by

V. A. Glover

He was a lean man with no discernable difference in his waist and hips. His face was weather worn and the crisp blue eyes were enclosed by wrinkles from hundreds of Texas suns. The sand brown mustang he rode blended perfectly with the surroundings and the man was one with the horse, his body flowing in easy motion with the horse's slow walk. His loose, nut-brown shirt, stained with weeks of sweat, hung outside his pants. A wide black gunbelt wrapped around his waist holstering a Colt .45 that lay across his belly. Normally, it would rest on his thigh, but Causey always rode with it resting at his belly, within quick reach.

Suddenly the man pulled gently back on the reins. His body went from the loose, almost indolent posture to one as taut as a Comanche bowstring. He slid from the saddle in a quick, easy motion, leaving his body close to the horse. His eyes swept the terrain around him. The man led the mustang off the trail and beside a large boulder. He dropped the reins on the ground, secure in the knowledge that the horse would remain in place as trained.

Sy Causey was a careful man. It was a trait put in him by time, experience and his uncle Bill Causey, a mountain man who'd tempted the Blackfeet one time too many. He'd died hairless and gutted for daring to trap in the land he loved. But, he'd visited Sy's home enough times to impart some wisdom and lore of the mountains and trails. Uncle Bill had told Sy that when the hairs on your neck raise, know there's danger and act like it. You might not be able to do anything about it, but the few seconds you have in preparation might give you the edge you need to survive where other men would die. Sy Causey had survived where other men had died.

He could not have told anyone, not even himself, why he'd stopped suddenly. He only knew something in the environment was wrong, something had alerted him. He sensed danger. Causey moved quietly away from the horse, slipping around the backside of the boulder. The Colt was in his right hand. Causey crouched low as he moved, his eyes sweeping the terrain. He stopped, his entire body still, his senses soaking up his surroundings. Slowly, he moved away from the boulder towards a small clump of brush. He crept down to the brush and slid his body around to the other side and lay still.

An hour later, he was still there, motionless, waiting, the sweat darkening his shirt as the sun blistered the ground and all that lay upon it. Few white men would have waited with such patience. They'd have gone out to investigate and to search out the danger, unwilling to undergo the extreme discomfort of the heat. Many a fool died looking for noises in the bushes.

Uncle Bill's words had sunk deep into Sy Causey's soul: "Son, set still when there's danger and you ain't sure where it is. Let it come lookin' for you, and then surprise it."

The danger came quickly and quietly. Two brown bodies stepped into view, rifles ready, black eyes glistening, absorbing everything in sight. One studied the ground and muttered something to his companion. They both peered intently towards the small brush and then moved quickly towards Causey's hiding place. The two men spread themselves apart moving towards the place in a small arc.

Step a little closer, boys.

The thought was followed by the loud boom of a shot, then another. One man grunted, grabbed his leg, and dove for cover. The other man whirled and dove for the shelter of the boulder, the left side of his face streaming blood. In seconds, he'd disappeared, and moments later, Causey heard the sound of horses scrambling down the side of a ravine, moving west towards the mountains.

Causey moved quickly towards his horse. He'd hated to shoot the man, but he'd live to hunt again. It would buy Causey the time he needed to get far away from them. An Apache on the trail took no white man as prisoner. These two no doubt were hunting and had spotted him coming down the mountainside. They'd waited to ambush him, but they'd acted foolishly because they'd under-estimated Causey. They'd supposed him to be as most white men, and one of them would limp for the rest of his life for his mistake. Causey had no interest in tracking and killing the men. Besides, only a fool would attempt to trail a wounded Apache. It would be akin to following a wounded bear into the bushes. Sy Causey was no fool. He'd proven that with his eighteen years in the wilds of Texas and the Southwest.

In less than a half hour, Causey was several miles from the location, moving in a direction he knew the Indian would not take. It was not a direction he'd wanted to take, but to continue now towards his original destination in the White Mountains, would be to court disaster. If that Apache reached home, he'd have a dozen warriors combing the trails for him. They would now be alert to his presence. He'd have to change plans and instead of hunting and trapping in the White Mountains for a season, he'd have to find something else to do and somewhere else to do it.

In two days, Causey was walking his mustang down the streets of Latigo, a small town near the border. He'd been here twice before, once passing through en route to Mexico and some wild horses and the second time with a small herd of cattle he'd picked up just over the border in Mexico. There were four ranches in the area and he'd determined to settle in town for the winter and hunt for the ranches. Causey figured he could do some trapping on the side as well and while he wouldn't trap nearly what he could in the White Mountains, he'd make enough to hold him over for nearly a year.

He watered his horse in the same trough he'd stopped at the last time through and saw the same three bullet holes near the top that were there then. He recalled the man who'd put them there, a giant of a man, burly, with a huge head of red hair and a red beard to match. The man had tried to have some fun with Causey, apparently thinking that shooting into the water trough was a great joke. It had nearly cost the big man his life.

Sy Causey was a somber kind of man and jokes were simply not a part of his being. He tended to view life in pretty stark terms and had seen very little in life to laugh about. It surely was a surprise to the big red-headed man when two shots came at him instantly from the lean brown man at the trough. He hadn't even seen Causey draw his gun, but in a flicker of time, two shots boomed from Causey's gun and a bullet spun the big man around to his left and then another impact jerked his right foot from under him as though he'd been hooked by a cowboy's lariat. He hit the ground with enough force to knock the wind from him and by the time he looked up, he was looking into the eyes of a man who, without words, told him he was Death.

Causey took a deep breath as he recalled the events. He never quite understood what possessed the big man to shoot at him or why anyone would think something like that was funny. But he never professed an understanding of most of the men he'd known in life, especially town's people. He recalled that the big man was apologetic and couldn't seem to stop talking once he'd gotten on his feet and realized he wasn't shot, but that Causey had only shot his holster and the heel of his boot. He felt lucky to be alive, never dreaming that Sy Causey never missed a shot in fourteen years.

"You're the man, aren't you?" The voice came from behind him and it was unsettling because he'd not felt a presence at his back. Usually, he was more alert to his surroundings. It was one of the things he hated about towns. People were everywhere and it gave a man like him trouble sorting out friendly sounds and approaches from dangerous ones.

He turned and immediately his eyes widened and he resisted an urge to take a deep breath. It would have been too embarrassing. He knew he was staring but could not help himself, could not take his eyes from the figure in blue and lace white standing on the porch. It was as though he were standing transfixed by a vision from heaven. He felt vulnerable for the first time in years, sensing that a man could not be this startled, this taken with anything in life and live very long. A man had to keep his senses at all time in the West, else he died. It was that simple.

A picture come alive! Causey struggled to calm his thoughts and finally managed to reply. "You must be mistaken, ma'am. I don't know you. I'm not from around here."

The woman laughed and Causey drank in the sound. It had been two years since he'd seen a woman and had never heard one laugh like this. It was a melodic kind of sound, deep and throaty, yet lilting, akin to the sound of waters rushing over the rocks. It was all that and more to Sy Causey.

She stopped laughing and her eyes stared intently at Causey. "You're the man who dropped Red Willis in the street two years ago, aren't you?"

Causey's eyes raised from his toes to lock with her brown ones, and he said, "Don't know a Mr. Willis, ma'am, but if you're talking about the man with the red beard and the ruckus a couple years ago, why, yes, that'd be me."

"Oh yes, I know it was you, sir. Who can forget the calm, peaceful looking pilgrim who comes to town and in minutes has the town's worst bully crawling around in the dust begging for his life?" I couldn't help but remember you, mister. She laughed again as the memory hit her and thoughts flooded her mind. It was obvious that the sight was one that had brought her enormous pleasure and it was not the first time she'd thought of the tall stranger.

Causey struggled for something to say and finally managed, "Well, he ought not have shot at me thataway."

She grinned and said, "Oh, I'm quite sure Mister Willis has come to that conclusion himself." And then she began laughing again. Causey stared at her, wishing she'd stop, yet wanting to hear more of her laughter, more of her voice.

Finally she held out her hand and said, "Maggie Johnson. Daughter of William B. Johnson, owner of the Double Ox spread. And who might you be?"

Causey took the gloved hand and said, "Sy Causey. Late of the New Mexico territory."

"And what might bring you back to our town, Sir Causey?"

Causey peered at her, not sure whether she was toying with him. He was always uncomfortable around women, but never so much as around this one. She had unsettled him like no Apache had ever managed. He was nervous and afraid, but he could not say why. He just recognized that small feeling deep within of fear.

