Ralph Compton Death Rides a Chestnut Mare (10 page)

“We'll just have to hope we get a good price,” said Enos Chadman uncomfortably.

“Katrina's cast-iron underpants are startin' to rust,” Tuck said softly, standing behind Danielle.

“If anybody would know, it would be you,” said Danielle coldly. “You spent the night following her around, instead of watching the herd.”

“So what the hell is it to you?” Tuck demanded. “Sooner or later, she's got to give in to some
hombre
. Why not me? You reckon I can't do her justice?”

“I don't doubt that you can,” said Danielle. “And neither does she. I just want to get this damn herd to Abilene, so I can get on with my life.”

“You mean to get on with your killing,” Tuck said.

“Well, just what the hell would
you
have done if your pa had been strung up without cause?”

“I deserved that,” said Tuck. “I'd do the same thing you're doing.”

Their second day on the trail was little better than the first. “We should reach Red River tomorrow,” Elmer Dumont said. “From there on, every night will be a danger. They can even set up an ambush and pick us off in broad daylight.”

“There's always the old Indian trick,” said Wallace Flagg. “Stampede the herd, and when we separate to gather them, get us one at a time.”

The third day on the trail, the cattle had begun to settle down. The drive reached the Red River, making camp on the Texas side.

“This could be our last peaceful night,” Cyrus Baldwin warned. “From here on, it could be Indians, outlaws, or both.”

The night was still, and Danielle lay in her blankets, unable to sleep. She kept hearing Katrina laugh, and had no doubt Tuck Carlyle was keeping her amused. On Danielle's mind was the sobering realization that unless that murdering pack of outlaws died somewhere in Indian Territory, she would have to ride away and leave Tuck to the wiles of Katrina. At midnight, when it was time to change watches, Danielle spoke to Tuck.

“Well, did you get the key?”

“Not tonight,” Tuck said cheerfully. “Maybe tomorrow night.”

“Damn it,” said Danielle, “like most men, you have only one thing on your mind.”

“Then I reckon you don't,” Tuck said. “Are you one of them fool
hombres
that prefers
other hombres
to women?”

“Tuck Carlyle, if we weren't on watch, I'd pistol-whip you for saying that.”

“Just watch your damn tongue,” said Tuck. “You're startin' to sound like a jealous female, and anytime you're of a mind to pistol-whip
me
, just keep in mind that I have a pistol too.”

It silenced Danielle. Already, Tuck was suspicious of her. It was difficult, playing the part of a man when she most yearned to be a woman, but her resolve to find her father's killers was just as strong as ever. She would have to keep her silence, whatever Tuck and Katrina did. Danielle didn't realize it, but Tuck and Katrina were actually talking about her.

“I'd like to know Dan Strange a little better,” Katrina said. “He keeps watching me, and he seems so nice.”

“I reckon I'm not,” said Tuck grimly.

“Sometimes you are,” Katrina said, “and other times you're not. You think I haven't heard all the talk about my cast-iron underpants?”

“I didn't start that,” said Tuck.

“I wouldn't expect you to admit it,” Katrina said angrily, “but you repeated it.”

“Hell, it's a reputation you created for yourself,” said Tuck. “Your look-at-me-but-don't-touch attitude scares hell out of men.”

“Everybody except you,” Katrina said.

“And I'm gettin' exactly nowhere,” said Tuck angrily. “Build yourself a reputation as a man-hater, and you won't need them cast-iron underpants.”

Katrina laughed. “I'll give the key to the right man. Just don't get your hopes up too high, Tuck Carlyle.”

 

 

The Red River crossing had been used many times before, and there was a shallows that allowed even the wagons to cross without difficulty. There was a trail of sorts, left by previous drives, and they followed it closely. Tuck was the point rider, and with the herd still behaving, he rode far ahead, seeking out a possible ambush. But all during their first day in Indian Territory, they saw nobody.

“From here on,” said Elmer Dumont, “all of you on watch mustn't let anybody through your guard. Our lives and the herd are depending on you. No talking and no smoking, and when it's your turn to sleep, keep your horses saddled and picketed.”

At the Wilks ranch, Kazman had just returned from Indian Territory. With him were four men, and he introduced them.

“These gents is Mitch Vesper, Elihu Dooling, Burt Keleing, and Chunk Peeler. I done told them what we got to do.”

“Nothin' ain't been said about the pay,” Dooling said. “This ain't one of them thirty-and-found jobs, is it?”

“Forty and found,” said Wilks.

“Fifty and found,” Dooling said. “If I got to shoot somebody, it'd better be worth my while.”

There was quick agreement from Vesper, Keleing, and Peeler.

“Fifty and found, then,” said Wilks, “but damn it, I want results.”

“We can leave now and be in Indian Territory by midnight,” Kazman said.

“I want you to get ahead of the herd and stampede them south,” said Wilks. “There'll be no moon tonight, so don't go after the riders. Scatter the herd, and the riders will have to split up, looking for them. That's when we pick them off one or two at a time.”

“Thirteen of us,” Chunk Peeler said. “That's an unlucky number.”

“Only if you don't do what you been hired to do,” said Wilks. “Now get the rest of the bunch out of the bunkhouse, Kazman, and ride.”

Within minutes, thirteen heavily armed men rode north toward Indian Territory.

 

Danielle noticed there was not much conversation between Tuck and Katrina, and she wasn't sure if it was by command or by choice. She was awake an hour before the second watch took to the saddle, and lay there listening. There was nothing to disturb the silence of the night except the occasional bawling of a cow.

