Chapter Six

A sentry warned of Coy's arrival before he entered the yard. The ranch house hadn't changed much in the last fifteen years. The gray-brown structure held up a sloped roof and a wide porch with white-washed plank floorboards. Sun-baked yellow shutters hung at an odd angle on both front windows, leaving little doubt in Coy's mind they'd blow away in a monsoon rain.

He recognized the spindle-legged hombre standing by an old rocker on the porch too. Mutton Chop's bushy sideburns hadn't changed either but he didn't have time to stare at the thug long. If Mutton Chop showed up, that meant his cousin Digger Newly was close by.

Coy brought Deuce to a halt in the yard and glanced toward the corral. He counted five cows, all wearing the Santos brand. A movement on the porch forced his gaze back to the men.

Benito and Domingo walked down the steps with Mutton Chop close on their heels. A black sombrero with silver trim sat atop Benito's head. A black twill jacket topped a pair of brown vaquero pants and knee-high black boots. The only color in the man's attire was a bright red patterned shirt, partially hidden by the ammo belt crisscrossed over his torso. Like his brother, Domingo wore dark vaquero pants and high black boots. He pulled the white straw hat from his head and tipped it in Coy's direction, his pockmarked face revealing a toothy smile that crinkled his dark, beady eyes. A gold and red striped poncho covered his shoulders and chest but didn't hide the pistol with an ivory handle at his right hip.

Benito spoke first. "Ah, amigo, been so long since we see you, we think you dead."

"Not hardly."

Digger hadn't appeared and that bothered Coy, but he didn't dare take his eyes off the threesome.

Domingo struck a match and lit the cigar hanging off this bottom lip. "To what do we owe this honor, gringo?"

He stiffened his legs and rose in the saddle, peering over their heads toward the corral. "Unless something is wrong with my eyesight, you got Santos cattle penned up over there."

Mutton Chop let loose a throaty guffaw. "Maybe you need glasses."

Coy patted the rifle lying across his lap. "Maybe you need a little buckshot in your leg."

"Ha, now that's funny! Guess you can't count." He glanced from Benito to Domingo. "There's three of us and only one of you."

Benito elbowed him. "Shut up, knucklehead."

"Found 'em grazing on our land." A circle of smoke swirled around Domingo's long, black hair. "Round here possession is nine-tenths of the law."

"Not when they're wearing the Ranchero Santos' brand." His calm, lethal voice drifted on the air between them. "You, Mutton Chop, go open that padlock while I keep your sidekicks entertained."

"Stay where you are." Domingo spit into the dirt near his boot and then looked at Coy with a mutinous glare, his fingers inching toward his pistol. "As my friend says, gringo, there are three of us and only one of you."

Coy raised the rifle and aimed at Domingo's chest. "Yeah, guess I am a little outnumbered, but won't make any difference to you, or your brother. Two seconds after you draw your guns, you'll be dead."

Benito's eyes glinted beneath the harsh sun. "You think you can take us both?"

"I know I can. The question is…do you want to take that chance?"

Coy heard a rifle cock near the house and next, a familiar voice near the corral. "Drop that rifle, Mister or I'll blow your head off."

Grange? What the hell is he doing here?

Standing behind Benito, Domingo and Mutton Chop, the boy walked forward with Fetch. Shoulders low, rump high, the dog crawled through the dirt, his long white fangs flashing feral. Rifle resting against his shoulder, Grange focused on someone on the roof. "Do it, Mister!"

He found Digger.

"Now, drop your guns into the dirt." Coy cocked his own rifle. "I'm not asking you again. And you, Digger, climb on down where I can see you. Oh, if you think the kid doesn't know how to use that Winchester, you'd be wrong…dead wrong."

Hatred crossed Benito's eyes before he pulled the pistol from the holster at his hip and dropped it into the dirt.

"You too, Domingo and Mutton Chop."

As soon as the pistols fell and Digger joined their ranks, Coy snuck a peek at Grange. "Turn those cows loose and send them down the road with Fetch."

Grange walked backward toward the corral, keeping his eyes on the Mexicans. As soon as he removed the padlock, he shooed the dog in to round up the cows. "Take 'em home, Fetch."

"Get on your horse, Grange." Coy exchanged glances with the thieves. "Next time I find Santos cattle in your possession I won't be so friendly."

He sent Grange on ahead, turned Deuce around and heard Benito call out over his shoulder. "You best watch your back, gringo."

When he caught up with Grange, he grabbed Belle's reins and brought them both to a halt. "What the hell do you think you were doing back there?"

"I knew you weren't hunting down no turkey."

"How do you know that?"

"I was looking for them since we left the ranch, and I would have spotted one by that prickly pear." He paused. "There wasn't no turkey anywhere in sight."

"That's not the point! You could have got yourself killed!"

"So could you!" He lowered his voice. "Besides, I told ya, I ain't standing by anymore while they steal the food from our mouths. Ma's got buyers for them cattle, and if they keep stealing from us, we won't make it through winter."

Coy shook his head. "Stupid kid."

"Stupid, huh? You didn't have any idea one was lying on his belly on that roof just waiting for a signal to shoot."

"I knew Digger was somewhere around…just didn't know exactly where."

"Then you should thank me instead of calling me stupid."

Coy dropped Belle's reins and searched the kid's face. "Guess I should. Thank you, but you shouldn't have followed me."

"You're not going to tell Ma, are you?"

He gave a slow nod. "No, but if you ever do that again, you leave me no choice."

Grange grinned ear-to-ear. "Did you see how fast he scrambled down from that roof?"

"Don't go puffing up like a rooster and don't think Digger doesn't know how to use a rifle."

"You've seen him in action?"

"Yeah, I've seen him, and unfortunately his cousin, Domingo and Benito too. The only reason they surrendered their guns was…."

"Why can't ya just say it? Because Fetch and me had your back door, right?"

"Yeah, kid," Coy said with another shake of his head. "I could have taken Domingo and Benito but Mutton Chop and Digger would have dropped me in a heartbeat after that." He lapsed into silence for a long moment while Grange studied him with his head tilted to the side. "I'm going to tell you this but don't ever want to talk about it again, hear me? So don't go asking a hundred questions like you always do. Deal?"

Grange nodded.

"I promised myself years ago I'd never draw on a man again, and I hope to keep that promise. Taking a man's life isn't a glorious thing so don't go thinking it is. A decent man doesn't boast about something like that or feel joy when it's done, ya hear me?"

Another nod.

"All right, remember that. Now let's go see how Fetch is doing with the cattle."

They didn't talk for the remainder of the ride home. Coy thought about the last time he shot a man and the same old sorrow washed over him. He left that way of life long ago and had no intention of ever going back.

But sometimes a man didn't have a choice. And he knew in his heart, Domingo and Benito would never let this go now. Domingo's words echoed in his ears, 'You best watch your back, gringo.'