Justice Never Sleeps (The Texas Riders Western #12) (A Western Frontier Fiction) Read online

  It gave Sebastian an idea. Maybe what he needed wasn’t a fresh start, maybe all he needed was something more to do with his time.

  The land he already had was plentiful, but he didn’t have a whole lot of cattle roaming on it. He got by caring for it all himself, occasionally hiring on extra help when he needed it.

  If he bought another ranch, he could expand. He had some money saved and could probably afford Mr. Wylde’s place if he wanted it. Mr. Wylde had more cattle, along with some pigs and goats, and some steady ranch hands who lived on the property.

  Sebastian wouldn’t have time to think about Hannah, let alone picture her cold body lying in that grave. He could either move into Mr. Wylde’s house or stay in the one he already owned, the one he’d shared with Hannah. At least he’d have a choice about it. The more he thought it over, the more he liked the idea.

  Sebastian thanked Little Johnny for the information and watched the boy go on his way. Tomorrow he would pay Mr. Wylde a visit and make him an offer.

  * * *

  It was around nine in the morning when Sebastian got to Tom Wylde’s home. He’d convinced his friend, Sheriff Rowan Keller, to come along for the ride. Mostly because he wanted someone there to give him a second opinion, should it be needed.

  Rowan was a good friend, the only one Sebastian really had. If Sebastian tried to do something stupid, like pay too much or too little for the land, Rowan would tell him so. And if he tried to do something even stupider, like leave before making any offer at all, Rowan would set him straight on that too.

  Sebastian knocked on Tom’s door. The man who opened it was just past seventy. He still had a thick head of white hair, but his once smooth and soft skin had been darkened by working in the sun for so many years; it was now like a fine piece of leather.

  Tom was surprised to see Sebastian and Rowan but pleasantly so. He showed them into his house and offered them drinks. They both thanked him but declined the offer. Sebastian preferred to get down to business.

  “I’ve come about your land,” Sebastian said. “I’d like to make an offer.”

  Tom frowned. Not exactly the reaction Sebastian had been hoping for. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. I like you, I always have. If I’d known you were interested, I’d have held it for you.”

  A deep scowl ran across Sebastian’s face, digging lines into his forehead and around his mouth. “You’ve already sold it?” He was disappointed but supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Tom’s land was rich and well-kept, the ideal property.

  “Eric Barnett put in an offer just yesterday,” Tom said.

  Sheriff Rowan Keller, who knew Tom, though not very well, had remained silent up till now. “Have you accepted the offer?”

  Tom hesitated. “Well, no. It was quite a bit lower than what I’d hoped for, so I told him I had to think it over.”

  Sebastian shot a grateful look at his friend. This was precisely why he’d brought Rowan along. “I’ll give you the asking price.”

  Tom’s eyes widened. “Are you sure you have that much?”

  But money wasn’t the issue. Sebastian had earned plenty when he’d collected the bounty on those criminals who’d killed his sister. He had enough to buy Tom’s land and still have money left over.

  “I wouldn’t make you the offer if I couldn’t back it up,” Sebastian said.

  Tom grinned. “I hate to turn Eric down when he was here first, but to tell you the truth, something about that man always bugged me. I never did care much for him.” He held out his hand, and Sebastian shook it.

  “Where are you gonna go when you leave here?” Rowan asked.

  A happy look played across Tom’s face. “My daughter and her husband have a comfortable living down in Georgia, near the ocean. They invited me to live with them.”

  Sebastian had never seen the ocean. “Sounds nice.”

  “Sure does,” said Rowan.

  Tom smiled at both men. “I think spending my days sitting on the beach somewhere with my grandkids running around me is about the best thing any man can hope for in his golden years. I wish the same for you both one day.”

  Rowan was already well on his way. Newly married, he and his wife had adopted two children, one still an infant.

  Sebastian, however, had no such plans. He did not intend to marry, and he especially did not intend to have children. He knew firsthand how difficult it was to care for someone and then lose them. He had no intention of doing either ever again.