He cleared his throat and said, "Well ma'am, I was headed for the White Mountains to do some trapping, but things got a little heated up out there, and I felt it was advisable to winter here and maybe hunt for the ranches."

"We got some wolf problems and some rustling. You want a job for that? It'd be thirty and all the beans and bacon you can eat, plus you get bunk space most of the week. Some nights you might spend out, but not often."

You can switch that around, and that'd work for me. He resisted the impulse to speak his thoughts, then said, "Well, I'm not much on beans, and bacon ain't something I ate much except as a yonker, so I can do with some beef now and then and whatever else comes across the table. I guess beans will do if there ain't nuthin' else. But, I want to keep all the pelts I get, and I make my own way, in my own time." He paused, then added, "You supply the powder and lead, too, and if it's all the same to you, I'll sleep near my horse until winter."

She smiled and said, "Done. You're hired. Come out to the ranch in the morning. You can ride out there with me. I'm in town for the day and night for supplies. We can bring the wagon back together." Her grey eyes swept over his frame and he knew she was evaluating his weapons. Nothing escaped her eye. She stared for a long moment at the black handled Colt at his side, moved her eyes down to the right leg to the white-bone handled Bowie nestled there inside the boot, then turned her look to his saddle, staring for a long moment at the Winchester in the boot, its sweat stained wood jutting out from the rear of the saddle boldly. With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the store.

Causey ate a large meal that evening, the best meal he'd eaten in nearly two years. He couldn't seem to get enough of the Arbuckle's and the waitress was grinning as he wolfed down his fourth piece of apple pie. That night he made his way out of town and bedded down on the edge of a shallow gully. Staying in town just didn't feel right.

He was up within minutes of the sun reddening the backs of his eyelids and broke camp immediately. He'd have another cup or two of Arbuckle's in town and eat some jerky later that morning. It struck him that he wasn't hungry. Usually, morning came and with it, a sharp appetite. Today, he was without a trace of hunger. Causey reckoned it to be all the pie he'd eaten, and perhaps the two huge steaks had helped.

He stood beside the wagon soaking up the heat, enjoying the crispness of the morning air. A few folks were up and stirring. He stood leaning against the wagon, his mind wandering back to the strange vision of beauty he'd seen the day before.

Suddenly the voice came from behind him. Again, he'd been caught unawares.

"Mr. Causey. Are you going to stand there day-dreaming all morning or do you think perhaps you might help a poor girl with some things?"

He whirled around, his face flushed. "Ma'am, I'd sure be happy to assist you in any way I can." He stepped quickly forward and took the large package from her. He laid it in the back of the wagon which was now loaded with barrels of flour and other provisions.

Maggie stepped up into the wagon and took the reins. She looked back and over Causey's shoulder and said loudly, "Come on Troop! Let's roll!"

A young man came running down the street. In a flash, the boy was in the seat beside Maggie. "Gimme the reins, Maggie! You promised."

She grinned at the boy and handed him the reins. "But, don't be cracking those reins, now. We got a full load here. You slap 'em gentle, like I taught you."

The boy flicked the reins against the backs of the horses, clicked his tongue, and muttered a "giddy-up." The big horses leaned into the harnesses and the wagon lumbered down the street, leather and wood creaking, as though in protest. Causey rolled onto his mustang and followed at a distance. As they left the town a cloud of alkali boiled along the trail ahead and within seconds, a small band of riders came around a bend in the trail. They pulled up alongside the wagon.

A big man with a plaid shirt and a long black mustache crossed his hands on the pommel of his saddle and began speaking to Maggie. Causey could not hear the conversation. After a long minute, the man jerked his head up and stared intently at Causey. He heard the man swear but could not tell who or what the man was swearing at, but the look suggested Sy Causey was the target.

Causey noticed all the men watching him closely. He was growing uncomfortable, not used to crowds, unused to situations where he was so constrained. He liked more freedom of movement.

"Hey you! Come on up here where we can take a look at you!" The man in the plaid shirt near Maggie was sitting straight in the saddle now and staring hard at him. Causey sat unmoving. He heard the man curse him, and then the man backed his horse away from the wagon and towards Causey. He pulled his horse up close to the mustang.

"So you're the man who dumped old Red. You don't look like much. Reckon looks are deceptive. I'm thinkin' maybe you never been chased by a real man before."

Causey knew the man was trying to impress Maggie, and probing, trying to find a softness in him, looking for a reaction, anything, in order to take Causey's measure. It was a game he'd played with men such as this before. He knew its rules, well.

With a coldness in his voice that matched the iciness in his eyes, Causey leaned forward in his saddle and said, "Mister, I don't know you and you don't know me. If you knew me, you'd not want to be within a hundred miles of me. I get notions now and then. They take me like a fever." He paused, staring hard into the other man's eyes, wanting the man to be sure and get the effect of what he was about to say. "I get a notion to kill a man and I do it."

He waited a small fraction of time, then added in a soft voice, "You're the kind of man I get notions about real easy." Causey's eyes locked into the other man's eyes, and they stared at each other for what seemed like minutes, but was only seconds. In those few seconds, communications were made between the two men.

The other man understood in those few seconds that he was looking at the most dangerous man he'd ever seen. He could not have told anyone how he knew that. He just knew it. The big man felt his stomach go hollow.

The man nervously reached up and tugged his hat down as he felt fear course through his body like a ravine full of broiling, brown waters sliding its way down the mountains, ice cold from the snows. Without a word, he backed his horse away, then rode around Causey and towards the head of the wagon. The other men followed silently.

Maggie motioned for Causey to come alongside.

"I heard that. Are you really that way? You take a notion to kill someone and you do it?"

Causey was silent for a long moment, then Maggie Johnson saw something few people ever saw. A brief smile wiped across Sy Causey's mouth and he said, "Notions come and they go. Mine mostly go. But, I did have a notion to stop that boy before he hurt himself trying to impress you." He stared at Maggie for a long moment, then added, "Looks like it worked."

Maggie laughed out loud, then, with a smile on her face, said, "Now you're a very interesting fellow, Mister Sy Causey. Very interesting. There's more than meets the eye to you. Yes sir. More than meets the eye."

And I want to know more about you. As much as I can. With that thought, she motioned to the boy, he slapped the reins, and the wagon lurched ahead.

The Double Ox ranch was a sprawling range of grass and rock sprinkled gullies, surrounded by gentle sloping hills dotted with scrub pine. It was a well watered ranch with two streams, one on the north end and another near the middle of the range. Just to the west was a large meadow peppered with gold and laced with white and green. A large pond of water lay just to one side of the meadow, fed by a creek that ran from the nearby mountain. Scrub pine was scattered from the west edge of the pond all the way to the mountain slope. Huge boulders lay sprawling on the eastern slope of the mountain, some reaching into the scrub pine, lying about like giant grey marbles tossed from a child's hand. Jagged slashes of white marked the sides of the mountain here and there, put there by forces beyond the ken of mortals.

Causey met Maggie's father immediately on arrival. He was a brusk man, crippled in one leg, but stout, and able to move around with the aid of a crude wooden crutch. He'd taken Causey to one side and spoken quietly to him.

"Causey, you took on a job that's not what it seems, and I'm not one to take a man on without telling him full about what he's got himself into. You can ride on when I'm done and no hard feelings."

He paused to wipe the sweat from his brow and continued, "Maggie took a shine to you but she ought to have told you more about the way things are up here."

Causey smiled and said, "Mr. Johnson, she told me you had some rustlin' and some wolf problems. I can take care of myself, and I've hunted wolves before." He paused, then added, "Rustlers, too."

Johnson stared at him for a long moment, then said, "Yeah, I can see that you're a man to ride the river with, son. But, I got to tell you, we got us a real lobo in those hills somewhere, and he runs as wild as any four-legged wolf, and is just as mean. He takes pleasure in hurtin' things, beast or human—it's all the same to him."

Causey's eye brows raised and he asked, "Johnson, do you mean to say you got a rustler who is eating your beef?"

Johnson laughed. "Son, I wish he would. He don't eat much of it most of the time. He just kills my cows. But, it's the way he kills them that's so crazy. He likes to rip their throat out. And then, he might gut the kill, leaving a trail of blood and guts a quarter mile long. Real strange."

"Has he hurt anyone?"

"Yeah. He laid up one of my riders a month ago. Kid named Wesley. The boy was riding the south pasture and next thing he knew he was on his back and that's all he recalls. When he came to, he was lying in a pool of blood, his own, and his leg was ripped from thigh to boot sole. He'd cut the boy deep and hard. He won't ride for me anymore."

