Blaze! A Son of the Gun Read online

  Now he must earn the bounty on Tuck’s head. If he let Tuck get away, he’d never hear the end of it from Kate. She was everything a wife could possibly be but when she got in one of her moods...well, just thinking about it compelled J.D. to urge yet more speed out of the stallion.

  The trail crested a ridge that overlooked the vast open high desert that stretched beyond. To his right, a wide stretch of rock and gravel slanted upward to a jumble of high rocks bordered by juniper trees.

  There was no sight of Tuck Ludlow. But it was a perfect spot for an ambush. And he had ridden right into it! He drew rein sharply.

  The stallion straightened its front legs into a sliding stop with a stunning abruptness that almost tossed J.D. over the horse’s head and onto the ground. A rifle shot spat orange-red flame, lancing down from the rocks. The bullet whistled inches from J.D.’s left ear. He’d have been killed by that bullet if instinct and observation had not warned him of danger.

  The bushwhacker levered and squeezed off another round.

  J.D. scrambled from the saddle, this bullet tugging at a sleeve even as he dropped to the ground, yanking his Winchester from its scabbard. Down here, at the foot of that rocky formation, he had nowhere to seek cover and he had not spotted Tuck’s position. Tuck’s next bullet would not miss.

  The stallion drew off to the side. J.D.’s eyes darted here and there, simultaneously trying to pinpoint the shooter and searching for something, anything that could serve as cover...and finding nada in both cases.

  Tuck’s laughter echoed down from his unseen position.

  “Reckon I got you right where I want you, bounty man. Who’s got the last laugh now? See you in hell, chump!”

  Another rifle shot.

  Stranded as he was in the open, J.D flinched involuntarily in expectation of being struck by a bullet. He was either about to die or be mortally wounded. A heartbeat later and no bullet hit him! He hadn’t even heard the zing of a near-miss bullet.

  What the—?

  Movement up among the rocks! Tuck appeared.

  J.D. held his fire.

  Tuck ambled from concealment in a weird sort of shambling way, as if sleepwalking, his rifle held by its muzzle, dragging the weapon along behind him as if he were an idle child with a stick. He dropped the rifle. His knees buckled and he fell, tumbling head over heels down the embankment of stone and gravel, ending up a tattered ball of human remains near where J.D. stood. Tuck did not move.

  He was deader than Ellsworth, Kansas on a Tuesday night.

  Birds, scared out the juniper trees by the gunfire, flew back.

  J.D. held a crouch, ready to spring in any direction at the first sign of more trouble. Tuck was hardly the type to commit suicide, especially after his gloating final words. Someone else had dealt themselves a hand!

  A lone rider appeared, riding a dun-colored horse. He approached, the stock of his rifle riding on his hip, its barrel pointed skyward.

  J.D. swung into his saddle. He similarly held his Winchester, letting the other man come to him.

  The man was more of a kid, really. Maybe fifteen or sixteen, though that didn’t mean he wasn’t a seasoned adult. This land and these times turned boys into men real fast. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but J.D. couldn’t quite place what it was. He was quite sure that he and this young fellow had never crossed paths before, and yet...something, a strange sense of recognition, quirked down deep.

  The young rider drew rein. There was Hispanic, maybe Indian, heritage in his features and complexion. The eyes, steady and narrow, glinted like pinpoints of steel.

  J.D. indicated Tuck’s remains.

  “If that’s your work, I’m much obliged.”

  “I stay out of another man’s trouble,” said the kid, “but I hate bushwhackers. And there’s something else.”

  J.D. again considered how Kate would expect him to handle this.

  He said, “Uh huh. There’s a bounty on this man.”

  “Figured there might be. But that ain’t what I’m talking about. See, Mr. Blaze, I know who you are. I’ve been seeking you out.”

  “Is that right? Well, if you were bird-dogging me as a way of tracking down the Ludlows, all I can say is I cornered this one and set him up for you. We’ll work something out.”

  “I don’t want your damn reward money.”

  Hoofbeats approached.

  The kid swung his rifle in that direction.

  J.D. said, “Relax. That’ll be my wife.”

