Bloody Trail (20 page)

“
Yeah,” Derrick answered after a
brief pause. “I’m only hoping we catch them before they make
it.”

“
Got any idea exactly where they
might head to in those mountains, McCain?”

Derrick nodded reluctantly. “There’s a place
there they run to where they can hole up forever if need be. It’s
near the top of one of the tallest peaks. Got a waterfall that runs
right by the camp, so there’s always fresh water. They call it
Demon’s Drop.”

Charley nodded. “I’ve heard of the place. Not
just used by Danby’s men, either. It’s a meeting place and hideout
for others, too. They say there’s no way in, alive, unless you’re
invited. I don’t reckon we’re invited.” He smiled.

Derrick shook his head. “No. Well, one of us
would’ve been, if I hadn’t mutinied out there on that field that
day tryin’ to save your ass.”

“
Sometimes, it just doesn’t pay to
say ‘no’.” Charley glanced behind him to be sure Billy, Rob and
Spike were following through the dense foliage. “I’m sure as hell
glad you did, that day, even though it ’bout got you
murdered.”

“
We survived. Both of us.” Derrick
shifted in the saddle, his hand moving up over his shirt front,
over the old scar that lay three inches from his heart. He’d
survived, all right, but he didn’t know how. Or why.

****

The sun began to relent, the sky beyond where
they rode off to their right turning a tangerine color that slid
into pink.

“
What’s that noise?” Billy asked,
riding up alongside Derrick. Derrick reined up and gave a short
whistle. Charley, who’d ridden a few yards ahead, turned to
backtrack.

“
Sounds like rushing water,” Rob
said as he caught up to the group, cocking his head to the
side.

“
We’ve moved west of the Arkansas
a couple of miles,” Derrick explained, “But we’re a stone’s throw
from the Canadian. And a few miles from where we’ll cross it, there
are some rapids where the river forks off into two branches—the
main fork and the north fork. North fork is nearly as big as the
main river itself, and as powerful, in places. That fast runnin’
water is what you’re hearing, Billy.”

“
I’m guessing you know where to
cross,” Spike said. He looked thoughtful for a moment before he
added, “Did they cross? Do we know that for certain?”

Charley looked at Derrick, clearly letting him
know it was up to him to tell as much, or as little, as he wanted
the others to know. Another one of your secrets, his expression
plainly stated.

“
McCain’s family came from around
these parts,” Charley said easily. “He knows of a place up in the
San Bois Mountains, Demon’s Drop, that’s a known hideout for
desperadoes like Danby’s men. We think they might be headed
there.”

Spike nodded. “Gotta get ‘em before they make
it that far, then.” He gave Derrick a long look. “Been a long time
since your family left this area, hasn’t it?”

Derrick didn’t flinch. “Some things, you never
forget.”

“
We can make camp on this side of
the Canadian. Cross it in the morning,” Billy said, breaking the
tension.

“
No,” Charley and Derrick said in
unison. Then, Derrick fell silent as Charley explained. “We don’t
know what the night might bring. I’ve been noticing how thick the
air feels. Could be a storm movin’ in. If that happens, it could
make the river a bitch to cross.”

Spike wiped a hand across his forehead, then
settled the kepi back in place. “A storm? I don’t see how. Feels
like we’ve been riding through hell.”

“
Especially earlier, when we
thought those Kiowas had us,” Rob muttered.

Derrick hid a smile. And me with a half-empty
canteen. “We’ll find a good crossing and have that behind us, no
matter what comes along in the morning.”

****

The river was low, due to the heat of
midsummer, and the lack of rain for so many weeks. From the parched
look of the land, Derrick thought, there must not have been any
rain for at least a month or more. The farther south they rode, the
more marked the signs of the drought were. The low river, though,
was a blessing for them as it provided easy crossing after riding
no more than a half-mile back upstream to the east.

They crossed with the water barely coming
higher than stirrup-level, the horses never losing their footing.
Derrick removed his Yellowboy from the saddle scabbard, as did the
others with their longarms, to avoid the unknown depths of the
water they were crossing.