Causey leaned against the corral fence for several minutes, quiet, absorbing what he'd been told. Finally, he said, "Anyone ever seen this here lobo feller?"

"No, but we cut his sign all the time."

"What kind of sign?"

"Well, we seen prints of a big man here and there riding a large horse with a chip on the left forefoot."

"Was those prints around where the kid was cut?"

"No. We didn't see anything. It was like no one ever been there except the kid."

"Johnson, maybe you got a painter on your hands. They get pretty big, you know. And, they'll rip a man up pretty good. I seen it."

Johnson arched his back, taking the kinks out, then ran his short, stubby fingers through the brush of short, white crop of hair on his head. "Son, I thought of that. But there ain't no evidence of a big cat near these parts. They been hunted out years ago. No, it's a man. See, there's something else I ain't told you about." He stared at the nearby hills for a long time, then added, "He come into my house one night."

"Into the house? Was anyone hurt?"

"No, just plenty scairt. Maggie, she near had kittens. It was her that he was after." His face hardened as the relived the night in his mind, the images of that night causing his jaws to tighten in anger.

"He came in just after two in the morning. We was all fast asleep, and but for old Possum, the cook's hound, we'd have all woke up on a spit over this lobo's fire. See, he come in and was in Maggie's room, and out her door with her slung over his shoulder, with her mouth full of pillow case before anyone heard anything. The dog took to yappin' so loud I jumped out of bed to holler at him, and as I come out of my room, I seen this huge, dark shape coming my way. I put my head down and charged him."

Johnson took a deep breath and looked at Causey, then continued, "I'm pretty solid, son. I might be crippled, but I ain't weak. I can toss a full-growed cow to the ground. Well, sir, I hit this old wolf like he was a cow in need of a rest. But it was like running into a rock. I bounced off him. He just stagged back a step or two. It would have put most any man on his back. Not him. Only thing it did, thank God, was loosen his grip on Maggie. She tumbled to the floor. He stood there a second, then lit out the door because by that time the whole ranch was up."

"Anyone else see him?"

"Oh yeah, two of the boys come running, and Lester, he ran right into him, like I done. He says he thinks he got hit with a club, but I know that man wasn't carrying nothing except Maggie. Lester didn't wake up for an hour, and to this day he gets headaches. And, Lester, he's a big man. He ain't no baby. For a man to drop Lester in his tracks with one blow, well, we're not dealin' with an ordinary man. My riders are beginning to think he's some kind of demon, maybe one of them wild, injun ghost riders."

Causey grinned and said, "I don't take much to such things. I reckon you got yourself a man who's just been growed up extra big and strong, and he never met with trouble he couldn't handle, so he takes what he wants."

"But what about the gutted cows?"

Causey chuckled. "Fear. He wants you afraid of him. If he keeps you that way, you won't hunt him so keen, and he can take your cows without too much worry." He stopped, his eyebrows furrowed, and he asked, "How long has it been since your riders went looking for him?"

Johnson's head went down and the chagrin was clear in his voice. "Since the time the kid got his leg ripped. They say they'll work the ranch usual, but they quit huntin' strays and wont go out without two or three of them together."

Causey turned from Johnson and headed for the barn. As he walked, he said, "Can you give me another mount? I want to rest my horse here for a few days. And, I'll need some grub to last about a week."

Johnson hobbled his way across the dirt yard in front of the barn until he caught up with Causey. "You mean you're going out after him? After I told you about how he is?"

Causey stopped and looked at him. "Mr. Johnson, I signed on to ride for you for thirty and some grub and bullets. Now, it is true, Maggie wasn't exactly square with me, but now that I'm here and now that I've heard the tale, well, you couldn't unhire me off this job if you was to pay me for laying around the bunkhouse. I'm in it for two things, sir, and one of them is settin' in your house right now. I don't hold with a man treatin' women folk poorly. That wolf needs his hide put on a wall."

Johnson was looking at Causey's face as the man spoke, and for a flicker of a second, he saw something in Causey that he'd not observed until that brief moment. He saw the face of a killer of men. He knew this man wasn't afraid, but he wasn't a foolish man, either. He did not appear to be a man who hunted trouble. But, whether he was up to the man who'd put terror into himself and his riders, Johnson wasn't sure. One thing Johnson knew for certain. That flicker of insight into Causey told him that one of these men would die soon. They were both hunters of men. They both had the wolf in them, were loners, and used to being hunted as well and hunting.

As Causey saddled a horse, and the cook made up a grub sack for him, Johnson stood by and the two men talked. Causey inquired about the lay of the land, the location of the attack on the kid, and a myriad of details about the surrounding land. He wanted to know every trail, wanted to know where the cattle were, and where the riders would be in the next week.

Then, he asked Johnson to take him to the house. As they were walking up to the house, Causey stopped and stood still for several long minutes, silently staring at the house. Finally, he resumed walking, but instead of going inside, he walked around the house, pausing at one point near a window. He studied the ground for a long time, then said matter-of-factly, "He came in through this window."

"How'd you know that?"

"Still got some horse prints in the dirt there," replied Causey, as he pointed at the ground. And, there's some scuff marks there where he stepped onto the window sill." He moved on, continuing to speak. "One thing's certain. For a big man, he's real balanced. He's probably quick and sure footed as a mountain goat. He stepped out of the saddle and slipped right through that window which was likely open. Bet he didn't make a sound more'n a whisper."

"You sure know how to read sign, son. And yeah, that window was open, but it ain't open no more. Fact is, we put a nail in it."

"That won't keep him out, sir. Not this one."

By this time, they were back to the front of the house, and Causey went into the house. He studied the insides for a long moment, then asked, "Where is Mattie's room?"

Johnson pointed. As he pointed, the door opened and Mattie came out.

"Saw you two walking around the house like you're looking for a place to plant a garden. Want to share your garden plans with me?"

Ain't she something? Causey allowed a faint smile to cross his face. Something in this woman drew him, and he knew there was a powerful attraction in him to her. He wasn't sure why, but knew part of it was to be found in her tongue. Ordinarily, Sy Causey was a man of few words and didn't care much for people who spent much time talking. But, he'd found himself fascinated by this woman's speech. He enjoyed hearing her words, just the sounds of them. And, he found himself thinking about the things she said. That was something new for him because usually, he paid little attention to the things people said. He'd learned long ago that most of the conversations he heard were meaningless, devoid of real facts and information. People usually talked of things that held little interest for him. But, the words of this woman were somehow different. He did not know why. He only knew he found himself interested in everything she had to say.

He said, "Miss Johnson..."

"Maggie will do, Mr. Causey."

Causey allowed a slight grin to cross his face and replied with a tug on the brim of his hat to her and continued, "Uh...Sy will do, Maggie. As I was about to say, I've been getting into this lobo's head and trying to think like he does. I've seen some things that need fixing, here and there." He moved to her door, and as he brushed past Maggie, the scent of Jasmine caught him. He found himself suddenly nervous and didn't know why. Her close proximity was pleasant, yet he found himself moving quickly away and into the center of her room.

He stood in the room studying it, then exited.

"From now on, put a coffee can on a string and hang it from the bottom of the window so it hangs just off the floor. Put some nails in the can, not too many, so they can rattle around. Put them nails in so the slightest movement will cause them to fall over. Do the same for the inside of your door, and do the same for the inside of every window and door in the place." He looked around the house, then looked hard at Johnson and added, "He will be back. Ain't no doubt on that."

Causey then moved to the center of the room and spied a large couch near the fire place. He quickly went to it and dragged it until it was along the side of the wall away from the main part of the room.

He nodded at Johnson and his words came in rapid-fire succession, crisp, matter-of-fact, and commanding: "You sleep here. And get a scatter gun. Keep it right on the floor beside you. A can rattles on that door, you don't ask who it is. You just cut loose. Don't wait until he's in. He's too much the curly wolf to let you cut him down. But, if he knows you're up and ready for bear, he'll cut and run. Not because he's afraid of you. But, it's the wolf in him. He's careful. He's lived long enough to know when to press and when to hunt later. Some days you leave the trail alone." Causey's voice was that of a general about to wage war, giving orders to one of his soldiers. Johnson sensed the reversal of roles and felt no resentment. Causey had taken charge of their lives and inside, he felt relief, not resentment.

