The Fire in Ember - DiAnn Mills [2]
John laughed at his frettin’ — worse than an old woman watching for winter weather. He turned his horse northwest toward the land belonging to Victor Oberlander, the Wide O Ranch. Six hundred forty acres of Oberlander’s land bordered on John’s ranch—four homestead plots for four brothers. Today he planned to offer a fair price for it. Cash. With those thoughts, a northern breeze cooled his face.
For right now, John would enjoy the warm weather, clear blue skies, and solitude of his thoughts. Although his thoughts would be more pleasing once he had a firm handshake on a deal with Oberlander.
He rounded a hill about three miles from the Wide O and saw Ted Hawkins riding his way. The old ranch hand waved and spurred his horse toward John.
“How are you?” John came to a stop and leaned on his saddle horn.
“I’ve been better.” Ted’s face was flushed, what a man could see of his whiskered skin and his hat pulled down low. “But I’m sure glad I run up on you.”
John’s insides soured. “What’s wrong? Trouble?”
“Yep. The kind a deputy like you can handle just fine. A couple of Oberlander’s ranch hands have a boy they’re about to hang for stealin’ a horse. I tried to stop them, but—”
“A boy? What’s got into them?”
“Bored, I reckon. The boy was ridin’ the boss’s prize mare, the one he thought got stole. But hangin’ a kid isn’t my way of settlin’ things. Tried to talk them out of it, but Leon’s mind’s set.”
The good Lord must have had more on His mind this morning than striking a deal for land. “A hanging of any kind without a trial is against my style. Show me where they’re at.”
“Sure thing, John. They’re about a mile and a half back. Leon’s fit to be tied about everything this mornin'. Been drinkin', and he’s meaner than a wounded she-bear.”
The two men rode north. Horse thieves were the sludge of the earth, but a young boy often didn’t have much sense. He’d been there, and what often sounded like fun could end up being deadly. In the distance, three men gathered around a horse. On that horse sat a boy with a noose around his neck.
John lifted his rifle and fired into the air. That ought to get their attention. Heads and bodies snapped his way.
“That ain’t gonna stop Leon,” Ted shouted above the rhythmic pounding of their horses’ hooves against the ground.
Although John and Ted were gaining ground, it didn’t seem to deter Leon’s hanging. He walked behind the horse where the kid sat.
I won’t get there soon enough.
John raised his rifle again and shot through the rope.
Leon smacked the horse’s rump, and the animal took off. Instead of dangling in the air, the boy was doing his best to stay atop a horse with his hands tied. Ted took out after the mare and boy as John rode up in front of the others.
Cursing broke through the morning, and Leon threw a bottle aside then jerked out his revolver. He waved his gun toward the boy.
“Pull that trigger, and I’ll shoot you dead.” John aimed his rifle straight at Leon’s chest.
“He’s a horse thief.” Leon’s words thundered louder than his swearin’ had moments before.
“Maybe so, but you aren’t a judge. And your thief looks to be around eleven years old. That makes you a big man.” John pointed at the broken whiskey bottle. “So does cheap whiskey make you brave enough to kill a kid?”
The other two ranch hands backed off. Their horses had been spooked and were headed in the direction of the Oberlander barns and house. Ted had caught up with the boy and the mare, but John’s stallion had noticed her too. Wonderful. Now he had one more problem to contend with.
“What about you two?” John swung his rifle toward the others.
“Leon said—” one man began.
“If you’re going to follow Leon around like a puppy, maybe you’d like to follow him to jail?”
“I’m gettin’ back to work,” the second man said. John