From Hide and Horn (A Floating Outfit Book Number 5) (13 page)

‘
Hello the fire!’ called a voice from
the darkness. ‘Can we come in?’

‘
It’s white folks!’ Vern sniffed and
began to wriggle forward.

‘
Stay put until Colonel Charlie tells
you different!’ ordered Billy Jack in a low, grim tone far removed
from his normal plaintive whine. In that moment he let Dawn and
Vern see him as he really was, a bone-tough, competent fighting
man. Such a change did it make that Vern froze as if turned to
stone.

‘
Come ahead,’ offered Goodnight. ‘But
do it slow, easy and with your hands showing.’

Time dragged by, with the trail crew
remaining at their posts. While the second group had joined their
night horses, Mark had not led them out to the herd. He was waiting
to make sure that doing so would be necessary. From what he had
just heard, the need ought not to arise; but he kept the men by
their mounts until certain of it.

Drawn by a pair of powerful
horses, a small covered wagon came into the light of the fire and
stopped. It was driven by a medium-sized, dapper, handsome man,
with an exceptionally beautiful, black-haired young woman seated at
his side. From all appearances, neither of them belonged to the
range country. The man wore a well-cut town suit which set off his
slender frame to its best advantage, derby hat, spats and walking
boots—as opposed to the high-heeled cowhand variety. A wide
brimmed, flower-decorated hat graced the woman’s head. Draped
across her shoulders, a black cloak hung open at the front. Under
it she wore a styli
sh black dress with a décolleté which seemed more suited to
a fancy dude ball than for riding in a wagon on the West Texas
plains. Jewelry sparkled at her ears, neck, wrists and fingers,
while the dress displayed a truly magnificent figure.

A second man rode alongside the
wagon. No dude this, but a product of the West. Tall, well made,
clad in range clothes and with a low-hanging Army Colt at his right
thigh, his surly features and general attitude told a story to eyes
that could read the signs. A cattle-town loafer, a hired
hardcase, but no
cowhand. Not the kind of man one would expect to find with such
elegant traveling companions.

For all his surprise at the sight, Goodnight
retained his poise and remembered the social conventions.

‘
Get down and rest your horses, ma’am,
gents,’ he said. ‘Food’s on the fire and you’re welcome to spend
the night here.’

‘
My thanks, sir,’ the driver replied,
swinging deftly to the ground and walking forward. ‘My name is
Edmond de Martin and the lady is my sister, Barbe.’

‘
My pleasure, ma’am,’ Goodnight said,
formally removing his hat and bowing to the girl. He was conscious
that the men had come from their places of concealment, or returned
from the picket line, and stood staring with undisguised interest
at the wagon; or rather at its occupant.

‘
Good evening,’ Barbe greeted. Like her
brother, she spoke with a slight foreign accent. ‘Would somebody
please help me down?’

Watching with a mixture of amusement and
disapproval, Dawn could not remember when Vern had moved with such
alacrity. Nor were the majority of the men any slower in offering
their services. Soon most of the crew milled around the wagon like
cattle attracted by the blood call, pushing, shoving and trampling
on each other’s feet in their eagerness. Letting out a sniff, Dawn
stalked over to the crush.

‘
Back off afore you turn the
son-of-a-bitching wagon over!’ she snapped. ‘Come on. You can’t all
lay hold and lift her down.’

Barbe flashed a surprised glance at the
speaker and lost her smile for a moment. Hostility mingled with the
surprise on the newcomer’s face before it regained its original
expression.

‘
The young—er—lady is
right, gentlemen,’
Barbe said, causing a hurried withdrawal of the
closest men. ‘If one of you will help me—?’

‘
Thin out there, some of you!’
Goodnight ordered. ‘See to Miss de Martin, Dawn, Swede. Mark, take
out pickets for the night.’

‘
Yo!’ Mark replied. ‘Come on, move it
some of you.’

‘
Are you expecting
trouble, Colonel Goodnight?’ asked de Martin, watching the men
scatter. His sister descended from the wagon with
the minimum of aid
from Dawn. ‘I assume that you are Colonel Charles
Goodnight?’