Causey turned to Maggie and his voice softened. She noticed the change in tenor and a thrill went through her. She felt the power of this man. In all of her twenty-eight years, she'd never taken notice of any of the men seriously. No man she'd ever met had stirred her. Oh, she'd taken interest in several, but inevitably, she'd lost interest because somehow she always felt stronger, more secure, somehow more capable than the men in which she'd taken an interest. It wasn't that she felt physically stronger than them. It was just a feeling that somehow she knew she was stronger than them. And it immediately killed her interest.

But Causey was different. She'd sensed his strength from the first time she'd seen him when she'd watched as he'd cowed Big Red, the bully. Since that day, the image of Sy Causey had never left her mind and heart. And when she saw him standing by the water trough that day, she knew that this was the man she would marry. She'd prayed to God for such a man and there was little doubt in her mind that he was heaven sent.

I will most certainly marry this man.

Causey's voice took her out of her daydream. "Maggie, I want you to sleep with a scattergun, too. Good thing about such a gun is you don't have to aim too good. Just point it in the general direction and let loose." He glanced over at Johnson and said, "You got a double barrel around?"

"I can get one."

"Maggie, there's about ten feet from your bed to the door. I want you to move your bed around so you can also see the window. Instead of keeping the head of the bed up against the wall, I want it on the other side of the wall. You'll still have about ten feet to the door and about ten feet to the window. If you hear anyone coming through that door at night and he don't announce himself before he touches that knob, you cut loose at the door. And if anyone, tries the window, same thing, only you cut loose with one barrel, not two, hear?"

She nodded and Causey continued, "Johnson, you put drop shot in. This ain't no game you're going to be eatin', so if it gets tore up some, I don't reckon anyone will mind. You'll be takin' some of the fur off that lobo, for sure. And at ten feet, that shot won't string out too far, and anything it hits, it will tear."

He turned to Maggie and said, "Maggie, about that one shot. Reason is, that first shot will likely move him to do one of two things. He'll either turn and run, and again, it ain't because he's scared, or he'll push on in. He'll come in like this."

With that, Causey moved out the door, closed it behind him and then said, "Now give me a loud bang, like you done shot at the door."

Maggie yelled, "Bang!," tagged with a giggle. She was loving this.

Instantly, the door slammed open and a blur of something rolled into the room, and she saw Causey spring cat-like from the floor, gun leveled at her, one hand snatching at her hand where a gun would have been. Fear flooded her being and she shrank back.

Immediately, Causey softened his stance and demeanor, realizing he'd frightened Maggie more than he'd intended. He wanted her to understand the seriousness of what was at hand and to not underestimate this man. He saw her looking at him in a different way and it bothered him.

Maggie's breath came from her slowly. She'd been totally unprepared for what had occurred. She not have believed that anyone could move like she'd seen Sy Causey move. The man had come into the room so suddenly, almost gliding to the floor like a big cat leaping onto its prey, and had rolled, and was instantly standing before her looking all the world like death. It took away all the giddiness she'd had and in its place was a sober realization that even if she'd had a shotgun, she'd not have reacted in time and would either be dead or be flopping like a sack of flour across the shoulder of a strange maniac. She knew Causey could have slapped any gun aside before she could have moved because she had been so startled, so unprepared.

Her eyes softened as she comprehended what Causey had done for her. She would not be unprepared in the event the man came back. She would expect exactly what she'd seen, and she knew somehow she was up to it. She knew what she could do. And she'd not be caught by surprise, now. She shuddered at her naiveness.

"Sy, thank you." Her eyes moistened.

Causey looked at her and was suddenly confused, unsure of what to say, of how to act or respond. Finally, he shrugged and said, "Well, I didn't mean to startle you. But, you can't take this lobo for granted." He looked at Johnson and said quietly, "I won't."

In another hour, Causey had left the ranch after giving more orders for security. He lectured the men on standing guard, ordering each man take a turn for two hours, stressing how that if they failed to take the threat seriously, they'd die. He showed them the Apache way of standing guard by making one's self a part of the landscape, not moving about, not smoking, and staying in a place away from the ranch, just outside the perimeter. That kind of a guard was deadly, and the Apache were the best at it that Causey had ever known. They could sit as still as a rock and remain as quiet as the night around them. Any sound out of place was instantly detected by them. He knew the cowboys would not be as capable as the Apache, but it might give them the little extra they needed against their enemy to enable them to survive.

He knew he could not afford to stake out the ranch and wait. His enemy knew he was here. Causey knew that. And, he'd be watching as he rode out, perhaps would attempt to follow him, but would certainly mark his trail for later, at the least. Causey calculated on the latter for this man had too much the wolf—was too canny. He was not one to fall into traps easily. He would be wary of everything around him. Everything Causey had heard about the man told him that this was a man who lived with the land, not just in it and on it. He knew his enemy was either an Indian or a man who'd spent many years surviving in the wilderness.

Causey rode slowly out of sight of the ranch and as soon as he had moved into the cloak of the trees, he stopped and slid out of the saddle. With only a whister of sound, he took the reins and quickly trotted over to the shelter of a nearby boulder. He secured the horse, then padded off into the trees until he came to a large, tall pine. He slipped a thong from his belt, looped it around his rifle and then over his neck. In seconds, he was pulling himself up carefully onto a large limb of the tree, and within a few more seconds, he was high in the tree. He could see for miles. Causey settled back, waiting.

He knew that his enemy would be out there and would have watched him ride away. Whether he would follow Causey immediately was yet to be seen. Causey doubted it. Only arrogance and uncontrolled anger, hate, or some other strong emotion would bring the man on his trail this early. A hunter would realize he had lots of time to track his prey. More, this hunter would understand that he was not just the hunter, but was the hunted. He'd have evaluated Causey, would have studied everything about him from afar, probably with a glass. As Causey thought of his enemy studying him from afar, no doubt looking at his weapons and appreciating the way he rode his horse, loose, alert and ready, he himself was bringing his own glass up to his eye.

He'd owned a glass since his days as a scout for the army in the Arizona Territory and never traveled without one. He'd sit and watch an area for days with the glass before moving. It had saved his life more than once, and he'd learned patience with the glass. All he wanted from the glass now was a measure of security. He wanted to know whether his enemy would come for him now or later. If now, he was ready, more ready than his enemy. If later, that was not as much to his liking for it tended to even things out. He knew his enemy was not likely to come to this place to begin his track, but would seek to cut his trail far ahead. And, if he did not cut it, then he would track him back to this area.

After an hour, he slowly straightened one leg, regaining circulation in the leg. Then, he moved the other leg out, hugging the tree with his left arm. As he finished, he froze suddenly and his breathing stopped. He'd seen movement about a mile down the trail. Whoever it was kept close to the trees, using the cover alongside the trail very well. Causey waited, watching.

A full growed lobo, and then some! His mind filled with surprise and wonder. He saw a man came into view, on foot, leading his horse, a large black stallion. The man was a giant, with a large flowing mane of jet black hair and a beard to match. He was dressed in buckskin, and in one had he held a rifle that appeared as a small stick in the giant's hand. The man moved slowly, carefully glancing at the trail, but also looking ahead and around him. The man was completely alert to his surroundings. Causey felt a chill run through him. It was a strange feeling for him. He recognized it and something in him stepped back and wondered at it. Fear of another man was a strange feeling to Sy Causey. He'd met many bad men in his day, but he'd never feared any of them. He had respect for them, even as he respected the grizzly and the rattlers that his trail crossed. But, he'd never felt fear of any man. Not until today.

I've got to leave this place. The thought whipped through his mind like a bullet cutting through the wind.

He knew this man had that something in him that a few men have, that make them exceptionally dangerous. This man was completely attuned to his environment. The slightest vibration that was out of place would alert him. Such men sensed danger where ordinary men walked boldly ahead. They could not tell you why, but they knew there was danger. Sy Causey was such a man, and he immediately knew this man was even more dangerous than he'd believed. And, he knew he was in a dangerous place, for being in a tree with a man like this was certain death. This man would not be taken unawares by someone sitting in a tree. Anyone caught in a tree by this man, was dead.

He moved quickly down the tree. As he dropped to the ground, he knelt quickly and picked up pieces of bark. He could not take the time to get the area as clean as he wished, but it would have to do. He brushed the dirt with his fingertips, realizing as he did it that he was revealing himself to his enemy, and it bothered him. Already, he was on the defensive, and it was not a good feeling.

He moved up to the horse and rolled onto its back. The other man would be in the trees in a few minutes and Causey no longer desired to make a stand in this place. Something about the man and this place was not right, and to remain here was too dangerous.

