"

Reed had to acknowledge her reasoning.

"Why does he want the ranch Sarah?"

She wiped her tears away with her right hand. "He needs the land for the railroad. Our land has good water and good level areas for laying track and it'd connect Nacogdoches with a straight shot to Natchitoches. He's convinced that once that railroad comes through here, it'll bring people and supplies through on their way to big cities like Dallas or on to Austin even though we can be in Palestine within day and be on the train there... he wants a train through here and connecting to Palestine... bastard."

"I see... big plans and he doesn't care who he has to stomp out to make those plans come to be."

She was looking blankly at the table. "That's right... he'll stomp anyone that he perceives as a threat to his big plans."

"And Titus?"

The question changed the atmosphere in the room. Reed felt Sarah's energy shift. She wasn't crying anymore; she was suddenly quiet and angry.

"Titus bought a couple of plow horses from a man. He had a bill of sale. Money changed hands. It was legal. Artemus Mueller went to the sheriff and said his plow horses were stolen."

Reed could see her cheeks turning red. He could tell she was grinding her teeth.

"Six men came, including Dutch Mueller, all wearing badges. All were sheriff's deputies. A red-headed sonofabitch named Carver told Titus he was under arrest for horse thieving."

Reed hadn't moved in several minutes. He was about to hear how his brother died, and he felt a knot in his stomach forming.

"After Carver informed Titus he was under arrest, Dutch Mueller just pulled his pistol and pointed at Titus and said 'and you were shot while trying to escape'... "

She pointed her finger; she made her hand in the shape of a pistol. She was reenacting the scene. She had witnessed the entire event.

"Titus wasn't even armed and Dutch just shot him where he stood. He was about where you were when I confronted you earlier. They came here to kill Titus to force us from this land."

She looked at Reed. "They killed Titus over a damn railroad!"

Reed was silent. He was processing what she had just said.

"I was riding to town today when you arrived. I was in the barn saddling my mare. I've lost everything Reed. I was going to ride right up and kill Artemus Mueller. Since he took everything from me, I was going to take it all from him... the bastard!"

She hit the table again. She almost jumped up and stormed around the room.

Reed now knew the entire story.

"Sarah?"

She was looking out of the window overlooking the yard to the barn.

"Sarah, I'm going to take care of Artemus Mueller, no need you finish his job he's trying to do. You ride into town; he'll have a dozen men waiting for you. Woman or not, he's got the sheriff and the courts on his side. They'll shoot you down and take this land. Let me handle it please."

She had softened her tone a bit as she stared blankly through the window. "What can _you_ do Reed? Like you said, he's got a dozen men around him to protect him."

"Sarah, you let me worry about that. The very reason why you don't care for me is precisely why you need to let me worry about this."

Reed stood up and grabbed the biscuits from his plate. He gulped the coffee.

It was time to get started.

"First thing is to find RJ. He knew something like what happened to him was going to happen or he wouldn't have sent out the telegram. I'm going to find him."

He made his way to the door and opened it. "Promise me Sarah; you won't leave here until my return!"

For the first time since she was part of the family and since she knew Reed Justus, she felt comforted by his presence.

She half smiled. "I promise Reed, I'll stay right here." She was pointing at the ground.

He turned to leave.

"And Reed?"

He stopped and looked at her.

"Promise me you're going to kill him."

Reed looked straight into her big blue eyes. "Either I kill him or he'll kill me first... but, one of us ain't going to live through this Sarah."

He turned and left. He went to the barn and was gobbling down the biscuits as he cinched the saddle on Biscuit.

He was gone within a minute after walking in the barn. He tipped his hat when he rode from the area.

Sarah was on the porch and waved at him. She felt strangely calm for the first time in months.

Reed felt quiet resolve. Now, he had to find his nephew, and he only knew he went east.

## Chapter 5

RJ could hear the horses. He could tell Arlo 'Dutch' Mueller was played out. Heck, RJ was played out. His side ached, and his head was spinning. He needed to go through with his plan and do it quickly.

Dutch was resting, his eyes closed. Several times he wanted to call out to his men, but he knew that would be signing his death warrant; because RJ would have just shot him on the spot, so he kept quiet and allowed himself to be pulled with that damn rope.

Just then RJ stood up quickly and before Dutch knew what happened, RJ had laid the end of his pistol barrel over Dutch's head knocking him completely unconscious.

RJ wrapped up Dutch and tied him to the tree he was resting on and used Dutch's own kerchief and shoved it in him mouth.

He then headed over the small ridge and continued to leave an obvious trail.

He needed to move as fast as possible and put distance between himself and Arlo Mueller before the men following him found their tied up boss.

He didn't worry about covering his trail, he wanted distance; and he wanted them to have a trail to follow.

The blood on his shirt was wet near the wound site but dark and dried on the outer edge. He needed to find a place where he could have time to stop the bleeding but that would take time to make a fire and cauterize that wound. He would have to wait to attempt such a feat.

Now, he just needed to move and in a hurry.

He was several hundred yards away when Dutch's men came across their unconscious boss tied to a tree.

As they untied Dutch, and start doctoring his cuts and bruises, RJ kept moving.

***

"Is he alive?" It was the red-headed Carver. He didn't particularly care for his boss' son; but that didn't matter, he was paid to bring him back, alive if possible and kill RJ Justus.

One of the other hired guns, a man named Wilson answered. "Yep... he's banged up but he's breathing."

Carver looked around the men. They had left the man RJ gut shot the night before on the trail. He was probably a coyote meal by now. There were eight men left out of the original twelve that bushwhacked Justus at his ranch several days prior.

RJ Justus was supposed to be a rancher and farmer, but he was proving to be tough and wily.

Both qualities Carver admired and detested at the same time.

"How long 'til we can get going again?"

Wilson looked at Carver. "Hell, I ain't a doctor... let's at least get him awake before we go after Justus!"

Carver was impatient and cruel. He only saw things in paydays. There was no right or wrong; that was for suckers. It was as simple as who paid the best. He had fought in various skirmishes and wars since leaving Ireland twenty years prior.

Working for Artemus Mueller was a good payday, nothing more, nothing less.

Carver looked at the other men. "Alright, I'm going to see if I can find his trail, we'll leave the moment Dutch can move."

He headed out of the makeshift camp on foot and scoured the area. It didn't take long to find RJ's trail. He went a few hundred yards before turning back.

"What is your plan Justus?" Carver spoke to himself because it struck him as odd a man with the skills Justus displayed would leave such an obvious trail to follow.

***

By the time Carver returned, Dutch was awake and cussing.

"That sonofabitch bent that damn Colt over my head! I'm going to KILL that bastard slowly!"

"You ready to ride?"

It was Carver cutting to the chase.

Dutch shot a look at Carver. He never cared for the red-headed Irishman either. He often thought the bastard would just as soon be on the side of the Justus' than he and his father's side.

He wasn't too far off because Carver was a plain old mercenary without conscience.

"I need some food and water..." he took a swing. He glared at Carver. "I ain't MYSELF yet!"

Carver looked around the camp. "How much time do you need?"

The other men wanted to know that answer too. They had seen their friends and fellow hired guns get killed on this trip. They wanted a little revenge too.

Dutch squatted down near the fire that the others had made. "He's on foot... he can't go far... I need some food and a couple of hours."

Carver slapped his leg and looked in the direction he had just come. "He's planning something... I don't know what but the longer we give him to plan, the more likely he's going to succeed!"

Dutch was in a foul mood. He had no desire to argue with a hired gun. They'd go when HE said they'd go. "Understand something Carver; RJ Justus is badly hurt and on foot and he dragged me over this land for days and didn't let me eat or drink the entire time... I'm going to kill him... not you, or you, or you..." he was pointing at each man as he spoke, "... ME! So, we go when I say we go... understand?"

Carver slapped his leg again and shook his head. He understood what hating someone meant; and he could tell Dutch Mueller hated RJ Justus, and he wanted a different kind of revenge... this was now personal.

***

RJ moved as fast as he could. The blood loss was making him weak and unsteady. He wasn't thinking as clearly as he would like but clearly enough to try and enact his plan.

He came to a small clearing and a steep incline. He peered over the side. Rocks and piney woods and scrub were below. It wasn't a long drop but it appeared to be almost straight down about a hundred feet.

This spot would have to do.

RJ went back to where he had just pushed through a juniper bush and bent some limbs. Not enough to break, but he just bent them. He wanted the area to look disturbed.

He fell on the ground and allowed the blood stained shirt to hit the ground first.

He got up on his knees and crawled the few feet next to the edge; then, he dropped flat again to allow blood to smear on the rocks and dirt near the edge.

He then spun around and with his feet, kicked the side of the cliff with his feet loosening the rocks and dirt... the rocks gave way and fell. A few seconds later he could hear the rocks bouncing down the canyon to the bottom.

He reached over to where a limb of an oak tree was growing on the side just below the lip. He pulled it, and then he kicked the base breaking the limb in the direction of the canyon.

To an untrained eye, and at first glance, one would surmise he had stumbled through the trees and fell a couple of times before losing his balance and falling over the side. In the process, the broken oak limb looked like he grabbed it on his way to the bottom of the canyon.

Based on where he was located and the configuration of the canyon bowl, it would be very hard to make the trip down and recover his body.

Even if they decided to do that, RJ was about to head in the exact opposite direction. His little trick should work. He needed it to work to buy him time. It was time to cauterize his wound and to rest.

He would eventually go back and kill every one of them. If he had his druthers, the first would be Arlo; but he'd be satisfied with any of the bastards responsible for his family's misfortune.

He was far more careful moving away to not leave any sign. If the men following him figured his trick was indeed that... then, he was played out, and they would kill him.

He moved quickly and quietly and stepped on rocks to avoid leaving a print. He would be very careful now; he needed to get distance from that canyon and in a hurry.

***

Reed headed east and hopefully to his nephew RJ. It was fairly easy for him to pick up the trail of 8-10 horses riding fast. They were after someone or something. Reed decided this had to be the men after his nephew. He followed their wide open and blazing trail.

An inexperienced searcher could follow this sign... a man of Reed's ability could follow this trail without missing a step those men left behind.

Reed rode most of the day before he saw buzzards flying overhead. The trail was heading towards the buzzards circling.

He had a pit in his stomach. He knew RJ had been hit in the fight at the ranch. Could Reed be riding up to find his dead nephew?

He kept following the trail, and the buzzards were getting closer.

When he was about a hundred yards from a couple of dozen black carrion eaters all along the trees and covering a body on the ground, Reed hesitated.

He could see boots and buzzards covering the man.

Reed headed straight to the body on the ground and scattered the birds. They were noisy, smelly and irritated to be disturbed from their meal.

Reed rode up to a ghastly sight. The buzzards had all but cleaned the face, eyes and tongue from the man. He was unrecognizable.

"Oh God..." Reed dismounted and led Biscuit near the body on the ground. The body was just picked clean. It was obvious the man had been nibbled on by coyotes, foxes and just about every meat eater within a five hundred yard range.

Reed had no idea if he was looking at RJ or someone else. He then remembered something Titus had written to him. Titus claimed RJ was 'as tall as you' to Reed.

Reed stood almost six foot one inch. This fella on ground was no more than average height, five foot seven, or eight, inches.

"I'm pretty sure you ain't my nephew... so... you must be one ole RJ winged and you didn't survive the chase." Reed turned to look around.

He would normally bury anyone he found on the trail, but this might alert this fella's running buddies if they came back through that someone was behind them.

"Sorry buddy... I've gotta leave you where you are... besides, the buzzards have to eat same as the worms."

Reed mounted up and kept moving east and following the trail.

***

Carver was ready to head out and his pushing the timeline for Dutch's recovery only irritated Dutch all the more.

"The longer we sit here holding your hand, the farther that prick gets away! He's planning something; and I don't want to let him follow through with whatever that plan may be!"

Dutch Mueller stood up. He had about enough of the impertinent Irishman. "Carver... we go when I _say_ we go... not a minute sooner!"

Dutch threw out the last of his cup of coffee. He grabbed another can of beans and the can opener. In truth, he was ready to go, but he was letting the men know who was in charge.

He'd just sit and have another cup of coffee and another can of beans.

"I'll be ready after the beans."

He sat down, but none of the others were sitting. They all were ready to get going. It had already been a couple of hours since Dutch was found, and all of the men felt that was enough time.

But, Dutch was the boss, so they waited.

***

RJ was now a couple of miles from the cliff/canyon where he tried to make the men following him think he had gone over the side.

