Chapter 4
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan,” the short man called in his unpleasant voice.
“Good evening,” Cole said, stepping from the house.
The horsemen had drawn closer. The short man, still at the front of the pack, was only twenty feet away, close enough for Cole to see his face. In the dying light of day, it was a brutal, crude face, like a thing carved with a hatchet.
The man’s head was squat and blocky, reminding Cole of a toad, except for the eyes, which were small and dark and gleamed with menace, like the eyes of a weasel.
He remembered the man’s face well from their brief encounter in the lumber yard and remembered noting the misshapen ears, crumpled nose, and scarred eyebrows that told him this man was a fighter, maybe even a boxer.
In the lumber yard, he’d caught the man looking at Mary. It was only a split second, but he’d seen the lecherous look in the man’s eyes. Then the surprise. Then a flash of anger. Then the disguise, a mask of awkward cordiality.
Now, the man appeared to be gloating.
“There he is,” the man said. “Mr. Sullivan himself. Where’s your wife?”
“Not here,” Cole said, trying to keep the tension out of his voice.
“That’s a lie,” one of the other men said from the side of the house. “I seen her through the window.”
“Tell her to come out here,” the short man said.
“I don’t see her no more.”
“Well, hop down and go find her,” the short man said, and Cole’s anger burned higher when the man swung down from his horse.
“Hold on just a second there,” Cole said. “Nobody goes in my house unless I invite him, and I won’t be inviting you men inside tonight.”
“Big talk for a man all alone,” the short man said.
“Look,” Cole told him, trying to keep the anger from his voice. Men such as these were stoked by anger, even righteous anger. “I don’t want trouble. If you men would like some food, I would be happy to—”
“We don’t want your food,” the short man snapped. “We don’t accept the charity of liars.”
“I’ve done you no harm,” Cole said. “If you don’t want my hospitality, you can ride out of here.”
The short man spoke to the one who’d dismounted. “Tripp, get in there and get that woman.”
The man started for the door.
Cole blocked his way. He stared into the man’s eyes and shook his head.
The man must have seen something because he stopped dead in his tracks then took a step back.
“You afraid of him, Tripp?” the short man said.
The man who’d backed down looked suddenly sheepish. “No, but it’s his house, Henry. If he—”
“Shut up, Tripp,” the short man, whose name was apparently Henry, said.
As Henry swung down from his horse and strutted over, Cole tried to think his way clear of the situation.
The other men sat their horses, watching and waiting.
Cole had to stand his ground. If they breached the door, it would change everything.
“What, exactly, do you want, Henry?” Cole said.
“First of all, you keep my name out of your mouth,” Henry said.
They stood face-to-face now. Or close enough to be face-to-face, anyway.
But since Cole was two inches over six feet, he towered over Henry, who was nearly a foot shorter.
“Second, what we want is none of your business.”
“You’re on my property. It is my business,” Cole said. And suddenly, he knew he had to make this a dispute between the two of them.
“Bring out the woman,” Henry said.
“She isn’t here.”
“That’s a lie,” Tripp said. “I seen her through the window.”
“Bring her out,” Henry said.
“She isn’t inside. And even if she was, I wouldn’t bring her out. Now, you men go ahead and get out of here, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”
“Hear that, boys?” Henry said and cast a nasty chuckle over one shoulder. “He’s telling us what to do. Guess you think you’re special, huh? Well, big man, you think you could take me?”
“I don’t know. And I don’t care to find out. I am a peaceful man. I just want you to leave and let me get back to my life.”
“I said, do you think you could take me?” Henry said, and reached up and shoved him.
Cole’s back hit the door.
He shot a palm straight out, caught Henry in the chest, and shoved him back, almost knocking him to the ground.
And that was it.
Henry came flying toward him, winging his fists.
Cole lifted his arms and blocked the punches easily, but then Henry dipped low and to the outside and slammed a powerful hook into his side.
Cole grunted, then grunted again as Henry hit him in the ribs on the other side.
He shoved out with both hands, meaning to push the little man off, but as he did, Henry’s fist caught him hard in the mouth.