For the first time, Causey considered the fact that this man might kill him. He'd not considered such a thing as possible previously. Now, he knew it was very possible. Staying alive would not be easy against this man. Already, the man had managed to change Causey's plans. He had managed to come down the trail and get closer to Causey than he'd believed any man could without detection. If he'd had more time, he might have considered setting an ambush, but now there was no time. But, even if he'd had the time, he doubted he'd have stayed. Something had spooked him while in the tree, and he knew that to stay and fight would be to die. The place was not right nor the time.

In minutes, he was high up the trail, moving quickly and quietly along the trail. There was no doubt his enemy was following. Causey headed for the small canyon Johnson had described to him. It was one of the possible places Causey had determined would be a likely stand to trap his prey. Now, he would have to move quickly in order to prepare. He knew the lobo would follow. He worked to hide his trail, but made some mistakes, on purpose.

I don't want him thinking I'm leading him.

After three miles, Causey reined up and studied the small canyon below him. It was very narrow at the beginning, then widened. It ended in a large collection of boulders that lay against the mountainside. On each side were cliffs and at the base stood a small pool of water, fed from somewhere beneath the ground.

He sat his mount for a long time studying every inch of the ground. Here he would make his stand. He'd taken time to hide his trail since his enemy would expect that. But, the lobo man would find the trail, eventually. Causey's efforts would only slow him down. And, that's exactly what Sy Causey wanted. He wanted some time to prepare for the man's certain arrival.

In an hour, he was down in the canyon. He set up camp and started a small fire. Leisurely, he put on a pot of water to boil for his coffee, and thoughtfully chewed on a long strip of jerky. After a few minutes, he lay his saddle in the sand, and his bedroll nearby. Then, he set out looking around. In a minute, he'd found a large piece of deadwood. He dragged the wood over near one boulder, then shrugged out of his shirt. His pants quickly followed. In a few minutes, he'd dressed the wood so as to reasonably appear to be a man lying under the boulder in wait. His hat lay nearby, and he pulled an extra rifle he'd gotten from Johnson from his bedroll and laid it next to the log, with the end resting on a small rock. Little things like that would be noticed by the lobo. He'd know Causey wouldn't lay his gun in the sand and that it would be close at hand.

Causey then made his way up into the rocks at the end of the canyon. The man would likely come into the canyon without his horse and would come either from the top of those boulders, working his way down, or from the mouth of the canyon. That way, from the canyon mouth, offered much in the way of concealment since the edges of the canyon floor were littered with boulders, mesquite, and small brush. Causey didn't think he'd come down from the top of the canyon over the boulders. That way would make him a target in too many places. But, he would not underestimate the man. Not this man. To do that was to die.

The night was a long, cold one, and Causey passed it without moving once. As dawn was creeping over the horizon, with spears of red lances stabbing through the air, his enemy struck. He managed to make his way into the camp unseen. Causey watched as the big man leaped from his hiding place and struck savagely at what he thought was Causey. A huge rock crashed into the shirt and log, and the big, black-maned man followed it, jerking away the rifle. Instantly, he understood the trick. And in that same instant, Causey fired.

He'd have killed most men. But, because of the incredible reflexes of this enemy, the man was already in motion in the heartbeat of time when he realized he was in a trap. He'd assessed the trap, knew where his enemy would be waiting, and was diving in the air for shelter even as the shot was sounding. Causey's bullet raked across the man's armpit, and then the big man disappeared. There was absolute silence.

Causey immediately moved from his resting place, knowing his enemy had placed him exactly, and would now be stalking him. It would be easy to reach the boulders unseen. When the man dove for cover, he'd moved towards the only place where he could move towards that end of the canyon unseen. Causey found himself admiring his enemy. Even under fire, the man was thinking.

Three hours later, Causey sensed the man had reached the boulders. He could not tell where he was, or how he knew it. He just knew it. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He slowly moved back down the boulder he was on until he was near the lip of a large outcrop. It gave him a stable position, though precarious. Below him was a narrow crevice that dropped down nearly fifty feet. But, it afforded him the only position where he could command a view of the entire area from a post that was nearly hidden. His only exposure was his head and left shoulder. To hit that, the man would have to expose himself, and Sy Causey didn't feel there was a man alive who could expose himself to his gun and get off a shot off before he fired.

I'll not be needing this. He'll be close, when he comes. He'd laid his rifle down in a small outcrop. In its place, he held his Colt. He cradled it gently, enjoying the familiar feel of the gun that was so much a part of him that it felt as much his hand as his hand.

Suddenly a large shape loomed from a rock just to his left, and without thought, Causey fired two quick shots. Even as the second shot sounded he knew he'd been tricked. The heavy .44 slugs ripped apart the buckskin shirt, and the black hair and hat fell away from the wood it had covered. Causey ducked without thought.

It was that instinctive move that saved his life. He felt the bullet hit him, and then there was darkness, and he was falling. The narrow crevice below welcomed his body.

PART II

At the ranch, Maggie and her father were talking. The sun was setting. Maggie looked at her father thoughtfully and said, "Daddy, I'm worried. Real worried. It's been three days."

"Hon, he took a week's grub. Besides, that man knows how to take care of himself. He's all right."

"I dunno, Daddy. I'm real worried. Something just isn't right. I got a bad feeling. I think we ought to go looking for him."

"Maggie, that's just what he said not to do. He gave strict orders for everyone to stay away, especially from Magpie Canyon."

She sighed deeply and said, "I know Daddy. I know. But I'm bothered, just the same."

They talked late into the night, then turned in.

And then he came.

It was deep in the early hours after midnight. Maggie was asleep when she was awakened by a crashing sound. Her window blasted into her room, shattered by a large rock. In a second, before she had time to react, the giant man stepped through the window and was at her bedside. Wordlessly, he slapped away the shotgun, then dragged the bed quickly to the door where he wedged it underneath the door knob. Then, he threw her under his arm, walked to the window, and with a powerful wrenching movement, ripped the rest of the window completely out, then stepped out of the opening with his prey, and into the saddle. In seconds, they were away from the ranch house and into the night.

Maggie could feel the power in the man's grip. He handled her as though she were a small package. She remained silent, quelling a desire to scream. He'd not stuffed her mouth this time. He'd known exactly what he was doing, and knew that whether she screamed or not, it would not matter. Maggie knew that if she screamed now, he'd probably knock her unconscious, or worse, someone would come and they'd die. She resisted the urge to cry for help and winced as he tightened his grip. Her ribs felt as though they would crack with another ounce of pressure.

In the house, Johnson did not survey the room very long. He ordered his horse saddled and summoned the entire crew. As they stood, some still in underwear, he said, "This crazy lobo has got Maggie. Causey ain't come back, so, I reckon he's dead. I'm going after Maggie, and I want every man jack here to git his rifle and ride with me."

One man spoke up. "Boss, I hired to chase cows, not crazy murderers. I ain't even tolerable as a shooter. I reckon I got to drag up."

Johnson was silent for a long moment, then said, "Tell you what, Luke, don't drag up. I need every hand I can get right now. Do this instead. Ride for Magpie Canyon. It was there that Causey was headed, and hoped to catch him. See what has come of Causey. If's he's there, bury him and take his gear on into town. Will you do that for me?"

Luke nodded and Johnson asked, "Anyone else want to drag up?"

Silence greeted his request.

"Let's ride. Every minute that mad man is getting further away."

Luke Foster wasn't a coward, but he was a man who knew his limits. And trading shots with another man was not something he was up to or ever cared to do. He was expert with a rope and could break any horse he ever saw. So it was with no feelings of guilt that he accepted the task of looking for the new rider.

He'd seen him come in, observed him walking around the house, and watched as he'd ridden away. The man had that something about him that scared men like Luke Foster. He knew that if a man like Sy Causey ever took a notion to kill him, he was a dead man and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing at all. He'd met a few men like that in his years. He always stepped softly around such men, careful not to offend them in the slightest. He recalled Big Red, the man who'd frightened an entire town for years. Red had bullied him now and then, nothing serious, but he'd seen him beat other men senseless, and had once seen him kill a man. Also, he'd heard of the other men Red had killed.

He couldn't imagine a man like Causey standing up to someone like Red, but he had. He'd heard about it from Maggie and some others who'd witnessed the whole thing. Causey was a dangerous man, he knew. But, Foster didn't think he was up to this stranger, this madman who'd kidnaped Maggie. That man was not human. He was some kind of devil.

Foster pulled up his mare just on the edge of the entrance to the canyon. At the one end, he saw the horse Causey had ridden out of the ranch. It was standing at the pool drinking. It's head lifted sharply as Foster moved his horse ahead.