He wasn't sure he had walked far enough away or that he had waited long enough, but he desperately needed to cauterize the open wound on his left side.

Luckily, it was a through and through wound. The bullet wasn't in his body, and it didn't seem like it hit anything of major importance inside.

He just needed the bleeding to stop.

The day was wearing on, and he knew he needed to do something before dark. A fire would glow like a streetlamp in this area and could be seen for miles away.

He was in a sort of low area and with some juniper surrounding him; he began to clean out a small area big enough for a fire. He knew that juniper would burn, even if it was green. It had an oil that fire loved, but it was also odorous; and if the wind shifted ever so slightly, the burning juniper smell would carry.

He had to be very careful.

The wind, thankfully, was in his favor; and he was able to grab a handful of juniper needles as a base. He found plenty of very dry kindling and bigger sticks.

His father stressed to him to always have matches on his person, because you never knew when you'd need a fire.

"Thank you, Pa, for that lesson." RJ was striking the first match as he said the statement. The needles and kindling were so dry, they almost burned up before he was able to add to his small fire. Very little smoke rose up.

He added more wood. The fire was roaring in a few minutes, and he felt the warmth permeate his chilled and aching body.

It was warm and dry but he must have had a fever because the fire did feel amazingly good.

For a brief moment, he felt everything was going to be okay. But, the reality stared at him with his blood stained shirt.

RJ had already pulled a couple of bullets from his gun belt and was preparing to use his knife to pry the lead bullet from the brass casing.

He would have preferred a steel rod to heat up but that wasn't possible so he laid a stick in the fire about 1 inch circumference and he quickly started prying the bullets from the brass.

He pulled three bullets, and the brass with gunpowder in the shells were resting on a rock.

He pulled off his shirt and he could see the nastiness of the wound. He almost passed out from the sight, but he focused and grabbed one of the brass casings full of gunpowder; on his left side, feeling his way he poured the contents in his left hand and smashed the open hand with gunpowder in the exit wound.

The pain was instantaneous and horrific.

"OH GAWD!" He felt light-headed, but he hurriedly did it again to the exit wound with the second casing.

Sweat was pouring down his face. He was trying to focus but felt extremely dizzy.

He quickly poured the third and remaining casing of gunpowder in the entry wound in the front. He picked up the stick that now had a fire and red coals on its end; and before he thought too much about it, put the hot end of the stick on the entry wound immediately igniting the gunpowder which ignited the powder through the open part and along his back.

RJ never even cried out, the pain was so intense he immediately passed out.

Luckily, he tossed the burning stick out of reflex, because it burned him as he was passing out.

He would be out for several hours; and by the time the sun went down, the fire was burned down to embers and without even a glow.

## Chapter 6

"He came this way." Wilson was leading his horse and pointing at the sign.

"He's bleeding pretty good to." It was another one of Dutch's men, a smallish man with beady eyes everyone called Smitty.

Charles 'Smitty' Smith was a small man no more than 5'3" but mean. He would shoot a man in the back as soon as in the front. His attitude was 'it's him or me, and I plan on living'. None of the other men cared for Smitty but were glad he was on their side in a fight. In truth, they didn't truly trust the man and thought he'd shoot them in the back if it so fit his needs.

Based on their feelings, they were all inclined to have him ride point so their backs weren't to him.

"Smitty, why don't you lead the way and just kill anything that moves." Dutch was smiling an evil, serpent like smile when he said it.

Smitty didn't catch the smile, but he did catch the intent. "You got it boss!" Smitty then pulled his shotgun and cradled it in his lap. He would definitely shoot the first thing he saw on two feet and ask who he shot later.

Carver looked over at Dutch and once Smitty rode away said just above a whisper. "You just turned a rabid dog loose... we'd better make sure we're behind that crazy bastard."

Dutch looked at him. "Yep, but I have a feeling RJ will shoot first too, so this way, we either kill him or we lose a crazy man... either way, it's a win/win in my book." Dutch smiled again at his ingenuity, but Carver was a bit unnerved at having given Smitty free reign to do what he pleased in regards to killing.

They rode onward following the blood dripped trail of RJ.

"He's having trouble staying on his feet. It wouldn't surprise me if we found him somewhere on this trail." Wilson was pointing out various sign that indicated what he was saying.

"It's almost like he's wanting us to follow him." Carver was making a statement of observation.

All of the other men thought the same.

"He's either wanting us to follow, or he's really in that bad of shape." It was Smitty commenting, still cradling that shotgun.

Carver looked over at Dutch. "How bad hurt was the man?"

Dutch looked down the trail. "Bad... he hasn't eaten in days and his only source of water is Yucca... based on the man I last saw, he's in a bad way and probably dying, or dead already."

Carver shifted in the saddle. "One thing keeps bothering me."

Dutch looked at the red-headed Irishman. "What's that?"

"If he was in such a bad way and near death, why didn't he just kill you and be done with it?"

Again, all the men were thinking it, but only Carver had the guts to actually say it.

Dutch had thought of that too. He had rolled that very thought in his head. He didn't have a good answer other than RJ was trying to use him as a way to escape. "I've thought the same thing... I'm thinking he thought you'd just take me back because I was in a bad way and he might have time to recover... he's wrong; he's very wrong and it'll cost him."

They continued the push.

***

Reed was an old school searcher. He was a scout for the Confederacy in the great Civil War, and he had demons that stayed with him because of that war.

He could focus for great periods of time, especially when he worked. He kept the demons at bay when not working by over-medicating with alcohol when not on a job. When not a town drunk, he was sober, lucid and focused.

At this moment, he was as focused as he'd been in several years. His family was under attack, and his nephew was hurt and being chased by several men out to kill him.

The men didn't know they were being followed. Reed took his time and with great skills, had surmised there were at least eight men following RJ or eight horses; some could be leading horses or have a pack animal.

Reed found where RJ and what appeared to be where another man, spent a night a few nights prior.

"So, you still have that bastard Mueller with you."

It was a slow and meticulous process Reed was taking but necessary.

Reed knew he'd probably encounter those men. He wanted to know their strengths and weaknesses, so he'd have an advantage. Riding too fast and too head strong forward could mean a sure fired death.

No, he'd trust his nephew had enough skills to stay alive until he could find him.

At that moment, he noticed more blood.

"You're bleeding bad boy." Reed unseated himself from Biscuit to check the blood. He touched it, and it was dry. It was on a rock, a splatter. It was just a drop that fell straight down, probably when RJ stopped to catch his breath.

Several drops were leading away.

Reed knew he needed to find his nephew sooner rather than later.

If the men following him didn't find him first, RJ might bleed to death based on how much blood Reed was following.

***

"HERE!" It was another man Dutch only knew as Bob. Bob was a good shot but a little slow.

"What is it Bob?"

"Broken limb and blood!"

The other men headed Bob's way. Wilson unseated himself and looked at the sign.

"Yep... it's him. He headed through this juniper patch." Wilson started leading his horse through the thick brush.

The others unseated themselves and followed. It was a narrow and brushy area.

"I really hate these juniper cedars!" It was Dutch commenting.

The others thought it too but didn't reply.

"He's staggering. There's blood everywhere." Wilson was pointing at the sign.

In the near distance, they could see they were heading for a canyon.

Wilson was first through the opening. "Leave your horses where they are, this is a narrow area!"

They all tied up their horses before proceeding.

They weren't but twenty to thirty yards behind Wilson, but they listened to what he was saying.

"He came through here... I think he went over the side!"

This caused the seven other men to hurry to Wilson's voice.

"What makes you think that?" Dutch was the most curious.

Wilson pointed to the first juniper limb with blood and it also being broken, and he kept pointing as he spoke.

"He came through there, and he fell." He pointed at a particular spot. "Lots of blood right here."

Wilson was now walking the few steps and pointing. "He got up and fell again, and he stumbled and lost his footing." He pointed at everything he was seeing. "He grabbed that limb trying to keep from falling; but it gave, and he went over." He kept pointing. "The rocks have been disturbed." Wilson stood erect and put his hands on his hips. "Looks like RJ did our job for us."

Carver wasn't convinced. "We need to go down there and recover his body."

They all looked around. The rocks around the edge of the canyon were steep and foreboding. None could see a viable way down.

Dutch couldn't see a way down either. "Well Carver, if you want to head down there, be my guest... we'll wait for your return."

Carver curled his lip into almost a snarl. He could see there was no easy way down; and even if they could get down there, how would you get back?

Carver thought a second. "If you're good with not seeing his body, then so am I." He looked around. "But, if that man comes for us, just know he'll be sure to kill us one at a time; because he won't face us as a group."

They all hesitated. He made a good point, but the problem remained; how could they get down there and return?

Dutch looked at Carver. "Well, we'll just cross that bridge if we come to it."

He walked to the horses.

It was getting dark, and they needed to make camp before it got too dark to see.

***

RJ slowly was coming to. The pain in his body was horrific and instantaneous when he rolled a little.

It took his breath away. "Oh gawd!" He felt light-headed. It was dark and getting cooler by the minute. His fire was completely out. He must have been out cold for hours.

As badly as he wanted to build the fire back up, he knew that would draw attention to his position; and it would mean death.

He was cold, hungry, injured, feverish and worn down. He had no supplies, no blanket, no horse and no fire. It would be a miracle if he survived the night.

"You may get your wish Arlo." He whispered to himself. His only halfway pleasant thought was his death without discovery would mean Arlo 'Dutch' Mueller would spend a lifetime truly wondering if someone would show up and just kill him where he stood.

That thought of being in Arlo's mind caused RJ to smile a little to himself.

***

Reed had made camp just a few miles from where RJ had left Dutch Mueller a day prior. He made a small fire long before dark and with the supplies he had, made coffee and warmed a can of beans. He had some venison jerky he chewed on with the beans.

It wasn't much of a meal, but it was filling. When the sun started heading to the western sky and the shadows became long, he kicked out the fire and leaned back on his saddle.

Biscuit was hobbled and grazing nearby.

Reed was an old hand at sleeping out under the stars, especially on a tracking job.

He trusted his gut, that little feeling an old fighter gets that tells him it's okay to sleep, or not. He felt utterly safe. He rested comfortably with his blanket and his hat pulled low over his eyes.

But, he pulled his pistol; and it was in his right hand under the blanket. He may have felt safe, but he wasn't a fool.

## Chapter 7

Arlo 'Dutch' Mueller had a restless night of sleep. He wasn't close to being fully recovered, and he was ready to be home and in his own bed. The men weren't truly celebrating the death of RJ Justus, because no one saw a body; but they were headed home and to their own cots, and that secretly pleased them.

Carver was the first up and completely saddled when Arlo finally was up and getting his first cup of coffee.

He felt utterly like hammered dog crap. He was sore, fatigued, dirty and just plain angry at RJ Justus; and even though they all decided to believe the rancher went over the side of that canyon, Dutch didn't truly believe it.

"What is your plan boss?" It was Carver poking his boss again.

"Can a man have a little coffee without being pushed?"

Carver looked around. The other men were contented to slowly start getting their supplies together. Every man could tell Dutch wasn't himself just yet.

In fact, none thought they'd be in any better shape if the tables were turned, but that didn't matter to Carver.

All of the men were packed and their horses were saddled by the time Dutch really started putting in the effort.

He looked at the men all looking at him. Even old patient Bob was looking perturbed at waiting.

"Y'all go ahead; I'll catch up soon enough."

The men started mounting up, except Carver. He just stood there with his reins in his hand.

It took a few seconds for Dutch to realize the men weren't following his order to just leave.

"Why ain't y'allgoin'?"

He looked around.

"What?"

Carver spoke first. "We'll wait. I don't think a single one of us truly believes Justus is dead; and if we go back and tell your Pa we found you but left you and you got yourself killed... no, we'll just wait until you're ready."

For the first time that morning, Dutch didn't get argumentative; he didn't blame them for waiting.

He just shook his head. "Yep, my Pa wouldn't be happy with y'all if that happened."

Ten minutes later he was saddled and after a fairly quick trip to the woods to relieve himself, they were on their way.

The mood was cautiously optimistic, especially if RJ Justus was truly dead, which would be exactly what they'd say to Artemus Mueller.

***

Reed awakened just before the sun crested the hill. It was beautiful early fall morning. He made another fire to warm another can of beans and a pot of coffee.

While he waited for the coffee, he chewed on a piece of jerky.

He didn't seem to be in any rush; and in fact, if someone would have happened by, they would wrongly assume he was just passing through.