  “I’ll stop at the bank as soon as I leave here, so you can get on with your journey,” Sebastian said.

  Tom thanked him and promised to deliver the news to Eric Barnett with equal speediness. Sebastian did not feel sorry for taking Tom’s ranch out from under him. If Eric had truly wanted it, he’d have offered more.

  Sebastian and Rowan left Tom’s place and headed toward town. “What are you doing the rest of the day?” asked Sebastian.

  Rowan sighed. “Word came in this morning about the Kramer Gang. They shot up Charbury a couple of days ago. Most of marshals and rangers think they’re headed for Mexico.”

  Something in Rowan’s voice gave Sebastian pause. “You don’t agree.”

  Rowan shrugged. “All I know is that the Kramer Gang has gotten away with their crimes this long by outsmarting the marshals who are after them. Charbury’s pretty close to here; it makes sense to take a look around.”

  Sebastian couldn’t disagree with that logic. “I’ll keep an eye out when I’m riding my land later. If I see anything strange, I’ll let you know.”

  “I’d appreciate it. The last thing we need is the Kramer Gang tearing up Blackgate.”

  * * *

  Eric Barnett scowled at Tom Wylde, who was standing just outside his front door. “I thought we had a deal.”

  Tom shook his head. “All I told you was that I’d think it over. I did that, and I’ve decided to accept Sebastian’s offer instead. I’m sorry if you’ve got hard feelings because of it.”

  Hard feelings? Was the old fool joking? Eric’s temper was far past hard feelings at this point. “I’ll add ten percent to the offer I made you yesterday.”

  Tom smiled cynically. “I already made the deal with Sebastian.”

  “Twenty percent.”

  Tom let out a heavy sigh. The wrinkles on his skin sagged that much farther. “Sebastian gave me asking price.”

  Asking price? What kind of an idiot was Sebastian? Only foolish old men like Tom paid asking price for things; everyone else bartered.

  “What if I—”

  But Tom cut him off. “I’m sorry, it’s done. I just came to deliver the news. Best of luck to you.” Tom turned his back on Eric and got on his horse.

  Eric shut the door and slammed his fist against it. He went to the back of the house and pulled up the cellar door. “He’s gone. You can come out now.”

  One by one, the Kramer Gang emerged. His cousin, Gilbert, came up last. “Who was it?” Gilbert asked.

  “Just that old coot I told you about, the one who’s selling his land. He came to tell me he went and sold it to someone else.”

  Gilbert’s eyes darkened. “Who?”

  “Another neighbor, Sebastian Maddox. He’s as dumb as a bag of rocks though. You’ve got nothing to worry about from him.”

  Gilbert didn’t look convinced. “We can’t live in your cellar. We need space to move around if we’re gonna stay here indefinitely. We needed that old man’s land.”

  Eric stuffed his hands in his pockets and bounced on his toes. “When you go outside, just make sure you stick to my property and you’ll be fine. No one will see you.”

  But the expression on Gilbert’s face was not a happy one. “I told you to get that land. You should’ve offered more when you went down there yesterday.”

  Eric loved his cousin, but he sure was a pain in the butt sometimes. “Look, no one knows you’re here, and they’re not going to. So just relax. Get some air if you want it, just stay out of town and away from the fences on
my property and you’ll be fine.”

  Gilbert stared at him. “You’d better be right.”

  * * *

  chapter 0 2 ✪

  * * *

  Bridget took her one small bag and exited the house she’d shared with her family for a long as she could remember. The bank manager stood by with his arms folded, watching her closely, as if she might suddenly decide to slam the door shut and lock herself inside.

  That was his mistake. Bridget no longer cared if she ever stepped foot in this home again. It brought nothing but bad memories for her.

  The bank manager’s two assistants stared at their feet, looking embarrassed. Even the sheriff who was there to make sure she didn’t cause trouble blushed as she moved past him.

  She handed her only key to the bank manager, who snatched it out of her hands so fast she thought he might rip her hand off. “I’m sorry it has to be this way,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.

