William Johnstone - Blood Bond - Deadly Road to Yuma

“Yeah, that’s what folks tell me all the time. Now shoo.”

Amelia flounced off. Flagg sighed and picked up one of the mugs of beer.

“Gals just don’t understand that there’s a time an’ place for ever’thing,” he said. “A fella ain’t all that interested in romance when he’s just had a pair o’ Greeners and half a dozen six-guns pointed at him.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that—” Matt began with an appreciative glance toward Amelia as she walked off.

“You were going to tell us about Joshua Shade,” Sam said, breaking in. “And about why you set that trap for us.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a trap,” Flagg said. “I just believe in takin’ precautions, ’specially when a lobo like Shade’s roamin’ around the countryside with a whole band o’ gun-wolves taggin’ after him.”

Sam took a healthy sip of his beer and found that while it wasn’t really cold, it was pleasantly cool. As he set the mug back on the table, he said, “I take it that Joshua Shade is an outlaw.”

“You’ve heard of him then,” Flagg said.

“Not before we rode in here today.”

“But we’ve been over in Texas for a spell,” Matt added. “They have their own badmen over there.”

“An abundance of them,” Sam said.

Flagg pushed his plug hat back on his thinning, reddish-gray hair. “None as bad as Shade, I reckon, and I’d bet my last dollar on that. Shade’s a plumb devil, and he’s been raisin’ hell all up and down the eastern half o’ the territory for months now.”

“Have you had trouble with him here?”

Flagg shook his head and said, “Not so far, and I’d just as soon keep it that way. But we heard that him and his gang were spotted between here and Springerville a few days ago, so we know he’s in these parts. When I spotted you fellas ridin’ down the hill, I thought you might be scouts for the gang, so I passed the word for ever’body to get off the street without bein’ too obvious about it, and told the fellas in here to be ready and get the drop on you.”

“Well, it worked,” Matt said. “We weren’t expectin’ trouble, so we walked right into it.”

Sam didn’t say anything about noticing some odd behavior on the part of the townspeople as they rode in. He had noticed, but it hadn’t done any good. He and Matt had still found themselves staring down the barrels of those shotguns.

“Is that the way Shade operates?” he asked Sheriff Flagg. “Sending men ahead to scout out the towns he raids, I mean.”

Flagg nodded. “Yep. A couple o’ strangers ride in, take a look around town, have a drink maybe, then ride back out and tell Shade where the sheriff’s office is, and the bank, and anything else he needs to know. Then, a day later, Shade and his bunch come roarin’ in with all guns a-blazin’ and take over the town. They kill the local star packer and anybody else who tries to stand up to ’em, mistreat the womenfolk, load up all the loot they can get their filthy hands on, and ride out. Sometimes they leave the town burnin’ behind ’em.”

“Sounds like a bad bunch, all right,” Matt said.

“Bad don’t even begin to describe ’em.” Flagg shook his head. “And maybe the worst part of it is, Shade used to be a man o’ God.”

“A preacher?” Matt asked, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“That’s right. He had the callin’ and preached for a while before he turned bad. In fact, I hear tell that when his gang is terrorizin’ a town, he still claims to be doin’ the Lord’s work. Says he has to smite folks and take ever’thing they own so they’ll stop worryin’ about the things o’ this world and start worryin’ about the next.”

“And while he’s saying that he’s allowing his men to rape and kill and loot?” Sam asked in amazement.

“Yep. Hell of a note, ain’t it?”

Matt downed some of his beer. “I can see why you say the hombre’s loco. But you can take my word for it when I tell you that Sam and I don’t have anything to do with him.”

“Oh, I know that now,” Flagg said with a wave of his hand. “I’ve heard plenty about you two young fellas, but I never heard anybody say that Bodine and Two Wolves are owlhoots.” He emptied his mug down his bearded throat and thumped it back on the table. “These beers are on me, boys. Enjoy your stay in Arrowhead.”

“We’re obliged,” Sam said.

Flagg scraped his chair back and stood up. “My office is down the street. Stop by and visit for a spell any time you’re of a mind to.”

“We’ll do that,” Matt promised.

When the sheriff was gone, the blood brothers looked at each other across the table.

“I was afraid he was going to ask us to sign on as deputies,” Sam said.

Matt nodded. “So was I. And I’ve had enough of wearin’ a badge for a while. That stint as unofficial deputies in Sweet Apple was plenty to suit me.”

“I agree.” Sam smiled faintly. “Don’t look now, but Amelia is coming back.”

The blonde was headed toward their table. Matt smiled and said, “I always enjoy the company of an attractive young woman.”

Amelia moved right past him, though, to stand next to Sam and rest a hand on his buckskin-clad shoulder. “Can I get you anything else, Mr. Two Wolves?” she asked as she leaned toward him.

Sam looked a little flustered, and Matt didn’t know whether to be annoyed or bust out laughing. He’d thought that Amelia was interested in him, but here she was, making a play for Sam instead.

“How about it, Sam?” he asked with a grin. “See anything you like?”

Chapter 3

The narrow, twisting canyon in the Gila Mountains was choked with brush for much of its length, brush that could claw a man bloody if he wasn’t careful. Nobody would ride up here unless they had a good reason to.

Ed Callahan had believed that he had a good reason, the best reason of all—gold. He had a nose for the stuff, or so he had always told himself even though he’d never found very much of it in the twenty years he’d spent as a prospector and desert rat.

The hardships of those years had honed him down to little more than skin and bones. His cheeks were hollow, and his eyes were sunk deep in pits of gristle.

One of those eyes didn’t see too good anymore. Everything he saw through it looked filmy, like it had one of those thin scarves over it like the dancin’ gals in the big cities used to hide and reveal their fleshy charms at the same time.

But Ed could still see well enough to know that he was in a whole heap of trouble. He swallowed hard as he stared down the barrel of the gun that was no more than four inches from the tip of his nose.

“What are you doin’ up here, old man?” asked the rough-looking hombre who’d stepped out of the brush and pointed the gun at Ed. “You some sort o’ damn spy?”

Ed’s mouth had gone too dry for him to talk. He tried to work up some spit. After a couple of seconds, he managed to say, “N-no, sir. I ain’t no spy. I’m just doin’ a little prospectin’.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the supplies on the pack mule he’d been leading. “You can see for yourself. Just take a look at my outfit.”

The man squinted past him at the mule. “Yeah, that looks like the sort o’ shit a prospector’d have, all right. I never heard o’ anybody findin’ gold in these mountains, though.”

“I…I’m gonna be the first,” Ed declared. “Got me a hunch there’s a fine vein up here just waitin’ for me to find it.”

“Yeah, well, that’s too damn bad. You found more’n you bargained for, old man.” The hardcase stepped back and motioned with the Colt in his hand. “Come on. You’re goin’ with me.”

“Wh-where are we goin’?” Ed asked as he tightened his grip on the mule’s reins and started walking along the canyon.