Golden Feather Press
EMERALD VALLEY

CHAPTER 4

Kyle locked both doors to the house, slipped the keys into his pocket and led Killer to the trough to drink. The water level had sunk to the hole from the bullet that had injured Dix, but there was still plenty for the horse to quench his thirst before the long, hot ride to Grand Junction.

While his horse drank, Kyle went to the barn and found two horses in stalls. He was pleased they had plenty of oats, hay and water within easy reach. Dix must have just fed and watered them before he'd been shot. Kyle made friends with both horses before he led Maggie out of her stall and got the roan mare ready to travel.

After letting Killer eat what he wanted of oats and drink again, Kyle swung into the saddle. As he traveled the road north, leading Maggie, he watched the landscape turn from a lush valley into vast, arid canyons with flat-topped mesas. It was spectacular in the shadows of the morning sun.

Kyle looked up at the sky and laughed. "You sure made this world full'a good lookin' things, Lord. An' Dix is sure a good-looker. But I ain't gonna get hooked on him. Not again." He bowed his head. "Please, Lord, give Lake a hug for me."

After traveling a few miles on the road that followed the river through a wide canyon, he saw four riders ahead. As they got closer, he recognized the three bays and the buckskin with black socks.

"What the hell're they comin' back for?" Kyle muttered. "They forget to check if Dix is dead?" He slid his Marlin rifle out of the boot and held it across the saddle with his left hand.

When the men approached him, Kyle stopped Killer in the middle of the road.

The four riders glanced at each other. Jude Daily held out his hand for the others to stop, then nudged his buckskin forward and stopped it twenty feet in front of Kyle.

"Why the rifle, friend?" Jude asked. He didn't like the looks of this muscle-bound stranger sitting on his black horse that looked half outlaw.

"Why you comin' back?" Kyle asked harshly.

Startled, Jude turned and signaled his three companions to be ready with their guns. He looked at Kyle.

"Don't know what you mean, friend. We're just passing through."

"I asked why you're comin' back this way!" Kyle demanded. "What'd you ferget?"

"Look, stranger, I don't know what you're talking about. We're just traveling to God knows where. You'll let us pass if you know what's good for you."

Kyle shifted his rifle. "What's good for me is behind me, an' the man you tried to kill this mornin'. Like a bunch'a yacks that can't tell a skunk from a housecat, y'all bungled your well-paid job. I'm takin' half yer blood money for food an' medicine for the man you shot. I don't hanker takin' it off dead men, but will if I have to."

Jude saw the man's rifle still pointed to the side, but his left index finger hooked the trigger. He watched the man wrap his reins around the saddle horn and rest his right hand on his leg.

"I don't know about any killing, er, shooting." Jude said. "And I don't like you talking to us that way. We're minding our own business. Let us pass. There's four of us. We can shoot you to ribbons if we have to."

"Guess I'm talkin' to a bunch'a brayin' pack mules," Kyle snapped. "I heard them shots an' saw you ridin' away from the ranch." Kyle pointed to Jude's buckskin with the black socks. "Ain't no other horse like yours within five hundred miles'a here." Kyle raised his rifle and pointed it at Jude. "Like I said, I want half your blood money. Drop it on the road and ride back the way you came. You ain't goin' no further on this road."

"Why you thievin' son-of-a-bitch!" Gill shouted from behind Jude. "That's our money! We earned it fair'n square." He grabbed for his pistol, but only got it halfway out of his holster before he felt white-hot pain through his head.

Gill's body dropped to the ground with a bullet hole between the eyes.

"Who's next?" Kyle said, holding his smoking Colt Peacemaker in his right hand.

Jude gasped. He'd never even seen the stranger draw the pistol. "Mister, who are you?"

"I'm the man that's gonna kill you, if you don't drop half your damn blood money on the road."

Jude turned his head to the two men behind him and said, "Shell out five hundred."

Mike and Cruk quickly pulled out a wad of money and began counting out five hundred. Jude did the same.