After his morning meal with coffee, he saddled a rested Biscuit and was heading out of the area after completely covering the area he used as a campsite.

Years of practice taught him to do that very thing. For the untrained eye, it didn't look like a thing was out of place.

It didn't take Reed but a minute after leaving to pick up the trail of eight horses.

He was again moving deliberately and slowly.

***

RJ was smart enough to have gathered enough wood prior to cauterizing his wound to be able to make a fire first thing in the morning after the sun arose past the horizon. Even moving enough to sit up to gather the wood already gathered was a struggle.

He had a little yucca left; so he ate it while getting the fire to start. Luckily, that happened with very little effort.

He decided he'd use all of his gathered wood to make a roaring fire... at least for a little bit. He was so chilled, he'd risk a big fire to warm his joints.

The fire felt good and comforting.

After he felt the chill leave him, he knew he needed some food. The problem was he couldn't risk shooting even a small rabbit or squirrel... he would have to rely on his snaring abilities, and that was iffy at best.

"Lordy, I wish I would have paid more attention when Pa was trying to teach me this thing!"

He was using his belt he had cut into thin strips for a rope. It was tedious, time consuming and looked awful, but after an hour, or so, he had a passable type of rope to be used to make a snare.

"Now, if only a critter will have suicidal thoughts!" He smiled to himself at his own macabre humor.

He used just about every facet of energy to get to his feet to start searching for a place to put his snare. He didn't have much faith, but he would, at least, try.

He already decided if no animal was caught by the next morning, he would just go ahead and shoot something and hope no one heard the shot.

He found an animal trail that went directly through two juniper cedars. He was able to somewhat hide his rope in some limbs as the lasso loop was opened for any small creature who's head was six, or so, inches off the ground.

If they went through the area fast enough, they would pull the snare taut and strangle themselves as they would try to escape.

"I'll give this one shot."

RJ headed back the fifty, or so, yards back to his fire. He started grabbing firewood along the way.

Every time he bent over, his body racked with pain.

By the time he made it back to his 'camp', he was exhausted and needed to sleep.

***

Voices... and the sound of horses... Reed had happened on the men that were after his nephew.

He didn't move fast in a different direction, but he moved Biscuit on a ninety degree trajectory away from his current direction. After going a couple of hundred yards, he found a small grove of young pines and dismounted and hobbled Biscuit and loosened the cinch.

He grabbed his Henry repeater and his binoculars; and keeping trees and brush between him and the sound of the men, made his way back the few hundred yards to an area that boasted of several junipers that overlooked at area just below.

He had no plan to confront the men; he just wanted to see his quarry.

He didn't have to wait long, because he saw movement to his right. A smallish man cradling a shotgun draped across his lap was first in his sight.

Then, a second, then third and one by one they appeared.

Reed was sitting and seeing the men just a bit below him by a minimal degree. He was well hidden inside the juniper cedar bush; but if any of the men looked directly at him, they might see the discolored based of the tree.

Reed barely moved. He kept the binoculars up as he scanned the men.

At one point, eight men were in front of him not more than fifty yards.

They weren't visiting, but they were definitely heading back to where they had come.

That told Reed one of two things, either they killed RJ and they were heading back, or they thought RJ was dead.

Either way, they wouldn't be so relaxed in their demeanor.

"I hope you fooled 'em boy." Reed whispered to himself.

If they discovered him at that moment, or if something alerted them to his presence that would mean certain death.

He would kill two or three if something happened; but their numbers meant sure death, so he just watched.

Getting those men would take cunning and a plan... now wasn't the time.

Within a minute, all eight riders were out of sight; and Reed could only catch glimpses of their animals as they headed the direction Reed had just come.

If they had a very experienced tracker, he could probably catch a new set of horse tracks on top of the ones they left a day, or so, earlier; but Reed saw none of them actually looking at the ground.... Good.

Reed just sat and enjoyed the breeze and the quiet on top of the little rise after the men were out of sight. He wouldn't move for a while; no use alerting them to his presence. Besides, he may have miscounted the number of horses; and they may have someone pulling drag, but Reed highly doubted it.

Still, it would be wise to wait a few minutes... besides, it was a nice view and it wasn't too cold or warm... he'd give it a good twenty to thirty minutes before heading back to Biscuit.

***

The day wore on and no one appeared. No man-made sounds reverberated in the area. RJ truly felt alone. He needed to trust he was alone before he would actually shoot some game; but there was hope his little snare might actually work... but, he doubted it.

He saw yuccas all around, and he started cutting into them to get the meat inside. The yucca gave him moisture, and the meat was a bit filling but that would wane soon... he needed meat or he was doomed.

He kept the fire built up, and he found some rocks to put around the fire. The rocks would radiate heat. As it got darker, RJ would cradle those rocks to try and stay as warm as possible in the night, because having a fire was not even in the question.

He checked the snare a few times, but it was always empty.

He did see some game. Deer, squirrels and one fox but none were near, and only the fox or squirrel would be appropriate for his snare.

He decided come morning, after he checked the snare and if it was empty, he'd be forced to harvest via his Henry repeater.

***

"What will you tell your father?" It was Bob asking Dutch. No one really cared what Artemus Mueller thought other than if his anger would mean he wouldn't pay them.

Bob was different. He was a little slow... a little too nice to be a part of this group. He truly was curious.

Dutch looked over at Bob. "Without the body, he ain't gonna be happy."

Bob shook his head.

"But, we all testify to him what we saw, and he'll leave it alone."

Bob shook his head again.

Dutch added. "Besides, now that RJ Justus is gone, his ranch is just sitting there with only his momma protecting it." Dutch smiled. "She can't keep that ranch up; it's just too much for a woman."

Carver was listening but keeping his own counsel. He knew Sarah Townsend Justus wasn't just _any_ woman. She wouldn't go without a fight, and she was a definite fighter.

"You think this is going to be easy, do ya?" Carver smiled.

Dutch lost his smile. "Easy enough! It's just one woman!"

Carver smirked. "You ride up and tell that woman to vacate her property, and she'll shoot you between the eyes... that woman won't hesitate shooting you... but, if you think I'm full of crap, go ahead, I always enjoy a good show!"

The other men chuckled. They felt the same way about Sarah Justus; and truth be told, none wanted to tangle with her. The thought of getting killed by a woman was too much for their egos.

Dutch didn't like being the butt of ANY joke. "If my father says we confront the bitch, we confront!" He looked around. "You hear me?"

They all shook their heads.

They continued to ride back to town.

***

Reed headed directly down the trail the eight riders he just saw came from. They left an easy to follow trail. They obviously had zero fear that they were being followed.

He rode up to where they had spent the night and saw the mess and sign everywhere.

"Lordy, a blind drunk could surmise what went on here!" He didn't even unseat from Biscuit. He kept riding on and following sign.

Then he saw blood... lots more than he had been seeing along the trail, and it was heading away from their camp.

He could see the men had followed that trial.

"Those men didn't care about preserving the sign." He got off Biscuit a few times to check the area.

He always found sign: blood, turned over rocks, bent and broken limbs.

"Looks like you were wanting them to follow you RJ... why would you do that?"

Within a couple of hours, Reed happened onto the area where the trail pushed through a juniper cedar batch. He tied up Biscuit and went into the area; and he could see where a man fell, bled, stumbled and appeared to go over the side.

"So, either you're dead boy or you fooled those men."

Reed, being the experienced searcher he is and with thirty years of experience tracking men, saw a smallish opening just a few paces north of where the obvious trail that came through to that area ended.

He went to that little opening. He searched the juniper limbs for any sign.

Nothing.

He gently pushed through and looked down for sign.

Nothing.

He could see there were limestone rocks imbedded in the ground that were big enough to step on without leaving a foot print.

He was deep in a juniper thicket when he decided he'd head back.

When he turned, he looked a little to his right; and on one needle of one small limb on one of the juniper trees, he saw something that looked discolored.

His curious nature drew him to that one little thing.

He looked at it after pulling the limb and breaking it from the branch.

It was dark... could it be dried blood?

He decided to go in that direction as he circled back to get Biscuit.

Then, he looked down and saw some bent grass.

Then a slightly bent limb just ahead.

Then, a drop of blood on a rock.

"That smart boy!" Reed smiled. RJ made it this far and had fooled the men tracking him. Now, he needed to find him, because he was obviously seriously hurt; and he would need some doctoring.

***

The next morning RJ went to check his snare, and he was shocked to find a skunk in it.

"Of all of the dang critters to get caught!"

He contemplated just letting the dead skunk get eaten by the buzzards; but he was starving, and he needed meat.

"Lord, I KNOW you must have a sense of humor!"

RJ was weak, sore, racked with pain, and his head was spinning; but even he could see the ironic humor in what was in his snare.

Luckily, the animal had strangled itself trying to get free, and it was unable to spray RJ; but he had released his gland contents in the area, and it pretty much was a noxious fume that coated his mouth.

"Gawd bless... I hope you don't taste like you smell!"

He carefully, as carefully as he could, cut the snare away from the limb it was secured to and walked further away from camp. He just went ahead and stripped nude to clean the animal.

No use ruining his clothes if at all possible.

He carried the dead skunk even further away; knife in one hand and dead skunk in the other, naked as the day he was born.

"If Arlo comes upon me now and kills me... oh, the humiliation that would bring to my family!"

He smiled at the utter craziness of it all.

Cleaning the skunk was a delicate matter. He knew that gland on its rump was where the odor originated. He carefully skinned the animal, and he decided he would cut away the meat surrounding the gland.

He kept his knife fairly sharp and after gagging a few times, was able to separate the skunk from his hide.

He left the hide where he skinned it and hurriedly walked away.

Back in his 'camp', if you want to call it that, he quickly built up the fire and placed a big rock in the middle/edge of the fire and allowed it to get extremely hot.

He finished the cleaning process of the skunk by removing any remnants of intestines and once he felt the fire had died down enough and the rock was hot enough, he put the split open chest and gutted animal over the rock.

It immediately began to sizzle.

RJ then placed another rock on top. That rock would heat up and cook from above.

He started rubbing pine needles and grass on his hands to clean them.

It didn't take long for him to realize he smelled... BAD!

"No lady would come near me now!"

He decided he'd retrieve his clothes, and he hoped he had peeled them off before the smell permeated the clothing too badly.

Grabbing the clothes, he went near some juniper bushes because the oil in the needles was a powerful smell. He grabbed a handful and aggressively rubbed his hands together, releasing the oil.

It did help, but now he smelled like a combination of cedar and skunk.

By the time he got back to the camp, the skunk looked to be about cooked. He waited until he saw the end of the legs truly burnt to a crisp. He felt that if the ends were burnt, then the middle MUST be cooked.

He made a makeshift table with rocks and using his knife, he flipped the top rock off and skewered the skunk from the opened lower end and picked it off the cooking rock.

It was darkened, with smoke stains and smoke rolled off the carcass.

His mouth watered.

"Never in my wildest thoughts would I have thought I'd be craving skunk."

He put the carcass on the rocks near his bedding area and allowed it to cool. But his hunger got the better of him, and he pulled off a back leg and took a tentative bite.

The fat from the skunk created a film in his mouth.

"Lordy, you DO taste like you smell!"

Under ANY other circumstance, this wouldn't happen; but he needed sustenance and the Lord provided.

He ate the entire skunk without any more complaint, and he was thankful to have it.

He also vowed this would be his first, last and only skunk he'd ever eat.

"For this alone Arlo, I'm going to kill you."

He was exhausted. He had a busy morning and using his clothes as bedding, he sprawled out naked as the day he was born and fell asleep.

***

The morning after Reed found the sign that RJ did indeed fool the men following him, he quickly continued his search.

After a couple of hundred yards from the canyon cliff that looked like someone had gone over the side, Reed picked up good sign someone was alive and moving away.

It was obvious to Reed that RJ had figured he didn't need to be as careful this far away from the canyon. His deception would have either worked, or not worked; and by this time he didn't need to be as careful.

"You're stumbling around boy."

Reed looked at the sign.

He kept following the trail.

One mile, then two... then... a bad skunk smell permeated the area.

One top of that... fire... the smell of burning wood.

RJ was alive, and he had a fire.

Reed simply headed to towards the area where he smelled burning wood.

## Chapter 8

The sign was everywhere for Reed to process. Someone was near and they had been all over this area.

He didn't really worry about the sign, he only followed the smell of the fire... and skunk.

When he was closer to the fire smell, he passed by a black and white hide on the ground.

He could tell it was a hide and not a complete skunk.

