Whispering Pines Read online

  “What about Rose?”

  “What about Rose? I don’t care what happens to her. She’s been gone a long time. She didn’t care about me when she left the farm.”

  Morgan couldn’t say he was surprised at Frank’s callous admission. It was clear Frank only cared about himself. The way he’d treated Granny Langtry was proof of that. Granny might make excuses for Frank, but Morgan wasn’t that generous, or that forgiving. “You might not care, but she saved your sorry hide today.”

  Frank shrugged and pressed the derringer against her temple. “Her misfortune.” He met Morgan’s eyes. “Last time. I don’t have nothing to lose.”

  Morgan had never seen such deadly, soulless eyes, and he holstered his pistol. “Now what?”

  “Tell your men we’re coming up and don’t do anything stupid.” He motioned with the derringer for Morgan to precede him up the hill.

  “You can’t drag your sister up that hill. She probably has broken bones.”

  “I sure ain’t gonna carry her and give you a chance to waylay me.”

  “Give her to me, I’ll carry her.”

  “Hand over your iron.” When Morgan was a foot away, Frank added, “And don’t try anything stupid.”

  Morgan pulled his pistol and handed it to him. He half expected Frank to blow a hole in his chest when he gave him his gun, but Frank tossed Rose’s limp body at him. Seeing the nasty gash on her head, Morgan wasn’t sure she was still alive. He was tempted to make a move on Frank, but he knew Frank wouldn’t hesitate to kill him and Rose.

  Spotting one of the men from the stagecoach lying on the ground near Frank, Morgan gently placed Rose beside him. He wanted to make sure she was still alive before he went up that hill with Frank. When he found a faint pulse at her neck, he breathed a sigh of relief. Directing his attention to the man on the ground, Morgan reached out and turned him over. Sadly, the man’s lifeless eyes said he was beyond help. He closed the man’s eyes before he lifted Rose into his arms.

  “Now that’s real touching,” Frank said snidely. “Too bad about that city slicker. I owe him for carrying this derringer. Looks like Hank should have checked his vest.” He waved Morgan’s pistol at him and said, “Get moving, LeMasters.”

  “Don’t you care what happens to your sister?”

  “No.”

  Dan was making his way down the slope, but Frank halted his progress when he turned Morgan’s pistol on him. “Far enough. Hand over your gun.”

  Morgan nodded, indicating Dan should do as Frank instructed.

  “What’s going on?” Dan asked after he gave Frank his pistol.

  “One of those passengers had a derringer,” Morgan said.

  They reached the top of the hill and Frank said, “Tell your men to throw down their guns and untie my boys.”

  Murph was helping George, who had suffered a fractured leg when he jumped from the coach, but when he saw Frank with a gun aimed at Morgan, he sprang to his feet.

  “Murph, do as he says.” Morgan placed Rose beside George before turning to his men. “Let them go.”

  Morgan’s men tossed their guns aside, and untied Deke Sullivan, Dutch Malloy, and Corbin Jeffers.

  Morgan kneeled beside Rose while George held his bandana against her bleeding wound. He spotted a canteen near George. “Can you hand me that canteen?”

  After Morgan poured some water on the bandana, he handed the canteen back to George. “Put it under you so they don’t see it.” He expected Frank and his men to take all of their supplies.

  George leaned over and whispered, “I had my rifle in my hand, but I don’t know where it landed.”

  Hearing George whispering to Morgan, Frank walked to them and kicked George hard in his broken leg. “What did you say, old man?”

  George grimaced in pain. “I said you’re a sorry son-of-a. . .”

  When Frank pointed the pistol to George’s head, Morgan lunged at him, taking him to the ground. They rolled in the dirt and within seconds, Morgan was on top of Frank, trying to wrestle the gun from him. Dutch picked up one of the rifles and cracked Morgan in the head with the butt, knocking him senseless. Murph started to lunge for a gun, but Deke nudged his spine with the barrel of a rifle.

  “Frank, I don’t know how you managed to get the drop on this big man,” Corbin said, pointing to Morgan.

  “You see, boys, I told you I have nine lives,” Frank bragged as he gained his feet. “Now get those horses ready to go.”