Kyle shoved his rifle into the boot and nudged Killer alongside Jude's horse. Holding his pistol on Jude, he snatched the wad of money out of Jude's grasp, fanned it with his index finger then shoved the barrel of his Peacemaker into Jude's neck.

"There's two thousand here," Kyle growled. "Five hundred ain't enough. An' I want a thousand from that dead yack."

Four thousand dollars richer, and having learned the name of the man who'd paid them to kill Dix, Kyle followed the three into Grand Junction. Jude led Gill's horse with his body draped over the saddle.

Kyle forced the men to pay for Gill's burial. They used fifty dollars from the dead man's remaining thousand, then divied up the rest. Not wanting them to travel south again, Kyle sat on Killer and watched as they took the east road out of town.

The town marshal rode up, stopped his horse beside Kyle and observed the disappearing men in silence.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kyle surveyed the marshal. The man was thin in the legs, but had a barrel chest and a clean-shaven square jaw. He thought of getting drunk and rowdy so the marshal would man-handle him to jail.

After the three outlaws disappeared from view, Marshal Hooker eyed Kyle up and down. "Why didn't you want me to toss them in jail? You had every right to demand it."

"They didn't kill Dix. Besides, they was paid to do it. I want the man that paid 'em."

"Who is it? Did they tell you?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. They named a man, but I ain't sayin' 'til I know more'a what's goin' on. Dix Logan made me foreman of his ranch, an' I aims t'find out what's been happenin' back there."

The marshal rubbed his jaw. "What do you know about Logan? Where did he come from?"

Kyle looked surprised. "You don't know? Said he's from Denver. He's the nephew of the former owner who was killed. I want to find out who done that, too."

It was the marshal's turn to be surprised. "Logan's only been here a couple weeks, and I didn't know old Bill had a nephew. But like most prospectors turned cattle rancher, he never told people much. Mostly kept to himself." Hooker sighed. "I guess we'll know more after Bill's will is finally read by Judge Stevens. I heard that won't be for another week."

"Well, guess I'll be gettin' to buyin' supplies. Don't want to be gone too long with Dix laid up. Where's the most likely place to stock up for a month'er two?"

"The Mercantile on Center. John Moore will fix you up."

"Nice talkin' to you, Marshal. Oh, and where's a quiet place to have a beer to wash down the dust from the road?"

"Quiet?" The marshal took in the big man. "You don't strike me as someone who would be comfortable in the Elden Hotel." He grinned slyly. "Try the Nugget. Your type goes there. Not many shootings in that bar, but that's the only quiet thing about it."

"My type, eh?" With a sly grin, Kyle said, "Marshal, you're my type."

Hooker laughed. "Don't try that with me. It'll only get you into more trouble than you bargained for." He nudged his horse into a trot and headed back to town. After riding fifty yards, he turned around in his saddle and tipped his hat at Kyle, then spurred his horse into a canter.

Grand Junction was a small, but thriving town, built at the junction of the Colorado and Gunnison rivers. Kyle saw mostly ranchers and prospectors in the streets. He rode back to the marshal's office where he'd left Maggie. As he untied her from the rail, he saw Marshal Hooker looking at him from the front window. The man was striking with his chiseled face and thick black eyebrows. He didn't wear underwear, and his pants were a lighter color where his dick bulged. Kyle stared at the marshal's crotch, then looked him in the eye and raised one eyebrow.

Marshal Hooker raised his index finger, waved it from side to side and shook his head. He tried to look stern. It wasn't convincing. Kyle figured he must be lousy at poker.

After leaving Maggie at the Mercantile and ordering food and essentials for two months, and enough ammunition for a range war, Kyle rode up Center to the Nugget.

Most of the buildings along the street were rough pine clapboard built one after another down two blocks on his left. He spied the Won Ton on his right, sitting by itself in a weedy lot. Why did so many western towns have an eatery named Won Ton? As he rode by it, the smells from the Chinese café made him remember he wanted a decent meal, and soon. He smiled when he didn't detect tainted meat.