The camp was in disarray. He saw Causey's shirt in the sand, a rifle, and a piece of wood with one pant leg covering half the length of the wood.. The camp fire was out. He kicked at Causey's bedroll, then looked at the end of the canyon. He walked over near the edge of the tumble of boulders and yelled, "Causey! You up there?"

From somewhere, he heard a faint voice. He couldn't make it out. "Causey! That you? Where you at?"

Again, the voice came, this time louder.

"Keep talkin' Causey. I'm comin' your way."

Foster finally managed to crawl over the top of a huge boulder near the voice. He peered down into a deep crevice. Standing at the bottom, his face and chest covered with blood, was Causey.

"You all right?"

"I'm fine. Just bloodied and bruised some. Ain't nothing broken as I can tell. But, I can't get out of here. Nothing to grab onto."

You sit tight, Causey. I'm getting a rope to lift you out of there. Be right back." He don't look too fine to me, thought Foster, as he hurried down to get a rope.

It took him nearly two hours to lift Causey out. The man was weak from blood loss, his face was caked in dried blood, and his shirt was dark, almost black from blood.

He built a fire, made some coffee, and as they sat by the side of the fire, Causey talked. "Been down there a day and a half. Figured someone would come looking eventually." He spoke matter-of-factly, and no complaint of pain escaped his lips. Not once during the lift did the man cry out or complain.

"Was it him that put you down there?"

A small smile barely thinned his lips as he replied. "Not really. I got stupid. Likely, I'd not have fallen for it if he hadn't cut off some of his own hair to make it work. It was the hair that done it." And then he told Foster about his trick, and how the man had played the same trick on him, and he'd gone for it. As he spoke, he felt the ridge across the right side of the top of his head where the bullet had run its course.

"I'm a pretty fortunate fellow, actually. I should be dead. Never met a man as good a shot as this one. He hit me on the fly, and he just popped up quick, so he was moving, too. That takes a good eye. He was movin' and he hit a movin' target. I'll not forget that lesson." A tiny smile lifted on corner of his mouth.

Foster said, "Mister Causey, that crazy man come to the ranch last night. He's got Maggie."

Causey straighted, and the tin coffee cup that was half way to his lips, froze in place. "How long ago?"

"Well, it's near noon now, and I'd say it's been since near two this morning, near as I can tell. So near eight hours, now."

"Help me up, Foster. Get that rifle in the boot." Causey jerked his pistol from the holster and inspected it carefully. The butt plate was now cracked, a split running right down the middle of the two spears sticking in the side of the chisled image of a horse in the plate. But, the gun was otherwise undamaged, and he'd already reloaded while in the crevice.

He splashed water across his face and began wiping at the blood on his face. He removed his bloody flannel undergarments and retrived his pants and shirt from the ground where he'd first laid his trap. Causey put his shirt on and pulled his pants back on, wincing with pain as he discovered some hidden bruises.

"Don't think I ever want to sit outside that long without my pants on, again. It was a cold night." After that, Causey didn't say a word the whole trip back to the ranch.

At the ranch, Causey studied the ground carefully, walking out into the meadow, following the man's tracks in, then following the tracks out, which headed in a completely different direction. He asked Foster to get him an old shirt from the bunkhouse. In seconds, he'd reduced the shirt into small pieces and had stuffed it into his saddle bag.

Causey swung into the saddle and handed one of the pieces to Foster. "Give this to Johnson. Tell him to follow that trail."

He'd gone just a few yards when Foster yelled at him, "Hey, they never went thataway. He headed north!"

Causey nodded, then replied, "When Johnson gets back, you tell him what I said.."

Causey nosed his mount into the meadow and headed for the low range of mountains in the east. Now and then he glanced at the ground. Soon, he put the horse at a slow gallop. If he was lucky, he'd cut off much of the lead of the man. The kidnapper led them away from his true direction, knowing that once he was in the high country, he'd lose his pursuers. Then, he'd cross over and cut to the east and home. Causey knew his prey, now. This man knew what he was doing. That man had run with the wolves in his day.

But so had Sy Causey.

PART III

The man's trail became faint just above the timberline. Causey sat his mount and studied his surroundings. His head still throbbed, and his entire body was a mass of scratches and bruises, but inside, he felt remarkably well. A quiet resolve had settled into his entire being. His enemy had stood on the boulder looking down at him for a long minute. Causey had lain still, watching through slitted eyes, his gun resting just under his right knee. He'd deliberately moved his left leg crooked. He had determined that if his enemy gave the slightest inclination to shoot him, he would cry out in as weak and helpless a voice as possible for help. He'd counted on the man leaving him to die a slow death in such event. And if not, then Causey would shoot him. He knew the man would kill him, but he knew he'd hit the man with at least two shots. But instead, the big man had merely stared at him, then turned and disappeared. Causey had been prepared to die.

He still was.

Elation filled his being. He'd finally picked up the trail again but this time, he knew it was new sign. The trail he'd followed before had led towards the ranch. This one was heading away from the ranch. He reached into his saddle bag, pulled out another piece of shirt and tossed it to the ground.

Late that evening, hours after the sun had set, Causey stopped, considering his options. He now knew where the man was headed. A few hours ahead lay a cluster of crude, adobe huts, and one large lumber building. He'd seen it years before when he'd passed through this area. It was supposed to be home to outlaws and rustlers, and rumor had it, was a trading stop for Comancheros who did a brisk slave trade.

But Sy Causey now knew his enemy, and he understood why he'd felt fear.

It's bigger, now. Causey's mind analyzed the layout. The little cluster of huts had grown from three to seven, and a second, larger wooden structure that appeared to be a house, stood a few hundred feet from the original building. Three corrals held seventeen horses, and Causey estimated a hundred head of cattle crazed in the pasture nearby. Smoke trickled from a stove pipe jutting from the roof of the house. Yellow light splashed against the two windows of the house and from an open door. Across the way, the large building was also well lit, and he could hear voices and laughter coming from that building.

Causey spotted two guards, both standing near a tree smoking and talking. He smiled. His enemy was expecting trouble and had placed these two highly visible guards as bait. He slid off his mount and began a slow crawl towards the two guards. He knew that nearby would be another guard or two hiding, watching those two, ready to cut down on anyone foolish enough to try and capture the two guards.

He reached a vantage point and stopped. For an hour he lay still, watching, feeling the night around him, absorbing its sounds. And then he had them spotted. There were two, and they'd acted in a typical white man fashion. It wasn't what they'd been told to do. Causey knew his enemy too well, and knew he'd have told them to be still and to stay apart. But, they'd moved and when they did, it was to smoke and hold a whispered conversation.

Causey moved quickly to their location and within minutes, he was behind them.

"I say there ain't nobody gonna come. Who could track him? Ain't he the devil his-self, and even an injun couldn't keep his trail."

The other man whispered, "Yeah, but you heard what he said. Someone would come, is what he said."

"The cocking of the gun was followed by the calm, matter-of-fact words: "Someone has come, boys. And if you want to live to see who it is, don't move sudden except to see some hands way over the head."

Causey moved up close to the two men and jerked the guns from the holsters. He stepped back and laid them on the ground, then slid the rifles, now on the ground, off to one side.

"Boys, I hate spillin' blood unless there's a reason. Now, your job is to keep me out of coming down there. If you're real insistent on that, well, I reckon I got no choice. How keen are you on keeping me from riding down there?"

One man spoke up instantly. "Not at all, mister. The boss said someone would come along and we was to take you alive, not kill you. Honest. That's what he said. He acted real funny about it. Said if we killed you, he'd kill us. That's what he said." He paused, looked to his left, pointed and continued, "He told us you'd jump those two over there, and when you did, we was to get the drop on you, then bring you in, but that if we couldn't, then we was to back off and let you alone, but if we killed you, we'd be dead men."

He knows. Causey nodded, knowing they were telling the truth. He pointed to their horses in the nearby trees and said, "Well, get aboard your mounts and let's go on into town." Causey slipped back into the night.

Causey waited until he saw the two men ride out onto the trail. He noted they'd found their guns. As he approached hem, one moved his hand nervously towards his gun.

"Son, you touch that gun and I'll kill you. Don't get skittish on me, now."

The man's hand instantly jerked away from the gun.

"You two move on ahead and tell the others you're coming through with a friend. Got to warn you, boys, you start anything or they start anything, there will be some dead men on the trail. Four of 'em."

