Just about every kind of people, too. Most of ’em are good, hard-workin’ folks. For them that ain’t ... well, that’s why we got the Rangers.”
“Where did Latch come from?”
“Georgia. His folks brought him and the rest of the family here after the war, when Latch was just a little shaver. They’d lost pert near everything when ol’ William Tecumseh Sherman came marchin’ through, and then the Yankee carpetbaggers come in and took the little bit that was left. Made Latch’s pa pretty bitter, I expect. He settled the family over in East Texas, close to Nacogdoches. I don’t care for that piney country. Too woody and snaky for my tastes.
“Anyway, that’s about all I know. I got a hunch Latch was a mite off in the head all along. A fella don’t go that loco overnight. When we sent Rangers over to Nacogdoches to find out if any of his family that’s still there had seen him lately, they heard stories about some of the things he done as a kid growin’ up.”
Culhane shook his head. “The neighbors learned mighty quick to keep their own kids and their pets away from that Latch boy.”
“You wouldn’t think somebody like that would be able to put together such a big gang and manage to avoid being caught for so long,” The Kid commented.
“Just because a fella’s plumb crazy don’t mean he ain’t plenty smart, too.”
The Kid knew that was true. In his past, he had been plagued by a vengeance-seeking woman who had been cruelly insane, but also cunning enough to wreak havoc in his life on several occasions, in several different ways.
It was a good thing Pamela Tarleton had never met Warren Latch, he mused. If those two had ever gotten together, the results might have been too horrifying to contemplate.
But Pamela was dead, and with any luck Warren Latch soon would be, too, or at least safely locked up behind bars.
The men began to turn in for the night, except for the ones who would be standing guard. The Kid had one of the middle shifts, so he rolled into his blankets and went to sleep.
Woody Anderson, the burly blacksmith from Fire Hill with the wounded arm, woke him when it was his turn to be on watch.
“Everything quiet, Woody?” The Kid asked.
Anderson nodded. “Yeah, nothin’ stirrin’ out there tonight.” The man’s voice was a rumble, even when he was trying to be quiet.
The Kid clapped a hand on the shoulder of Anderson’s good arm. “Fine. Go get some sleep.”
He picked up his Winchester and walked out beyond the small ring of light cast by the fire, which had burned down to embers, giving off only a feeble glow.
Plenty of stars and a sickle-shaped moon revealed the landscape around him. A couple hundred yards from the camp, The Kid found a small knoll where he could sit down.
Culhane had said the posse would reach the end of the plains the next day, but for tonight, they were still surrounded by flat prairie dotted with brush and an occasional stand of scrubby trees. The hardy grass was starting to turn brown from the summer heat and lack of rain.
All The Kid’s senses were alert as he sat there watching, listening, and even smelling the night. His instincts were on keen edge. He had no real reason to think the posse might be attacked, but the possibility always existed that Latch might double back and try to ambush them.
Other, unknown dangers could be lurking out there in the night, too. It never hurt to be careful.
Because even when you were, things could happen.
Terrible things.
Because he was so on edge and just waiting for trouble, it wasn’t surprising that a little while later The Kid heard a noise, the sort of faint sound most men wouldn’t hear and wouldn’t think anything of if they did.
It was only a tiny clink , but he knew it was the sound of a horseshoe hitting a rock.
Somebody was out there.
Chapter 14
Briefly, The Kid considered waking Culhane, but he didn’t want to disturb the Ranger’s sleep for something that might turn out to be
“Where did Latch come from?”
“Georgia. His folks brought him and the rest of the family here after the war, when Latch was just a little shaver. They’d lost pert near everything when ol’ William Tecumseh Sherman came marchin’ through, and then the Yankee carpetbaggers come in and took the little bit that was left. Made Latch’s pa pretty bitter, I expect. He settled the family over in East Texas, close to Nacogdoches. I don’t care for that piney country. Too woody and snaky for my tastes.
“Anyway, that’s about all I know. I got a hunch Latch was a mite off in the head all along. A fella don’t go that loco overnight. When we sent Rangers over to Nacogdoches to find out if any of his family that’s still there had seen him lately, they heard stories about some of the things he done as a kid growin’ up.”
Culhane shook his head. “The neighbors learned mighty quick to keep their own kids and their pets away from that Latch boy.”
“You wouldn’t think somebody like that would be able to put together such a big gang and manage to avoid being caught for so long,” The Kid commented.
“Just because a fella’s plumb crazy don’t mean he ain’t plenty smart, too.”
The Kid knew that was true. In his past, he had been plagued by a vengeance-seeking woman who had been cruelly insane, but also cunning enough to wreak havoc in his life on several occasions, in several different ways.
It was a good thing Pamela Tarleton had never met Warren Latch, he mused. If those two had ever gotten together, the results might have been too horrifying to contemplate.
But Pamela was dead, and with any luck Warren Latch soon would be, too, or at least safely locked up behind bars.
The men began to turn in for the night, except for the ones who would be standing guard. The Kid had one of the middle shifts, so he rolled into his blankets and went to sleep.
Woody Anderson, the burly blacksmith from Fire Hill with the wounded arm, woke him when it was his turn to be on watch.
“Everything quiet, Woody?” The Kid asked.
Anderson nodded. “Yeah, nothin’ stirrin’ out there tonight.” The man’s voice was a rumble, even when he was trying to be quiet.
The Kid clapped a hand on the shoulder of Anderson’s good arm. “Fine. Go get some sleep.”
He picked up his Winchester and walked out beyond the small ring of light cast by the fire, which had burned down to embers, giving off only a feeble glow.
Plenty of stars and a sickle-shaped moon revealed the landscape around him. A couple hundred yards from the camp, The Kid found a small knoll where he could sit down.
Culhane had said the posse would reach the end of the plains the next day, but for tonight, they were still surrounded by flat prairie dotted with brush and an occasional stand of scrubby trees. The hardy grass was starting to turn brown from the summer heat and lack of rain.
All The Kid’s senses were alert as he sat there watching, listening, and even smelling the night. His instincts were on keen edge. He had no real reason to think the posse might be attacked, but the possibility always existed that Latch might double back and try to ambush them.
Other, unknown dangers could be lurking out there in the night, too. It never hurt to be careful.
Because even when you were, things could happen.
Terrible things.
Because he was so on edge and just waiting for trouble, it wasn’t surprising that a little while later The Kid heard a noise, the sort of faint sound most men wouldn’t hear and wouldn’t think anything of if they did.
It was only a tiny clink , but he knew it was the sound of a horseshoe hitting a rock.
Somebody was out there.
Chapter 14
Briefly, The Kid considered waking Culhane, but he didn’t want to disturb the Ranger’s sleep for something that might turn out to be
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