“Do I have a choice?” Ditch said. “Seems you forget that you own one third of the SD&P Ranch. Which is rolling, by the way. These past few years, while you’ve been away rangerin’, me and Paul have been selling all the horse and beef stock we can muster to the army and the railroads like whiskey to Irishmen. They can’t buy it fast enough, and pay top dollar. We’re gettin’ plumb rich. Could sure use you at the ranch, once you get healthy again.”

“I’m happy for your success, Ditch. For Paul, too. But we both know I ain’t a rancher, and I’ve got business in Mexico.”

“I didn’t really think I could talk you out of it,” Ditch said, shaking his head, “but I had to try.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Pritchard said, gingerly testing his weight on his feet, “but this is something that’s got to be done. You know it, too.”

“I reckon so. That’s why I brung you a fine horse. One big enough to haul your heavy carcass around. A good saddle, too. I also brung you these.”

Ditch opened a saddlebag he brought with him and produced two brand-new Remington revolvers. “I bought these pistols for you in Dallas. A gunsmith there makes them up special. They’re the same as your ball-and-powder guns, except they’ve been converted to fire .44 cartridges, same as your Henry rifle.”

“They stole my Henry along with my pistols,” Pritchard said. “All my money, too.”

“I know,” Ditch said. “I took the liberty of bringing you a new Henry, too. Don’t need a Gypsy fortuneteller to know what’s on your mind.”

“I’m obliged,” Pritchard said. “I’ll pay you back. You know I’m good for it.”

“You ain’t givin’ me a penny,” Ditch said. “There’s only one thing I want in trade for that horse and those guns, and it ain’t negotiable.”

“What would that be?”

“I’m going with you.”

“This ain’t your fight.”

“Hell, if it ain’t,” Ditch said. “You’re my brother, Samuel. Them bastards shot my brother and killed my brother’s bride-to-be. They’re gonna pay for that.”

“You sure about this, Ditch? You’d best know, I ain’t going after ’em as Joe Atherton. A Texas Ranger has to follow the law and must stop at the U.S. border. I’m going into Mexico as Samuel Pritchard. And I damn sure ain’t bringing any of ’em back for a trial by jury. I’m the only judge, jury, and executioner Winston Boone and his Triple B boys are ever going to face. I aim to send every one of them cowardly, back-shootin’ sons of bitches straight to hell, or die tryin’.”

“Just like old times,” Ditch said. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Chapter 33

Chapter 33