Devils on Horseback: Nate Page 7

  Jake grunted. “Whose bright idea was it to steal the horses?”

  “Yours, fool,” Lee groused. “Now we’re caught in this shit and it’s all your fault. Then hero-boy comes along and gets stuck too.”

  “Hey, I was trying to help.” Nate sighed and realized the smell coming from the net was honey. Honey and something else, something rancid.

  Gideon arrived within moments. “Stop struggling, all of you. Zeke is right behind me. No doubt we’re not going to have a successful mission. What the hell is that smell?”

  “Honey and horse shit,” Jake grumbled. “And it’s one hell of a trap.”

  “Hold on, I’ll cut you out.”

  Gideon and Zeke spent several long, excruciating minutes cutting through the ropes. Jake was the first one free. He shook his head like a dog and then pulled his own knife out to assist. The sun peeked over the horizon, bathing them in a pink light.

  Nate and Lee were freed within another five minutes. Each of them smelled and stuck to everything they touched. The honey had congealed and begun to crystallize in the warmth.

  “I don’t even want to get on my horse.” Nate spit out a mouthful of honey.

  “I don’t think the horse would let you.” Jake laughed. “You stink.”

  “I think Miss Taggert has proven that she’s a worthy adversary.” Gideon wiped his knife off on his pants and tucked it away in the scabbard. “How the hell did y’all get stuck in this thing anyway?”

  Lee picked up a lump from the ground. “This is why.” He tossed it toward Gideon. “It looked like a sleeping girl just waiting to be caught by us stealthy marauders.”

  “The nets had a tripping mechanism somewhere,” Jake offered. “I felt it close around my ankle and then all hell broke loose. Lee tried to help and the second net closed on him, then Nate found the third one.”

  “Dammit, we’ve wasted another day.” Nate punched the corral fence post. Frustration raced through him, or was it a guilty conscience in addition to humiliation? He’d been caught in a simple trap by a not-so-simple girl.

  * * * * *

  Elisa watched from the tree line with a grin on her face. She knew the stupid trick wouldn’t work more than once, but it was fun to watch grown men get caught in it.

  She cupped her hand and called, “You can come back for more any time you want.”

  A few curses and grumbles met her offer. They walked away shaking off the honey and Midnight’s evening pile of shit. Next time, she knew they wouldn’t be so unsuspecting.

  Ten minutes passed before Daniel appeared behind the house with a smile and a wave. Elisa took her rifle and walked toward him, ready to start their day in earnest.

  Chapter Six

  It took more than hour to get the damn sticky stuff off. The stream wasn’t deep enough so they followed it until they found a pond. Fortunately, Nate had purchased soap and the three of them could wash themselves and their clothes. Nate would never eat honey again. Cursed stuff was like glue. It would be molasses for him from now on.

  Gideon was the only one left at the pond. Everyone else had gone back to camp, their moods ranging from annoyed, to amused, to downright furious.

  Gideon, however, seemed thoughtful. “Your Elisa got the best of us today.” He held up his hand. “Don’t even bother telling me she’s not your Elisa. I can see the truth in your eyes, Nate.”

  Nate slapped at the water, spraying the bank on the other side of the pond. “I never intended on anything happening between us. She’s a girl, Gid.” He met his friend’s gaze. “And she was a virgin.”

  “That certainly complicates things.”

  “I know. Believe me, I know it.” He swam toward the grass next to Gideon. “I have trouble accepting that it even happened. It was so fast, so surprising… I lost control.”

  Saying it out loud did not make him feel any better. If anything, it made Nate feel worse.

  “We all lose control now and then. You’re human.” Gideon put a blade of grass between his thumbs and blew, a high-pitched whistle sounding from the vibration. “The question is, what do we do about it?”

  “Nothing. We can’t afford to turn down this job.” Nate rubbed himself dry with his blanket then put on blessedly clean clothes that didn’t smell of honey and horse shit.

  Gideon grabbed his arm. “Someone’s going to get hurt here, Nate, and it might be one of us or it could be one of the Taggerts.”