They reached the edge of the clearing where the other two guards stood and called out to them, then the three walked their horses past the two guards. Causey tipped his hat to them and said, "Evening, gentlemen. Just passin' through."

One man demanded to know who he was, but the rider just in front of Causey snapped, "Shut your face, Ekins. This is the one the boss wanted us to bring in. Ain't none of your business who he is."

In a few minutes they pulled up in front of the large building. Causey swung down. One of the men stayed in the saddle. Boss said we was to bring you here if we was able, and then let him know you was here. Said to tell you to go on in and make yourself comfortable."

Causey swung down and said, "Tell him Sy Causey has come calling."

He entered the long building, and as he stepped into the room, he moved casually to one side. Over a dozen men were in the room, some sitting playing cards, some standing at a long bar on the left side of the room. Several women were in the room, some serving, some entertaining. Instantly, the room fell silent and all eyes focused on him. He felt the intensity of the stares.

He moved to a position near the end of the bar where his back was protected, and stood at the end. No one moved. No one spoke. He nodded at the man in the dirty white apron. "Barkeep, I ain't partial to whiskey, so water'll do."

Without a word, the man reached into a bucket and pulled out a dipper full of water. He poured it into a glass and slid it down towards Causey. He took the glass and drained it, his eyes never leaving the panorama of faces before him.

Finally, two men moved at almost the same time, their chairs scraping the floor as they stood. One was a burly man with a full black beard. He was hatless and wore a bandolier across his chest. The other man was a stark contrast. He was lean and small, with a dirty brown hat sitting square on a head with greasy, black hair jutting from all sides, and wearing a nut-brown shirt that was spotted and stained from long, unwashed used.. At his belly, lay a Smith and Wesson .44, its black handles worn and showing long use. The small man's coal-black eyes fixed themselves on Causey. Together, the two men moved near the end of the bar. The big man stopped and rested one huge arm on the bar. The other man stopped just a few feet away from the bar and stood there, his eyes unblinking, his face without expression, watching Causey.

The big man said, "Dunno who you are, stranger, but you stepped into hell, if you didn't know. We ain't tolerable to strangers, here." He turned to the crowd and said, "Anyone know him?"

Silence greeted his demand.

The man smiled, and it was apparent that he was happy no one came forward to vouch for the stranger. And it was obvious that he intended to kill the hapless stranger who'd had the misfortune to wander into their midst.

Causey said softly, "Boys, I'm expected. I believe your boss wants to see me. Unless you plan on dying, you'd best go sit down."

One of the men who'd ridden in with Causey and who'd come in the back door, spoke up:"The boss put me and Paco on the trail to watch. I don't know it was for him, though. Could be anyone for all I know."

Causey stared hard at the speaker. The man wanted trouble to start, and had told just enough truth to keep himself clear. He knew the minds of the men in the room. They lived to kill, loved to see a fight or engage in one, and any excuse would do. Likely, it had been a long, boring time for them, and he was the perfect remedy to spell the boredom.

The small, lean man standing quietly and staring hard at Causey, said softly, "Well, the rule says strangers ain't welcome unless they're invited, and we have always dealt the same hand to every stranger. Ain't no need to be different." The little man spat and the spittle ran down the side of the spittoon where he'd missed. Then, he added, "Even if he's expected, I can't see the boss failing to tell us a friend is coming to visit. He knows how we do with strangers. I expect he wanted us to treat this here stranger with the usual hospitality, and give...."

The little man was grinning when he reached for his gun. Causey shot him, and the little man flew backwards, sliding onto the dirty floor. The sound of Causey's second shot melded into the noise of the first, as it caught the big man in the chest and drove him off his feet. He coughed, then slid down the side of the bar. Causey didn't pause, but leaped to the floor, rolling, and firing at two men who'd leaped to their feet, weapons drawn. Splinters lanced into his face as bullets smashed into the wooden floor. He fired a quick shot at the man who'd missed. His shot did not miss.

When he'd dove for the floor, it was not without purpose. He'd made sure he landed on his first target, the slender, small man. He dropped his own gun and grabbed the little man's .44, wrapped his fist in the man's shirt, then rolled with the body covering him. As he rolled, he let off two more shots and two more men staggered back and onto the floor. Men were scrambling for the doors and windows by now. A shotgun boomed and he felt some of the pellets rake his leg, but the bulk of the shot tore into the body. Causey's shot instantly followed the sound of the shotgun, and the bartender grabbed his shoulder, screaming with pain.

Suddenly, it was over. The room was empty except for seven men on the floor, four of them dead, the other three badly wounded. Causey pulled another gun from a holster on a body and moved back into the shadows. He stood there waiting.

In a few minutes a deep, mellow voice sounded from the night. "Sy, that you in there?"

Causey relaxed. "Yeah. Come on in, Cord. I won't shoot you."

A hearty laughter followed his words and the man called Cord said, "Well, I think you've managed to shoot most of my crew and I'm not too sure about whether you won't shoot me. But, you always was a man of his word, Sy."

Immediately a huge shape filled the doorway and Causey's eyes rested on a familiar face, now covered with a heavy beard, but still familiar. But for the blood in his eyes, he'd have recognized him in the canyon.

Cord Causey Alexander was not a man one could easily forget.

Cord moved like a big cat, his heavy frame belying his soft tread and fluid grace. He stepped into the room and surveyed the carnage. After a few seconds, he turned to Causey and said, "Brother Sy, how good to see you. But, I don't think I can afford to have you call on me very often, brother."

Causey moved forward and refused the extended hand. He said, "Cord, I know we're blood kin, as our pa moved around more'n a man should, but I'm likely here to kill you. You knew that. That's why you left it to your crew, here."

The smiled wiped itself from the big man's face and his eyes hardened. "Don't I know my little brother? Don't I know the hardest man ever to cross over the badlands? Yeah, I know why you're here, brother. But, it doesn't have to be that way, you know. I could have killed you back in the canyon."

"Why didn't you?"

The man grinned. "Because I seen you squinting at me. You forgot how pa used to call me Squirrel-Eye. And, I knew if you were alive, if I so much as twitched, I'd have lead in me. Oh, I'd have killed you, but I'd have paid for it, likely with my own life. Figured it was best to leave you be and we could settle things face to face, if you lived. Looking down at you, I figured you might be a goner, anyway, so it wasn't worth the risk."

"How long did you know it was me."

The man paused a long time, then said, "To be honest, brother, I never knew it until I shot you back in the canyon. I only saw you from afar. But, you sure were familiar. I know I felt a ghost step over my grave when I was watching you ride out. Got a real bad feeling after that." He grinned and added, "Appears, it was a feeling well taken."

The big man moved to the bar and peered down at the wounded barkeep. "Henry, you going to lay down there and bleed to death or what? If you ain't gonna serve, get on out of here. You're pretty fortunate to be alive. Most men who draw down on Sy Causey don't live to get well."

The man struggled to his feet, his eyes still wide with pain and fear. He staggered out the door. Alexander reached down behind the bar and pulled up a bottle. He pulled the cork out with his teeth, tipped the bottle up and drank deep.

"Sy, how come you and me never hit it off?"

Causey shifted his stance. "Likely it had to do with the way you treated ma. You were a heller, and even if she wasn't your real ma, she tried to do right by you and raise you like her own. But you treated her bad. I never cared for you because of that and a couple other things."

Alexander laughed and said, "Yeah, and might one of them couple other things have to do with the Lawrence girl?"

"Matter of fact, that's true. Reckon you should have owned up to the kid she brung into the world, Cord. Wasn't fair you leaving her like that, shaming her and then leaving her. She ended up in a saloon on account of you. Folks never treated her the same after that. She told me a year or so later that she never let you have your way with her, but you took her by force. I believe her."

"Believe what you want, brother. Believe what you want. Fact of the matter is, none of that is important, now. Only thing important is us and what we're going to do."

Causey took a deep breath, then said, "Cord, unless you give me that woman you took and let me ride out with her, I've got to kill you."

The big man stood still for a long moment, then said, "Thought this might be what it's all about. But, I don't think you understand the situation." He took another long drink from the bottle, then continued. "See, I been wild for a lot of years. And, I finally seen the woman I could settle down and marry. I have sent for the preacher man down in Wiley. He's gonna marry us proper."

"And she don't have a say in it?"

"None."

"Even if she hates you, you'd want her for a wife? That don't make sense."

The big man laughed. "It will. She'll come around, especially after the first kid."

Causey's face was expressionless, but his eyes were bleak and cold. "Cord, you won't be alive to make any kids. I'll have to kill you before I let you do that."