  The kid said, “Yeah, I heard about her.”

  He did not lower the Winchester.

  Chapter 5

  Kate sized up the tableau in a glance. Tuck Ludlow curled up, dead and tattered at the bottom of a hill. Her husband facing down another man, each of the men holding a Winchester. She rode in, drawing up next to J.D.

  She got a closer look at the other rider. Vague recognition flickered in her subconscious at sight of the handsome half-breed whom she was certain she had never set eyes on before this moment. She held the reins in her left hand. Her right palm rested on her holstered six-gun.

  She said to J.D., “Looks like you’ve got things under control.”

  He did not take his eyes from the young stranger.

  “What about Lute?”

  “He’s with Fourteen. In hell, most likely. They won’t be causing anyone anymore trouble. We can strap ’em to their horses.”

  J.D. said, “This gent is responsible for sending Tuck to hell.”

  Kate frowned. “The bounty—?”

  “We’ve discussed it. It’s been worked out.”

  “Well then, we’re allies. Right, gents? And if that’s the case, what’s with the hardware and the walk-down eyes?” She sniffed with disdain. “Men. Always needing a woman to remind ’em how to act. Unless you’re aiming to use those fire sticks, why not put ’em away?”

  The rider on the dun did so, sliding his rifle into its scabbard.

  “Reckon you’re right, ma’am.”

  J.D did likewise.

  He said, “You traveling alone, pilgrim?”

  The kid’s gaze lost none of its steel, nor did his voice.

  “Reckon we ought to put our cards on the table.” He raised his voice and called, “Lori! Come on out.”

  A young brunette woman appeared, riding a chestnut mare. The girl was slim and supple, possessed of clear brown eyes and a sweetly rounded face. She wore a wide-brimmed Stetson, a wool shirt, Levis and boots. She appeared to be unarmed. Maybe a year or so younger than the fellow but, like him, her countenance reflected a seasoned spirit, the birthright of one coming of age in this untamed region. That seasoning, though, detracted in no way from a blossoming feminine beauty caught on the cusp of adulthood.

  The girl rode over to beside the young man, a sort of mirror image of Kate next to J.D.

  The young man said, “Lori, this here is Mr. and Mrs. Blaze.”

  The girl nodded curtly. “The ones you told me about.” She studied the birds twittering in the juniper trees.

  Nothing unfriendly in the girl’s manner.

  The kid said, “Lori don’t talk much. She writes stuff down in a journal. She’s got a deep soul. She understands. She understands people, me especially. Ain’t that right, Lori?”

  Her eyes stayed on the birds.

  “That’s right, Joe.”

  A gentle voice, agreeable to the ears, suited her faraway eyes, Kate thought. The eyes of a poet, wise and overly sensitive.

  Kate said, “You two just passing through, or are you from these parts?”

  Joe said, “Passing through, in a manner of speaking.”

  J.D.’s eyes narrowed.

  “You got a last name, Joe?”

  “Bridge. Joe Bridge.”

  “What’s that you said about looking for me? So it wasn’t coincidence you showed up just now in the nick of time, like one of them dime novel heroes.”

  “Naw, that was no coincidence,” said Joe. “Me and Lori, well yeah, we’ve
been on the move. And I’ve been tracking you the same time. Ain’t many husband-and-wife gunhands. Figured I’d catch up with you this morning, then I spotted this feller you call Tuck. Me and Lori drew back but he wasn’t paying attention to nothing but climbing them rocks and waiting to pick you off. Like I said, I hate bushwhackers.”

  Kate said, “Are you on the move, or on the run?”

  Joe chuckled. “Reckon you could say a little of both—“

  Lori said, “Oooh, I don’t like her, Joe.” She ceased her study of the birds. She pointed into the distance. “Look.”

  Everyone turned in the direction of Lori’s pointing finger.

  A trio of hard-riding men could be seen in the distance across the open expanse of desert, their horses kicking up dust on the trail, closing the distance from about a half-mile off. The riders briefly disappeared from view, negotiating a wash that was a deep and jagged cut across the land. Then the riders reappeared, still too far off for identification.