  “I am well aware of that fact.” Nate hadn’t slept because of it, amongst all the other things that had happened since he met Elisa.

  “Can you live with that?”

  “I have to.”

  “So be it.”

  Rodrigo appeared at their camp during the dinner meal. They’d all been lost in their thoughts, eating the simple ham biscuits and brooding. No one stood to greet him.

  “Rodrigo,” Gideon said much more casually than Nate could have managed. “What brings you by?”

  “Mr. O’Shea wanted to know what’s been happening. We hear things.” The dark-eyed man smiled at each of them. “A week has already gone by without word. Just wanted to see if you have any information.”

  Nate unlocked his tongue. “It hasn’t quite been one week. Right now we’re doing reconnaissance and determining the best method of removal.”

  “You do talk fancy, don’t you?” Rodrigo laughed. “I don’t know what half of what you said means.” His charming persona was gone, in its place the gun-toting hired man who had lurked behind his eyes.

  Nate had to force himself to hold back the anger. “I am educated, Mr. Rodrigo. I use my education to the best of my abilities. Now, was there something specific you needed to know?” His palms couldn’t get any sweatier and Nate’s left eye started twitching from all the tension and stress surrounding them.

  “How long?”

  “How long for what?”

  “Don’t play fucking games with me, fancy man.” Rodrigo caressed the pistol riding his right hip. “How long until they are gone?”

  “I can give you an estimate, but not an exact number.” Nate wiped his mouth with the handkerchief that he’d carried for four years, one that was almost see-through from countless washings. It represented the last piece of civilization he’d kept from Georgia.

  “That’s not good enough.” Rodrigo’s gun started to clear leather, and before it could, four men were on their feet, guns in hand.

  Nate continued on, as if his friends weren’t facing down death in the form of an obnoxious lackey. “Please tell Mr. O’Shea that our estimate is two weeks to complete the job. If that changes we will be certain to let him know.” He didn’t know what kind of game O’Shea was playing, but he wasn’t about to join in. They’d agreed on a month, and hardly any time had passed. Nate’s instincts were screaming that something was wrong.

  Rodrigo’s lips compressed as he graced each of them with a death-wish stare. “I will tell him, but know this, if this takes more than two weeks, you will deal with me and my men.”

  “Duly noted. Thank you for coming by, Mr. Rodrigo.” Nate’s voice shook a little, his heart thumped so loud it echoed in his ears, but he didn’t think Rodrigo noticed.

  Walking backwards, Rodrigo returned to his horse and mounted. After one last demonic stare from the bowels of hell, he rode off into the afternoon sun. Everyone let out a breath and the tension eased a little.

  “That one is as trustworthy as a weasel,” Jake said as he plopped back on the log he’d been sitting on.

  “A dangerous weasel.” Gideon looked at the retreating back of the man called Rodrigo. “We’d best remember that he has no compunction about killing any of us.” He turned to Nate. “Do you think it will take two weeks?”

  “It had better not take any longer than that.” Nate couldn’t stop the feeling of dread that gripped him. O’Shea and his men were all dangerous. T
he Devils just needed to do the job and get out of Grayton as fast as possible before they fell into trouble they couldn’t get out of.

  Over the last few days, the Devils had been gentle with the Taggerts, willing to try tactics that would guarantee no bloodshed. Unfortunately they’d run out of choices and it was time to use other, more aggressive means.

  Jake wasn’t happy about it, but he salted the well, then stood guard on the path leading to the stream to block their access to the water. Zeke and Lee set up a watch on the way into town. Gideon and Nate rode up to the front porch, expecting Elisa to shoot them.

  “So you’re back, are ya?” The old man sat out in front again, this time simply rocking and staring off into the distance. “I thought my Elisa run ya off.”

  “No, sir, she didn’t run us off. We’re here to rightfully assert Mr. O’Shea’s claim to this land.” Nate dismounted. An itch in the center of his back alerted him she had him in her rifle sights.

