Lone Star 01 by Wesley Ellis Page B

jagged, forested heights and down around to where they could first glimpse the ranch.
    Spied at a distance, the barns and corrals and other buildings appeared dwarfed by the tall, sheer cliffs surrounding them on three sides. It was as if the Block-Two-Dot were set in a canyon-locked lagoon, facing a gentle sea of waving grass, and fronting a thin beach of roadway that cut in from a nearby pass. And it looked silent and deserted from where they paused, seeming to sleep in the clouded moonlight. But as they watched, a tiny figure left the bunkhouse and strolled to the corral. In a few moments it returned to the bunkhouse, and the yard was empty again.
    â€œThey’re still awake,” Daryl commented dryly.
    â€œThen we’ll wait,” Ki responded, his eyes surveying the stone walls around the ranch. “Up there.” He pointed toward a fault in one cliff face, which formed a steep but not impossible slope to the top.
    Skirting the open valley meadow and keeping to the cover of rocks and trees, they eased along the base of the hills until they reached the cliff. Horses and riders struggled up the slope, hooves slipping and gouging out small avalanches of stone and dirt. When they struck the rim, they rested their mounts awhile, then cautiously rode toward a concealed ledge closer above the ranch.
    Finally they dismounted and picketed the horses, moving ahead on foot to a flat rock projecting out from the face of the cliff. They slid out and crouched at the edge, pleased to find they could view the dark, corrugated uplands and the bleak mountains beyond; the purple valley pastures that were mottled with the duskier splotches of cattle; the lofty walls of the box canyon in whose notch the shadowed ranch was nestled. Their perch was ideal, and they settled themselves for a long vigil.
    Time passed. A few hands left the bunkhouse now and then, for the outhouse or the barn or corrals. Nothing else happened.
    â€œLet’s go,” Daryl said restlessly. “It’s dead down there.”
    Jessica shook her head. “As you said, they’re still awake.”
    â€œPlaying poker in the bunkhouse,” Daryl retorted. “So what? Why are you and Ki so determined to keep tabs on Cap’n Ryker?”
    â€œBecause he’s been lying through his pearly teeth.”
    â€œC‘mon, Jessie, I know you’re competitors, but—”
    â€œIt’s because we’re competitors that I know he’s lying. Listen, Ryker’s been saying he’s here to consolidate your ranches into one big operation. Well, if he had enough legitimate money to swing such a big package, he’d send representatives and agents to deal for him.”
    â€œSo he likes to handle it all himself.”
    â€œDaryl, does Ryker look like the kind of man who’d come out here if he could avoid it? No. And the only reason he’d have to do it himself is if his finances are so shady and his reasons so sneaky that he can’t afford the risk of hirelings finding out. He wants the land, Daryl, I don’t question that, but his fancy story about Acme needing beef is only a cover to hide his real motive.”
    â€œWhich is?”
    â€œThat,” Jessie sighed, “is why we’re waiting.”
    Abruptly they stiffened, hearing the faint beat of horses hooves echoing hollowly from the pass. More lights began glittering in the Block-Two-Dot buildings, and crewmen from the bunkhouse came out into the yard. Ki stared into the darkness toward the pass.
    â€œRiders,” he said.
    Jessica kept her eyes on the ranch house. Only two windows were showing any light at all, one being where a front sitting room would be, and the other at the side, in what appeared to be a relatively new addition tacked on to the existing structure. Ryker’s office? It was impossible to tell. The window was draped, allowing only a thin crease of lamplight to filter through.
    Six or seven riders streamed out of the