  J.D. said, “Looks from here like a posse. So you are on the run.”

  Joe Bridge said, “Call it what you like. Bring it on, I say. Time we settled this, and here and now is good a place as any!”

  Lori leaned forward in her saddle.

  “Joe honey, please don’t talk like that.” Her voice remained gentle but now it was stretched taut. “That’ll be Sly and some of Daddy’s men. They’ll have orders to kill you!”

  “Let ‘em try!”

  Kate cleared her throat.

  “Uh, pardon me for butting into something I don’t know a damn thing about, but those riders are too far to identify any of us. There! They just dipped out of sight again! Whatever this is about, right now’s the time for you two to take off in the other direction.”

  Joe Bridge thrust out his jaw.

  “Lori, I ain’t scared of your pa or his men. Me and Sly Burnett have been angling for a showdown.”

  “Joe, please! I don’t want you to die. Let’s skedaddle!”

  “Joe, listen to your woman,” said Kate. “You want to show her how much you love her by dying in front of her eyes?”

  Joe scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully. “I reckon not.”

  “Listen to Lori and me and you can live to right another day.”

  Lori said to Kate, “I’ve changed my mind. You’re not so bad. I think I like you.”

  J.D. said, “What’s it going to be, feller? That posse’s getting closer by the second.”

  Joe said, “They ain’t no posse. And me and you ain’t done talking. But okay...until another day. Let’s go, babe.”

  Without further ado, the young couple high-tailed it away from there, rounding the bend and disappearing from sight. The sound of their iron-shod horses clattering over rock died away.

  Kate said, “Nice kids.”

  J.D. returned his attention to the approaching riders. They were raising a cloud of dust less than half a mile away. The hoofbeats of their horses could now be heard. J.D. slid his Winchester from its scabbard.

  “I think we’d best forget about those kids for now and deal with these sons of bitches. They look open for business and mean as hell.”

  Chapter 6

  Kate displayed curiosity more than alarm when J.D. drew his rife.

  She said, “What’ve you got in mind? We can’t very well open fire on those riders for no reason at all without knowing who they are.”

  “I’m not shooting anybody unless I have to,” said J.D.

  The riders again dropped into the last depression in the land before the trail rose to crest above where J.D. and Kate waited.

  J.D. pointed the Winchester skyward. He triggered off a shot. He levered another round and fired it into the air, then levered another round and returned the rifle to its scabbard.

  Below the far side of the ridge, the hoofbeats slowed.

  Kate whispered, “I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”

  J.D. said, “That makes two of us.”

  A minute elapsed.

  The riders were playing it cautious, having determined that the rifle fire was not directed at them. Still, one did not go blindly riding hell for leather into another man’s fight unless one wanted to take part in a gunfight, and this seemed not to be the inclination of the riders who had been so hot on the trail of Joe and Lori.

  The three riders eventually appeared on the ridge. Cautious, hard-eyed men, bent low in the saddle with hands on their pistols. They kept a goodly distance from each other so as not to present a clustered target in case more gunfire should greet them. They sized up the scene. The dead body of Tuck Ludlow. J.D. and Kate mounted side by side, blocking the trail.

  The two men on the outside favored the man in the middle with deferential glances. He straightened in the saddle and rode forward slowly. The other two followed, holding back somewhat, remaining widely separated from each other.

  The point man was a mean-looking cuss in his thirties. Whipcord lean. Unshaven. Twin six-guns worn low. He sent a brief glance at the corpse beside the road, then sent inquisitive eyes in J.D.’s direction.

  “We heard shooting.”

  J.D. said, “That was one of the Ludlow brothers. We killed the other two down the road apiece.”

  “Heard of ‘em,” said the man. “You’re bounty hunters.”

  “When we have to be. Tuck there put up a fight, so we took the fight out of him. Name’s J.D. Blaze. This here’s my wife, Kate.”

  The rider did not acknowledge her.

  “Sly Burnett. Top hand of the Bar-S. That mean anything to you?”

  “Port Stovall’s spread. Biggest in the territory.”