  “Bah! O’Shea’s an idiot and so are you if you think this land belongs to him. My wife’s grandda settled this land and my grandchildren will run cattle on it.” He turned surprisingly clear eyes to Nate. “You’d do best to leave now or I’ll shoot you meself.”

  As far as Nate could tell, the old man didn’t have a weapon, not even the whittling knife. Nate wasn’t afraid of him, but he respected him.

  “I understand you might be confused by all this, sir, but your wife—”

  Sean moved so fast, Nate almost missed it. He ducked in time to avoid the first swing, but the second one caught him on the temple. Stars exploded behind his eyes and the ground threatened to meet his face.

  He heard Gideon shout and a struggle ensued between the three of them. Sean seemed intent on pounding Nate with his remaining strength, while Gideon insisted on stopping him. Curses peppered the air and Nate grabbed Bonne Chance’s reins to steady himself.

  The old man got in a kidney punch and before Nate could stop himself, he responded. His fist slammed into a jaw and a rifle shot split the air. The gasp of pain he heard sounded like Gid, but they were in a pig pile and he couldn’t tell who was who.

  “I’ve been shot,” Sean cried out.

  “Oh hell, so have I.” Gideon groaned.

  Nate got up on his knees and assessed their wounds. The bullet had passed through the fleshy part of Gideon’s arm and then grazed the old man’s shoulder.

  “Jesus Christ, what happened?” Gideon ground out.

  “I have no idea, but this old man is stronger than he looks.” Nate glared at Elisa’s father.

  Sean punched him in the ear this time. “Don’t you call me an old man.”

  The three men probably would have been locked in combat for God knows how long, but the sound of footsteps from behind made them all stop dead.

  “Get offa him.”

  The young voice didn’t belong to Elisa. Nate assumed it was her brother, Daniel.

  “Son, your father’s the one who started this.”

  “Don’t call me son, you rotten bastard. Now get offa him. I ain’t gonna give you much more time.”

  Somehow they untangled themselves and Nate was dismayed to see that Gideon’s arm was covered in blood. The injury was much worse than he’d first thought.

  “Can I at least see to my friend’s wound? After all, it was probably your sister who shot him.” Nate’s temper flared. That particular fact angered him more than anything. She drew first blood and had put all their lives at risk by shooting.

  “Elisa doesn’t miss what she’s shooting at.” Daniel’s voice was full of pride.

  “This time, she also shot your father.”

  “You’re a liar!”

  “While she was busy trying to shoot Gideon, the bullet went through him and grazed your father’s shoulder. Look, just look.” Nate still couldn’t believe she’d done it. It was very unlike her to be sloppy. Elisa was as precise as Nate was.

  “Da? Are you hurt?” Daniel leaned over and peered at his father.

  Sean got up on his hands and knees, his face gray in pallor. “I think I’ve been shot.”

  Daniel glared at Nate and Gideon. “Get off this land. Get off, get off, get off!” Passion and fury that would rival his sister’s blazed from his young eyes. Telltale beads of sweat made their way down his baby-smooth cheeks. The boy didn’t even shave yet and here he was holding a rifle on two men.

  Nate helped Gideon to his feet. Keeping an eye on the boy, Nate took his neckerchief off and tied it around his friend’s arm like a tourniquet. Gideon was a little pale and swayed just a bit on his feet. Nate wasn’t sure if it was from losing blood or getting punched in the head by Sean. Nate’s ears still rang from the old man’s hard fists.

  “I said, get off this land.” Daniel waved his weapon around, poking his finger at Gideon’s wounded shoulder.

  That was the breaking point for Nate.

  He stepped right up to the rifle and pushed the barrel into his stomach, daring the boy. Nate was so angry that Elisa had shot Gideon, he wasn’t thinking clearly.

  “Listen to me, boy. We were hired to remove squatters from land legally purchased by Mr. O’Shea. Your family has done nothing but fight us at every turn, and now you’ve shot one of us. What do you think that means to your chances of staying on this land?” Not that there was a chance they’d stay on the land, but he had to try to get one of the Taggerts to see reason. Perhaps it wasn’t too late for the boy.