He staggered into the door again, and Henry surged forward, pounding away with his fists. He was quick and very powerful for his size.
Cole was through playing around.
He threw his first punch, a short right uppercut to the jaw that popped Henry’s head straight up from behind his guard, then followed it a split second later with a blistering left hook that caught the short man on the point of his chin and dropped him hard to the ground.
Cole looked up at the others, who still sat their horses, watching.
Some looked amused. Others looked embarrassed. A few looked like they were ready to do something.
This was his only chance to sway them, Cole knew. “I didn’t want any trouble. You men saw that. He started it. Now, clear on out of here. This is finished as far as I’m concerned.”
They looked at him for a second, everything hanging in the balance.
Then Henry punched him in the leg.
It was a ridiculous thing to do, the fallen man reaching up to punch him in the thigh.
Cole glanced down, ready to kick Henry, and saw the man grinning up at him.
Then his eyes flicked to his own leg, and he realized that Henry hadn’t punched him.
The hilt of a knife stuck out of Cole’s thigh.
Only then did he feel the sick, urgent throb of the wound.
At the same instant, he knew everything had changed. He couldn’t talk his way out of this, couldn’t even beat Henry into submission.
This was life or death.
He lashed out with a boot, meaning to kick Henry in the face, but the grinning man rolled away and came up with a pistol.
At the same time, something crashed into the back of Cole’s head, filling his skull with light and making his legs wobble. He staggered forward, knowing Tripp had hit him with something.
“Get the woman and the gold!” Henry ordered, and riders came forward with eager eyes.
Cole had to get inside, had to get his rifle.
He turned in that direction.
Tripp blocked his path, holding a revolver by the barrel and lifted it, meaning to strike him again.
Cole lashed out with a blistering right that smashed Tripp’s nose and sent him to the ground in a loose heap.
He grabbed the door and hauled it open, but as he stepped forward, a rough rope fell over his head, cinched tight around his neck, and pulled back hard, yanking him off his feet.
“That’s it, Duncan!” Henry cried. “Drag him over to that big cottonwood!”
Cole growled with pain and frustration, trying and failing to free his neck from the rope as the man named Duncan dragged him across the ground to the tree.
The others thundered after him.
Cole tried to free himself, but he couldn’t get the rope loose, and suddenly, darkness formed at the edges of his vision.
He struggled harder, but the darkness enveloped him.
When he came to, someone had lifted him onto his feet.
Everything hurt.
The rope was still around his neck. Someone had tied his wrists behind his back.
He could barely breathe. His face and body hurt, and he knew they had beaten him while he was unconscious.
His nose was broken. Maybe his jaw, too. And ribs on both sides.
He forced one swollen eye open and saw a panting Henry wiping blood from his knuckles. “Told you boys I’d whup him. Now, it’s about time to get him up in that tree.”
Realizing what Henry meant, Cole said, “Hold on. You don’t have to do this. I never hurt any of you. You can have the gold.”
“We already got the gold,” Henry said. “Where’s the woman?”
“Not here,” Cole said.
“Liar,” Tripp said, his voice thick from his own broken nose.
“We’ll find her,” Henry said. “We’ll tear the place apart and find her, won’t we, boys?”
A few men whooped excitedly. The others were as silent as funeral goers.
“You don’t have to do this,” Cole said again. “Look, I am a man of mercy. Let me go, and I will forgive you.”
Henry laughed wildly. “Hear that, boys? He’s a man of mercy. Lucky us!”
“You don’t understand,” Cole told them. “If you do this, another man will come. He might look like me, but he will have no mercy, none whatsoever. He will kill every last one of you, no matter how you beg.”
“Shut him up, Duncan!” Henry ordered. “Stretch his lying neck!”
The rope squeezed painfully around Cole’s neck. He choked as the noose lifted him off the ground and into the air.
Please, Lord, he prayed, writhing to no avail. Please protect Mary.
Down on the ground, men laughed and catcalled, telling him to dance.
Cole ignored them, knowing he was finished. Darkness formed at the edges of his vision and started to tighten again. This time, he knew it would close over him forever.
Please, Lord, Cole prayed with his final seconds, bring Conn down on these men!