Defiant (2 page)

The boss had sent word to Tuck that Frank Williams was back home at the Lazy W. Williams was the Ranger who’d been tracking the gang so relentlessly, and the boss believed he was getting too close to them. That was why he wanted him taken care of—now.

The gang had ridden hard to get to the ranch while Williams was still there. They’d reached the Lazy W late that night and had hidden out to plan their strategy.

And now it was time.

They were going to strike with lethal force and take care of Ranger Williams once and for all.

It didn’t matter that the Ranger’s family was there with him. The boss wanted Williams dead, and what the boss wanted, the boss got. If any of Williams’ family happened to get in the way, they’d be killed, too.

“Tuck—when do we make our move?” Ax Hansen asked Glen Tucker in a quiet voice as they crouched with the other men in the brush on the hillside overlooking the house and outbuildings.

“Now.” Tuck knew the men were anxious to set their plan in motion. “His wife and son should be the only ones in the main house with him. There are a few ranch hands in the bunkhouse.”

“Isn’t one of his sons a Ranger, too?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think he’s around, and even if he is, it won’t matter. They’re not expecting us. We’re in control here. We’ll set the fires and be waiting for them. Just make sure you shoot straight and fast when they come running out.”

Tuck knew what a formidable foe Frank Williams was. Williams’s reputation among the Rangers was almost legendary, and if Tuck had his way, Williams really was going to be a legend after this night. A dead one.

Tuck turned his attention back down to the buildings, studying the lay of the land. He told the other gunmen, “Ax, you and Rick take the bunkhouse. Walt, you and John come with me. We’ll take the main house.”

“What about the stable? Do you want us to burn it down, too?” Ax asked.

“Don’t worry about the stable. Nobody’s out there,” he said. “Now go. I’ll signal you when we’re in position.”

The killers started down toward the buildings with only one thing on their minds: murder.

When they were ready, Tuck gave the signal. They set fire to the main house and the bunkhouse, then ran to position themselves so they would have full coverage of all the doors and windows. The moment people ran from the burning buildings, they would be easily gunned down.

It didn’t take long for the killing to begin.

Tuck and the others were set when they heard the shouts of horror coming from those trapped inside. They watched as the doors were thrown
open and the Williams family and their hired hands came rushing out of the buildings.

Tuck noticed that a few of the men had been smart enough to grab their guns as they’d fled, but that didn’t matter. Silhouetted against the blaze as they were, they made easy targets.

And the gang took full advantage.

Tuck recognized Frank Williams and took careful aim. His shots rang out with deadly accuracy, killing the Ranger instantly. Not even the screams of the horrified woman running to her fallen husband’s side deterred the gunmen. They all kept firing, and the woman was shot down in cold blood, too.

Tuck was surprised when two more men came running out of the main house and tried to go to her aid. He’d expected only one son to be there, but that didn’t matter. If this was Frank Williams’s other son, that meant they would be killing two Rangers tonight instead of just one.

The thought made Tuck smile.

The gang kept firing, driving the two men away from the woman’s body with their unending barrage. The two made a run for the stable. They had their guns and tried to return fire as they ran, but Tuck and Ax took careful aim and brought them both down.

The gunmen continued to shoot at the emerging ranch hands until they all lay unmoving on the ground.

Then the gunfire ceased.

The scene before Tuck and Ax was eerily quiet.
The only sounds in the night were the deadly roars of the fires.

Tuck and Ax carefully made their way down to the front of the burning house to check on Frank Williams. They had to make sure the Ranger wouldn’t be causing them any more trouble. The other gunmen followed.

Ax knelt down and turned Frank Williams over to get a look at him. “Tuck, he’s dead.”

“Good shooting, boys,” Tuck complimented them. “The boss is gonna be real proud of us, Ax.”

“Too bad he couldn’t be here to see it.” Ax smiled at Tuck as he stood up.

They took one last look at the deadly havoc they’d wreaked and felt satisfied with their work. The flames cast a hellish red glow on everything and everyone.

“We’d better get out of here. It’s almost daylight,” Tuck told the men.

