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“Cully was going to bring his father,” Buck said. “We waited, but they were late, so we came without them.”
“He was going to bring his father?” Mason swore under his breath. “Good Lord, what next? Never mind, I’ll send you two to guide the truck. The others, if they get here, can stack and unload. Joseph, you know the drill. Buck can follow your lead. Now get going. That truck could show up anytime.”
Joseph and Buck galloped their horses back the way they’d come. By now the sky was clearing. The moon gave enough light for them to see their way. As they passed the crossroads where the ribbon hung, Joseph remembered that they still hadn’t seen Cully or his father. Maybe something had happened at home. But there was no time to worry about that now. He and Buck had a job to do.
They rode through Blue Moon and pulled up at the place where the wagon road turned off the main thoroughfare. They’d arrived just in time. Coming toward them, headlamps doused and engine growling, was the hulking canvas-covered truck.
Joseph stepped into sight and waved it off the road. This time there were two men in the cab, both strangers, each one meaner looking than the other. Joseph had no doubt that they were armed and well equipped to handle any trouble that might occur.
As he instructed them to stay between the riders and to avoid the wagon ruts, he felt a chill of premonition. This wasn’t just an adventure. His father had sent him on a dangerous errand, with no regard for his safety or Buck’s. Anything could go wrong tonight.
* * *
Logan lay sleepless in bed, his thoughts tumbling like water in a millrace. Since Lars’s tragic death, he’d abandoned work on the stable and turned his energies into making his house more livable. His hoped-for marriage to Kristin still faced many hurdles. He would never ask her to give up her profession, but in order to continue her practice she would need to be in or near town. And he could hardly run his ranch from her house. For now, he’d settled for making his home a welcoming place to visit, where they could be alone, relax, and make love as often as they wished. Maybe when home phone service finally came to Blue Moon, she’d be able to spend more time with him.
But that wasn’t the only problem. Logan knew that Kristin loved her family and had come home to be near them. But in their eyes, he was a Calder, and that had driven a wedge between her and Blake. The creek dam incident had driven that wedge even deeper. Until something changed, there was nothing he could do except be patient.
Pete was still working for him. But he’d paid Angus and sent him home. He didn’t need two workers; and since the theft of the steer, he’d soured on the man. Logan still wanted to finish the stable, but Pete couldn’t do it alone. Never mind that problem. It could wait.
He was making an effort to fall asleep when he heard the dogs barking outside. He sat up and reached for his clothes. It was probably just coyotes, but it could also be somebody making trouble—either the Dollarhides or Webb’s men. Nothing had happened since the creek dam incident, but he’d stayed on the alert, knowing he could still be a target from either side.
The dogs continued to bark as he yanked on his clothes and thrust his feet into his boots. Opening the front door partway, he called them into the house—whatever was out there, the fool animals would only get in the way or could even be killed.
With the dogs safely inside, Logan lifted his rifle from its rack above the door and stepped out onto the porch. The wagon road was a good quarter mile away, but in the nighttime stillness he could hear the laboring engine of the truck—the same truck he’d heard a few weeks earlier. Logan cursed. The smugglers—if that’s what they were—were back.
He would report them to the sheriff in the morning. Not that it would make much difference—unless he could get a description of the truck.
Leaving the porch, he set a course for a spot that would allow him to duck behind the brush and wait for the truck to pass. Given enough moonlight, he might even get a look at the driver.
Logan had gone only a few paces when a sound froze him in his tracks. It was the unmistakable pop and whine of gunfire, coming from the direction of the truck.
Gripping his rifle, he sprinted toward the sound.
* * *
Joseph and Buck had been riding a few yards ahead of the truck, on the right-hand side of the wagon road, when three mounted men, armed with rifles, had appeared out of the darkness. Two rifles were leveled at the open window on the passenger side of the truck; the third rifle was aimed at the boys.
“Sheriff,” a voice barked. “Stop the truck and get out—now!”
The boys halted their mounts. “Oh, hell,” Buck muttered. “Let’s get out of here.”
“No. If we run, they’ll shoot us.” Joseph swallowed the urge to throw up.
Suddenly the driver gunned the gas. The truck shot forward, the man on the passenger side firing shots from a heavy pistol. One lawman slumped in the saddle but righted himself. The other two kept exchanging fire with the moving truck.
“Come on, damn it!” Screened for a moment by the truck, Buck grabbed the bridle of Joseph’s horse. Swinging to the right, he jumped the wagon track, pulling Joseph with him. As the boys headed away at a gallop, the wounded lawman fired his pistol. The first shot whined past Joseph’s head. The second nicked his horse’s haunch.
The startled animal jumped and bolted away, throwing Joseph into the long grass. Stunned for a moment, he raised his head. “Buck,” he called. “I’m here! Pick me up!”
But there was no reply from Buck, only the sound of hoofbeats fading into the distance. Joseph’s friend was gone.
He lay still a moment, hurting. Buck had gotten away clean. But here he was, sore, bleeding, and without a horse. Once the lawmen stopped the truck, they’d come after him for sure. And he’d be sent off to reform school, just as Chase had said he would. He had to get out of here.
Grunting with pain, he struggled to stand, but just as he got his legs under him, strong hands seized him from behind and pulled him back down.
“Stay low!” a voice growled. “They’ll see you!”
Heart pounding, Joseph turned his head to see who had spoken. The man gripping his arms looked familiar in the moonlight. Then Joseph recognized him. He’d been with Aunt Kristin at the funeral. “You’re the major,” he said.
