From Hide and Horn (A Floating Outfit Book Number 5) (2 page)

From what Hayden remembered of
Goodnight, he did not lightly discard the idea of the alternative
destination for cattle mentioned to his hired man. Goodnight had
foresight and was aware of the crying n
eed for beef on the Eastern seaboard.
While it would not be possible to trail cattle that far, they could
be shipped east on the transcontinental railroad.

If the long drive could be made, Hayden saw a
second, even greater, market opened. The forts of New Mexico were
less accessible to the owners of the eastern and southern ranches
than from his present location. Kansas would be open to all. Nor,
using it, would the Army become flooded with stock so that they
could lower their prices. If Goodnight’s actions in taking along
men from his neighbors’ ranches was anything to go on, he intended
that everybody would benefit from the markets he opened.

That was the last thing in Hayden’s mind. The
longer he could keep the markets to himself, the greater would be
his profits. From the money the herds brought in, he could buy
property, take over ranches from bankrupt owners, and build himself
a cattle empire.

Let Goodnight pave the way and
others would follow. So he must be stopped or, coming from a breed
which did not know the meaning of the word ‘beaten’, killed. Let
Charles Goodnight, honored scout of Captain Jack Cureton’s famed
company of Texas Rangers and master cattleman
, fail, and others would
hesitate to try. The problem facing Hayden was how he might best
achieve his intentions.

‘
Can we get men down there in time to
stop the Mineral Wells cattle reaching Goodnight?’ Hayden asked,
breaking in on his train of thought and seeking for the means to
deal with the rancher.

‘
Not afore they get to him,’ the man
admitted.

‘
Then why didn’t you do something
before you came here?’

‘
How d’you mean, boss?’

‘
You could have followed them and
stampeded the herd.’

‘
With Mark Counter trail bossing it and
the Ysabel Kid riding scout?’

Looking blankly at his employee, Hayden saw a
flicker of consternation cross the other’s face. Yet Scabee had
shown courage, if not initiative, on more than one occasion since
they first met. Hayden wondered who Mark Counter and the Ysabel Kid
might be. If he had lived for any time close to the lower reaches
of the Rio Grande he would have known the answer to the latter part
of the question.

Born in the village of
the
Pehnane
Comanche, only son of a tough Irish-Kentuckian
mustanger-cum-smuggler and his Creole-Comanche wife, the Ysabel Kid
had been raised and educated among the Wasps, Quick-Stingers or
Raiders—the white man’s translation of
Pehnane
—band. From his maternal grandfather,
Chief Long Walker of the fabled Dog Soldier war lodge, the boy had
learned all those things a Comanche brave-heart must know.
^iv
He could ride any horse ever foaled
and knew ways to bring a strange, hostile mount to his will. Given
expert instruction in the handling of a variety of weapons, he also
knew how to walk in silence through the thickest brush, follow
tracks barely visible to less keen eyes, locate hidden enemies and
conceal himself in minute cover. One thing he had never been taught
was to nurse too great a respect for the sanctity of human
life.

Fortunately for the peace of
Texas, he had never made use of his knowledge in the manner of
a
Pehnane
brave. However, he put much of his training to use helping
his father as a smuggler or, during the War, delivering cargoes,
run through the U.S. Navy’s blockading squadron into Matamoros, to
Con
federate
officials north of the Rio Grande. During that time he had gained a
reputation for being one tough, very capable and deadly
hombre.
Maybe he did not
rate high in the use of a revolver, but none could fault his
handling of a bowie knife, or belittle his ability with a rifle.
Young he might be, yet the hardcases along the bloody border grew
silent and well behaved in his presence.

