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  Petra

  A Deadly Game of Hunt and Find

  One Wanting Not to Kill and the Other Demanding No Less

  Copyright 2013 Arch Gallen

  Cover Art by Conceptual Designs, LLC

  eBook Formatting by Maureen Cutajar

  www.WesternSettlerSaga.com

  Email: [email protected]

  Sand Hills Sioux – Western Settler Saga I

  Santa Fe Bandits – Western Settler Saga II

  Coming down the trail toward you soon:

  Colorado Gold Heist – Western Settler Saga III

  Arizona Payroll Bandits – Western Settler Saga IV

  Outlaw Wars – Western Settler Saga V

  Madman From Morale – Western Settler Saga VI

  Black Powder Justice – Western Settler Saga VII

  Free Titles in the Adam Pike, US Marshall Series by Arch Gallen

  Second Helping – A Widow, a Man Hunter and a Battle for Rangeland

  Petra – Vengeance from the Past

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilog

  Acknowledgements

  About Gallen. . .

  Chapter 1

  Morale, Colorado 1882

  Adam growled at the columns of numbers on the ledger before him. He knew from adding sums in his head just about what they should total but this bunch was bolting the herd and not grazing where they should. Thumping his pencil on thick, lined pages, he looked up and saw other brother Step riding toward the house. Even at a distance, Pike could tell there was fretting going on.

  Not that such was unusual. For all his care-free good humor, Step was one of the frettingest folks Adam had ever known. He worried over things that could never happen, tussled with problems that almost could never happen and wrestled to pin down difficulties only modestly likely to happen. As wasteful as such seemed to Adam at times, it also meant Step’s planning was meticulous and thorough prepared for outcomes none other might consider and, therefore, had results routinely remarkable.

  Watching his brother ride up the thought returned to him, as it had often, how glad he was he’d convinced Stoney to frame in that big picture window when they’d built the house. While the small, two by three window used then was a needful concession to defense against attack by outlaws or Indians as a primary concern, Pike had foreseen a day when such would matter less and debated with the mason a week over framing the stone exterior to allow easy removal when the time was right so this larger pane could be set in. Thick two inch hinged shutters ready for easy swinging over glass reminded him still that however calm the world now seemed, defending one’s home was never to be forgotten.

  He returned to studying the papers before him, frustrated with the exercise. Ordinarily good at toting up accounts and figuring expenses, today wasn’t the day for it. Winter was sneaking toward them early, meaning short days mostly overcast and air chilled which Adam disliked more each passing year. A feeble effort to persuade his family to pack up and let them all enjoy a part of these months with friends in Santa Fe went nowhere what with holidays coming up quick and fussing about them already started.

  Step dismounted, tied his horse to the porch then held, uncertainty scrawled over him. Up close, Adam saw anxiousness more pronounced than first noticed. Focusing on his ledgers, he recalculated a set of totals and found no change in them, eliciting an exasperated sigh. As most his work these days was with the numbers, all their businesses being run well requiring nothing from the youngest Pike, he took pride in balancing spending and income precisely so best to plan for their collective future. ‘Not able to plan if not knowing what comes and goes each day’ Pa taught religiously.

  Step opened the door and entered without a knock, a habit among the clan annoying to Adam despite occasionally adopting the practice himself. Ma taught knocking and waiting an invitation to enter was polite so the departure from doing never set well with Adam. Ignoring his brother, making busy with studying his work, he was determined to perform to best result despite gloomy skies causing him to want any other needful doing but that.

  Closing the heavy plank door, Step slipped out of the close-fitting sheepskin jacket he preferred in cooler months, hung it on the carved wooden dowel behind the door and sidled to the kitchen where coffee waited. Returning with his cup steaming and the pot, he refilled Adam’s cup while scanning the columns of figures over his brother’s shoulder.

  “Numbers not working, Pike.” Step said nonchalantly. Pointing a thick, calloused finger at a sum in the middle of the page, he went on. “Can’t see that being right.”

  Adam stared where Step poked and felt a flush rising to his cheeks. A simple mistake, spotted in a casual glance by his brother was missed even when going over it several times. Taking an eraser, he wiped out the offending number and penciled in a correction. The rest of the columns after would need fixing now, he knew, and tossed the pencil down in disgust, eyeing it meanly for laying crooked on the page. Reaching over, he flicked with a fingertip, rolling the irksome tool to the center where it settled straight to his satisfaction.

  Mistakes, especially little ones, never sat well among any of the Pikes, most particularly Adam. Living as he had since coming west, he knew well how little mistakes were ones likely to get a body killed or worse and he’d not survived and prospered by making many. Dispatched by their folks weeks after his fifteenth birthday* charged with scouting for land where the kin could settle after the War Between the States ended, he’d fought Indians, outlaws and the land itself to create the 5PL ranch they ran jointly so understood how critical right doing was.