Once on the south bank of the river, they all
dismounted. Billy said, “I’m ready to make camp right here, right
now.”

But Charley’s head was up, his dark eyes
scanning the clearing on the bank where they stood, and the trees
beyond. “I smell smoke,” he said softly.

Derrick nodded his agreement. “Let’s find out
if we might finish our business tonight. I’d sleep a hell of a lot
better knowin’ we could get up and start home in the
mornin’.”

“
Agreed,” said Spike. He nodded
toward the west. “Do we split up?”

Charley shook his head. “No. We need to stick
together till we see what we’re up against. I’m not sure Danby’s
men would stop here.”

“
We did,” Rob said, not
understanding.

“
Yes,” Charley answered, “but we
are trailing them, youngblood. And I think they know it. I’m not
sure they’d stop for anything. They’ll be running as if the devil’s
at their heels, if they know we’re still behind them.”

Derrick gave a short laugh. “Same thing, in
this case, Blackfeather. Once we catch them, they may wish it was
only Satan, himself, after them.”

“
Speaking of Satan,” Spike
breathed, “who the hell is that?”

****

A man sat, unmoving, on a large black horse at
the western edge of the clearing.

“
And that?” Rob added, looking
past Derrick’s shoulder at the fringe of woods to the south where
another mounted horseman sat watching them.

In the early twilight shadows, Derrick
couldn’t be certain, but they looked Cherokee, and in the dimming
light, he caught glint of silver on the chest of the short rider
when he’d turned to look behind him. Lighthorse officers, he
hoped.

“
Halito,” he called.
Hello.

They both rode forward, stopping a few feet
away from the Wolf Creek posse, their faces impassive.

“
What business do you have?” the
short rider asked.

Charley gave Derrick a look that said, ‘you
take this.’ Had to be because of his “Cherokee face”, Derrick
thought wryly.

“
We’re looking for some men,”
Derrick answered, walking a few steps toward the two. Somehow, he
knew Charley and Spike had him covered, whether the two younger men
of their party had the sense to or not.

“
What men?” asked the taller, more
dour looking of the two.

“
They killed some of our people,”
Derrick said. “Robbed the savings and loan, up north—in
Kansas.”

“
Long way. You are here to recover
the money?” Sour-Face asked.

”
We’re here to see justice done
for the people they murdered,” Derrick said evenly. “Several men. A
woman. A child. Even our animals.” He took another step forward,
and both men brought their rifles to bear, training them at his
chest. His stomach churned, as he remembered the last time he’d
looked down a gun barrel; the flash and roar, the ungodly pain that
had ripped through his flesh. He made sure his hands were well away
from the Navy Colts he wore. “Are you lighthorse?”

After a moment, the shorter one answered.
“Yes.” He nodded at their horses. “Mount up and ride with us. Our
camp is not too far. We have a U.S. Deputy Marshal in our company.”
He watched closely to see what effect his words might have on them.
A test, Derrick knew, to see if they were telling the truth. Would
they fight, or would they ride into camp and face a U.S. Marshal?
Were they after the outlaws, or were they the outlaws
themselves?

Derrick gave him a brief nod, but his heart
sank as he remembered Satterlee’s words before he’d left the posse.
"If you go on, you'll be renegades, too, in the eyes of the
law."

They were out of their jurisdiction, and none
of them were truly lawmen. They only had one hope of continuing on
after Danby’s men. Whoever this Deputy was, maybe he would consider
joining up and stringing along with the men from Wolf Creek, making
their cause his, as well—and they would become his
posse.

All of them mounted up, and they rode slowly
through the darkening woods. The shorter Cherokee officer kept pace
with Derrick at the front, the stone-faced, taller one at the back
with Charley. Spike, Billy and Rob rode in between.