  Bridget nodded, putting up a brave front. The bank manager turned away and went into her home. No, her former home.

  Since the shooting at her parents’ diner, nothing Bridget did seemed to turn out right. The townspeople had abandoned her; the restaurant had been covered in blood and bad memories, and no one had wanted to eat there anymore. Not that she could have run it alone anyway.

  The little aid she’d gotten from her parents’ friends had quickly vanished, and she’d been unable to find work. Now she had no home, no money, and no one to help her.

  The sheriff put one hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle pat. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

  She almost told him no, she didn’t, then she saw him glance at his pocket watch. He did not really care about her, none of them did.

  “I’ll be fine,” she told him.

  “Good, that’s good,” the sheriff said and quickly went in the other direction.

  Bridget took one last look at the home she’d known for most of her life and her bottom lip trembled. She wiped one tear and fought back the others, then turned her back on it and started away. She had no idea where she was going, but she would know it when she got there.

  * * *

  Sebastian opened the door to his new ranch house. After careful consideration, he’d decided to move into Tom Wylde’s place after all. The majority of his land was here now, and this house was bigger. Plus, it did not come with the cold, dark memories of his sister’s smiling face.

  The door creaked open and Sebastian stepped into a wooden structure as wide as it was long. Tom had built it himself when he was still in his youth, and it was a testament to his skills that the only problem Sebastian could find with it was a squeaking door.

  The wooden floorboards were strong and sturdy as he walked across them to the kitchen, investigating the cabinets and the furniture that had come with the place. Tom had said he’d had no use for furniture in Georgia, so he’d left it all behind.

  There was the living room to explore, plus the formal dining room, parlor, and a cellar. Out back was a medium-sized garden where Tom grew vegetables, and several fruit trees that stretched past the garden and across the land.

  Just beyond a large apple tree was housing for the ranch hands Tom had employed. They’d all been saddened to see him go but had agreed to stay on and help Sebastian, provided he paid them the same wages.

  Sebastian had no problem with paying fair wages; his only issue with the hands was that he didn’t want to see them unless absolutely necessary. He didn’t mind discussing work with them, but he preferred to keep his own company in everything else.

  He was not a man with many friends, and he was not looking to make any. He would dine alone day and night and keep his own time in his own way. He’d made sure the hands understood that before he signed the papers, but this was his first day here, and only time would tell whether or not they’d truly gotten the point.

  He walked down a long hall to the first of five bedrooms. The bedrooms were all of similar size and more than enough room. At the end of the hall was one room with its door closed. Tom opened it and found himself in a dark, stuffy room that smelled vaguely of mildew; the curtains were drawn and the windows were all shut tight.

  Sebastian turned on a table lamp and the room immediately brightened enough for him to see a figure in the bed, rolling around beneath the covers. Sebastian instinctively reached for the Colt Navy revolver hanging off his hip. It was the only gun he carried with him. The others were all locked away, where he didn’t have to think about them let alone see them.

  “Get up,” Tom said. “Slowly.” The figure rolling beneath the bed did not rise. Sebastian frowned then kicked the edge of the bed.

  Blankets flew back and Tom Wylde’s head shot up. He sat looking around, bleary-eyed and bewildered. “Sebastian? Is that you?”

  For a second, Sebastian did not recognize Tom’s voice, it was so altered. He stepped closer and saw the man was pale and sweating. “Tom? Are you all right? What are you doing here? I thought you left for Georgia yesterday.” He holstered his gun.

  Tom blinked several times. “What day is it?”

  “It’s Saturday.”

  Tom’s eyes widened. He pushed the covers back. “Forgive me. I must have slept through the day.” He tried to stand, but his legs buckled and his knees collapsed. Sebastian caught him before his head hit the floor.

  “You’re ill,” Sebastian said and helped the man back into bed.

  Tom tried to push him off. “I must go. This house belongs to you now. The papers are signed. I’m sorry.” But he was too weak to fight Sebastian as he pushed Tom back so that his head lay against the pillow.