  The second male passenger stumbled to the top of the incline, and Frank said, “Be sure to check him for a gun.”

  “I’m unarmed,” the man replied.

  “Check him anyway,” Frank said.

  Deke checked the man and didn’t find a weapon. Seeing Morgan move, Deke pointed to him and asked, “Should we tie him up?”

  “I say we eliminate all of them for good,” Frank said.

  Corbin Jeffers spoke up. “You mean kill them?”

  “You’re real quick, Corbin. That’s exactly what I mean,” Frank replied.

  “Wait a minute, Frank,” Deke said. “We didn’t join up with you to do any killin’. Rustlin’ is one thing, but I ain’t killin’ nobody.”

  “They didn’t mind hanging us,” Frank countered.

  “We knew what was gonna happen if they ever caught up with us. We wouldn’t be in this fix if you hadn’t shot at that old Indian. And anyways, what about your sister?” Corbin asked.

  “I just wish I killed that Indian,” Frank said. He motioned to Rose with his pistol. “We can get rid of her too, for all I care.”

  “She did us a good turn. Why would you want to hurt her?” Corbin asked.

  Frank shook his head. “You men getting skittish on me?” He looked at the one man who hadn’t said a word. “Dutch, what about you? You afraid to shoot them?”

  Dutch picked up two pistols and shoved them in his belt. “Nope, I ain’t afraid to kill. But I ain’t never killed an unarmed man. And if we do kill them, Sheriff Roper will keep hunting us down. I say we take off and leave them be. They won’t find us in Mexico.” He moved closer to face Frank eye to eye. “I can tell you one thing for certain: I don’t cotton to killing women. My ma always taught me to respect women. As Corbin said, your sister did us a good turn, and I don’t aim to repay her kindness by shooting her. And I ask you, what kind of man would shoot his own sister when she’s unconscious? I ain’t so sure I’d put much trust in a man who did something like that.” Dutch spat near Frank’s boot, clearly indicating his displeasure at Frank’s cold-blooded plan.

  Frank didn’t like the look in Dutch’s eyes, and he wasn’t about to cross him. He wouldn’t admit it to another man, but he’d always feared Dutch. The man had an unpredictable side that Frank had not been able to penetrate. He could intimidate the other members of the gang, but not Dutch. “Fine, let’s ride then. We’ll take their horses. They won’t get far without them.”

  They gathered up the guns, along with the few supplies and prepared to leave.

  Morgan’s head had cleared enough for him to make sense of their conversation. Though he was having trouble focusing, he managed to stand and face the gang. “I need to get your sister to a doctor. Leave one horse.”

  “Back off, LeMasters. Be thankful you are still above the daisies. Don’t push your luck,” Frank replied.

  “Frank, we could leave them one horse so he could get her help,” Deke said.

  “We’re leaving them alive, that’ll have to do,” Frank retorted.

  Deke glanced at Dutch and Corbin. They didn’t argue with Frank, but Deke could tell they didn’t agree with Frank’s plan. The three had already discussed leaving the gang because Frank was becoming more and more violent. Deke wished he’d left before they’d rustled Morgan’s cattle. Maybe they should have let LeMasters get the best of Frank when they were wrestling for the gun.

  “Deke, take hold of LeMasters’s horse,” Frank instructed.

  As Deke took hold of Faithful’s reins, he glanced at
Morgan and gave him a subtle nod.

  Morgan thought Deke might be sending him a signal. Maybe he’d let the horse go, or maybe he would leave Frank’s gang and come back with the horse.

  Frank reined his horse to stand in front of Morgan. “We don’t want to leave that big black stallion behind. Granny always told me vengeance rode a black horse.”

  Morgan leveled his dark eyes on Frank, his jaw set in grim determination, trying to control the lethal fury he was feeling. If Rose and his men didn’t need his help, he would have taken his chances and ripped Frank’s head off. He was certain he could snap Frank’s neck before his men shot him. “Granny was right. But I won’t have a scale in my hand, it’ll be a Colt and a rope.” He silently swore he would see Frank Langtry swing from a rope if it was the last thing he did on this earth.