“Do you want to split up? The Rangers are going to be tracking us.” Ax didn’t want to take any chances.

“Yeah, you stay with me. Walt, Rick, and John, you ride out together. We’ll arrange to meet up later.” They had ways of staying in touch, so he wasn’t worried about getting the word out when the time was right.

“Sounds good. Let’s go.”

The outlaw gang returned to where they’d left their horses and mounted up.

It was over.

They rode quickly away, wanting to put distance
between themselves and the ranch as fast as they could.

Tony Villigram and Paul Taylor, two of the Lazy W’s ranch hands, had been working the herd and had camped out overnight. They’d been sleeping soundly until their horses began to stir and the herd grew restless in the predawn hours. Tony got up to take a look around. It was then that he saw the strange glow in the night sky in the direction of the house.

“Paul! Wake up! We got trouble!”

They broke camp and rode as quickly as they could back to the ranch house. With every mile they covered, they realized more and more the seriousness of what they were about to face. It was light when they finally topped the low rise that overlooked the buildings and discovered the death and devastation below. The large ranch house and bunkhouse were smoldering ruins, and many bodies lay motionless scattered on the ground. Tony and Paul raced down to the scene.

“Who could have done this?” Tony was horrified by the carnage.

“It wasn’t Comanche.”

They knew the signs of an Indian raid, and this definitely hadn’t been one.

Tony and Paul had worked for the Williams family for many years and considered them friends. It was a gruesome and heartbreaking task to search for survivors. They found Frank and Kate both dead, and all the ranch hands, too. Then
they spotted Clint and Jason by the stable, which was still intact, and they ran to check on them.

“Jason’s dead,” Paul called out to Tony.

“Oh, my God! Clint’s alive!” Tony shouted when he discovered Clint was still breathing.

Paul rushed to Clint’s side and saw how badly he’d been injured. It was a miracle he’d survived. He’d been shot several times and had lost a lot of blood.

“We gotta get him over to the Anderson’s place. It’s closer than trying to take him into town,” Paul said. “As bad as he is, I don’t think he could make it to town.”

They quickly did what they could to bind Clint’s wounds, then rushed to hitch up the buckboard. With great care, they lifted Clint into the back and cushioned him there with horse blankets.

“What should we do about the others?” Paul worried.

“You go ahead and take Clint to the Circle A,” Tony told Paul. “I’ll stay here and bury them.”

“What should I tell the Andersons about what happened?”

“I don’t know.” Tony paused and looked around at the carnage again. “Whoever did this wanted everybody dead.”

“Do you think it was somebody who was after Frank?”

“Clint will know. He’ll tell us—”

“If he makes it.”

They shared a sad, knowing look as Paul
climbed up on the driver’s bench and took up the reins.

“Keep what happened quiet until we have a chance to talk to the sheriff. We don’t know who did this, and the killers might still be around and try to come after Clint again if they learn he’s alive.”

“All right. As soon as I get Clint over to the Circle A, I’ll ride for town and get the doc and Sheriff Nelson.”

“I’ll meet you at the ranch.”

Tony stood unmoving, watching Paul drive away until he had disappeared from sight. Then, slowly and with a heavy heart, he turned back to the task that awaited him.

Chapter Two

Three Days Later

Clint’s consciousness returned slowly, and with it came deep and vicious pain. It tore at him with savage intensity, and a primal groan escaped him.

Doc Martin had been dozing in the chair across the room. At the sound of Clint’s moan, he came awake instantly. He’d been keeping vigil at his patient’s side since coming out to the Anderson ranch, and he was relieved to find him stirring. Until this moment, he’d held little hope Clint was going to make it. His wounds were very serious, and he’d lost a lot of blood.

Clint groaned again and struggled to open his eyes.

“Easy, Clint,” Doc Martin said, trying to calm him.

At the sound of the vaguely familiar voice, Clint quieted for a moment. In his pain-wracked confusion, he tried to remember to whom the
voice belonged, but he was lost. He had no concept of where he was or why he was there.

