“Well, whaddya know. Got me a bona-fide ranger.”
Though Sam couldn’t see the outlaw’s mouth, the words told him he wore a smile. “I’m not here alone. You won’t get away with this.”
“I call your bluff. No one’s firing at us but you.” The gun barrel poked harder into Sam’s back. “Down the hill.”
Sam could’ve managed without the shove. The soles of his worn boots provided no traction. Slipping and sliding down the steep embankment, he glanced for anything to suggest help had arrived, but saw nothing.
At the bottom, riders on horseback immediately surrounded him.
“Good job, Smith.” The outlaw pushing to the front had to be the ringleader. He dressed all in black, from his hat to his boots. “Let’s teach this Texas Ranger not to mess with us. I’ve got a special treat in mind. One of you, find his horse and get me a rope. Smith, march him back up the hill. The rest of you drive those damn cattle to the makeshift corral.”
The spit dried in Sam’s mouth as the man holding him bound his hands and pushed him up the steep incline, back toward the gnarled oak high on the ridge.
Any minute, the rangers would swoop in. Just a matter of time. Sam refused to believe that his life was going to end this way. Somehow, he had to stall until help arrived.
“Smith, do you know the punishment for killing a lawman?” Sam asked.
“Stop talkin’ and get movin’.”
“Are you willing to throw your life away for a man who doesn’t give two cents about you?”
“You don’t know nothin’ about nothin’, so shut up. One more word, an’ I’ll shoot you in the damn knee and drag you the rest of the way.”
Sam lapsed into silence. He could see Smith had closed his mind against anything he said. If he ran, he’d be lucky to make two strides before hot lead slammed into him. Even if he made it to the cover of a cedar, what then? He had no gun. No horse.
His best chance was to spin around and take Smith’s weapon.
But just as he started to make a move, the ringleader rode up beside on his horse and shouted, “Hurry up. Don’t have all day.”
Sharp disappointment flared, trapping Sam’s breath in his chest. His fate lay at the mercy of these outlaws.
They grew closer and closer to the twisted, bent oak branches that resembled witch’s fingers. Those limbs would reach for a man’s soul and snatch it at the moment of death.
Thick bitter gall climbed into his throat, choking him. The devil would soon find Sam had lost his soul a long time ago.
The steep angle of the hill made his breathing harsh. The climb hurt as much as his looming fate. He’d always thought a bullet would get him one day, but to die swinging from a tree had never crossed his mind.
As they reached the top, an outlaw appeared with Sam’s horse. The buckskin nickered softly, nuzzling Sam as though offering sympathy or maybe a last good-bye. He stroked the face of his faithful friend, murmuring a few quiet words of comfort. He’d raised Trooper from a foal and turned him into a lawman’s mount. Would it be too much to pray these rustlers treated Trooper well? The horse deserved kindness.
“Enough,” rasped the ringleader with an impatient motion of his .45. “Put him on the horse.”
Sam noticed a crude drawing between the man’s thumb and wrist—a black widow spider. Not that he could do anything with the information where he was going.
One last time, he scanned the landscape anxiously, hoping to glimpse riders, but saw only the branches of cedar, oak, and cottonwood trees swaying gently in the breeze. He strained against the ropes binding him, but they wouldn’t budge.
Panic so thick he could taste it lodged in his throat as they jerked him into the saddle. His heart pounded against his ribs. He sat straight and tall, not allowing so much as an eye twitch. These outlaws who thrived on violence would never earn the right to see the turmoil and fear twisting behind his stone face.
Advice his father had once given him sounded in his ears: When trouble comes, stand proud. You are a Legend. Inside you beats the heart of a survivor.
Sam Legend stared into the distance, a muscle working in his jaw.
The ringleader threw the rope up and over one of the gnarled branches.
Bitter regret rose. Sam had never told his father he loved him. The times they’d butted heads seemed trivial now. So did the fights with big brother Houston over things that didn’t make a hill of beans.
Yes, he was going to die with a heart full of regret, broken dreams, and empty promises.
The rope scratched, digging into his tender flesh as the outlaw settled the noose around Sam’s neck.
“You better find a hole and climb into it, mister,” Sam said. “Every ranger and lawman in the state of Texas will be after you.”