"Lordy boy, did you kill and eat a damned skunk?" He unseated himself from Biscuit and looked ahead as he contemplated what to do next.

He knew he was near his very injured nephew, but even calling out would alert RJ to his presence; and they hadn't seen one another in almost ten years. Would his nephew shoot first and ask who was approaching second?

Reed thought about it... he had to admit, he probably would do that very thing if he were in the same condition.

He didn't want to get shot by a nephew he came to help. He pulled his Henry out of the scabbard and wrapped the reins around the horn on the saddle.

He spoke to Biscuit who acted like she understood. "Biscuit girl... I need you to trot around that corner and distract my nephew... can you do that?"

He swatted her on the rump, and she started trotting around the little corner and just like Reed wanted, in the direct line of sight for RJ.

***

The sound of a shod horse on a rocky area is distinctive, and it awoke RJ with a start.

He was still quite naked, but he grabbed his pistol and wearing only his boots stood up and was ready for the horseman that was fast approaching.

***

When Biscuit started her trot, Reed went directly perpendicular to her chosen direction and got behind a cedar juniper. She was about thirty yards away and just stopped.

She snorted and started pawing the ground.

She was in Reed's line of sight, and he knew anyone near that fire could see her.

He just waited.

***

When the saddled mare stood not forty yards from him and pawing the ground, RJ started scanning the area.

This _had_ to be one of the men's horses that had been following him... right?

But, where was her rider? He desperately needed a horse. He was in the great big middle of nowhere and badly injured and naked or not, he needed to try and get that horse.

RJ started walking casually to the saddled animal. Just standing was an effort because the cauterized wound in his side racked him with pain. She wasn't afraid of him and just stood there as he approached.

"Easy girl... easy." RJ kept his pistol in his right hand, just in case; and he had his left hand up and his focus was on the horse.

He walked slowly towards her.

She was as curious about the naked man coming towards her as he was about having a saddled mare suddenly appear.

***

Reed could hear RJ talking low, and he could hear him approaching.

He almost burst out laughing when he saw a bedraggled nude man wearing boots come into his line of sight.

Biscuit was watching the man approach, and she didn't seem inclined to run.

The moment the man grabbed Biscuit's reins, Reed called out.

"RJ! DON'T TURN AROUND! DROP YOUR PISTOL!"

***

Damnit... a trap! RJ hesitated on dropping the pistol; but he figured if the man meant on harming him, he would already be dead... and clothed the same way he came into the world.

He dropped the pistol

"Her name is Biscuit, and she's probably wondering why a naked man is holding on to her reins!"

RJ slowly looked to where the voice was coming.

"Hello RJ... it's me, your Uncle Reed."

RJ took a deep breath.

"I supposed you're wondering why I'm unclothed?"

Reed was walking down to his nephew. "The thought did come to me."

"I snared a skunk, and I was trying to keep my clothes from getting sprayed."

By now Reed had reached his nephew. It wasn't a warm and gushing hello. It wasn't like a reunion one would have with a family member they hadn't seen in ten years.

It was matter-of-fact.

"Makes sense... did it work?"

RJ looked at this uncle. "I don't think so."

Reed started leading Biscuit to the fire. "I have a change of clothes for you just in case."

RJ started walking beside his uncle. It was a surreal moment... walking beside his much traveled uncle... nude... in the wild with a bad gunshot wound.

"My trail that easy to follow?"

Reed smiled. "Well, yes, especially the part where you led them to the side of a cliff... after that, it took a little more skill."

RJ smiled. "But, you were still able to follow it."

"Barely, at first." Reed smiled.

They were in camp now.

"At least put on your britches. I'm going to make some coffee and look at your wound."

RJ was grabbing his pants. "Yessir."

***

Dutch was worn down and ready for a couple of days of recuperation. The group headed to town and directly to the General Store, which was owned and run by Artemus Mueller, Dutch's father.

He was a powerful and rich man, but he always enjoyed being in that store and working the counter. He had a hired manager, but just about every day, Artemus Mueller would be in his General Store greeting customers.

Ironically, the same people that he would squash if the need so called for, he would smile and be helpful and answer any question they had. 'A means to an end' would be how he'd describe his emotions and actions to his son when that conversation occurred. His son was quite aware of his Father's business dealings outside of the store, and when he would bring it up on how could he push a neighbor out of their home that was his Father's pat comeback.

Dutch walked in the store looking rough and worn with almost a week's growth of beard, tired and beat down. Carver looked only a slight bit better.

Both men walked in to see Artemus helping the preacher's wife. He was cordial, smiling and completely fake.

Dutch had long learned when his father sounded the most sincere, he was lying and deceiving the best. Dutch didn't have that ability... yet. His father kept saying, once you learn to fake sincerity, you can take over the world.

Artemus excused himself from the young pretty spouse of the preacher. He walked over to his son.

In just a little above a whisper he spoke. "You look like hell!"

"Glad to see you too, Pa."

"Well, is RJ Justus out of the way?"

Dutch looked over at Carver who was glancing around the room. He always looked around any room he entered. He was like a nervous cat that way.

Dutch looked back at his father. "Yep... best we can tell he went over the side of a canyon wall almost two full days ride north of here."

"Did you see his body?"

Dutch pursed his lips. "Couldn't... no safe way down."

Artemus grabbed his son's arm. "So, you _never_ saw his body?"

Dutch didn't look his father in the eyes. He just shook his head 'no'.

Artemus released his son's arm. He wasn't pleased. He looked over at Carver. "Why didn't _you_ go and find that body? I _pay_ you for such things!"

Carver didn't like being spoken to in such a way. He took a deep breath before answering. "Like Dutch said, no safe way down. And, I might add, just in case we would have been able to get down to the bottom, no way out."

Artemus straightened his vest and shirt and apron. He stood upright. He looked at both men. "Alright, clean yourselves up. Get some food and rest. We'll pay Mrs. Justus a visit in the morning."

They didn't answer; they just shook their heads and started for the door.

Artemus turned to his customer. "So, Mrs. Seeley, have you decided on which cloth works for your dress?"

***

Once outside, Dutch was face to face with his men. "Pa's not pleased we didn't find his body, but he accepts the reasons. Y'all get cleaned up and rest... we pay old lady Justus a visit in the morning."

They all simply turned and started leading their horses to the livery.

They would drop them off and have them curried and fed before doing the same to themselves.

Tomorrow could be a hard day but today, they rest and get a bath... that thought pleased every one of them.

## Chapter 9

Reed had expertly cleaned and doctored his nephew's wounds. RJ was in and out of fever; and most likely if Reed hadn't found him, he would have perished in the wilderness.

Reed had gathered more wood when RJ rested. He had made coffee and a can of beans. He woke up his nephew to force him to eat and drink some coffee.

"I ain't real hungry to be honest."

Reed wasn't having it. "Force it, you need it; and I ain't carrying you back draped over my saddle."

RJ reluctantly ate the beans. He felt chills all over, and he just ached from head to toe.

"I'm gonna kill Arlo Mueller for this." RJ was staring at the fire as he spoke.

Reed looked around. "Yep, but first we need to get you stronger and let your momma know you ain't dead."

RJ looked over at his uncle. "Did you see her?"

"How do you think I knew which way to head out to look for you?"

RJ took another spoon full of beans and a swig of coffee. "D'she tell you the whole story?"

Reed shook his head as he cradled his own cup of coffee. "Yep."

"So, you're going to help me kill them?"

Reed looked directly at his nephew. "You're damn right I am!" He threw the remaining remnants of coffee away.

Reed stood up. "I've set out several snares. I'm going to check them and I'll be back." He started walking from the camp.

"When are we gonna go after 'em?" RJ wanted to know.

"When I'm sure you won't pass out just by standing up!"

RJ had to shake his head in acknowledgment of the statement as Reed left the camp area.

***

Reed had more expertise when it came to putting out snares. He caught one raccoon and one opossum. Neither was a good tasting animal, but they would be a damn sight more tasty than skunk.

RJ was back asleep by the fire when Reed skinned and started cooking the animals. He did a similar way of cooking them that RJ had done. The main difference was Reed had some salt to season them with. It always amazed Reed how much a little salt rubbed over just about any meat will bring out the flavor.

He had both critters splayed open and their split chests on a hot rock with an equally big rock on top. The rocks acted like a type of oven generating heat from both sides.

He made a fresh pot of coffee and when the meat was ready, woke up RJ and made him eat.

"Here, you eat the coon... they have more fat in their meat and you need fat right now."

Reed had warmed up 2 cans of beans and both men ate to their bellies were full.

It was the best RJ had felt in over a week.

"I don't think I would have made it, Uncle, if you hadn't found me."

Reed was finishing his coffee. "But, you did... we'll hole up here another day, maybe two before we head back."

"My mother is probably worried sick."

Reed took another swig of coffee and shook his head in agreement. "That's why we're going there first."

***

Arlo 'Dutch' Mueller led his men from the livery. They were going to head to the Justus place to confront Sarah Townsend Justus. All of the men were surprised to see Artemus Mueller waiting with his horse saddled.

He was apparently going to go with them.

"Pa, no need for you to go with us."

Artemus Mueller simply walked up to his horse, put a foot in a stirrup and swung a leg over. Once seated, he turned to his son. "The way you completely bollocks the last trip to the Justus ranch, I think it best I do go along this time."

He spurred his animal and got the gelding into an easy gait. The rest of the men followed as did Dutch.

The men followed Dutch, because that was their job. They followed Artemus because of respect.

There was no question as to who was in charge on this little trip to the Justus Ranch.

***

Sarah Justus was beyond worrying about her son. She had long suspected he was probably dead, but the trump card she had in the back of her mind was her brother-in-law Reed.

She instinctively knew if anybody showed up and threatened her with expulsion from her ranch, and they didn't bring up Reed, that would mean he's alive; and that would probably mean RJ would be alive too. Reed wouldn't stay away without coming to tell her about RJ being dead... that just wasn't his way.

She was busy doing chores when she heard the horses coming. She had gathered eggs and was busy milking the cow when she heard Artemus Mueller yelling for her.

"SARAH! SARAH JUSTUS!"

She left the eggs and milk and grabbed the scattergun she had learned to bring with her whenever she went outside of the house.

She walked out and was behind the nine horseback riders. They were all well-armed but facing towards the house.

If she were so inclined, she could take out two or three before they knew what was happening.

She had the shotgun ready. "What do you want Artemus?"

They all looked quickly over their left shoulders to see the woman wielding a shotgun. She had the drop on them.

Carver instinctively reached for his pistol to which Artemus Mueller quickly raised his hand to stop him. "Don't be a damn fool Carver!"

Artemus slowly raised his free hand and turned his horse to face Sarah. The other men followed suit.

Sarah was staring directly at Artemus Mueller. "Well Artemus? Why are you here?"

Artemus Mueller shifted his weight. He put his hands on the saddle horn and took a deep breath. "Sarah, I don't want any trouble."

She looked coldly at him. "Now _why_ don't I believe you Artemus?"

Artemus Mueller looked at his son, then at Carver. "I must apologize for my son and my men's lack of respect on their previous visits."

Sarah wasn't buying what Artemus was selling. "Your feral dogs work for you... they do your bidding."

Artemus Mueller didn't like the jab from the impertinent woman in front of him. "Now Sarah, no need to be disrespectful."

She raised the shotgun. "You're on my property; your son killed my husband... "

"For resisting arrest!"

She pointed the shotgun at Artemus. "KILLED MY HUSBAND!" She pointed the shotgun at each of the men. "THEN, CAME HERE AND SHOT AND POSSIBLY KILLED MY SON!"

Artemus sat back and looked left and right at his men. "Like I was saying, lack of respect in their previous visits."

She pointed the shotgun at Artemus again. "Why are you here Artemus?"

He held up his hands. "I just wanted to deliver some news personally. Now, please understand I don't take pleasure in what I'm about to say." He again looked left and right. "But, in pursuit of RJ, my men were forced to defend themselves and... well... um... Sarah, I'm afraid RJ was killed during an altercation with my men while acting as agents of the courts."

Sarah lowered her shotgun. She felt gut punched. She hesitated which made Artemus Mueller and his men feel the shift of the meeting go their way.

Artemus continued. "I'm sorry Sarah, RJ was always a good boy, and I felt he was like a son to me. As you know, he and Dutch were always so close." He sounded so very sincere that even Dutch was caught up in the story.