It wasn’t more than three-quarters of a mile
until they reached the lighthorse camp. There was a small clearing
beside a creek that flowed from a freshwater spring near the river,
and they’d gotten a fire burning with a dinner of fish and fry
bread going. Two other lighthorsemen and the U.S. Deputy Marshal
sat back from the fire, away from the heat.

As they rode in, the shorter Cherokee officer
called out a ‘safe’ greeting, and the others stood up, setting
their cups and plates on the ground.

The Wolf Creek men dismounted as the
lighthorsemen swung down and spoke to the others in Cherokee, one
of them translating in English to the deputy marshal. The voice of
the translator sounded somehow familiar to Derrick, though the tone
was not. But when the man turned to face him, recognition struck,
swift and certain.

“
Carson?” he said in a
disbelieving whisper. “Carson Ridge?”

The translator’s black eyes met
Derrick’s.

Derrick took a step toward him, then another.
“My God, I can’t believe—”

“
I thought I’d never see
you—”

They both broke off, but Ridge closed the few
steps between them and put his hands on Derrick’s shoulders. A
broad grin crossed his face.

“
Welcome, brother. You are
welcome.”

“
What the hell’s goin’ on?” Spike
asked Charley from where they stood to the side of the two
men.

****

Charley suppressed a smile at the shock that
was evident on Derrick’s features. Obviously, the McCain family’s
move to Kansas hadn’t been totally motivated by politics. When
Derrick and Ridge stood together, even in the flickering light and
shadows cast by the distant fire, there was no doubt they shared
the same blood. Andrew McCain wasn’t Derrick’s father. McCain
wasn’t even rightly Derrick’s name. McCain and Ridge may have had
different mothers, Charley thought, but they’d damn sure had the
same father.

“
Brother,” Ridge had called
Derrick. He’d known, all along. But by the look of shock on
Derrick’s face, he’d just found something he’d never known he had.
Another brother.

And Charley envied him that unexpected
gift.

****

They all ate hungrily, Billy and Rob both
having their first taste of fry bread. Rob declared it one of the
best foods God had ever created.

“
God and the Cherokee,” Carson
corrected teasingly.

“
I might have to take exception,”
Charley said with a laugh. “My mother made the best fry bread, bar
none. But she was Seminole.”

“
Good food, no matter who started
it,” Spike said.

U. S. Deputy Marshal Atley Goodson, who was
riding with the lighthorsemen, was someone that Derrick had taken
an instant liking to. He was just an “honorary lighthorseman” this
trip out, he told them, with a somber wink at Carson.

“
What he’s saying is,” Carson
explained with a grin, “he’s riding along to be sure that when we
catch up to the man we’re after, we don’t mete out justice if it’s
not warranted.”

“
Meaning?” Charley
questioned.

“
We’re after a man who raped a
Cherokee girl a week ago. We know who we’re after.”

“
But, we don’t know he’s guilty,
Ridge,” Goodson said calmly, “or whose jurisdiction he’s really
under.”

“
He’s Cherokee,
Marshal.”

Goodson chuckled. “Well, I’m sure when we
catch up to him, one sight of you boys and he’ll be shouting his
white blood to Glory.”

“
He’s Cherokee.”

Goodson cocked his head. “I’m not sayin’ he’s
not. Just not sayin’ he is.”

“
Gotta be one or the other,” the
stone-faced officer spoke up.

“
Not necessarily,” Carson murmured
quietly, his eyes on Derrick. “Not necessarily.”

“
What’s the penalty for rape?”
Spike asked,

“
First offense, fifty lashes and
losing the left ear. Second offense, a hundred lashes and losing
the right ear,” the short officer responded.

Spike gave a slow grin. “Well, I hate to ask,
but bein’ all out of ears, what if there’s a third
offense?”

“
Then, he would lose his life,”
Carson said. “But in this case, the woman he raped has already
forfeited hers. She drowned herself two days after he attacked her.
So, this being his first offense, he’ll come out ahead, it seems,
no matter what. Even with fifty lashes and no left ear, he will
keep his life.”