‘
I am, sir. My apologies for not
introducing myself sooner.’

‘
I judge by how you acted as we
approached that you are expecting trouble.’

‘
There
may be Comanches about,’ Goodnight admitted. ‘Don’t alarm your
sister. I doubt if we’re in any immediate danger, but I’d sooner
not take chances.’

‘
That’s
wise,’ de Martin agreed. ‘And if there are Indians about, I am
doubly fortunate in finding you tonight. With Mr. Heenan for our
guide, my sister and I have been following you for the past ten
days or so.’

‘
May I ask why?’

‘
To accompany you to Fort
Sumner.’

‘
To
accomp
—!’ the rancher spat out.

‘
Yes,’ agreed de Martin. ‘If you will
join us, I can explain over supper.’

‘
I
invited you first,’
Goodnight pointed out. ‘It won’t be anything fancy—’

‘
We’ll be delighted to accept,’ de
Martin said. ‘My sister is not the world’s best cook—if you know
what I mean.’

‘
I’ll be gallant and say “no”,’
Goodnight smiled. ‘Rowdy’s food is plain, but
well-cooked.’

‘
Then perhaps we can add a little
comfort of our own?’ the newcomer answered, also smiling. ‘We have
a table, chairs, a few tolerable wines. Why be uncomfortable when a
few luxuries weigh so little extra?’

Knowing that to deviate might cause
resentment, Goodnight always lived and ate at the same standard as
his men when on the trail. However he could see no harm in
accepting de Martin’s offer as it would only happen once. During
the meal, he intended to show the newcomers the impossibility of
their accompanying the drive.

‘
My thanks for your offer,’ the rancher
said. ‘And I gratefully accept.’

‘
We have a table and a few
other things in the wagon,
gentlemen,’ Barbe called, looking around
the camp. ‘If I could have—’

‘
I’ll see to it,’ Dawn put in, before
another rush could commence.

‘
Lend her a hand, Turkey, Boiler,’ Mark
confirmed, selecting fast. The cook’s louse was an unprepossessing
young man and the grizzled old timer’s interest in women had been
tempered by years of experience. ‘The rest of you stay
put.’

Although Mark had an eye for a
beautiful woman and was anything but averse to female company under
the right conditions,
^xviii
he saw the danger of allowing the men
to compete for the favors—small though they might be—of the newly
arrived girl. So he held down his own impulse to go and help,
giving the chore to the men he felt most suitable to handle it.
Before the drive it had been decided that Mark would take over as
segundo in Dusty’s absence, so nobody questioned his right to give
the orders.

Clearly the de Martin family believed in
travelling comfortably. Looking at the interior of the wagon, Dusty
smiled a little. There was a wide, well-padded bed fastened to the
front end and the rest of the space held a variety of boxes and
trunks. Barbe pointed out a small collapsible table and three
folding chairs, fussing over her male helpers until they had
removed and set them up. Then she opened boxes to produce a fancy
candelabra, plates, cutlery and wine glasses.

While setting out the table, Barbe more or
less ignored Dawn. Nor did the western girl show a greater
inclination to offering friendship. Turning, Barbe started to walk
by the end of the wagon towards the darkness beyond it. As if
struck by a thought, she stopped and looked back.

“
Er—Miss—I—I want t—’ Barbe spluttered, dropping her eyes
with becoming modesty to avoid the men’s gaze.

‘
Come on then,’ Dawn replied. ‘I want
to go myself.’

‘
I suppose you have lost all your
clothes and have had to borrow those—garments?’ Barbe remarked as
they walked away from the camp.

‘
Nope,’ Dawn
answered.
‘I’m working on the drive, and they’re better’n fancy
do-dads for handling cattle. Say. Did the dress-maker run out of
cloth, or have you grown some since you bought that
frock?’