Sarah wasn't buying it. She regained her composure and pointed the shotgun again directly at Artemus. "Just like you Artemus to oversell it! RJ and Arlo hated one another after their school days were over... I think it was because RJ could see Arlo had too much of his Daddy in him!"

Artemus lost all color in his face. "There you go being disrespectful again Sarah!"

She took a step towards the group but only to insure the pattern from the shotgun wouldn't get too wide and only wound Mueller if she pulled the trigger.

"Where's his body?"

Artemus looked around. He wasn't quite expecting that question. "When he was shot, he went over the side of a cliff... they couldn't retrieve his body... sorry."

Sarah thought that was a little convenient, she was fully angry now and took another step closer.

"You've delivered your message Artemus, now GET OFF MY PROPERTY!"

He held up his hands again. "Ok Sarah, we're leaving, but you know as well as I that this place is too much for a woman to run... I'll give you a fair price for the land... but..." He looked her directly in the eyes. "... My offer has a time limit; and then I'll be going after this land through the courts, and this time I'll win!"

"GET OFF MY LAND!"

Artemus Mueller knew when he needed to leave well enough alone, and he reined his horse to the left and gave the animal a little kick causing it to go into an immediate lope.

He tipped his hat to her as he rode by.

His men followed.

Once alone, she almost broke down at the thought of her only son dead... somewhere out there... but, she also knew Reed was out there too; and his name wasn't mentioned.

Sarah had a gut feeling her son wasn't quite as dead as Artemus Mueller suspected... she hoped.

***

RJ Justus was actually feeling somewhat better. He awoke to smelling something cooking. A sizzling of meat that is very distinctive over an open flame.

Barely opening his eyes, he asked without looking around. "What's cooking? Smells good!"

Reed was leaning against his saddle. Biscuit was hobbled and grazing nearby. "Rattlesnake."

This caused RJ to sit up and look at the fire. Sure enough, squeezed between two big rocks was a skinned snake.

"How big?"

"Big 'un, twelve buttons." Reed tossed the rattles to his nephew and he caught them. "Biscuit was acting skittish; he was near her... so... an easy meal for us!"

"I hafta admit, I ain't never had rattler before."

Reed half-smirked, "Tastes like chicken!"

RJ shook his head. "Does EVERYTHING taste like chicken?"

"Well, rattler does... if the chicken is old, tough and hard to chew!"

Both men chuckled.

"I'm feeling stronger Uncle Reed, when are we heading back?"

Reed rose up and refreshed his coffee. "I'd say tomorrow. I want you as strong as possible. We only have one horse, and we can't both ride her because it'd wear the girl down. And, I ain't walking the miles and miles back over the rough terrain and you can't, but by tomorrow, you should be able to handle walking some."

RJ stood up, he needed to make water. His body didn't immediately rack with pain now. It was more of a low ache. He stretched. He was still a bit tender. "I hope my Momma is doing okay... I'd really prefer heading back today."

Reed looked up at his nephew. "I wouldn't worry too much about your momma boy, she's one tough lady. If I'm not wrong, she'd probably cut down any man that crosses her with that scattergun she pointed at my guts when I arrived."

RJ thought for a second. "Yep, Momma is tough like that... I got my toughness from her... I got my skills from you, even though you weren't 'round much."

"What did you get from your Pa?"

"Resolve on situations."

Reed raised his cup. "That is what we're going to need once we go after those bastards!"

***

Artemus Mueller was still reeling from his encounter with Sarah Justus. He was determined to have that land, and she was now the only thing that stood in his way.

He would try and choke her out by filing claims against her water rights. It was a bit underhanded, but filing claims on just the water would mean she couldn't water her livestock. They would starve for water and eventually, she would be forced to sell everything for next to nothing, or just abandon the ranch; and Mueller would swoop in and get it for a song.

He tried to feel bad for doing what he was doing, but he just couldn't muster even feeling bad. He knew the town needed the railroad, and Justus' ranch was the best way to the town. Any other way was way too uneven and not enough water, which was needed for the railroad, too.

As he was headed to the land commissioner's office, he was mumbling to himself. "You shoulda just sold me that ranch you stubborn woman."

In Artemus Mueller's weird twisted mind, he felt he was doing something for the greater good by destroying a family. After all, a railroad would help the town grow, and it needed to grow for Artemus Mueller to realize his goals.

***

Sarah Justus was one tough lady. She knew she needed to do something; but she would wait until she saw her ne'er-do-well brother-in-law return. She did promise him that.

She felt deep within her soul, her son was alive, as was Reed. If she thought she had nothing to live for, she would have cut Artemus Mueller in half with her shotgun when he paid an uninvited visit to her the day prior.

Still, she knew the man was up to something. She just didn't know what.

She continued doing the necessary chores a ranch requires biding her time. She felt Mueller wasn't totally lying. Her son was probably hurt, but not mentioning Reed made her think her brother-in-law and son were alive. Reed had to be with RJ and probably doctoring him back to health... she hoped.

She wouldn't wait long... a few more days... after that, she planned on just walking into Artemus Mueller's store and saying she would sell to him... when he had his defenses down, she would shoot him in cold blood, and to hell with the consequences.

She hoped her son and Reed would return before she put her suicidal plan into action.

***

The morning was crisp and a small front had blown in when they slept. Reed had already saddled Biscuit, and RJ was busy trying to erase the camp as much as possible. Even though both men were good at concealing their tracks, it's almost impossible to erase four days of campfire dust.

That would take time and a few years.

"You ride first." Reed was handing RJ the reins.

RJ almost waved him off; but truth be told, he wasn't even sure he could last in the saddle very long, little less on foot.

He took the reins and swung a leg over.

Biscuit had a slight bow in her back because of not being ridden in a few days; but within a minute, she was ambling along with her ears low.

"Stop every hundert yards, or so, and let me catch up... every so often, just get off her back and walk and lead her to let her rest."

"Yessir." RJ was heading towards home and just as ordered, he stopped when he was about a hundred yards away and waited. The moment Reed was on him, he walked Biscuit another hundred yards and waited.

This was the routine for the next hour.

Biscuit wasn't even sweating, and RJ was fresh; but Reed was starting to tire out a little.

After an hour, Reed asked if his nephew felt like walking a bit. Even though he really didn't, RJ dismounted Biscuit and handed his uncle the reins.

Reed always enjoyed riding and walking in boots was most uncomfortable, but this situation was what it was... so, he rode his hundred yards and waited.

The third time he dismounted and walked with RJ.

"What's your plan Uncle?"

Reed glanced over at his nephew. "Just to get you home."

"After that?"

Reed glanced back at RJ again. "I've got a few ideas."

They walked on a bit before RJ broke the silence. "You ever plan on sharing those ideas?"

"When I have it worked out in my head... right now, all I can see is us confronting the bastard, and we don't walk away from that encounter."

RJ looked over at his uncle. "By all means, work it out before we confront!"

Reed stopped leading Biscuit and threw a rein over her withers and mounted up.

"We're gonna kill 'em RJ... every mother's son of them... what they did was criminal and they had badges to hide behind... they killed my brother... they almost killed you... I ain't gonna let them kill me before I exact my revenge!"

RJ just watched as his uncle rode Biscuit the hundred yards away from him.

At that moment RJ realized something important, his old broken down former Ranger and Confederate scout uncle was a dangerous man that felt somewhat cornered. Right then, RJ felt a little sorry for Artemus Mueller and his men... but only a little.

## Chapter 10

Bree Loving was a comely woman in her mid-thirties; and her husband, James, Jim to his friends, was proud of the woman he had for a wife. He was also a part-time Ranger; and he would be gone for months on end, which forced Bree to pick up the slack with ranch work when Jim was away.

Whenever rumor reached the area that a Ranger unit was in a scrape where Rangers were killed, Bree was always anxious. These were also the times when Arlo 'Dutch' Mueller would come calling.

Even though Bree was 7 years older than him, Dutch would make himself known when rumors about a Ranger getting killed surfaced.

At first, Bree laughed it off as a school boy crush; but Dutch had started flat out saying how much he enjoyed the ranch and that a ranch was no place for a woman to be alone.

His flirting became obnoxious, and she took to keeping a loaded Colt .45 with her at all times. Even though Dutch had never physically touched her, he made his intentions known. She learned to trust that little voice inside, and it was screaming that Dutch Mueller was up to no good.

When she saw Dutch riding up with several men, she immediately went on edge and slid the Colt in her skirt pocket. It was obvious to them she had a gun, but she didn't care. She hoped the knowledge she was carrying would thwart any ill intentions of Dutch and his men.

"Morning Miss Bree." Dutch was smiling, and he removed his hat.

"Morning Dutch." She looked around at the group. "What can I do for you this morning?"

Dutch placed his hat on his head. "We're just passing through and thought we'd stop by and check on you..." he motioned around his group. "... we, being the law and all, and you being a constituent, we feel it's our job to check on the people in our area."

She looked at the men; they weren't doing much of anything aggressive. "I'm fine Dutch, thank you for checking."

She turned to head back in the house.

"Oh, Miss Bree, I heard this morning that a Ranger band was in a fight with some Mexican banditos and several Rangers were hurt... some bad."

Bree tensed up. She didn't turn around. She just waited for Dutch to finish.

He didn't.

She finally spoke. "And?"

Dutch smiled. "That's all I know... for now." He pulled his gelding and turned to leave. "This place is a nice place Miss Bree... if it were mine, ain't no way I'd leave it to git myself kil't by some Mex'can bandits!"

He tipped his hat and turned to leave. "Oh, and in case you hadn't heard, RJ Justus was kil'tresistin' arrest last week."

Bree caught her breath. "RJ? He's dead?"

"Yes'm... we tried to arrest him peaceful like, but he drew a gun and fired on us... he kil't a couple of deputies... we had no choice."

Bree felt her stomach tightening up. She watched RJ when he was just a boy, and she was a teenager. He was like a little brother to her.

And, she may have lost her Jim too?

"Anyhow, good day ma'am." Dutch was smiling. He was twisted that way. He knew he was delivering bad news, but he had a little thrill run through his body while delivering it.

Carver was right there, and it disgusted him. He wasn't one to play games with people's emotions. He was a hired man, a paid killer, but he wasn't without conscience.

When Dutch saw Carver frowning at him he snarled. "You're paid to be a deputy... I don't need your morals Carver!"

Carver didn't reply. He looked back at the pretty woman on the front stoop of her home. She was using a post to keep herself from crumpling. Her back was to the group, but Carver could tell she was upset.

Carver decided to poke Dutch a little after a moment. "You have intentions with Mrs. Loving, but she looks at you with disgust... you're wastin' your time... she has better taste than to waste her attentions on the likes of you."

Dutch shot an angry look at Carver. He put his hand on his revolver.

"Go ahead Dutch... do it... you'll make my day... DO IT!"

Carver yelling caused Bree Loving to snap out of her distraction and look at the men now over a hundred yards away.

She could tell the red-headed man was the one that did the yelling. She could see Dutch had put his hand on his revolver but then took it away.

She headed on inside.

***

Dutch wisely took his hand off his revolver.

Carver spit.

It was a sign of complete disrespect.

"The next time you put a hand on your revolver and look at me the way you just did, I'm going to forget you're the boss' son... understand?"

Dutch didn't say anything.

Carver just kept leading his horse.

Both men knew that one day, one day in the future, they would need to settle their disagreement and only one would be alive after that.

The other men felt it would be Carver unless Dutch got the drop on him... and Dutch Mueller wasn't one to fight fair.

***

The first day heading back was slow and arduous. Biscuit wanted to get on with it, and she fought the bit a little every time the man riding her stopped and waited.

RJ was waning in strength and Reed, who did most of the walking, was tiring out himself.

"Let's rest here tonight." Reed had approached RJ and Biscuit. It was an area overlooking a rocky low area. They were above it in a pine tree grove.

RJ didn't put up a fight. He was tired, beat up and still recovering from his gunshot wound and weakness from the fight.

Without saying too much between them, they immediately started making camp and gathering firewood.

"I'm going to set up some snares." And leaving RJ to get the fire started, Reed headed to an area he saw from a distance. He could see it was a runoff catch tank carved out millennia ago, and it had water in it.

He saw the trails leading to the area and found a couple of likely areas where a small critter would be passing with some scrub bushes on either side. Here is where he set up his first snare.

It had been a long walk and a little warm that day for the time of year. The crisp morning had burned away to a warm afternoon. He knew animals would be coming to drink.

He found two other areas with similar setups and got out of the areas to allow it to settle down.

"Let's hope some small animal is thirsty and not too wise to the snares." He had a tendency to talk to himself at such occasions.