  Chapter Three

  “What happened?” Granny Langtry asked.

  Deputy Webb Grainger assisted the diminutive woman into the buckboard and placed her black bag beside her. “We chased those outlaws into Purgatory Canyon, and they were waiting to pick us off one at a time. The sheriff rode in first and was shot right off. Then all heck broke loose, bullets flying all over the place. That place is nothing but a killing trap, not to mention there are still Indians who hide out in that canyon, and only God knows how many outlaws. It was pure luck we all didn’t go meet our Maker that day. There were only three of us, since the ranchers had to get back home.” Webb walked around the buckboard and climbed in beside her, picked up the reins, and clicked the horses to action.

  Granny eyed the tall, lanky deputy. “It wasn’t pure luck you were spared, Deputy. I’m confident God was protecting you.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I reckon so.” Webb silently wondered why God hadn’t protected Sheriff Roper, but he wasn’t about to voice that question to Granny Langtry. He didn’t want to hear her preach all the way to town about questioning the ways of the Lord.

  “What about Morgan LeMasters? Was he with you?” Granny asked.

  “No, ma’am, the gang split up and Mr. LeMasters and his men went after . . . well, he went after Frank.” Webb glanced at Granny to gauge her reaction to his comment.

  Granny shook her head. “I’m not surprised. I’ve told Frankie for years he should stop poking that big bear, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  Webb agreed with Granny on that score. If he was in Frank’s position and LeMasters was after him, he’d take off to Mexico and never come back. Webb figured that just proved criminals were plain stupid, or in Frank’s case, just loco. He’d never seen a meaner-looking man than LeMasters, and while he’d never seen him in action, he’d heard he was one man you didn’t want to anger. One thing was certain, LeMasters wasn’t going to take any more grief from Frank Langtry.

  “Where was Sheriff Roper hit?”

  “In the shoulder. I dug the bullet out, but now he has a fever and he’s out of his head.”

  “But he was fine right after you removed the bullet?”

  “Seemed to be doing good, but we had a lot of riding before we got back home, and he insisted we keep moving fast. Stubborn fool, if you ask me. I wanted to take him to see the doctor in Denver, but he wouldn’t let me. He said you could help him, so I put him in Doc Emmett’s old office.”

  “I wish Preacher was here. He saw a lot of gunshot wounds in his time. He helped the doc out on more than one occasion before they both died.”

  Webb knew she was talking about her deceased husband. He always thought it was odd how she called her own husband Preacher. “Yes, ma’am, he was a fine man.”

  “I wish we could find Joseph Longbow. He’s good with wounds.”

  “Yes, ma’am, he is. But Joseph can be difficult to find if he doesn’t want to be found.”

  Granny nodded her agreement with the truth of that statement. “You say those men who rode with Frank got away after they shot the sheriff?”

  “Yes, ma’am, they sure did. We got out of that canyon with our hides, and considering the sheriff’s condition, we couldn’t leave him alone to go back.”

  It saddened Granny that Sheriff Roper was shot because of her grandson. Like Morgan LeMasters, Roper was a good man. Sheriff Roper and Morgan were good friends, almost as close as brothers. This incident was going to put one more feather in Morgan’s war bonnet when it came to his vendetta against Frank. Granny knew Morgan’s acrimony wasn’t without cause. Frank had done everything he could to provoke him. She had never been able to figure out what Frank had against Morgan, but it had been obvious for years her grandson hated the man.

  Morgan had even given Frank an opportunity to work on his ranch some years back. Within two days, Joseph Longbow rode Frank home and all he’d said was Frank isn’t going to work out. She could tell by the look on Joseph’s face that he was angry, and she knew something had gone terribly wrong. She’d never before seen Joseph Longbow angry. He’d always been a pleasant, amiable fellow, but not that day. Frank’s entire face was swollen, he had a black eye and his lip was bleeding. When she’d asked him what happened he refused to tell her.

  Frank had stayed in bed for a few days after the incident. He wouldn’t even allow her to tend to his wounds. When he finally got out of bed, the way he moved told her he might have some broken ribs, but he never told her what took place on Morgan’s ranch. Morgan never mentioned it either. But from that day on, Frank was determined to find a way to goad Morgan into some sort of confrontation.