A sudden sense of panic threatened, and Clint opened his eyes in terror as visions of violence and death came to him. He fought to sit up, but found that someone was pressing him down. He struggled against the restraint, wanting to break free. He needed to escape. He had to get away—

“Lie back, Clint.” Doc Martin was surprised by his patient’s surge of strength. After what Clint had been through, he’d expected him to be too weak to move.

“No! I have to—”

“It’s over, Clint.”

“It’s over—?” Clint finally looked up and saw that it was Doc Martin holding him down. Then the images of the burning house and the unceasing gunfire returned to torture him. “No!”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

What little strength he had failed him, and Clint collapsed back on the bed. He closed his eyes again and locked his jaw against the pain and weakness that overwhelmed him. “Where am I—?”

“You’re at the Circle A. Two of your men found you and brought you here,” Doc Martin explained.

“My family—where’s my family?” Clint looked up at the doctor, frowning as the horrifying memory of watching his father and mother being gunned down played in his mind.

“Clint, I . . .” Doc Martin heard the desperation
in his patient’s agonized question and wished there were some way he could ease his pain, but he knew there wasn’t.

“Tell me!” Clint ground out, frantic to know what had happened to his family. He grasped the physician’s forearm with what strength he could muster and demanded, “Tell me now!”

Their gazes met, and before Doc Martin could respond, Clint knew the answer.

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” he asked, remembering even more of what had happened that hellish night.

Doc Martin was filled with sorrow as he told him, “You were the only one who made it.”

“When did it happen? How long ago?”

“This is the third day.”

“Did Sheriff Nelson go after the killers? Did he catch them?” Clint struggled to sit up, wanting to take action,
needing
to take action.

“Sheriff Nelson got a posse together, and they started tracking them that same day. We sent word to the Texas Rangers, too. Captain Meyers showed up here late yesterday. After checking to see how you were, he headed out after the posse. We haven’t heard back from either of them yet.”

Clint collapsed back on the bed and stared sightlessly at the ceiling. His breathing was ragged as he struggled for control. He was glad Sheriff Nelson and Captain Meyers were tracking the killers, but he wished he were the one who was leading the hunt. Savage emotional pain stabbed at him, and he knew he needed to be left alone.

“Get out,” he told the doctor in a voice completely devoid of emotion.

Doc Martin knew those two words were more powerful than any rage Clint might have expressed. He got up and quietly left the bedroom, closing the door behind him to give his patient the privacy he needed. He made his way downstairs to let the Andersons know Clint had finally regained consciousness.

Mary Anderson heard the doctor coming down the steps and hurried over to the foot of the staircase. These last few days had been tense, and she feared the worst as she saw Doc Martin’s strange expression.

“How is he?” Mary asked cautiously, fearful of what he was about to tell her. “Is he—?”

For the first time since he’d come out to the ranch to take care of Clint, Doc Martin managed to smile at her. “Clint’s regained consciousness.”

“What?” She was shocked.

“He’s awake, and he’s even talking a little.”

“Oh, thank God.” Relief flooded through her. She and her husband, Joe, were longtime friends of the Williams family, and they’d been horrified by what had taken place. “Clint’s going to make it?”

“I don’t know yet. As weak as he is, it’s too soon to tell,” the doctor answered honestly. “He did have three bullets in him, so just keep praying no fever sets in.”

“We will,” Mary promised. “Is there anything I can do to help, now that he’s awake?”

“We can try to get some broth in him.”

“I’ll heat some up right away. You’re going to stay on for a while longer, aren’t you?”

“I’ll stay for at least another day,” he answered. As grievous as Clint’s wounds were, he knew it wasn’t safe to leave him just yet. If any kind of medical emergency came up in town, his wife knew where to find him.

“Good. I’m worried about him.”

“We all are. I just hope Sheriff Nelson and the posse can track down the killers who did this. These were all good people—the Williams family and their hired hands. They didn’t deserve to be slaughtered this way.”

“Do you think we did the right thing, telling everybody that Clint had been killed, too?” she asked, worried about the deception they’d created.

“Yes. Other than the two hands from the Lazy W and your people, only Sheriff Nelson and Captain Meyers know the truth about Clint. They both agreed that letting everybody else think he was dead was the best way to keep him safe for now.”