Coming back he could see a fire already going and Biscuit unsaddled and curried, hobbled and grazing.

His nephew wasn't one to shirk taking care of the animals or doing chores. As injured as he was, he refused to complain about his injuries.

Luckily, they had some beans to warm up. RJ had already opened a couple of cans and had them sitting on a flat stone near the fire to warm them up. He had also had coffee brewing.

"I like my beans warm... never could cotton to a cold can of beans."

Reed smiled and walked directly to his saddle bags to retrieve his coffee cups. He had long learned to keep 2 cups on his person, because you never knew who you might encounter on the trail; and sharing some coffee with a potential enemy tended to soften them on confronting you.

Years prior, he had an old Comanche warrior, who had developed a taste for white man's coffee with sugar, just walk into camp.

Reed had already finished all he wanted, and the old Indian in full war garb just walked in a pointed at the coffee pot.

Reed just handed over his cup, and the Comanche poured himself a cup. He indicated he wanted to put something in the cup. Reed figured it was sugar, and he just happened to have some on him. He offered up the bag, and the Comanche grabbed a small handful and poured it in the cup.

It was a surreal moment for Reed, because the Indian sat back like they were old friends enjoying a cup of coffee together.

After about 30 minutes, and a second cup of coffee, the old Indian stood to leave. Reed, wisely, offered the Comanche the bag of sugar as a parting gift.

The Comanche smiled and offered Reed a paring knife. To Reed, he had the better end of the trade, but the old Indian felt he had snookered the white man for his sugar with an old knife he made when he was a young buck.

Reed was never molested again by Comanches in that area of Texas. He felt it had everything to do with that encounter.

He later found out that old Comanche was none other than Quanah Parker, the famous Comanche war chief.

It's strange who you come across while on the trail.

Ever since that encounter, Reed made sure he had 2 coffee cups to drink coffee with whoever might show up.

"We could be home by tomorrow if we push."

Reed thought about it before answering. "Let's take it as it comes, shall we?"

RJ was leaning back. He was exhausted.

"Good idea," was the last thing RJ said before he drifted off to sleep.

***

The next morning, long before daylight, Reed went to check the snares. He was pleased to find a jackass rabbit ensnared and quite dead. Jackrabbits were a stringy meat with very little fat, but this was a big rabbit; and it would fill both men up before they started for the day.

He retrieved his other snares and cleaned the rabbit. He walked back into camp to find his nephew had already started building the fire back up.

"Looks like we're having meat for breakfast!"

Reed held up the rabbit. "Jackass rabbit... good thing I have a little salt, because their meat ain't exactly a mouth-watering treat!"

Both men smiled.

RJ didn't complain one bit. "You're talking to a man that at a skunk a few days ago... this is a world class meal compared to that!"

So, after rubbing a little salt over the rabbit, Reed placed the carcass on the flat rock near the fire next to the coffee pot. The meat immediately began to sizzle. He then placed another flat rock on top creating an oven like affect.

"Once that top rock heats up, we'll have cooked rabbit in no time!"

So, an hour after finding an ensnared jackrabbit, he was completely consumed, and both men were enjoying the last can of beans and coffee.

"I'm almost feeling normal again Uncle."

Reed was cradling his coffee cup.

Reed decided it was time to share what he had worked out for confronting Artemus Mueller.

"I know how we're going to kill Mueller."

RJ sat up. He was all ears. "Yessir?"

"You ain't gonna like it... we're gonna need your mother to help us."

***

Sarah Justus was biding her time. She had decided to give it one more day, and then she would confront Artemus Mueller and kill him in cold blood. She felt she had nothing to live for; her husband was dead, she was told her only son was dead and over what? Land? The railroad?

So, the man who had created so much of her pain wanted her land so badly he'd lie, steal, cheat and kill for it, so she decided to deliver a little death to him.

It was completely personal.

She went through her daily chores like nothing else was wrong.

Gathering eggs, milking the cow, feeding the horses, making butter... she just went through her daily routine like nothing else mattered.

Inside, she knew she might be dead by this time tomorrow... she didn't care.

At that moment, she heard a horse approaching. It was shod and moving quickly.

She came out of the barn with her shotgun in hand.

She saw a familiar sight coming up the trail.

It was Bree Loving with her horse in a full lope.

When Bree was in shouting distance, Sarah called out. "WHY THE RUSH BREE?"

Bree didn't answer at first, she rode in close. "Dutch Mueller and his men came by yesterday... they told me that RJ was killed... I decided to come first thing this morning!"

Bree was unseating herself from her sorrel mare as she spoke. She let the reins go and approached Sarah to embrace her.

Sarah was somewhat taken aback by Bree's show of affection.

"Thank you Bree... Artemus Mueller and Dutch and their men stopped by here to deliver the news a couple of days ago."

Bree sensed very little concern from her neighbor and friend about what she had just said, so she looked her in the eyes. She saw no emotion, almost dead eyes.

It had an unnerving effect on Bree.

"You aren't as concerned as I thought you'd be!"

Sarah pursed her lips and turned to the house. Her shotgun was in her left hand. "Let's go inside Bree, I'll tell you what I know."

A somewhat confused Bree Loving followed her friend inside the home. She grabbed Molly's reins to lead the mare to the hitching post just outside the home.

After tying up the mare, she dutifully went inside to see Sarah sitting at the table.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Even though Sarah was seated, her southern hospitality gene was always working.

"No Sarah, I'm fine... now, why aren't you more upset?"

Sarah Justus motioned for Bree to sit across from her.

Bree took the seat.

Sarah took a deep breath. She wasn't looking at Bree. She was looking down at the table with her fingers interlocked.

"Titus' brother Reed showed up a few days after the confrontation RJ had with Dutch and his men. He's a well-known searcher, a scout... he's on RJ's trail."

Bree was sitting upright on her hands, very tensely, her blue eyes fixed on Sarah. "Okay... so? "

"So, Reed may be a scoundrel and a drunk, and I don't like his influence on my son; but he would never, EVER keep from me that my son is dead."

Bree wasn't following yet... she felt something wasn't being said.

Sarah caught Bree's confused expression.

"When Artemus Mueller showed up here to tell me RJ was dead, he never mentioned Reed... he doesn't know Reed is here or that Reed is searching for RJ."

Bree was sort of catching Sarah's line of statements.

Sarah continued, "If RJ is truly dead, Reed would have already been here to tell me that... since he hasn't returned yet, I hafta believe that Reed has been doctoring RJ, and he hasn't been strong enough to travel. I do know RJ was wounded in the initial fight. I saw him shot."

Bree relaxed a bit. She took a deep breath and allowed her shoulders to roll forward a little. Her face was less intense. She looked past Sarah and started processing what she had just said.

"So, you think RJ is alive because Reed would have already been here to tell you otherwise; and if Artemus mentioned Reed when he was here, then you'd know it was true but, he didn't so you're assuming both of them are alive?"

Sarah listened to the long sentence description Bree had used... she started shaking her head in agreement. "That's correct."

Bree could see her friend's line of reasoning... if she were in Sarah's place, she'd probably feel that way too... it gives a woman hope and right now, that's what her friend needs.

"What can I do Sarah?"

Sarah looked at the sweet face of Bree Loving.

"You just coming to visit has helped me... I was planning on paying Artemus Mueller a little visit tomorrow if Reed and RJ hadn't returned by then... you being here and allowing me to talk about it has inspired me to wait a little longer."

Bree smiled. She didn't realize what Sarah was saying... Sarah had no plan to return to her ranch if she visited Artemus Mueller, it was a suicide mission.

Sarah decided to worry about someone else. She changed the subject. "Have you heard anything about Jim?"

Bree looked at Sarah, and her expression immediately changed. Now it would be Sarah helping Bree deal with possible loss.

## Chapter 11

As the afternoon sky started to fill with colors, both RJ and Reed realized that pushing themselves and Biscuit the final few miles to the ranch would be risky and not helpful.

Reed had beaned a small rabbit with a rock and before the poor animal had time to recover, he was on it and dispatched it. He was one that was handy with just about every form of weaponry. He found as a young man, he was very accurate with throwing rocks which saved him money from ammo when harvesting small game for a meal.

After salting the cottontail and doing his placement of the rabbit between 2 flat rocks, and with coffee brewing, RJ brought up the plan that his uncle had shared with him about the plan.

"I don't like it uncle."

Even though they hadn't spoken of it all day, Reed knew his nephew was mulling over the plan as they rode/walked closer to the ranch. Since they would be arriving by late morning the next day, it was definitely on RJ's mind; and he needed to vent.

"I knew you wouldn't, but it's really the only way RJ. And, do you seriously think your momma is gonna let you go into that situation without being a part of it?"

"But, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to her!"

Reed poured himself a cup of coffee. "I know, but we have the element of surprise on our side... they think you're dead, and they have no clue I exist... it's the only way."

RJ poured himself a cup and sat back. "What if she don't wanna do it?"

Reed had thought of that. "Then, we make my presence known and keep the fact that you're alive unknown until necessary."

"Why don't we just do that?"

Reed was staring at the fire. He waited before answering. "Because, I'll be very outnumbered, and it'll for sure end me. I'm actually ok with that, but I'd really hope to avoid giving Artemus Mueller the satisfaction of ending two brothers lives while pursuing his plan."

RJ thought about it. "But, why do you think it'll be any different for Ma?"

Reed took a drink. "Because, by the time we're in the fight, Artemus Mueller will be dead."

***

The next morning, there was no fire built up, no coffee made, no beans to eat, because they were out of cans of beans. They didn't even worry about cleaning the area to make it look like someone had camped there months, or even years prior... RJ was ready to see his mother, and Reed was ready to deliver his nephew.

"You ride on ahead... give Biscuit a good lope, she's been chomping at the bit the past few days to do it and see your Ma... get me one of your Pa's horses and return as quickly as possible... I'll be walking, but you'll get there long before I can cover the last few miles."

RJ was already saddled up and listening to his uncle. He spurred Biscuit who, like Reed stated, was itching to get into a lope. "I'll be back soon Uncle!"

And, RJ was off in a lope the last few miles to the ranch.

***

Bree Loving had left a few hours after coming to check on Sarah Justus the day prior. Even though Sarah appreciated the company, she was more worried about Bree's husband Jim than her own son and brother-in-law. She felt in her gut they were alive.

She was busy doing her morning chores' collecting eggs, milking the cow, feeding the horses, when she heard the sound of a shod horse galloping towards the ranch.

She grabbed the shotgun and came to the front of the barn door.

The sound was from a different direction than from where Bree Loving would come, so she knew it was a different person.

Just then, she saw a man on horseback coming into focus. The horse looked familiar; it was Reed's mare but the rider...

Sarah let the shotgun drop to her side. She put her right hand over her mouth and tears started streaming down her face.

"MA?!" RJ was looking for his mother; he was looking at the house and completely overlooked the woman standing at the barn door.

"RJ!" She choked the words out as she tried to make her way to her only son.

RJ had dismounted and let the reins fall to the ground. He was heading to the house he grew up in when he heard her voice.

He turned and immediately ran to her, and she tried to run to him; but her legs felt weak, almost like she was walking in sand.

She was crying tears of relief and joy.

They embraced right in the yard and collapsed holding each other.

"Ma... its ok Ma... I'm ok!"

She just cried and held his face and looked into his eyes. He had two weeks growth of beard; and he looked worn down, but he was alive.

She tried to speak but she was too overcome with emotion.

RJ sat in the yard and held his mother while she wept.

After several minutes she motioned she wanted to get up and go in the house.

Once inside she could only sit at the table, and he sat beside her. She was holding his forearms and hands and looking at him.

"Oh RJ, they told me you were dead!"

He smiled. "I made 'em think I went over the side of a canyon wall!"

She then realized he was on Reed's horse. "And Reed?"

He smiled and motioned with his head. "He's walking in... I need to saddle up Big Ed and go and retrieve him."

She pulled him when he tried to stand up. She didn't want him to leave just yet.

"Ma, Reed saved me... I can't let him walk miles and miles... I'll be back in a couple of hours!"

He smiled and put his hand on hers. She felt utter relief. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

***

RJ made his way to the barn. He picked up the shotgun left on the ground and leaned it against the barn door. He went inside to the familiar smells and sights he grew up with... it suddenly felt surreal, like he was in a dream. For a time out in the wilderness, he felt he wouldn't see or smell this barn again.

He savored the moment as he pulled his Pa's saddle off the rack and curried Big Ed before saddling him.