Barbe swung her head sharply in Dawn’s
direction, fluttering a hand to the exposed upper section of her
bust, but read only bland innocence on the other’s face. Giving a
low sniff, she flounced ahead and Dawn followed, grinning slightly.
In Dawn’s opinion, their first clash could be called a draw.

When the girls returned, they
found Goodnight and de Martin waiting by the table. Refusing an
invitation to join them, Dawn continued to walk towards the fire.
She arrived in time to hear Heenan describing what ‘that fancy
French gal’ wore beneath her gown. One of the listeners remarked,
as Dawn came up, that Heenan appeared to be remarkably well
informed. A sly grin came to the
hardcase’s face and he explained that
there was a small slit in the wagon’s canopy which offered a view
of the interior.

‘
When she’s getting
undressed
—’ Heenan began, rolling his eyes ecstatically and chopped
off his words as he became aware of the girl’s presence.

‘
I’ll put rock-salt
into
anybody
I see sneaking around that wagon after she’s got into it,’
Dawn announced grimly.

‘
And I’ll load the gun for her,’ Mark
went on. ‘Only it won’t be needed. As soon as I tell her brother,
he’ll have that slit covered over.’

Taking in the great spread of the blond
giant’s shoulders and the way the ivory-handled Colts flared so
perfectly in their holsters, Heenan held back the comment which had
started to rise. Not until Mark walked away accompanied by the
hands he selected for the first spell of picket duty did the man
make his views known.

‘
I never figured Cap’n Fog’d be a
spoil-sport.’

‘
That’s
Mark Counter, not Cap’n Fog,’ Vern told Heenan.

‘
Only, was I you,’ Billy Jack went on.
‘I’d mind what he said.’

Goodnight enjoyed the meal, finding Barbe’s
presence pleasant and decorative while her brother was a sparkling
conversationalist. For all that, the rancher was not sorry when the
girl said that she would retire for the night and rose. He wanted
to talk with de Martin about returning to wherever they came
from.

Seeing the other girl going to the wagon,
Dawn made a decision. Mark had not spoken with the rancher about
Heenan’s comments, so Dawn went over to the table.

‘
Well I’ll
be
—!’
Goodnight growled as the girl delivered her news.

‘
So will I,’ de Martin went on, a
flicker of annoyance crossing his handsome face. ‘Leave it to me, I
will attend to the matter straight away.’

‘
I hope I done the right thing,
Colonel,’ Dawn said worriedly. ‘I don’t go much on running to the
boss and telling tales.’

‘
You did right,’ Goodnight confirmed.
‘If those fools’d’ve tried to sneak a look at Miss de Winter, there
could have been trouble.’

‘
Figured there might be,’
Dawn admitted. ‘They’d likely’ve started fighting for who got the
best place to look from.
Men
!’

‘
I’ve attended to it,
Charles,’ de Martin announced, dropping from the wagon after Dawn
had returned to the fire.
‘That damned Heenan—still, he got me to
you. And you’re probably wondering what a dude like me can possibly
want that I should follow you all the way from Young County, and
ask to accompany you to Fort Sumner.’

‘
The
notion
had
crossed my mind,’ Goodnight admitted, accepting the cigar
de Martin offered.

‘
It’s simple. I’m a photographic
artist, a good one if I say so myself, and have been commissioned
by General Vindfallet to go to Fort Sumner to produce illustrations
for a book he is writing about life on the western
frontier.’

‘
That
figures, knowing Vindfallet; him writing a book, I
mean.’

‘
The
General isn’t entirely unaware of its value socially,’ de Martin
smiled. ‘And, as I have a certain reputation in my line, he
contacted me. I must admit that I was dubious at first. But he
suggested that I should join and accompany you. He also promised to
write and inform you of our coming.’

‘
I never had any letter from him!’
Goodnight stated.

‘
Probably it was lost in the mails,’ de
Martin suggested. ‘He seemed so confident it would be all right
that I made no other arrangements. Then, when I reached your ranch,
after an unavoidable delay, I found that you had already left.
Heenan had escorted us that far and said that we could easily catch
up with you, so we came along.’