  “Nonsense. You cannot travel anywhere like this.”

  “But the house is yours now.”

  “And it was yours first. You will always be welcome here. I insist you stay right here until you are well again.”

  Tom opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a cough. Sebastian frowned, worried, and thought he’d better call for a doctor. He did not like the way that cough sounded. Tom’s eyes were already closing, and Sebastian backed slowly out of the room, shutting the door as he went.

  He headed outside for his horse and rode it toward town. When he got to the edge of his property where it joined up with Eric Barnett’s, he saw five men sitting on the ground with their backs pressed up against some trees.

  There was a bottle of whiskey between them and some cards. Sebastian could not see well enough to make out the details of their faces, but he saw plain enough when one of them turned his head and looked at him.

  It was not for Sebastian to question these men. They might have been drifters, but they might just as well have been friends of Eric’s who were staying at his home and enjoying a day in the sun.

  He ignored them and continued for town, but he could swear he felt their eyes on him as he went, and that, more than anything else about them, bothered him.

  * * *

  Gilbert slammed the front door of his cousin’s house. “He saw us.” He spat tobacco into a pot and started pacing the floor.

  Eric came running out of the kitchen, a drumstick in his hand and his mouth half-full of food. “Who saw you? One of the ranch hands? I told them all to stick to the east end of the property.”

  Gilbert sighed. Did he have to explain everything? He loved his cousin, and he appreciated the favor Eric was doing by putting up him and his men, but he was a damned fool sometimes.

  “Not your hands, your neighbor. That one who bought the land out from under you.” Gilbert watched as Eric’s eyes widened.

  “Sebastian? How do you know it was him?” asked Eric.

  Gilbert paused a moment. “I guess I don’t. I just figured that from what you said.”

  “Well, what did he look like?” Eric finished his drumstick and threw the bone in the trash.

  Gilbert looked at his men. Renny chimed in. “Dark hair. Six foot.”

  “Over six-foot,” said Vic, correcting him.

 
“Couldn’t see his face real well,” said Gilbert, “but he looked like kind of a big guy. More muscles than fat.”

  Eric nodded. “That’s Sebastian Maddox all right.”

  Gilbert’s head cocked to the side. “Maddox?”

  “That’s right.”

  Gilbert groaned. The word “idiot” was on the tip of his tongue. “You didn’t tell me you lived next door to Sebastian Maddox.”

  Eric looked blankly at him. “Sure I did.”

  But Gilbert shook his head. “You’re talking about the retired gunfighter, right? The one who shot the men who killed his parents when he was just sixteen?”

  Eric paled. “You mean that story’s true? I always thought it was made up. You know, something people just said to entertain themselves. Rumors ain’t exactly unheard of around here.”

  Gilbert sat on the couch and pulled his Remington revolver from the holster. He spun the barrel around and then pulled a rag from his pocket and began cleaning it. Cleaning his guns always helped ease his stress.

  “We’ve gotta get rid of him,” Sebastian said. “It’s that simple.”

  Lester spoke up. “I don’t think he actually saw us. Not real good, anyway. If he had, he’d have done something about it.”

  That was probably a good point. Men like Sebastian Maddox didn’t just let criminals go by without a fight. Then again, no one had seen or heard much from the man in almost ten years. He was supposed to be retired. Still, better not to take chances.

  “Doesn’t matter how good he saw us, he’s got to go,” Gilbert said. “I can’t get Billy and bring him to live here with us if we’re running from gunfighter turned rancher.”

  “Who’s Billy?” asked, Brian, one of Gilbert’s men.

  Gilbert shot him a look. “My kid brother, you moron. He lives in Blackgate. It’s the whole damn reason we’re here.”

  Brian turned pink. “Right, I forgot.”

  Gilbert shook his head and went back to ignoring Brian, but Eric was shaking his head too. “If we kill Sebastian, that sheriff friend of his might come asking questions,” said Eric.