Alexander moved away from the bar and said, "Sy, I always wondered how it would turn out with you and me. You were always the best in everything. Pa always bragged on you and spent all the time teaching you things. I had to learn most things on my own. But, I always knew I was better. I knew I was stronger, faster and smarter. Reckon I'm going to show that to you."

Causey smiled and it took Alexander by surprise. His brother was not a man to smile.

"Cord, you're afraid of me. Always was. When you considered that I'd take your trail if I got out of that crevice, you set men out. And, your instructions were to take me alive, because you knew they'd not even come close to stopping me. You knew I'd bring them in, and your instructions were to take me here. You knew what would happen here. Only thing is, you hoped I'd die. You knew I'd take some of them with me, but when you came up, your hope was that you didn't have to face me."

Alexander's face flushed under the beard. "You're right about not wanting to fight you. But, it ain't because I'm afraid of you, Sy. Never was. I could have killed you out there in the canyon. You think I couldn't have laid in wait and sneaked a shot down at you later? No, I didn't want to kill you because you're blood. I ain't got much in life, and only one brother. Always resented you, and hated you at times, but you're blood. I didn't want to kill my only brother. And that's gospel, Sy."

Causey's eyes widened. He knew the man spoke the truth. There was something deep within the man that was decent in a twisted kind of way.

"It ain't too late, Cord. Give me Maggie and I'll ride out. No more trouble from me."

The big man took a deep breath and said, "Can't do that."

"Can't you give her a say in this thing?"

Alexander smiled, then turned to the door and yelled, "Slim, go fetch the woman from the house. Bring her in here."

The two men stood in silence. Causey considered his options, calculating his every move, knowing that more than likely he would take a bullet from Cord. He'd grown up with him, and Cord was deadly with a gun, the best Causey had every seen. There wasn't a man alive who could stand up to him face to face and walk away without taking some shot. Not even Sy Causey.

"Cord, will you make me a deal?"

"What kind of deal, brother?"

"If I can walk out of here, I can ride out, when all's said and done. No harm to me or the woman. I ride with her. If not, it's going to be some kind of bloody around here, brother."

Causey saw the eyes widen at his use of the word brother. It was the only time he'd ever used the word.

"Done." He turned, walked out onto the porch of the building and said loudly to the men standing around: "Gentlemen, the man inside here is my brother. We have a family dispute going on in here, and we're about to settle it. Deal is, that if he's alive when we finish our business, my brother can ride out with the woman. I give him my word on that. Leave him alone. Even if I ain't doing so good." He paused, scratched at his beard for a moment, then added with a grin, "And, if you ain't so inclined, count the bodies inside. It will take some more of your blood to stop him."

He stepped back into the room and immediately, a man stepped through the door, dragging a disheveled and angry Maggie Johnson. She glared at Alexander and said, "Mister, there's a man who will hunt you for this. Let me go and I'll stop him. I don't think you want to die for me, do you?"

"You talking about Sy Causey?"

Her eyes widened and he continued, "Well, Sy Causey is my brother. The one you heard me talking about to the men while you were coming up from the house."

Maggie Johnson whirled around and she saw Causey standing in the corner. Instantly she ran to him. Causey embraced her with his left arm, while keeping his right hand staying close to his gun, and said, "Maggie, I've come for you, but it ain't going to be easy. There's going to be blood on this floor, maybe mine."

"No, Sy. Please don't. Please don't. He'll kill you. You don't know how he is."

Causey spoke, "Maggie, I know him. He's my brother."

"Brother? That's true? I thought he was jesting, some kind of cruel joke or something. This is your real brother? How can this be?"

"Out pa was the same. His mother was an Alexander from the Tennessee hills where pa used to live. Me and Cord grew up together."

Maggie looked at Alexander, then back at Causey, her eyes wide with wonder. Finally, she looked at Alexander and said, "Please let us go. Please don't have your brother's blood on your hands. Don't you have enough blood on your hands? How can you do this?"

Cord Alexander lowered his head, then replied, "Ma'am, I'm real taken with you. I plan to marry you proper. I know you don't think much of me, but in time, you will. I never loved anyone in my life, but I come as close as I can with you. Been watching you for nigh unto two years. Studied you. And no man," and he nodded his head at Causey, "not even a brother, is going to keep me from having you."

Her eyes widened as she felt the steely resolve in the man. She stood there for a long moment, confusion flooding her brain. And the suddenly, she knew what she had to do.

"Then take me. I will marry you. Now let him ride out." She turned to Causey and said, "Sy, leave us alone. I want to marry this man. Now please leave us. I have a wedding to plan." With that, she turned and left the room.

Causey's face reflected the surprise that he felt. His brother's laughter echoed loudly in the room. "Sy, you asked for her mind on this. Well, you got it!"

"Causey lowered his head, then raised it and said, "Reckon not, Cord. See, I got it figured. I know Maggie, and I know she's doing this so I can walk out of here alive. She really thinks I ain't up to you, but I done took your measure, and you ain't got it in you, Cord."

With that, he moved out into the room, and the intent was clear in his eyes and face.

"Time for talking is done, Cord. Time for one of us— maybe both of us—to die."

"Sy, you amaze me. I think you like the blood. I think you like this. That's it, you crave it." He paused and a smile crinkled his eyes as he added, "Just like me."

With that, the man's hand was a blur of motion as he pulled his weapon and two shots sounded as one. Causey grunted as the bullet struck his left shoulder and spun him sideways and back into the wall. In the middle of the room, Cord Causey Alexander stood with a puzzled look on his face. His gun was pointed at the floor. He tried to raise it, but couldn't. He shook his head and winced as the pain and the effort to stand washed over him. He'd been shot before and managed to walk, even to keep fighting. He could not understand why his arm would not raise the gun leve,l and why everything seemed to slow down. Then, he staggered over to the bar and leaned heavy against it.

In a voice rasping with pain, he said, "You did it little brother. Didn't think any man could do what you just did. Should have known better." Then he looked sideways at Causey who was standing beside him and said, "Should have listened to pa. He said you was better."

Alexander slumped forward and slid down the side of the bar. Maggie burst through the doors and raced over to Causey. He pushed her back, still wary of the danger from those outside. Then, he squatted beside Alexander and ripped his shirt aside. His bullet had struck him square in the chest but had missed the lung, for there was no blood on Alexander's mouth. He laid the big man down on the floor, wincing with pain as he did.

"Maggie, get a pan of water. See if that stove is hot enough to boil some water."

"What are you going to do? Let's leave. Wasn't that what he said we could do?"

Causey's voice was cold and hard. "Maggie, do what I said. Now!"

It took nearly an hour, but Causey dug out the bullet. The big man lapsed in and out of consciousness as he worked. Once, the pain caused him to sit upright with a squall that brought faces peering into the doorway. And then, he fell back, unconscious.

Maggie and Causey rode out together. A small crowd gathered to watch. Causey was in more pain than he'd ever had in his life, but even in the pain, he was alert and ready. It showed in his every move. Not a man stirred as he backed his horse away from them, his eyes steady on their faces.

He did not remember the ride back to the ranch, nor the feverish night on the trail, hugged tightly by Maggie as she lent him what body heat she had. When they rode into the ranch yard, men came running out and carried Causey into the house. She learned her father and two others were still out looking for her, and that they'd lost the rag trail high up in the mountains, most of the pieces blown away by the winds.

Cord Alexander was killed six years later during a robbery. He was shot in the back by a kid less than seventeen years of age, with a shotgun. The kid sneaked up on the big man as they were walking out the bank door, full of confidence, as arrogant as ever, certain no man would dare raise a hand to him. In that, he was right. No man did.

Sy Causey was in bed three weeks mending and being nursed by Maggie.

But he never left the ranch alive.

He died forty-six years later in the same bed.

Their bed.

The End

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What happens when a former lawman, a man dedicated to maintaining law and order, finds himself stripped of everything he loved, and inside, shrivels emotionally? What happens when a man becomes driven by vengance? What about justice? Where is that bright line? These are issues that confronted Weston Teague in the novel, Bloody Wes Teague. Teague had been a lawman in Texas in his early years, and he'd earned a "rep" as a tough man—a man who'd not back down from a fight. But, when he became a rancher in Wyoming, he left behind those years and that life. He married a beautiful New Yorker and brought her into the West. But, someone followed them. That man would earn the wrath of Wes Teague. His actions would also call into question everything Teague had once stood for as a lawman. Click here for a preview.

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Copyright 1997 - author.

 

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