Forty-Four Caliber Justice Read Free Page B

some books with him, but books were heavy. Blue could only carry so much. Pa had his law books, his favorite Blackstone’s Commentaries, and Ma her readers and math books that she had taught him and Running Wolf from. There were also books that Ma insisted on having. He, like her, loved reading Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver’s Travels. He chose those three books, placing them in the chair next to the door. Clay walked into his room and looked around. This was home no longer. He had grown to a man here. His dream of adventure and travel, always returning home, had ended. The sweet smell of peach blossoms wafted into the study. Now resolute, he picked up the books from the chair and walked into the yard. Time to leave.
    After saddling Blue, Clay tied on the bedroll and bulging saddlebags. He’d need to get the gold and silver in the bank quickly. He was sure there was no danger from the killers. They were probably miles away by now, but this country had more than its share of bandits and road agents. After one last look at the homeplace, he turned Blue south, toward the Hewitts’ spread. He could rest for the night at the Hewitts’, then go into Uvalde tomorrow. He’d draw up the contract with Mr. Hewitt, and deposit the money in the bank tomorrow. He’d devote the rest of his days to finding the killers, no matter how long it took. Clay swung into the saddle and looked across the valley. He could see the maples and cypress along the Frio. He hated to leave this country. It was his kind of land, sharp angles softened by oaks and mesquite, rivers clear as glass and cool as a fall morning.
    He sat motionless for a moment longer, then swung Blue up the ridge toward the Hewitt ranch. He was getting a late start, but he’d be there a little after lunch. There’d be plenty of time to explain the idea he’d had to Mr. Hewitt.
    *
    It was a little past noon when Clay paused on the ridgeline above the Hewitt ranch. Cattle were grazing along the Dry Frio west of the ranch house. Smoke from the chimney was lazily reaching for the puffy, white clouds. Someone worked near the corral. He ’ d seen this scene most of his young life. The Hewitts were good friends, and the families had visited one another often. “Come on, Blue. Let ’ s see if Sarah Jane has any vittles for a hungry cowboy.”
    Blue stepped out toward the ranch house as if he had understood. When they were only halfway down the ridge, he could hear Tyler Hewitt yelling. “Pa, I see Clay acomin’! He’s comin’ down the north ridge right now. Sarah Jane, did you hear me?”
    A young woman stepped out onto the front porch and shaded her eyes with her right hand. “Tyler Hewitt, stop your yelling. I see him.”
    Clay smiled. He and Sarah had mostly grown up together. She wasn’t quite a year younger than him. When Mrs. Hewitt had died of pneumonia, she had taken over the household for her father and had mothered Tyler and Toby. She was a strong-minded girl who never had a problem stating what was on her mind, and here lately, he’d felt that she had him on her mind way too much. He figured she had set her cap for him, and that made a man mighty uncomfortable.
    Tyler met him as he pulled up at the corral.
    That boy’s growing. It’s hard to accept he’s only twelve.
    “Howdy, Tyler,” Clay said. “How’re you doing?”
    Tyler looked up at Clay with clear, serious eyes. “I’m fine, Clay. I’m sure sorry about your folks and Slim. If you want, I’ll go with you to catch those killers.”
    Clay stepped down from Blue and put his hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “Thanks, Tyler. That’s mighty big of you. But you best stay here to help your Pa with the ranch.”
    “Clay?”
    Clay turned to see Sarah standing close. Tears were brimming in her eyes. “Clay, I’m so sorry about your folks. That is the most horrible thing I’ve ever heard of.” She reached out and rested her hand on his arm. “Is there anything that I can do?”
    He looked into her big blue