Big Ed was a part Belgium that his father loved to ride. "He can ride all day in that rocking chair lope without tiring" was something his Dad always said.

He patted the big animal on the neck. "I think Pa would be pleased to know you'll be giving Reed a ride here in a bit."

He led the saddled animal out, and he grabbed a lead for Biscuit. He would lope back, but she wouldn't be required to carry a rider just yet.

She seemed eager to get going again, and she didn't care one way or the other that she was being led.

Biscuit was a good horse that way.

Sarah was on the porch leaning on one of the posts watching her son get ready to ride off. She thought for a moment that she almost had decided to saddle up Big Ed and ride in to meet Artemus Mueller today and kill him in cold blood.

Now, she had her son back and soon her husband's brother would be back too... it wasn't ideal, but she would have her family back; and that was all she truly wanted.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours Ma... I'm sure Reed's gonna be hungry because I know I am!"

He smiled.

She smiled back. It almost felt normal again... if only for a moment.

***

Bree Loving awoke feeling empty and alone. She still hadn't gotten word from the State about her husband. The only thing she had heard, good or bad, was from Dutch Mueller, and that could definitely be suspect.

She walked out on her front porch and looked at the sky. "Oh Jim... please let me know you are alive and okay."

In truth she had no inner voice telling her one thing or another... she had no insight... no instinct. She only had the statement made by a man she didn't trust who made her skin crawl at his presence. He made it known how he felt about her, and she didn't trust him; but as the wife of a Ranger, it was a possibility at any time your man might not come back from a mission.

She went to her small barn to start the day of gathering eggs and feeding livestock.

***

By the time Reed heard horses coming his way, he had made it about half the way to the ranch. He walked towards the animals; and when he saw RJ come into view riding a big horse leading Biscuit, he knew that Sarah had confirmation they were alive.

"RJ! RJ OVER HERE!" Reed was waving his hands as his nephew almost rode past him.

When RJ spotted his uncle waving both hands, he immediately turned the big half Belgian towards Reed.

"That's one big old horse!"

RJ was unseating himself. He handed Reed the reins. "Big Ed was Pa's favorite. I think Pa would like to know ole Ed carried you the final miles back to the ranch."

Reed really wanted to ride Biscuit. They had a bond that happens between horse and rider sometimes; but RJ was insistent, so Reed smiled and mounted up the big light colored sorrel almost eighteen hand horse.

"Feels like I'm on top of a mountain!"

RJ smiled as he took the lead off Biscuit and coiled it up and tied it to the horn. He then swung a leg over the mare and was seated beside the big animal.

"It does feel like I'm on a kid's pony after riding Big Ed the past hour!"

They started the lope back to the ranch.

"Ma should have us something to eat by the time we return."

Reed smiled. "Good, 'cause my stomach has 'bout grown to my backbone!"

## Chapter 12

As promised they walked in to a house full of smells from cooking. Sarah was so excited about her son being back, she went overboard with making biscuits and gravy with some bacon on the side. She scrambled up some eggs and had fresh milk from her Jersey cow. She had coffee made too.

She was in the middle of making flapjacks when they walked in.

"Lordy Ma, how much do you think we can eat?" RJ was smiling.

Sarah was smiling. She hadn't smiled for a long time.

She looked at Reed. He also had a couple of weeks of beard growth. His was a white beard, but his features were familiar. He looked like an older version of his younger brother and Sarah's husband, Titus.

They definitely had the same eyes.

She had to catch herself a moment. She had a familiar feeling, two Justus men coming in from being outside for a meal.

She stopped what she was doing and went over to Reed. She put both hands on each of his upper arms. She stared into his blue eyes.

He felt for the very first time... ever, that Sarah Justus was happy to see him.

"Thank you Reed." That was all she could muster to say, and she hugged him tightly.

He hugged her back. He never thought she'd ever embrace him in a friendly and caring way, but she was grateful; and he could feel her appreciation.

"You're welcome Sarah... I'm so glad I found him... he's a tough young man, but it was good I found him when I did."

They stopped the hug to see RJ grazing around the stove, taking a biscuit and slapping some bacon between the split biscuit with butter.

They both watched him.

Reed had a view of what it must have been like with a young RJ grabbing food before it was put out for everyone to eat. He had missed so much because of who he was, and because he knew he wasn't welcome during those formative years of RJ.

Sarah had a sudden feeling of guilt for keeping Reed away from his brother and nephew.

"I should have been more accepting of you Reed."

Reed held up a hand to stop her. "No, you were right about me back then... I should have been more acceptable to you... that was my fault."

And that ended the discussion. Reed took the responsibility, and he wouldn't allow her to take any of it.

He felt she had to deal with enough without adding to her guilt.

"Now, before RJ finishes off my portion, I'm starving!" He smiled and grabbed a plate and pushed his nephew off the stove, so he could get his portion.

***

After the best meal he had had in years, Reed leaned back in his chair and with his cup of coffee, he raised it to Sarah. "I must say Sarah, you're the best cook I've ever encountered... that was a wonderful meal."

She smiled. "You're most welcome Reed... glad you enjoyed it."

"Ma was always the best cook around... Pa said it was one of the main reasons he married her!" RJ smiled at his mother.

Sarah smiled.

Reed decided to add to the statement. "I remember Titus stating your momma's pretty eyes had something to do with it, too!"

Sarah managed to look coy. Reed was lightly flirting with his sister-in-law. He wasn't being inappropriate, and she didn't take it that way. He was being nice and stating a fact. Titus had told her many times it was her eyes that attracted him to her at the beginning.

After the niceties, Sarah wanted to know what was next. At that moment, Artemus Mueller and his ilk thought she was a woman alone in the wilderness, and it would only be a matter of time before they found out RJ was still alive.

She moved over to the table and sat beside her son and across from Reed.

"I know you must have a plan Reed... that's your nature... what are we going to do."

Reed leaned forward on his elbows. The one thing he always admired about Sarah was her straight forwardness. She wasn't one to waste time.

Reed looked right at her... right in her pretty brown eyes.

"Sarah, how much hate do you have for Artemus Mueller?"

***

Artemus Mueller was feeling satisfied... he was close to having what he wanted. He would be filing the papers, again, to control the water rights to every river, pond or catch tank in a twenty mile radius around the town. Once he controlled the water, he'd squeeze out many of the landowners including Sarah Justus.

"That stubborn woman," was all he kept saying as he walked the paperwork over to the comptroller's office. He would have gladly paid for the land, well, at a price he'd be willing to pay, and avoid all of the heartache and death bestowed on one family.

"Those Justus' are a stubborn lot. Serves 'em right." He simply walked in and filed the paperwork.

It would be challenged, and it would go to court; but the judge was on Artemus Mueller's payroll so this was all for show.

He walked back to his General Store and put on the apron like a good small business owner in the area. Most people didn't know it was him controlling the purse strings that were bringing in the railroad.

Sarah Townsend Justus knew, and it was only a matter of time before she blabbed to her neighbors; and they blabbed to their neighbors... by the time they figured out it was him, he'd be in control of everything and this town could finally grow.

***

Sarah took the question and didn't blink. She said without emotion. "My original plan today was to saddle up Big Ed, ride him into town and tell Artemus Mueller I had decided to sell."

RJ looked concerned. He looked at his mother, but before he could speak, she finished.

"Once I had him feeling comfortable and before he had time to react, I was going to pull my Derringer and shoot the bastard in cold blood."

Both Reed and RJ saw her resolve, her determination.

"You asked me how much I hate him... I hate him enough to kill him in cold blood for what he's done to my family."

Reed swallowed. He wasn't expecting her to be so forthright, but he definitely understood. Reed wanted to kill Mueller for what he did to his brother and his nephew... it only stands to reason that Sarah would want to kill him for the same reasons.

Reed looked at RJ, then at Sarah. "Then Sarah, you're going to like what my plan is."

***

Word came via the telegram that two Rangers had been killed while fighting Mexican banditos near the border. Those listed as killed in action were Lafayette Murphee and Jim Loving.

The telegraph operator always showed Artemus Mueller any news first before delivering it to the newspaper for print.

He walked in with a solemn look on his face and handed the telegram over to Artemus.

"I thought you'd want this first."

Artemus looked at it and shook his head at the operator. "Thanks Rufus, I'll make sure Henry gets this." Henry McCaven was the newspaper editor.

Right after Rufus left, Artemus turned to Dutch. "Deliver this to McCaven, Dutch." He handed the telegram to his son.

As Dutch left the store, he glanced down to read what was delivered.

He should have felt bad, but all he felt was a little glee and a slight thrill. He was half smiling to himself as he walked into the newspaper front meeting area.

A small man with pullover sleeves to protect his clothing from the ink spoke to Dutch. "Be right with you Dutch."

Dutch put the paper on the desk. "Just a delivery from Rufus... Pa thinks you would want this."

"Just leave it there Dutch and thank you!"

Henry went back to setting the print and Dutch left the office. Since it was so late in the day at this point, Dutch would leave first thing in the morning after the news was printed in the paper to deliver the news to the now widowed Bree Loving.

Finally, she would see the light and know he's her best chance for having a good life in this town.

***

As the day wore on, the Justus clan started getting things together for what was to happen in the morning.

Reed would normally wait until RJ was closer to 100%; but all three knew that every day they waited it would be that much harder to keep it silent that RJ was alive and that Reed was in town.

"You realize that you MUST stay out of sight until your Ma shows up in the morning?"

"Yessir, I plan to arrive in town after midnight and climb up on the roof of the Lady Belle saloon and stay low until daylight."

"I'll be arriving around ten in the morning and checking in the hotel next door... I'd stay low until after ten."

RJ shook his head. They both headed back to the house. Sarah was sitting at the table with her arms folded quietly looking at the cup of coffee she had poured herself.

She was deep in thought.

Reed saw her reticence. "Sarah?"

She didn't respond.

"Sarah?" He said it with a little more emphasis.

She looked at him.

"You okay?"

She just shook her head.

"We can do this a different way if you can't follow through... there ain't no sin in not being able to do it!"

Sitting with her crossed arms Reed could see her brown eyes looked blank and sad.

RJ looked at his mother and back at his Uncle Reed. He almost spoke, but Sarah broke her silence.

"It's not that I won't follow through, Reed. It's that it doesn't bother me that I'm willing to follow through. That's what's bothering me."

Reed understood. He had felt the same thing before, but that was long ago.

"That's what makes you human Sarah... and a good person... but, and not to belabor this point, just know you'll forever be changed after this and if you can't do it, now is the time to tell me."

She looked right into Reed's eyes. "Don't worry, I'll do it and worry about the consequences after."

Reed shook his head. "Good enough." He looked at RJ. "You 'bout ready?"

RJ shook his head. "Just wanted to tell Ma goodbye, and I'll see her tomorrow."

She stood up and hugged her son.

He hugged her tightly.

She whispered in his ear just before letting him go. "Your father would be so proud... this is almost over with RJ."

"Yes ma'am."

They followed him to the barn where he had one of the calmer mares saddled up and ready to ride.

Reed shook his nephew's hand after he mounted up. "I'll see you in the morning."

And, just like that, RJ started the plan in to action.

Reed turned to Sarah. "Let's get everything ready, shall we?"

And, they headed back inside to discuss the final plans one more time.

***

Bree had no feeling one way or the other as she went about taking care of the ranch. A ranch has many little things to do that must be done on a regular basis.

Today, she was cleaning out the horse stalls. It was a dirty and smelly job, but no one else was there to do it. She would be feeding the animals later, and she needed to churn the butter.

She was too busy to think about the possibility that one of the Rangers Dutch Mueller had mentioned on his visit a few days prior that was hurt could be Jim. She had learned to keep busy doing the things she could control rather than worry about the things she could not control.

***

"Pa, I'm going to take a little ride out to the Loving Ranch tomorrow."

Artemus Mueller knew his son was sweet on Bree Loving. Heck, she's a pretty woman that was left alone more than any woman should be. Artemus didn't blame his son. But, it didn't seem proper, and it could derail his plans.

"She's a newly widowed woman, maybe you shouldn't go just yet."

Dutch looked frustrated at being told no. "But Pa, she don't know she's widowed yet... I'm just going to deliver the news!"

Artemus shook his head. For all of his plans he had for his son, he could see the man in front of him was still not grown. He was grown physically, but something about Dutch wasn't grown inside and may never be.

"Wait until it's in the paper and for god's sake, act like you're sad to be delivering it!"

