Chapter Nine
Fortunately, both men resisted the powerful urge to say ‘I told you so.’ They supported her until she had control again.
Ben just frowned at her. “Katie, are you ill?”
“No, Ben . . . I’m seein’ quite clear, thank you. Now get off my land,” she said, her voice quietly firm.
“Katie, I just don’t want you makin’ a mistake here—”
“The lady asked you to leave,” Peter said.
“I suggest you listen,” Davy added.
“Kate, we’ve been friends for a long time,” he said, deciding to switch tacks. “Are you really going to listen to the ramblings of . . . outsiders over your old friend?”
There was a loud noise, a clatter overhead. Ben’s eyes raised to the roof, where a dark figure all in black crouched easily—a sheathed sword laying lazily beside his foot. Mike looked down at him, contempt in his eyes. “No, she isn’t,” he said, his words soft but carrying and dripping ice. “She’s listenin’ to family.”
“You always were a whelp,” Ben snarled.
Mike tilted his head in acknowledgement. “But I’m my own whelp,” he shot back with an easy grin. “Whereas you, you have to hide behind another identity to do your dirty work.”
Ben drew his gun. “You meddling little . . . ”
There was the sound of a single shot, and the gun went flying from his hand. Lucy appeared in the doorway, chambering another round. “You leave my cousin alone!”
Ben’s men drew their guns and pulled their horses up, moving into offensive positions.
“My, my,” Mike said as he dropped down to the porch, looking around. “It would seem it’s six to eight . . . ” He smiled at Peter and asked, “How do the odds strike you?”
Peter slid his hand up further on the staff. “In our favor, I’d say.”
“Agreed,” Davy said, sliding a tonfa out of his belt. “Mike?”
With a cold smile, Mike looked out and met Ben’s eyes. Moving very deliberately, his hand went to his waist. The katana sighed as it slid from the scabbard.
Turning his heels in, Ben jabbed his horse in the sides, making the animal rear slightly.
His henchmen raised their guns, but never got a chance to use them. Peter was in motion suddenly, jamming the staff into the ground and using it as a support beam as his body twisted up and around. His heels slammed hard into one of the henchmen’s chest, and the man went flying off his horse.
Micky appeared behind them, swinging a lasso over his head and roping another. “Yeehaw!” he cried.
Davy’s tonfa flew from his grasp, disarming a third seconds before Davy’s body smashed into his, throwing him. Peter gained his feet and twirled the staff over his head and downward, knocking the fourth’s gun away and then smashing him in the jaw.
Ben turned his horse this way and that, but there was no escape. Mike leaped onto one of the unmounted horses and charged at Ben.
Ben found himself ducking and trying to ride out again, only to be blocked by rearing, upset horses.
Mike drew his sword and slashed, the blade whistling over Ben’s head. The movement startled Mike’s horse, who bucked, snorting.
Ben’s horse finally reared, sending the red-shirted man to the ground. He cried out as his shoulder was jarred and sat up, holding it.
Mike slid off his own mount and lunged at Ben, slashing with the blade.
Ben gasped and rolled, climbing to his feet and staggering back. “I’m unarmed!” He gasped. “You wouldn’t kill an unarmed man!”
Mike advanced on him. “You hurt my friends, you tried to kill my family, you tried to steal my home.” He held the sword up, carefully balanced in his hands. “Name one reason I shouldn’t.”
Ben held his one good arm out as if in surrender. Then suddenly he lunged, using his girth as a weapon against the much thinner Mike, slamming into him with all his strength. Mike stumbled, fighting to regain balance, and twisted, trying to strike Ben with the sword. Ben somehow managed to get his hand around Mike’s wrist and he tried to twist it, trying to dislodge the sword. The eyes boring into Mike’s burned with the unholy light of insanity.
Mike ignored the pain shooting through his wrist and shoved back against Ben, trying to push the larger man off balance.
Ben grunted and slid, but kept his balance. “You—can’t—win—whelp!”
“This—is—my—home!” Mike snarled through clenched teeth. He turned the other way and drove his elbow into Ben’s back. Ben grunted and fell to his knees. Mike raised the blade up over his head, preparing to bring it down on Ben’s neck.
“Mike!” Peter’s voice cut through the sudden stillness.
Mike froze.
Not another word was spoken.
“You’re leaving,” Mike said. “To prison.”
Ben gazed at him—and spit on his shoes.
Davy caught him by the injured arm and hauled him up, shoving him to join his cronies.
“Aunt Kate, call the sheriff. We’ll keep an eye on them.” Mike twirled the blade and slid it back into its scabbard.
She nodded and ran inside.
“This isn’t over,” Ben snapped. “I’ll be out of jail in a few hours. And then you, boy, are dead.”
“You might control the local police, Ben—or Bart, or whatever the hell your name is, but you don’t control the county sheriff. He was a close friend of my uncle’s, and he’ll believe our word—and the oil—over you.”
Lucy came out with a mason jar full of black liquid. “He’s right—there is oil here.” She handed it to Mike. “And he won’t get free.”
Ben just stared, his jaw clenching furiously.
“It’s over,” Peter said with an air of finality and a rub to the back of his neck.
The sheriff arrived to find the standoff going on. “Kate?” he called. “What is all this?”
“Sir, these men have been terrorizing this ranch,” Mike said, gesturing to Ben and his men.
“Kate, is this true?”
Kate leaned on the porch railing. “Yes, it is. I didn’t want to believe it, but he’s Black Bart. He’s been after the oil that’s on my ranch.”
“Well, well,” the sheriff drawled, gazing at Ben. “What a tangled web we weave.”
“We weren’t the aggressors,” Ben sputtered. “Look at them! He’s got a sword! He almost decapitated me!”
He nodded. “Yes, I see the sword. Looks very similar to one I saw Kate’s husband buy in the war.” He grinned at Mike and then turned back to Ben. “Let’s go, you.”
Ben jumped to his feet, bellowing that he was Ben Cartwheel and that was his oil, not hers. When in his rage he lunged at the sheriff, he was suddenly gripped in a tight embrace and whirled to face the others and the sheriff growled in his ear:
“Ben Cartwheel, you are under arrest for assault of an officer of the law, under suspicion of extortion and terrorist threatening. Move.” He shoved him toward the waiting deputies.
“Bye now!” Micky said, waving cheerfully.
When the last of the thugs was lead away, the Winds visibly relaxed.
“Michael, I can’t ever thank you boys enough,” Kate said, resting one hand on Peter’s shoulder and the other on her nephew’s.
“We didn’t do anythin’ special, Aunt Kate,” he said with a smile.
She kissed his cheek. “You saved the home of a foolish old woman. I’m sorry for not believing you.”
He hugged her tight.
“I’m hungry,” Micky said. “When’s breakfast?”
Everyone looked at him incredulously—then the laughter started.
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