Free Book of Secrets by Chris Roberson Page B

teach 'im what it means to rustle cattle from Mr. Pierce." Lefty paused, and spat out a greasy line of tobacco towards the Mexican. "Then we shoot 'im." 
      "Sounds good to me."
      With a practiced hand, Lefty tied the end of the lariat to his saddle horn, and then turned his mount away from the Mexican. The Mexican, knowing what was coming, struggled to his feet, hoping against hope to find a way out. Lefty kicked the bay into motion, and it slowly trotted forward, bringing the line taut. 
      Lefty turned to Shorty. 
      "You ready, saddle sore?" 
      "I reckon," Shorty answered.
      "Alright then," Lefty replied, grinning. He whistled, one long, high note, through his broken teeth, and then made to kick his horse into a gallop.
      Suddenly, a shot rang out, and the taut line between the Mexican and Lefty was burst in twain. 
      Shaken, Lefty and Shorty turned to the sound of the gun shot, and saw a hundred yards away a pair of riders. As they watched, the two riders approached. On the left rode a man on a magnificent Arabian, nineteen hands high if it was an inch, as black as night. The man was dressed all in black, with a mask wound round his face, obscuring his eyes and nose, a wide black Stetson perched on his head. In each fist he gripped a Colt Peacemaker of burnished black steel, each trained on one of the ranch hands. At his side rode a Chinaman, dressed all in red silk, with his thick black hair falling in a queue down his muscled back. The Chinaman rode a stunning bay, and had a Winchester rifle in hand, its barrel aimed at Lefty's heart.
      Both Lefty and Shorty, just barely containing their fear, knew who the two riders must be: none other than that scourge of the plains: La Mano Negra, the Black Hand, and his faithful Chinaman companion, Jin Ti.
      The two riders stopped just short of Lefty and Shorty, coming to rest at either side of the Mexican, who looked from one to the other with a kind of quiet awe. La Mano Negra, each of his Peacemakers still trained on the ranch hands, was the first to break the long silence. 
      "What seems to be the trouble here, boys?" His voice was low, and rich, and seemed to rumble through the air like distant thunder. 
      Lefty was the one to answer.
      "We're just taking care of justice, mister," he spoke, his voice belying his discomfort. "This here Messican stoled cattle from our boss, Mr. Buck Pierce of the Pierce Ranch. We was only doing our jobs, bringing him to justice." 
      "You say he stole cattle?" La Mano Negra asked, indicating the Mexican.
      "I didn't steal anything," the Mexican piped up, indignant. "Those cattle were stolen from me. By Pierce. He is the thief."
      La Mano Negra motioned him silent with a wave of his hand.
      "We'll get your side in a minute here, mi amigo." La Mano Negra turned to the ranch hands again, and repeated his question. "I said, you say he stole cattle?"
      Lefty and Shorty looked nervously to one another, and then nodded their consent. 
      "Yessir," Shorty answered. "He stole cattle." 
      "That he did," Lefty added.
      La Mano Negra turned to look behind him, and then around to all sides, the pistols still on the ranch hands.
      "That's funny," he finally said. "I don't see any cattle." La Mano Negra turned to Jin Ti, who sat stoically in the saddle. "Jin Ti, you see any cattle?"
      "No, Heishou," the Chinaman answered. "I don't."
      "Well then." La Mano Negra turned back to the ranch hands. "I'm not sure I see the problem, gentlemen."
      Lefty and Shorty looked from La Mano Negra, to the Mexican, and then to one another. They sat in silence, afraid to speak.
      "I'd expect," La Mano Negra added, "that you boys have got some work to do back on the ranch. Am I right?"
  "Y-yeah," Lefty stammered.
  "Yessir," Shorty whispered.
      "Well, then," said La Mano Negra. "I expect you best get back to work, don't you?"
      Without another word, Lefty and Shorty turned their horses