To Reap and to Sow (7 page)

It was already dark by the time supper was ready to be served. At that time of year, the sun seemed to drop below the horizon like it was weighted down, as if it was doing its part to bring along another patch of cold. The moon was a sliver in the sky, giving the wind even more of a bite than normal.

Two shadows moved around more than the rest. They drifted from one spot to another, drawing closer to the farmhouse with every second. The wind howled just enough to cover the sound of the shadows' movements. But the brisk wind made the shadows stand out because they stayed still while all the grass and trees around them swayed slowly back and forth.

“I'm about to freeze to death,” Joey grunted.

Mark kept his shoulder pressed against an old tree and his eyes on the brightly lit windows of the farmhouse's lower floor. “If you're gonna die, just do it quietly.”

Gritting his teeth, Joey kept the rest of his complaints to himself. “Where the hell are they?” he asked.

“Where the hell do you think they are? A blind man could see they're in the house.”

“I know that, but where? Do you think they saw us out here?”

“Not a chance,” Mark replied with a quick shake of his head. “It's so dark out here, I can barely see my own boots. They're probably still eating. I can smell something cooking.”

Joey pulled in a deep breath and held it as long as he could. “I can smell it too. Damn, I'm hungry.”

“Then why don't you just walk up there and ask for a plate? Whether you get it or the farmer shoots you dead, at least I won't have to listen to your bellyaching.”

“Fine, fine.” Stepping around to the other side of the tree, Joey gazed at the house as if he could see the food on every plate. “Is Lynn and that other fellow here yet?”

“They got a big head start on us, didn't they?”

“Sure, but they could have stopped off somewhere else. Maybe their horse threw a shoe or…Hell, I don't know.” Joey cupped his hands over his mouth, blew into them and then rubbed them together. “You're probably right. They did get a big head start.”

But Mark didn't look happy to hear Joey agree with him. In fact, judging by the expression on his face, he seemed sick about it. Finally, he let out a groan and said, “Dammit. We should check just to make certain they're here.”

“You want me to sneak up to a window?”

“No. They might see you.” Mark squinted to try and hurry up the process of getting his eyes adjusted to the dark. Finally, he settled upon the pair of large buildings not far from the house. “One of those has gotta be a stable. If they're here, that fella's horse should be in there.”

“You recall what it looked like?”

“Sure,” Mark grunted. “Black with a white patch on the nose. Since you can't even remember that much, stay put and keep watch on the house. Anyone comes out, you let me know.”

“How should I do that?”

“Make a noise. Throw a rock. Just catch my attention, for Christ's sake.” The longer he spoke to Joey, the madder Mark got. It seemed that sharing a horse for the rest of the ride to the farm had taken a bigger toll than he'd expected. When he walked away from the tree, Mark was glad to get Joey out of his sight.

The wind was blowing past the house and toward the barn, so it carried even more of the smells from the dinner table to Mark as he walked along the path. The scents of home cooking made him reflexively relax as he approached the barn. By the time he got close enough to reach out for the door, Mark was able to pick out slightly more than shapes in the darkness. His eyes were adjusting to the night, but it was his ears that gave him something to use.

Another door slammed from not too far away, and footsteps were crunching against the narrow wooden step leading down from the side of the house. Mark crouched down and slapped his hand against his holstered pistol. He couldn't quite make out who was leaving the house, but he could see a person heading straight toward the barn.

Supper went off without a hitch. Tina and Lynn never stopped talking long enough for Clint or Wes to get a word in edgewise, and that was just fine. Wes was such a good cook that Clint wouldn't have had much to say anyway, since he had his mouth full most of the time.

Still, the gold Clint had spotted in Wes's barn sat in the back of his mind. Clint knew it wasn't any of his business if there was a river of gold running under the property, but he had to admit it was awfully peculiar.

Any man who'd found that much gold would do more than just dump it in a barn and cover it up with some rags. Judging by the condition the rest of the farm was in, there was no way for Clint to believe that Wes didn't know the gold was there.

As much as Clint wanted to just forget about it, he simply couldn't. Something didn't sit right with him. Unfortunately, those sorts of instincts rarely pointed Clint toward anything but trouble. If there was a way to snuff that instinct out, he knew he would have a much quieter life.

Then again, he thought, how much fun would that be?

Clint had been thinking a lot during the course of the meal. Once or twice, he'd even considered talking to himself since nobody else was speaking to him. That wasn't because of any rudeness on anyone's behalf. The girls were still chatting, and Wes was too busy straightening up the dishes to be bothered.

“I think I'll go out to stretch my legs,” Clint said.