  Daniel’s eyes widened, but he kept a firm grip on the rifle. “I still got a bullet in here, mister.”

  “You’d better pay attention then. Your sister made a grave error in shooting Gideon. When she draws the blood of one Devil, she incurs the wrath of all of them. I won’t forgive this and I sure as hell won’t forget it.”

  Nate glanced at Gideon sitting on his horse, watching the byplay between Nate and the boy. Something like pride shone in his eyes. Gid had always been like an older brother to him, even though Nate had felt like an outsider, the only non-Blackwood in the Devils. Knowing that Gideon was proud of him gave Nate an extra measure of self-confidence. He poked his finger in the boy’s bony shoulder.

  “You tell Elisa that the Devils will be coming back and this time, there won’t be any childish tricks. We will remove the Taggerts from this land.”

  * * * * *

  Elisa watched Nate and his friend leave, one obviously injured. She’d been trying to scare them, not shoot them, but her hands shook on the rifle. Something that hadn’t happened before. Although she hated everything Nate and his friends were doing, she was glad she hadn’t killed them. Elisa hopped on Midnight and kneed him into motion. As they cleared the trees, she heard Daniel shouting her name.

  “Elisa, come out please. I don’t know what to do.” He sounded like a little boy again, a boy in dire need of his big sister.

  A surge of red-hot anger shot through her at the thought that Nate or his friend had hurt Da. She raced to the house with the wind at her back. When she reached the clearing, she slid off Midnight’s back and hit the ground running. Da sat on the edge of the porch with blood dripping down his arm.

  Elisa’s heart almost stopped beating.

  “Da!” She dropped to her knees in front of him, desperately searching for a wound. Dust and dirt coated his face, but the only blood was on his arm. Thank God.

  “What happened?”

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “You shot him.”

  The words fell like a hammer on an anvil. “Wh-what?”

  “You shot him when you were doing your fancy rifle trick for those men. Bullet went straight through that curly-haired fella and grazed Da.” Disappointment reflected in his gaze. “How could you?”

  “I shot him? Da, I shot you?” God help her, she’d made mistakes before, but none this big.

  Until now.

  “That you did, Elisa g
irl. Stings like a bitch too. Pardon me language.” He groaned and clutched his shoulder. “Can one of ya get a bandage or somethin’?”

  Elisa jumped up and ran for the well, eager to retrieve something to help her father. Her stomach rolled and her breakfast tried to make a reappearance. When she pulled the bucket back up from the well, the smell of salt water hit her nose.

  Bastards!

  They’d salted the damn well, those lousy snakes. Well, Da might not like it, but she’d have to use some whiskey to clean the wound instead. Later she’d go down to the stream and get some fresh water for them. She dashed into the house and took the whiskey bottle from behind the flour—whether or not he actually thought it was hidden was a joke between her and Daniel. On the way back out, she took a clean piece of linen from beside the sink.

  “Oy, you’re not using me whiskey, are ya?” he cried, eyeing the bottle in her hand with dismay.

  “Da, we need to clean the wound and this is the only thing we’ve got.” She sat next to him and poured some into the linen.

  “What about water?”

  She’d purposely sat on the side with the wound so he couldn’t stop her from using the whiskey. She realized that he was talking and acting like his usual self. Perhaps the fight over the land had finally worked its way into his befuddled brain. Thank Holy Mary and all the saints.

  “They salted the well. We’ll need to go to the stream and there’s no time. I need to take a look at you.”

  With a grimace, she ripped his shirt to get to the wound. Not only had she shot him, but she’d ruined one of the few good shirts he had left. She couldn’t sew worth a damn, Mama had always done it. They didn’t have the money to pay for anyone to sew so they’d made do the last year.

  Now Da only had two shirts, and one of them had a missing sleeve with a bloody hole in it thanks to Elisa. The wound was superficial, but it had burrowed a gash about two inches long on his arm. Enough to sting and bleed a little. The bullet had been hot enough to nearly cauterize the skin so thankfully no stitches were needed.