With the War over, the Kid had intended to
resume the family trade. Bushwhack lead cut down his father and,
while hunting for Sam Ysabel’s killers, he had met Dusty Fog.
Lone-handed smuggling held no attraction for the Kid, so, having
helped Dusty complete the important mission, he accepted the
other’s offer of employment. Many folk slept easier in their beds
knowing that the Ysabel Kid now rode on the side of justice. His
talents were given to the OD Connected and utilized by Ole Devil
Hardin to help friends in trouble. It would have gone very hard for
any man the Kid had found acting in a suspicious manner in the
vicinity of the herd he helped to guard.

While he wou
ld quickly achieve a fame
equaling that of Dusty Fog or the Ysabel Kid, at that time Mark
Counter was less known than his companions. Son of a wealthy Big
Bend rancher, Beau Brummel of the Confederate Cavalry, Mark was
known as a top hand with cattle, something of a dandy-dresser, yet
immensely strong and exceptionally able in a roughhouse brawl. Less
was known of his skill as a gunfighter. Nor, riding as he did in
the shadow of Dusty Fog, would he ever gain his just acclaim. Yet
men who were in a position and possessed knowledge of such things
would say that Mark was second only to the Rio Hondo gun wizard in
the matter of fast draw and accurate shooting.

Like the Kid, Mark helped Dusty
on that important assignment. Instead of returning to his father’s
R Over C spread, he took on at the OD Connected. Not just as a
hand, but to ride as part of the floating outfit, the elite of the
crew. On the enormous ranches like the OD Connected, four to six
men— top
hands all—were employed to travel the distant ranges
instead of being based on the main house. Being aware what was at
stake, Ole Devil Hardin had sent his floating outfit to help
Goodnight. Although Hayden did not know it, the floating outfit had
been mainly responsible for the failure of his plans.

‘
So
Goodnight will be moving out soon,’ Hayden com
mented coldly. ‘And with a full
three thousand head.’

‘
Sure, Boss,’ Scabee admitted.
‘Anyways, you’ve got our cattle on the trail by now, ain’t
you?’

‘
Yes, and with Chisum handling the
drive. He knows the trail to Fort Sumner as well as Goodnight does.
And he’s got a good four days’ start. But I don’t mean to take
chances. I’m going to make sure that Goodnight doesn’t
arrive.’

‘
You figuring on taking men after the
Swinging G herd, Boss?’

‘
Not me personally. I’m going after
Chisum and joining him on the trail. A man who’d betray his friend
won’t play square with an employer. So I’m going to be with him
when he reaches Fort Sumner.’

‘
Then
who
—’

On his arrival at Throckmorton,
Hayden had found that a suite was an unknown quantity at the hotel.
Explaining his needs, he had had three ordinary rooms converted
into quarters for himself and his recently departed partner. Each
of their bedrooms had been connected by a door to the room in which
he now sat interviewing Scabee. Suddenly the
hardcase cocked his head in the
direction of what had been Wednesbury’s quarters and chopped off
his words. Down dropped his right hand, drawing the Remington Army
revolver from its holster on his gunbelt and thumbing back the
hammer. Lining the gun at the door, he glanced at his
employer.

‘
I just heard somebody in there,
Boss.’

‘
Go and
see
—’
Hayden commanded, but the rest of the order proved to be
unnecessary.

Slowly the door opened. While the sitting
room had a lamp glowing over the desk, Wednesbury’s bedroom lay in
darkness. Standing inside, so that only his empty hands could be
seen clearly, was a shadowy figure.

‘
Good evening,’ it said.

‘
Oh!’ grunted Hayden,
recogn
izing the voice. ‘It’s you!’

‘
It’s me,’ admitted the newcomer. ‘I
hope you don’t mind, but I can never resist the chance to
eavesdrop.’

‘
How much have you heard?’ Hayden
demanded, but waved back Scabee who snarled a curse and began to
move towards the bedroom.

‘
Almost everything your uncouth
friend’s said. Ask him to put the gun away. If he kills me, you’ll
have lost your only chance of stopping Goodnight.’

‘
Do it, Scabee,’ Hayden ordered. ‘I
know this man.’