  “That’s right. We’re running someone down. A couple of someones. Man and a girl. They were headed this way. They must’ve rode right past you.”

  Kate was keeping her eyes on the pair that held back, their eyes narrowed eyes, their hands on their guns.

  She said, “You going to introduce those two?”

  Sly continued to ignore her.

  He said to J.D., “You’ve got an uppity woman.”

  J.D. said, “Tell me about it. But she’s on the right track. What say we all get acquainted?”

  Sly Burnett snickered.

  “Pay them boys no mind. That’s Basil and Emil. Brought ‘em with me because they was handy when the kid lit a shuck.”

  Kate arched an eyebrow. “Basil and Emil? Fancy.”

  J.D. said, “What kid?”

  Sly turned his attention to Kate with a mixture of irritation and contempt.

  “I don’t much care for uppity women.”

  Kate said, “So do something about it, bub.”

  Basil and Emil chuckled discreetly.

  Burnett said to J.D., “Tell your bitch to shut up.”

  J.D. smiled. “I’d rather we kept things friendly. Now about these kids you’re after—“

  Kate interrupted, sitting tall in the saddle, each hand resting on one of the six-guns adorning her shapely hips. J.D. had little doubt that she was sizing up the odds, deciding who she would kill first if it came to that.

  She said, “I am a bitch, especially when lowlife saddle bums start calling me names.”

  J.D. attempted to stay the course.

  “Uh, about these two kids—”

  “Ain’t no bounty on ’em,” said Burnett. “Get out of our road, the both of you. You’re lying, mister. They passed right by here.”

  J.D. didn’t budge.

  “Let me get this straight. You insult my wife and then you call me a liar. You’re pushing it, mister.”

  “We’re riding for the brand,” said Burnett. “Kid’s name is Joe Bridge. He’s a walking dead man. The girl is Mr. Stovall’s daughter. Lori, short for Lorraine. Just turned sixteen. She took off with the kid.”

  Kate said, “Sounds like young love. Best to let love take its course.”

  “Yeah well, that’s not the way Mr. Stovall sees it, especially seeing as how they lit out with ten thousand dollars snagged from t
he old man’s safe. His daughter’s the only one besides him who had the combination.” Sly snickered again. “You’re palavering right now to stall us. Why? Do you know Joe Bridge?”

  J.D. said, “Nope. Just making conversation.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me if you fired them rifle shots in the air just now, after that Ludlow fella was already dead, just to slow us down. But it won’t do them kids no good. Come on, boys. Let’s leave the bounty hunters to their work.”

  The riders rode around J.D. and Kate. They continued on the trail and soon rounded the bend and were out of sight.

  Kate snorted, “Basil and Emil. Sounds like a medicine show act.”

  J.D. said, “About that young fella they’re chasing, who ran off with the boss’s daughter—”

  “And her daddy’s money. Let’s not forget the ten grand.”

  “Yeah, that too. Well uh, did that young fella look familiar to you?”

  Kate nodded. “You saw it too.”

  “I’m not sure what I saw.” J.D. scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully. “He reminds me of somebody but I’m not exactly sure who.”

  Kate chuckled.

  “That’s because you don’t spend much time looking at yourself in the mirror. Sweetie, that young man, Joe Bridge, happens to be a tan spitting image of you!”

  Chapter 7

  It was nearing dusk when J.D. and Kate rode into Whiskey Bend leading three horses, each with a dead Ludlow brother strapped to it. The bodies stank to high heaven.

  The town barber, who also served as the town undertaker, elbowed his way through the gathering group of curious onlookers. Folks held their noses, waving away the flies. The town sheriff confirmed and sent off a telegram to Tucson duly acknowledging that Jehoram Delfonso Blaze and his wife, Katherine, were responsible for the bringing in three dead Ludlow brothers, and were thus due the reward posted by the Pinkerton Agency. The undertaker and his assistant, an aged Mexican in dirty white, led away the horses bearing the corpses, accompanied a gaggle of curious, laughing children and their barking dogs.

  Observing this, J.D. said, “Wish we didn’t have to use my real name to get that reward.”

  The sheriff, Snap Foster, chuckled.