Ralph Compton Death Rides a Chestnut Mare (6 page)

“I'm Tuck Carlyle,” the young man said, leaning the Winchester against a shrub. “This is our spread, for what it's worth. I live here with my sister, Carrie, and Audrey, my ma. Pa went off to war and never come back. The damn outlaws from Indian Territory have been rustlin' us blind. They hit us again night before last and already had the jump on me before I found out what they'd done.”

“If it's the same bunch I'm after,” said Danielle, “there's eight of them. That's a hell of an outfit for just you to be trailing them.”

Tuck laughed. “Then there's at least one more gent that's as big a fool as I am, and that's
you
. You're trailing them, too.”

“There wasn't anyone else,” Danielle said. “My two brothers are barely fourteen.”

“You don't look much older than that yourself,” said Tuck.

“I'm just barely eighteen,” Danielle said, “but I can ride, rope, and shoot.”

“I believe you,” said Tuck. “Have you caught up to any of the killers yet?”

“Two of them,” Danielle said, “and I know the names of the others. Or at least the names they're using.”

Tuck Carlyle whistled long and low. Westerners did not ask or answer foolish questions, and this young rider being alive was proof enough that two outlaws were dead.

“Trailing the varmints after last night's rain is a waste of time,” Tuck said. “Why don't you ride on back to the house with me? You can meet Ma and my sister, Carrie, and have some breakfast.”

“You talked me into it,” said Danielle. “All I've had is a little jerked beef.”

“Let's ride then,” Tuck said. “God, could I use a cup of hot coffee, but we haven't had any since before the war.”

“The war's been over for five years,” said Danielle.

“No money,” Tuck said gloomily. “Texans don't have a damn thing to sell except cows, and us little ranchers can't get 'em to market. We'd have to drive to Abilene, right across Indian Territory. Them damn outlaws would love having them delivered, instead of having to come and get 'em.”

“Are other small ranchers having the same problem getting their cows to market?”

“All I know of,” said Tuck. “Nobody has money for an outfit, and they can't afford the riders they'd need for a gather.”

“If maybe half a dozen small ranchers went in together,” Danielle said, “you might have enough riders to gather everybody's cows, one ranch at a time. With the gather done, you could take a rider or two from every ranch and drive the herd to Abilene.”

“By God, that might work,” said Tuck. “I can think of four others that's as desperate as we are.”

“How big is your spread?” Danielle asked.

“A full section,” said Tuck. “It's 640 acres.”

“Hell's bells,” Danielle said, “if that's a small ranch, how large is a
big
one?”

Tuck laughed. “When I call us a small outfit, I mean we don't have that much stock.”

“You could sell some of the land if you had to,” said Danielle.

“We may have it taken from us,” Tuck said, “but we'll never sell. This section of land has been in our family for four generations. It has an everlasting spring, with the best water for fifty miles around. The only potential buyer is Upton Wilks. He owns sections to the east and west of ours, and he's sittin' back like a damned old buzzard, just waitin' for us to default on our taxes.”

“If it's not improper for me to ask,” Danielle said, “how
are
you paying your taxes?”

“My aunt in St. Louis—Ma's sister—married well,” said Tuck. “She's kept our taxes paid, God bless her, so we wouldn't lose the place. Now this damned Upton Wilks is tired of waiting. He's trying to force my sister, Carrie, to marry him, and that would just about amount to
giving
him our spread.”

“How does Carrie feel about him?”

“She hates his guts,” Tuck said. “He's old enough to be her daddy, drinks like a fish, and goes to a whorehouse in Dallas every Saturday night. That's his good points.”

Danielle laughed, in spite of herself.

“I'd give the place up before I'd have her marry that sorry old bastard,” said Tuck.

“I don't blame you,” Danielle said. “A girl shouldn't have to make a sacrifice like that. There must be some other way. Since we're both after the same gang, maybe I'll stick around for a few days, if I won't be in the way.”

“You won't be,” said Tuck. “We don't have a bunkhouse, but we have a big log ranch house. There's plenty of room.”

“I'll contribute something toward my keep,” Danielle said. “I don't have a lot of money, but I do have a five-pound sack of coffee beans.”

“Merciful God,” said Tuck, “if you was a girl, I'd marry you for that.”

Danielle laughed, feeling more at ease with him all the time. She was truly amazed that she had adapted so well to the ways of men. They were generally crude, and without even a shred of modesty among their own kind. She no longer blushed at anything said or done in her presence. She had already acquired enough swear words to hold her own with the best of them. Prior to leaving home, she hadn't been around men except for her father and brothers. She recalled the time when she had been fifteen and her brothers Jed and Tim were thirteen. She had followed them to the creek that July, watched them strip and splash around. But to her horror, the boys discovered her. When they told her mother, Margaret Strange caught the tail of Danielle's skirt, lifted it waist-high, and spanked her bare bottom. Jed and Tim had never let her forget it. She now felt old and wise in the ways of men, her childhood gone forever.

The Carlyle ranch house, when they reached it, was truly grand, the product of a bygone era. A huge wraparound porch covered the front and each side of the house. Danielle had a sudden attack of homesick ness. Tuck's mother stood on the porch, watching them ride up, reminding the girl of her own mother.

“I brought some company, Ma,” said Tuck. “This is Daniel Strange. He's hunting that same bunch of outlaws that's stealing our cattle.”