‘
You near on got killed, feller,’
Scabee growled, returning the Remington to its holster. ‘I like to
shot you when I heard you behind the door.’

‘
If you’re no better than
the others Mr. Hayden hired,’ the
man answered, still not showing
himself, ‘I wasn’t in any great danger.’

‘
What do you think, having
eavesdropped on us?’ Hayden
said, ignoring Scabee’s indignant
muttering. ‘Come in.’

‘
I’ll stay where I am if
you don’t mind,’ the man told him.
‘The less who know me the better I
like it. As to what I think; the work was amateurishly handled and
badly bungled.’

‘
Maybe you could’ve done better?’
Scabee challenged.

For a moment the newcomer did
not speak, then he said, ‘I’m trying to think how I could have
done
worse.
Well, Mr. Hayden, have you considered my offer?’

‘
You’re asking a high price,’ Hayden
commented.

‘
As you’ve just found out, you hire
cheap, you get cheap results,’ the man told him. ‘My price is high
because I guarantee success. If I don’t produce, you don’t pay
me.’

‘
Just how do you figure on taking
Charlie Goodnight, fancy pants?’ demanded Scabee.

‘
My way,’ the newcomer replied
calmly.

‘
For what you’re asking, I’ll want to
know more about your way than that,’ Hayden warned.

‘
First, you tried to stop Goodnight
gathering his herd and made a complicated plan to do it. That was a
mistake. You were going against him on his home ground for one
thing. Instead of stopping him, you just warned him of danger. You
ought to have let him get the herd well along the trail, then
busted him. But the way things turned out, it’s happened for the
best.’

‘
How’s that?’

‘
Well, Mr. Hayden, due to
your efforts, Goodnight is taking
along cattle for five of his
neighbors as well as his own—’

‘
And that’s for the best?’ Scabee
sneered.

‘
It is,’ agreed the
shadowy figure.
‘Those ranchers have their hopes raised high and
are looking to a rosy future. When Goodnight fails to get through,
they’ll be badly disappointed. So badly that none of them will have
the heart to try again, and their experiences will scare off others
from trying. And you’ll be able to go on buying their cattle dirt
cheap, sending them to the Army in New Mexico or up to Kansas with
a near monopoly on doing it.’

‘
How did you
know
—?’ Hayden gasped.

‘
I guessed, but I see that I have found
your motives.’

‘
Go on,’ requested the impressed
Hayden.

This was a vastly different kind
of man from the dull-witted, unthinking
hardcases who came so cheaply and
carried all their brains in their trigger fingers. The speaker in
the bedroom had intelligence, drew correct conclusions and came
with excellent references.

‘
I’ll stop Goodnight
reaching Fort Sumner,’ the man
promised without a hint of boasting. ‘How
I do it is my own concern. For what you pay me, I supply everything
I need—’

‘
Does that include the men?’

‘
All
I need, Mr. Hayden,’ the man repeated. ‘You will deposit my
money with Bossaert at the saloon along the street. Not until you
are satisfied that I have fulfilled my end of the bargain do you
authorize him to give it to me.’

‘
Do you trust him?’ Hayden
inquired.

‘
Another saloonkeeper was asked to hold
money for me, but when I went to collect, claimed he had been
robbed.’

‘
What’d you do to him?’ Scabee wanted
to know.

‘
Told him how sorry I was for his bad
luck. Losing my money was only the start of it.’

‘
How come?’

‘
He did quite a good
night’s business next day. The trouble was that three of his
customers died and the rest were so sick because of his liquor that
he lost all his trade and got lynched by indignant citizens,’ the
man explained. ‘Yes, Mr. Hayden, I can trust Bossaert. He knows
that
nobody
has ever double-crossed me without very rapidly wishing he
had not.’

‘
That’s one right forceful and
determined gal, I told you, Dusty,’ Mark Counter declared
admiringly, nodding to where Dawn Sutherland was carrying her
low-horned, double-cinched saddle towards the Swinging G
corral.