An hour after the second watch had gone on duty, the raiders struck, riding in from the north. Bending low over the necks of their horses, they fired their pistols until it sounded like a small war in progress. The second watch fired at the elusive targets, their own shooting spooking the cattle all the more. The herd was on its feet in an instant, running south, seeking to escape these demons who swooped after them from the north. Tuck Carlyle and Wallace Flagg got ahead of the running longhorns, but they wouldn't be headed off, and the two cowboys had to ride for their lives to escape being trampled. The stampede thundered on, while those responsible for it fell back and vanished into the darkness. Slowly, the night watch made its way back to camp.

“Damn it,” said Enos Chadman, “we didn't get a one of 'em.”

“Well, at least they didn't get any of us, either,” Elmer Dumont said. “That tells me that when we split up to gather the scattered herd, they'll try to gun us down.”

“That bein' the case,” said Tuck, “maybe we'd better let the cows go for a couple of days and trail the varmints that stampeded 'em.”

“That's good thinking, up to a point,” Wallace Flagg said, “but there's two problems. There must have been a dozen or more of the varmints, and you can be sure they'll split up, making it necessary for us to divide our forces. That will make it easy enough for them to gun us down from ambush.”

“He's dead right,” Cyrus Baldwin said.

“Damn it, we have to do
something
,” said Tuck. “If we go after the cattle or rustlers, we're goin' to be split up. If it takes the whole outfit to pick up one cow at a time, we'll still be here
next
August.”

“I think they stampeded the herd south so it'll be easier rounding them up, once they have disposed of us,” Enos Chadman said. “When the herd begins to scatter, the riders will split up and get ahead of us, somewhere in Indian Territory.”

“Maybe,” said Wallace Flagg, “but I don't think so. Why scatter the herd all to hell and gone, unless they aim to scatter us for bushwhacking purposes during the gather?”

“Mr. Flagg's talking sense,” Tuck Carlyle said. “I think if we separate while gathering the herd, that we'll be picked off one at a time.”

“You think we should go after the rustlers, then,” said Walter Flagg. “So do I. After we've gathered the herd, what's to stop them from stampeding it all over again? I think where we find one of these varmints, we'll find them all.”

The argument raged back and forth until a decision was reached. Those from the first and second watches would trail the outlaws. The women—except for Katrina—would stay with the wagons. The tracks of shod horses were plain enough in the wake of the stampede, and as Flagg had predicted, once the herd had scattered, so had the riders.

“There's thirteen of us,” Flagg said. “Let's split up into two groups, with each group tracking one rider. Unless they all come together in a bunch, we'll nail at least two of them.”

Again Danielle was denied an opportunity to ride with Tuck, for he was on the first watch with Katrina. The sun was an hour high when they reached the point where the herd had begun to scatter. None of the tracks of shod horses continued south, but turned east or west.

“Damn it,” said Elmer Dumont, “they're expecting us. They'll be holed up somewhere in Indian Territory.”

“Give me one rider,” Tuck said, “and if it's an ambush, we'll spring it.”

“I'll go,” said Danielle.

“You got it,” Tuck said. “Ride a mile east of here, and then ride north. Look for the tracks of a rider who may have doubled back. I'll ride west and then north, doin' the same as you. As long as they're split up, they're at the same disadvantage we are.”

Danielle rode east for almost a mile before turning north. Her Henry was cocked and ready, and she carried it under her arm. For several miles, there was no sign. Suddenly, she saw the tracks of a shod horse coming from the southeast. The tracks were fresh. It had to be one of the renegades, bound for a rendezvous somewhere to the north.

To the west, Tuck Carlyle had made a similar discovery. His rifle ready, he cautiously followed the trail of the single horse. His first and only warning came almost too late. His horse suddenly nickered, and somewhere ahead, another answered. There was a blaze of gunfire, barely missing him, and Tuck rolled out of the saddle. There was no sound of hoofbeats, which meant his man was holed up within rifle range.

“Come on,” shouted Wallace Flagg. “Tuck's flushed somebody.”

To the west, Danielle had no warning. The first slug snatched the hat from her head, and the second whipped through the baggy front of her shirt, leaving her thankful she had an uncomfortable binder around her chest. She rolled out of the saddle as though she had been hit, taking her Henry with her. She lay still, counting on her adversary to show himself. When she heard footsteps, she resisted the temptation to turn her head. Whoever was coming to see if she was alive or dead must soon come within her view. He did, finally.

“Just a damn kid,” he said aloud.

“With a gun,” said Danielle. She drew her Colt from flat on her back and fired twice.

She waited a few minutes, Colt in her hand, until she decided the bushwhacker had been alone. She then knelt beside him and began going through his pockets. She found only a bill of sale for a horse and an envelope addressed to Mitch Vesper. There was nothing in the envelope. On the back of it had been scribbled meaningless numbers. She then mounted the chestnut mare and rode back to meet her comrades. They had joined Tuck and were all looking at the bushwhacker he had shot.

“Did you find a name on him?” Danielle asked.

“Elihu Dooling,” said Tuck. “Is he one of the bunch you're after?”

“No,” Danielle said, “and neither is the one I shot. Either I'm barking up the wrong tree, or this bunch has added some new faces.”

“They had more than eight men last night,” said Tuck. “That means they've added to their gang.”

“Daniel and Tuck,” Elmer Dumont said, “that was a good piece of work. The rest of the varmints will have to come together sooner or later. I say we run 'em down, one at a time if we have to.”

“It could become a Mexican standoff,” said Cyrus Baldwin. “If they're after the herd, they can't round 'em up while they're dodgin' lead. Neither can we.”