Lawless Trail by Ralph Cotton Page B

stood checking his rifle as he waited. “But I’ve been using it all my life.”
    â€œLet her come,” the doctor said. “It beats what she’s got here. She’s new to Maley, probably brought here by one of the slavers.”
    Wes looked back at Rosetta.
    â€œIs that true?” he asked.
“Los traficantes de esclavos te trajeron aquí?”
    â€œ
Sí
, the woman sellers from Durango bring me here and sell me,” she said, her eyes still lowered. “But here is not where I want to be.”
    â€œHell, me neither, far as that goes,” Rubens said, watching the conversation with a crooked grin. “She’s one horse-riding bitch—we’ve all seen that much.”
    â€œ
Sí
, I am one horse-riding
beech
,” Rosetta said with a trace of a smile. “You have seen this much, eh?”
    â€œAs good as any horseman I’ve ever seen,” Wes had to admit, nodding.
    Seeing Wes considering it, Claypool said in a lowered voice, “It’s not a good idea, Wes.” Then, seeing the way Wes was headed on the matter, he added, “But what the hell do I know?”
    Wes nodded at the woman and said, “You can ride with us as far as Mexico. Then you’re on your own.”
    â€œSí, Méjico,”
the young woman said, raising her face. “I will take good care of your brother, you’ll see.”
    â€œGood,” the doctor said. He stepped in and nodded toward a tall white supply cabinet against the wall. “Rosetta, help me gather what we’ll need.”
    As the woman hurried away to help the doctor, Wes looked at Claypool.
    â€œGet on ahead of us, Carter,” he said. “Clear the trail out of here.”
    â€œYou got it,” Claypool said, his swollen, dust-streaked face looking tired and haggard. “Want me to check around town first, see if anybody else wants to ride with us?” he said wryly.
    â€œNo, I think we’re good,” Wes said. “Now get going, ’less you want to stick around, cook breakfast for Fatch Hardaway and the Ranger.” He gave a slight half grin, but then it went away and he said, “We spilled blood in this town, Carter. That changes everything.”
    â€œI know that,” Claypool said, his tone more serious. “I’ll do whatever needs doing.”

PART 2

Chapter 10

    The first thin line of buttermilk sunlight streaked along the low, jagged hill line as the Ranger and Fatch Hardaway rode onto the wakening street leading into Maley. A freight wagon pulled to one side and stopped as the two rode by. Three men stopped on a boardwalk and stepped back out of sight into the shelter of morning shadow and stared warily.
    â€œThis is an edgy bunch, for sure,” Fatch Hardaway said, looking back from his saddle in the grainy morning light.
    â€œThey’ve been hit hard by your amigos,” the Ranger said, riding a few feet in front of him.
    â€œ
Former
amigos,” Hardaway said. He winced and looked all around as if to see who might be listening. “I wish you’d keep that in mind if you’re going to keep bringing it up.”
    â€œI’ll try,” the Ranger said, staring ahead.
    Three of the last loosened steers still wandering free looked back and forth from the mouth of an alleyway. They back-stepped in unison as the two riders moved past them.
    The Ranger led the way toward the scent of coffee and the glow of lamplight in a restaurant window up the wide dirt street. Out in front of the restaurant, two workers stood atop ladders, their hammers already banging against the silence of morning. Two other workers stood steadying a new support post beneath a sagging overhang. All four workers stopped and stared as Sam and Hardaway veered their horses to a repaired hitch rail. They stepped down from their saddles and hitched their tired animals.
    A bald head above a black string tie and a long white apron appeared in the open