He got up from his chair and waited to see if anyone had heard him.

Apparently, they hadn't.

“Wes,” Clint said while tapping the old man on the shoulder.

The farmer looked up at him and fixed his eyes intently upon Clint.

“I'm going to get some fresh air,” Clint told him.

“Too stuffy in here for you?”

“No,” Clint replied while patting his stomach. “Just need to walk some of this off.”

Wes nodded and got back to what he was doing. “If anyone asks for you, I'll tell them where you went. I've known these girls for a while, so I wouldn't hold my breath on them coming up for air just yet.”

“Thanks for the warning. I won't be long, though.”

Rolling up his sleeves, Wes gathered up the last of the dishes and sunk his hands into a tub so he could start cleaning them off. Soon, the sound of plates clanking against each other was added to the chatter that had become constant between Tina and Lynn. Clint could tell it would take some work to break through all that commotion, so he simply walked past Wes and stepped out through the kitchen door.

Outside, the night was cold and dark. The longer he stood on the step that led down to the dirt trail joining all the buildings in the vicinity, the better Clint was able to pick out more than just shadows. As he walked toward the stable, his eyes had adjusted enough for him to spot the handle on the door.

Before he pulled the door open, Clint stopped and turned to look toward the barn. He swore there was some movement in that area and squinted to try and pick out what had caught his attention. After a few seconds, he couldn't spot anything worth investigating so he went into the stable.

Eclipse was sleeping in his stall and barely stirred when Clint walked up to him. The Darley Arabian let out another deep breath and drifted back off.

After tossing a few handfuls of oats into the stall's feed trough and refilling the water, Clint stepped to the door and leaned against the frame so he could take a slow look around. There was plenty of movement around him, but it was difficult to pick out what was caused by the wind and what could have been something alive and kicking in the night.

 

Mark thought he'd been spotted for sure when Clint walked to the stable. His hand had gone to the gun at his side, but that only seemed to draw Clint's attention for longer. Once he stayed still, Mark only had to hold his breath and wait for Clint to look away. He didn't take another breath until Clint was inside the stable.

Since he'd thought Clint was heading toward the barn at first, Mark felt as if he'd dodged a bullet. Once Clint stepped into the stable, that gave Mark the opportunity to get to a better spot before his luck ran out. Even though he'd managed to duck around a corner, he knew he wasn't out of the woods just yet.

Squinting toward the nearby trees, Mark had to stare for a few seconds before he spotted Joey. Since it had taken him that long to pick out Clint, he figured Joey couldn't have been spotted by someone who didn't already know he was there. Before Mark could feel too secure, however, he saw Joey start to wave and walk over to the barn.

Mark started to shout for Joey to stay put, but stopped just short of making a sound. Instead, he hissed through clenched teeth and fiercely waved Joey back.

The dumb smile on Joey's face was plain as day. He returned Mark's wave with another friendly one of his own and started to run faster toward the barn.

Still trying to keep quiet, Mark leaned forward and let out a noise that was part whisper and part growl. He also waved Joey off, but it was too late to keep from being spotted. In fact, it looked as if both of them had been flushed out.

“Who's out there?” Clint asked as he took a step forward.

Mark leaned back around the corner of the barn and focused on Clint. At least he didn't have to wonder if Clint and Lynn had made it to the farm yet. Then again, judging by the way Clint was reaching for his gun, Mark might just have had bigger things to worry about.

Clint was just starting to let his guard down when he saw someone moving toward the barn. The figure was a ways off and closer to the house than to him. Even so, Clint could see enough to realize it didn't look like Wes. Since it wasn't wearing a dress, it sure didn't look like either of the women.

“Who's out there?” he asked.

Nobody answered, but the figure did turn to look at him. By now, Clint could make out a few more details. The man looked younger and vaguely familiar, but there were still too many shadows around him for Clint to be sure of much more than that.

Letting his hand drift toward the Colt holstered at his side, Clint stepped forward. “Come on over here where I can see you.”

The figure froze in his tracks and started to back away. His head kept twitching back and forth between Clint and the farthest comer of the barn.

As Clint looked toward the barn as well, he spotted another figure from the corner of his eye. This one was a bit closer, so Clint could make out a few details. The moment he caught a glimpse of a gun in the figure's hand, Clint drew the Colt and pivoted toward the barn.

The figure close to the barn fired a quick shot and ducked back behind some cover.

The figure out in the open, the first one Clint had spotted, drew a gun and started firing. The shots blazed through the air in quick succession, but were too wild to hit much more than the barn and stable.