  Granny was certain Morgan had tolerated Frank’s shenanigans as long as he did because of her. Morgan had always been good to her and Preacher. There were many winters they wouldn’t have been able to feed their grandchildren if not for Morgan. She mentioned that fact often to Frank, but it didn’t make a difference. Frank detested Morgan, and he’d nursed that hatred over the years until it consumed him.

  From the time the grandchildren came to live with them, Frank had been the most rebellious. She carried a lot of the blame for the way he’d turned out. After the children’s parents died of the fever, she and Preacher had pampered the children. She understood their pain, and she thought Frank behaved the way he did because he was grieving. The children lost their parents, but she’d lost her only child, Curtis. Curtis was a wonderful son and a good man, and she missed him every day. Her own sorrow had been devastating, and she didn’t have it in her to be harsh with her grandchildren. Preacher had been more accepting of their son’s death, always reminding her that Curtis was in a better place. Preacher had never asked why such a thing had happened to them. It had been more difficult for her to accept God’s plan to take her only son’s life. Frank was the spitting image of his father, so she was constantly reminded of her loss. But the similarities between Frank and his father ended there. Curtis had always been a hard-working man of good character, a trait Frank hadn’t inherited. As much as it saddened Granny to admit, Frank’s character was lacking.

  Preacher always told Frank that idle hands were the Devil’s workshop, but it didn’t faze him. Frank responded by saying that they didn’t have much to show for all of their hard work except a broken-down old farm. Determined to listen to his own counsel, by the time Frank was fourteen he was beyond control. After Preacher died, Frank was of no help at all around the farm. He only came around when he needed a place to sleep or eat, and Granny had reached the end of her patience with him.

  It’d taken some time, but Granny had to finally accept that Frank was responsible for his own decisions. Good or bad. Morgan and Frankie were only a year apart in age, and Granny had prayed Frank would change, and see what he could do with his life if he worked hard like Morgan. But her prayers went unanswered. After years of making excuses for him, Granny refused to rationalize, or ask for lenience for his actions any longer.

  “When LeMasters hears about the sheriff, he will be out for blood, that’s for sure,” Webb said.

  Granny knew Morgan was out for vengeance.

  * * *

  “They forgot about the horses from the stagecoach t
hat weren’t injured,” George said to Morgan.

  “Yeah, I know.” Morgan felt like his skull was about to explode, but that was the least of his worries.

  “They ran off, but maybe they didn’t go too far. I’ll look for them,” Murph said.

  Morgan glanced at the other men, and said, “Check the luggage. Maybe there’s another pistol and some water.”

  The surviving passenger walked up to Morgan and extended his hand. “I’m Clay Hunt. I had a pistol in my luggage, and a canteen inside the coach.”

  Morgan shook his hand. “Morgan LeMasters.” A quick appraisal told Morgan that Hunt was a man who could hold his own. “Mr. Hunt, glad you’re okay.” Morgan thought the name was familiar, but he didn’t think he’d ever met the man.

  Clay glanced at the young woman on the ground. “I hope she’ll be okay. I traveled all the way with her, and she is a delightful young woman. It’s hard to believe she’s even related to Frank.”

  “I had a saddle on top of the coach, along with my valise and saddlebags. There’s some grub in there, a coffeepot, coffee, and some whiskey,” George said to Morgan.

  “Good, you’re going to need some of that whiskey when I set your leg.” Morgan kneeled beside Rose and patted her lightly on the cheek. “Miss Langtry.” When Rose didn’t respond, he looked at George. “How far to the next station?”

  “It’s about twenty miles away. It’s a home station with a telegraph. We can lodge there, and there’ll be horses we can buy. We can’t go back to the last station because they are out of fresh horses.” George looked down at the wound on Rose’s head. “Looks like she hit her head pretty hard.”

  Morgan reached for the canteen George pulled from beneath him. “Yeah.” He dampened the bandana and washed Rose’s face, trying to remove some of the blood from her wound.

  “I didn’t see nothing wrong with the wheel, but I felt like it wasn’t right. This is my fault,” George said.