After his eyes got used to the dark interior of the Nugget, he ambled to the bar and ordered a beer. Looking around, he counted ten people standing in the spacious room that held four gambling tables with wagon-wheel lamp affairs hanging above them. Several other unlit tables were scattered close to the walls. After a sip of his beer, he carefully observed each man in the room. Some were the nondescript type most people rarely notice, but Kyle sized up each man, wondering which man was friend or foe. His eyes locked on two handsome gents at the end of the bar, sharing a bottle and totally oblivious to anyone else. They stood too close to each other as they laughed and playfully jabbed each other's chests. Kyle raised his eyes to the upstairs balcony and counted six rooms. He knew at least one could be reserved for men only, and figured those two would most likely end up in it.

Inspecting the rest of the men in the bar, Kyle noticed a good-looking, tough-as-leather Negro prospector in buckskins, sitting by himself at a table in the corner. The man leaned over his drink, staring at him. With a trimmed black beard and short, wirey hair, his entire countenance seemed to smile. Kyle nodded at him. The the man raised his glass and jerked his head for Kyle to join him.

Kyle picked up his beer, wove his way through the gambling tables, slid into a chair beside the prospector and extended his hand.

"Name's Kyle Chase."

The black man in buckskins shook Kyle's hand once, hard. "Woody's the name I go by." He looked Kyle up and down, then sat up straight in his chair. "You're a fine specimen of a man. Ever ride a buffalo?"

When the man straightened up in his chair, Kyle saw a two hundred-fifty pound chunk of solid muscle sitting beside him. Ride a buffalo?

Kyle laughed, sipped his beer, then wiped his lip. "Can't say I ever have." He was glad this man didn't smell to high heaven like most prospectors. Ride a buffalo?

"If you've a notion, I'll let you ride Tonka. Raised him from a calf." Woody gestured toward the rear of the building. "Tonka's out back. Marshal won't let him on the street." Woody chuckled. "He's not mean, but he's got a mind of his own. Once he was tied to the rail out front along with four horses. He got a notion to wander down the street and took the rail and horses with him. That didn't set well with the marshal."

Kyle stared at the big man in disbelief. "Do you ride that buffalo all the time?"

"Sure. Don't have a horse. Had to have Tonka's saddle special-made. He loves to be ridden, and he's strong as all get out. He can run for miles without tiring."

"I've gotta see this buffalo," Kyle said. "You said he's out back?"

Woody grinned and jumped to his feet. "Come on, I'll introduce you to him." He long-strided to the back door.

When Kyle stepped outside, he gasped when he saw the huge bison tied to a two-inch thick iron post in the middle of a weedy lot. As Woody approached the beast, Tonka snorted and dipped his huge head. He made deep chortling noises as Woody sunk his hands into the bison's wooly hair.

Stopping ten feet away from the animal, Kyle said, "He looks glad to see you."

"Of course he is," Woody said. Grabbing the bison's horns, he kissed the top of Tonka's nose. "He loves me. Thinks I'm his mother." Woody laughed as Tonka continued to snort and make deep-throated grunts. He let go of the horns and turned to Kyle. "Come over here and let me introduce you. Don't let him think you're afraid."

Kyle liked to think he wasn't afraid of anything, but stepping up to a six-foot tall bison with long, sharp upcurved horns gave him a twinge of raw terror. The iron post the beast was tied to looked like a broom-straw next to his massive head and neck. Woody's big frame was dwarfed by the animal.

When Kyle got within two feet of the pair, Tonka lowered his head and bellowed as though he was about to charge and slash with his horns. Kyle leaped back.

"Don't be afraid," Woody said as he grabbed Kyle's arm and pulled him toward the bison. "Tonka's very protective of me. He once killed a brown bear that wanted a piece of my ass. Gored that bear right up through the chin and tossed him away."