With every muzzle flash, Clint was able to get a better look at the man's face. It wasn't long before he'd seen enough to realize who the person was. Once he knew that, Clint also knew who the other man must be.

“You came all this way to stir up more trouble, Mark?” Clint shouted as he ducked into the stable and peeked around the door. “You keep pushing your luck and you'll wind up dead.”

“You're the dead man!” Mark shouted as he leaned out and fired another couple of shots.

Those rounds punched through the door frame not far from Clint's head. Although no blood had been drawn, the bullets came close enough to force Clint to back into the stable a bit more.

“That's him!” Joey shouted as he fired the rest of his shots at the stable.

“I can see that, dammit!” came the reply from Mark.

Clint grinned and shook his head, wondering if those idiots would shoot themselves before they got a clear shot at him. Suddenly, he realized what had brought him outside in the first place and where Mark was at the moment.

“Damn,” Clint hissed under his breath as he hunkered down low and took another look outside.

As soon as Clint got a look at Joey scampering toward the barn, he saw a flash of sparks coming from the house. The flash was followed by the unmistakable roar of a shotgun.

“Whoever you are, get the hell off my property!” Wes shouted from where he stood just outside the house.

Joey didn't know which way to run. Although he wanted to get to the barn, he'd almost been shot for that. He couldn't exactly run away from the barn, since that would bring him closer to the house. His horse must have been tied up behind the house as well, because he nearly tripped over himself to turn around that way.

Hoping to force Joey to make a decision before Wes reloaded, Clint aimed and sent a round at Joey's feet. The bullet punched into the ground within inches of Joey's boots, causing him to hop and start running like a noisy target in a shooting gallery.

As humorous as that sight may have been, Clint didn't have time to laugh before he was forced to do some scrambling of his own. A bullet from Mark's gun drilled into the stable door and sent splinters raining down on Clint's head. Rather than cower back like Mark surely wanted, Clint steeled himself and charged forward instead.

Mark's gun barked two more times, putting a few rounds closer than Clint had anticipated.

Hot lead hissed past Clint's ear, and another piece dug a fiery trench through the meat of his upper arm. Clint let out a curse and jumped back into the stable. When he landed and examined his wound, he was more upset at himself for being stupid than at Mark for firing the shot.

Before Mark could follow up with another pull of his trigger, Wes pulled his own trigger. The shotgun's roar blasted through the night and was followed by the crunch of buckshot shredding through wood.

The wound in Clint's left arm was messy, but nothing serious. After wiping away some of the blood that had seeped out, he could see a nasty gash through his flesh that looked more like it had been put there by a wild animal's claw. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind as he reloaded and hurried toward the back of the stable.

Sure enough, there was a rear door. Clint threw the latch up and pushed the door open just enough for him to get a look outside. Compared to the chaos out front, the scene in back of the stable was genuinely tranquil. Rather than wait for more hell to erupt, Clint kept his head down and ran outside.

When Clint was halfway to the back of the barn, he saw a smaller door swing open and Mark race outside. Although Clint had been hoping to sneak up on Mark, he supposed this was the next best thing.

As if sensing Clint was there, Mark turned on his heels and glanced toward the stable. He picked Clint out right away and brought his gun around to start firing. Mark's pistol spit out a tongue of sparks and smoke as it was fired again and again.

The shots were just quick enough to force Clint to the ground, but not accurate enough to keep him there. When he looked up from where he'd dropped, Clint had a clear shot at Mark.

Suddenly, a shotgun went off behind and to the right of Clint. The blast caused Clint to reflexively press himself against the ground. It also caused Mark to leap for the corner of the barn in a desperate attempt to get some cover.

Since he let out a pained yelp, it was obvious that some of the buckshot had found Mark. Since he was nowhere to be seen when Clint looked up again, it was obvious that he wasn't hurt badly enough to have been stopped. One of the women at the house let out a scream as horses rumbled toward the bam and then rumbled away.

Clint scrambled to his feet and was just in time to see both men on horseback and racing away from the farm. They fired a few shots over their shoulders, but that did as much good as one might expect from the proverbial shot in the dark.

“They're gettin' away!” Wes shouted as he closed the breech of his shotgun and brought the weapon to his shoulder.

Clint was about to try and stop the old man, but he wasn't quick enough to get a word in before Wes pulled his trigger. The shotgun blasted once more, but the horses were much too far away to have been in any danger.

Watching the old man for a few seconds, Clint noticed that Wes glanced nervously at the barn before checking up on the women one more time. At least that put Clint's mind to rest regarding the outside chance that Wes didn't know about the gold hidden under those rags.