Dutch half-smiled. "Of course Pa... why wouldn't I be anything else?"

Artemus looked at his son. Carver was near, and he was as quiet as usual. Artemus could see the disgust on Carver's face. He felt it a little too.

Artemus had a thought he verbalized to try and make it less disgusting to Bree Loving. "Carver, how 'bout you go with Dutch tomorrow when he delivers the paper?"

Carver looked at Dutch, then back at Artemus. He was a paid gunman with a badge pinned on for effect. He knew what he was, but he also knew what Dutch Mueller was, too.

"No." It was that direct and simple, and he walked out of the general store into the street.

Artemus stood there watching Carver leave. He could fire him for refusing an order, but he knew better than to push it.

Dutch smiled. "It looks like it'll just be me deliverin' the news to Mrs. Loving!"

Artemus threw a rag at his son. "No, that would look bad; take a couple of boys with you, and WIPE THAT BLASTED SMILE OFF YOUR FACE!"

***

Carver was many things bad. He had killed men, because he was paid to do it. He would never see his home in Ireland ever again. America was his home now, more precisely, Texas. He liked it in Texas, the vast wildness, the Indians that had fought so viciously to protect their land and their freedoms. But, he also liked making money, and he was good at being a hired gun.

He respected Artemus Mueller but despised his son. He knew right then and there that the moment Mueller got the Justus land for the purposes of bringing in a railroad, he would be moving on to the next job.

He knew if he didn't, he and Dutch Mueller would be meeting in the street; and killing the boss' son in a gun fight wouldn't be good for business... it could also be detrimental to his health, because there were other hired guns; and they wouldn't hesitate coming at him in full force if so ordered by their boss.

Yep, Carver knew he'd be leaving town soon... by the looks of things, no more than a few days.

***

At that very moment, RJ was unsaddling Ruthie and hobbling her near a creek almost a mile from town. There was no use taking the possibility of her getting spotted by someone in town before the festivities get started. She was near a creek in a meadow with good grass.

She wouldn't leave that area for any reason on her own. She was that kind of horse, which is another reason why RJ chose to ride her.

"Enjoy your feast girl." He patted her on the neck as he grabbed the Henry repeater and a box of shells.

He had his .44 pistol, his Henry and his Bowie knife in case the fighting went hand to hand.

He'd be entering the back side of town about the time the saloon really picked up for the night. He was thought to be dead by most of the town. It would ruin the surprise planned for morning if he were seen.

He'd take his time getting to the roof of the saloon... he'd be slow and careful.

## Chapter 13

RJ found it quite easy to sneak into town from the back way at midnight. The streets were lit, but the shadows in the alleyways and backsides of the buildings were pitch black. He never encountered another soul when he slithered his way to the back stairwell of the Lady Belle. He made his way to the side balcony and then climbed up on the railing and pulled himself on the roof.

It was almost too easy.

"I hope this ease stays with us." He simply walked over to the edge and peered over the side to see a slightly busy street in front of the saloon he was now sitting atop.

He would try and get some shuteye. He would have a long wait before the festivities his family had planned unfolded.

***

It was still a couple of hours before daylight when Reed and Sarah were getting the last minute things together.

Reed decided to have Sarah arrive in town on their buckboard. He had Big Ed tacked up and pulling the wagon. Sarah was wearing a full skirt she chose because of a pocket she had sewn in the front. Mueller's men would probably search her bags and a purse, but they'd never be so forward as to search her for a pistol.

That's just something a man, even a low account scumbag of a man, would not do to a lady.

"Remember Sarah, just ride right up front to the General Store and ask to see Artemus. Go through their little song and dance and once inside, I'll be on the street waiting to hear your shot. Once you shoot, get down because that's when all hell is going to break loose outside."

She shook her head. "I remember."

He helped her up in to the seat. She slapped the reins on Big Ed's back to get him started and with a lunge, the buckboard started moving forward.

Reed went over and seated himself on Biscuit. He rode along for a bit with her, but eventually he would ride ahead in a lope and come into town from a different side. He wasn't well-known by sight in the town, so he'd just ride in and act like he's checking in to the hotel next door to the General Store.

He would try and time his arrival just a few minutes after Sarah was arriving from the opposite direction.

Timing would be crucial.

"I'll be seeing you after this all goes down Sarah... be careful!"

She looked at her brother-in-law she once despised but was now so happy he was near. "You too Reed."

And that was the last thing they would say to one another until this thing all played out.

***

The sun crested the horizon to his left. RJ dared not stand up near the edge for fear of being spotted so he almost crawled to the backside of the roof to stand and stretch. He could see parts of the street; and if he peered over the side, he could easily see the alley on either side of the building. But, he feared he'd be spotted, so he just stood and stretched in the center backside of the building.

He made water at that area too. He hoped no one was on the back side in the back alley as his water poured off the roof.

He could see for miles and miles in either direction, but RJ was only focusing on the area across from his perch... an area he wasn't looking at now because it was getting daylight; and he wouldn't look at until a few more hours from now.

"I'm glad I grabbed Pa's pocket watch." He said it to himself as he pulled it from his pocket to check the time; 6:55a.m., about 3 hours to go.

He lay back down with his back resting on the false wall blocking his view from the street.

***

Sarah made good time, and she also checked her small pocket watch that was a gift from her mother from when she was a little girl, 9:30a.m. She needed to stall a little bit. She needed to arrive a little before 10a.m.

10a.m. was chosen for a few good reasons. Those saloon types would be heading to bed about that time, and that's just before the streets are picking up with the regular town folk.

They were trying to avoid collateral damage if possible, but Sarah knew Reed would start shooting at anything that moved once it all began; and that was their best time to avoid accidently killing one of her neighbors by them being at the wrong place and at the wrong time.

She checked the watch again, 9:47, time to head in.

***

Reed always carried a watch, one of his things he started doing as he got older. 9:50. He'd walk Biscuit in coming from the west side of town.

***

RJ wasn't really able to sleep once the sun came up, but he was trying to rest and keep a low profile. From his position, he could see the eastern road coming to the town. That would be the road his Ma would be coming from and just on time, he could see the family buckboard being pulled by Big Ed in the distance.

RJ's heart began to race a little. It was almost time.

***

Dutch Mueller headed into the paper's office and grabbed a copy. "Is the news I brought you yesterday in here?"

The newspaper man looked at the eager man in front of him. "Yep Dutch, sad news about Jim Loving."

Dutch was reading the paper and shaking his head as he was heading back to the front door. "Oh... yeah... sad..."

Dutch couldn't wait to leave, and he almost ran off the porch and leapt in to the saddle. He was riding hard out of town.

One Eyed Jack Davis and Bigfoot McCall would be going with him to deliver the bad news to Bree Loving. They all knew Dutch was sweet on Mrs. Loving. Neither of the men chosen really cared to be a part of his plans; but they were hired to do a job, and today's job was going with Dutch.

Ironically, they just missed seeing Sarah coming from the same direction. She missed them as they took the fork in the road, heading more easterly.

Sarah was still covered by some trees and 1/10th of a mile away.

She never saw Dutch and his men, nor did they see her.

***

RJ heard the riders leaving town in a hurry. He didn't know who it was; but he knew it wasn't about his business, because he could see his Ma still on the road.

***

Reed entered the other end of town in a gentle walk. He was in no hurry.

***

Sarah entered from the east, as planned. She was about halfway to the General Store when a familiar rider approached.

It was one of Artemus Mueller's men. Sarah knew him as simply Bob.

"Mornin' Miss Sarah."

"Mornin' Bob."

"Whatcha in town for today?"

She didn't get perturbed; she knew everyone that Artemus Mueller labeled as his 'enemy' would be subjected to a little rousting by his men. Of all of Mueller's men, Bob was the nicest, and he was only doing his job.

"I'm here to see your boss Bob... we have business."

Bob Middleton looked a bit shocked. He hadn't heard of any business to happen between Sarah Justus and Artemus Mueller. "Ma'am?"

"Take me to him Bob; he'll want to see me."

Bob tipped his hat. "Yes ma'am." And he turned his pretty gray gelding to ride alongside the buckboard.

Pretty soon there were three more Mueller men escorting Big Ed and the buckboard down the middle of the street.

From the other end, Reed was taking a mental note of the men as he rode towards them and seemingly to the hotel.

There was a cowboy looking man on a gray, a small man cradling a shotgun, a tall man with a vest with pistol butts facing forward, and a big man with a bushy beard on a big tall chestnut horse.

They rode right up to the General Store; and Reed could see a red-headed man, the same man he saw when they rode past him a week or so prior, waiting on the front porch.

***

Bob spoke to Carver. "Miss Sarah wants to meet with Mister Mueller."

Carver didn't make any gesture, or crack a smile. He was leery, very cautious. He stepped back and opened the door and yelled out.

"Mister Mueller, Mrs. Justus is here to see you."

He stepped back in time to have Artemus Mueller darken the door.

Reed tried to act like he was keeping to himself, like he wasn't paying too close attention; like it was none of his business.

"Mornin' Sarah, for what do I owe this visit?"

Sarah tried to remain calm. She had to fight the desire to reach in her skirt pocket and pull out that .44 caliber Derringer and shoot the bastard responsible for her family's destruction right then and there.

She caught Reed riding up out of the corner of her eye which brought her back to the situation at hand.

"I'm tired of the fight Artemus; I'm here to sell you my ranch."

Artemus Mueller's face changed expression. He didn't quite believe her, but he did want to purchase the land legal and without trickery.

He took a step to the edge of the porch and near the steps.

"Why Sarah, I must admit, I'm very surprised to see you and to hear you say that."

She looked around; this is where she needed to sell it in a way Artemus Mueller would believe her.

"Artemus, Titus is dead. RJ is dead and I suspect you have been busy trying to just take my land from me through the courts." She took a deep breath to let what she said sink in before finishing. "I'd rather sell it and get a little something so I can move on than for you take it and I get nothing for my troubles."

Artemus couldn't argue with her logic. He looked around at his men.

"Search her before bringing her in to the store." He turned and walked inside.

Carver still hadn't moved. He thought this was all dirty business, but that was the job.

She got off the buckboard and Bob had already unseated himself from his gray and was offering her his hand.

"You're a gentleman Bob; I wish you worked for a different man."

Bob looked sheepish. "Yes ma'am."

She took a step and Charles "Smitty" Smith was there to search her. He had dead eyes, and he made Sarah's skin crawl.

Bob could see that Smitty had that effect on her, so he stepped in to do the search himself. "I've got it Smitty."

He did a cursory search of her purse and as she suspected, he never touched her personally. "Thank you Bob."

Carver was at the top of the stairs. She wanted to pull her pistol and kill him, too, because this was the man that was there when Dutch killed Titus.

He reached out to offer his hand to help her up the stairs. She almost recoiled at the offer but knew she needed to continue to act. "Thank you." Is all she could muster as she took the three steps up to the porch and to the overhang of the building; Carver then stepped over and opened the door for her to the store.

"Thank you again." She almost choked the words out, but she managed to get them out.

Once inside, Carver shut the door behind her and took the two steps to the edge of the porch to guard the entrance.

***

Reed was now directly across the street at the hotel which was next door to the saloon. He was taking his time pulling his bedroll off and getting his shotgun and Henry repeater in hand.

Not a single man for Mueller even paid attention to the gray haired old cowboy that pulled up in front of the hotel.

They were milling around the front talking about Sarah Justus just arriving.

Carver only cared that sooner than he originally thought, he'd be able to move on to the next job.

It was almost over with and the Mueller men could sense it.

***

Reed and RJ were waiting for the signal... that signal would be a shot being fired.

Reed was still taking his time getting his things together.

RJ was cradling the Henry. He planned on coming up and leaning over the top of the false front and finding the first target he could and taking him out of the fight.

***

Artemus Mueller was inside the office in the back of the store.

"Back here Sarah!" He motioned for her to come to him.

She complied.

He turned to go back inside the office to the other side of the desk. There were papers on the desk; contracts no doubt that would pass the ownership of the Justus Ranch to Artemus Mueller effective immediately.

Artemus turned his back to Sarah as she was near the door, so he could go back to his chair.

She took that moment to reach in her skirt pocket to grab the Derringer.

He was almost to the chair when she pulled the pistol and cocked it all in one motion.

Artemus Mueller heard the cocking of the pistol, and he turned to see a determined Sarah Justus pointing a Derringer pistol directly at him.

He was a mere five feet away.

"Sarah?"

THE STORY COTINUES IN "THE RECKONING – BOOK 2"!