Wondering if Tonka could sense that he'd also like a piece of Woody's ass, Kyle steeled himself as Woody pulled him to the beast's furry head. Tonka's black intelligent eyes peered at him.

Tonka strained against the iron chain that secured him to the post and sniffed Kyle's chest, then nudged him, hard.

"Stand your ground," Woody said. "He's just testing you." He patted the bison on the head. "Tonka, this is Kyle. He's a friend of mine." Woody slid his hand across Kyle's shoulders and gave him a one-arm hug. "We're good friends."

Tonka raised his huge head and snorted, then turned and trotted to the opposite side of the post, stopped, turned again and faced them. He stood motionless.

Kyle didn't care if the massive beast ever came back. Feeling Woody's big arm around him made his gut flutter. Trying to make it seem like he was going along with Woody's demonstration of friendship, Kyle said, "Yes, Tonka. We like each other. Lots." He slid his hand over Woody's huge chest and partially shut his eyes. Feeling Woody's muscles made his knees weak. He hoped Woody wouldn't notice his swelling crotch.

Straining against the chain the entire way, Tonka walked a half-circle back to the men. He stopped in front of Kyle and looked at him, then nudged him with his nose.

"He wants you to rub the top of his head," Woody said. "He trusts you. If he didn't, chain or not, he would have gored you by now."

Kyle snapped an angry look at Woody. "You jaybird! I thought you said I weren't suppose to be afraid! I could be lyin' dead right now!"

Tonka nudged Kyle again.

Glaring at Woody's grinning face, without thinking, Kyle slid his hand into the thick hair on Tonka's head. The bison began making deep chortling sounds.

"You never had to worry," Woody said. "I knew Tonka would like you. We both have the same taste in men." He slid his hand down Kyle's back and patted his butt. "Tomorrow, you can ride him if you want."

"Tomorrow? I thought you said I could ride him now?"

"I just said that to get you out here. What I really want is for you to come to supper tonite. At my place. How about it?" Woody glanced at the one-o'clock sun. "I have to deliver two wagon wheels to a rancher, but I'll be back by five."

"What's a prospector doing deliverin' wagon wheels?"

"Prospector?" Woody shouted, then laughed. "I'm not a prospector. I'm the town blacksmith. Have been for ten years. Before I came here I made Winchester rifles in upstate New York. I wear buckskins because I like the feel of leather against my skin." He pulled out the front of his V-necked rawhide shirt and pointed down inside it. "Take a look. I'm naked under these clear to my toes."

Not bashful when it came to men, Kyle looked down the man's shirt. Seeing Woody's massive, hair-covered chest made him feel like an adolescent even though he, himself, weighed two hundred pounds.

Kyle squinted into Woody's eyes. "What's for dessert?"

Woody laughed. "A surprise. So you'll come?"

"Wouldn't miss it for nothin'."

"Good. My house is up the hill behind my shop at the north end of town. I'll expect you at six."

Woody grinned at Kyle, then grabbed the chain holding Tonka, unlatched it and pulled it out of the mass of hair around the bison's neck. He tossed the chain to the ground, then walked over to a nearby fence to retrieve his saddle.

Standing in front of the freed bison, Kyle decided he liked the animal and began rubbing his nose and the shaggy mane between his horns. Tonka was a beautiful animal. Tonka's eyes reminded Kyle of Smarts, the big hound he'd had while growing up in Missouri. He and Smarts had been inseparable. Missing Smarts, Kyle nestled his face and hands into Tonka's mane. The huge animal made even deeper chortles of contentment.

After Woody and Tonka disappeared down the back alley, Kyle looked to the south and thought of Dix. He'd given Dix enough laudanum to let him sleep for almost twenty-four hours. That would let the Kiowa medicine work when it was most critical. It would also allow him to stay the night in town and be back when Dix would be waking up in the morning. He looked at the iron post where Tonka had been tied. Woody was so goddamn desirable.

Kyle shrugged and headed back to the bar.