“Welcome, Daniel,” Mrs. Carlyle said. “Get down and come in.”

A young girl—obviously Tuck's sister, Carrie—stepped out on the porch. She looked at Danielle with obvious interest, making Danielle nervous.

“Daniel,” said Tuck, “this is my sister, Carrie. We're trying to marry her off to somebody so Upton Wilks will leave her alone.”

The implication was obvious, and Carrie hung her head, blushing furiously.

“Tuck,” said Mrs. Carlyle, “don't tease your sister about that. You and Daniel come on into the house, and I'll scare up some breakfast. We have bacon, ham, and eggs, but we've been out of coffee for years.”

“Flour too,” Carrie added.

“I have some supplies, including flour and coffee,” said Danielle. “It's risky, building a fire to cook, when you're tracking outlaws in the Territory.”

“We surely will appreciate the coffee and flour,” said Mrs. Carlyle, “and you're welcome to stay with us as long as you like, sharing what we have.”

“Lord,” Danielle said, “I haven't had an egg since I left St. Joe, Missouri.”

“Your home is there?” Mrs. Carlyle asked.

“Yes,” said Danielle. “My mother and two brothers are there.”

“You're so young, your mother must be worried sick,” Mrs. Carlyle said. “What have those outlaws done to bring you this far from home?”

“They robbed and murdered my pa in Indian Territory,” said Danielle. “Jed and Tim, my twin brothers, are only fourteen.”

“You don't look much older than that, yourself,” Mrs. Carlyle said.

“I'm a little past seventeen,” said Danielle, “and there was nobody else to track down Pa's killers.”

“He's already killed two of them and learned the names of the others,” Tuck said.

Danielle spread out the provisions from her saddlebags on the big kitchen table. Every eye was on the five-pound bag of coffee beans, and Danielle was glad she had bought them.

“Ma,” said Carrie, “I'll make us some coffee. The rest can wait.”

“It sure can,” Tuck said. “Do we even have a coffeepot anymore?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Carlyle, “but I have no idea where it is.”

“You can search for it later,” Tuck said. “For now, boil it in an open pot, and we'll add some cold water to settle the grounds.”

“I'll go ahead and start breakfast,” said Mrs. Carlyle. “Carrie and I have already eaten, but I'd dearly love to have a biscuit.”

“Ma,” Tuck said, “I've told Daniel our problems here, and he's come up with a way we can get our cows to market at Abilene. Tell her what you told me, Daniel.”

“Dear God, yes,” said Mrs. Carlyle.

Quickly, Danielle repeated what she had suggested to Tuck as they had ridden in.

“But we have no money for an outfit,” Carrie said.

“I have some money,” said Danielle. “It would buy enough grub to get you there with your herds.”

“But you'll need what you have as you search for those killers,” Mrs. Carlyle said. “It wouldn't be fair to you.”

“I believe it would be more than fair,” Danielle said. “I think that bunch of outlaws in Indian Territory will come after the herd. So you see, I have a selfish reason for wanting you to make that drive to Abilene. I'll be going with you.”

“God bless you for making the offer,” Mrs. Carlyle said. “Tuck, what do you think?”

“I think we'd better talk to Elmer Dumont, Cyrus Baldwin, Enos Chadman, and Wallace Flagg,” said Tuck. “It'll take all of us, I think, and since Daniel has offered to stake us with the necessary grub, the first hundred head of cattle we gather should be his.”

“No,” Danielle said. “You'll need your money. Besides, your herd will be bait enough to attract that bunch of outlaws I'm trailing.”

“No matter,” said Mrs. Carlyle. “You've brought us hope, and there will be five of us small ranchers. Any one of us can spare you twenty head. Tuck, when you talk to the others, be sure you tell them Daniel has a stake in this drive.”

“But I feel guilty, taking some of your stock,” Danielle protested.

“Without your help, we couldn't raise enough money for the drive, and neither could the others,” said Tuck. “I'll want you to go with me and talk to the others. This sounds like the makings of a miracle, and I'm not sure they'll take me serious.”

“Then I'll go with you,” Danielle said. “We must have a couple of pack mules, and each rider will need spare horses. We must see how many can be had.”

“Damn the luck,” said Carrie, “we won't have enough horses, and I don't know of anybody with mules.”

“We'll find them,” Danielle replied. “First, let's see if we can line up those other ranchers for the drive.”

“I'd like to go,” said Carrie, “but there won't be enough horses.”

“Somebody must have a wagon,” Danielle said. “We could fix it up with seats for some of you, and still have room for our grub.”

“That's a better idea than pack mules,” said Tuck. “I doubt the others will be willing to leave their families behind.”

“Besides the three of you,” Danielle said, “how many other people will be involved?”

“Elmer Dumont has a wife and a son about my age,” said Tuck. “Cyrus Baldwin has a wife and two sons old enough to work cattle. Enos Chadman has a wife, a daughter, and a son. Wallace Flagg has a wife and two sons.”

“Including me, there'll be nineteen of us,” Danielle said. “For those who don't have a horse, the wagon will have to do.”

“Every girl my age can tend cattle,” said Carrie. “The wives can go in the wagon.”

“We'll suggest that,” Tuck added. “With us so close to Indian Territory, a man would object to leaving his wife and daughters behind. We'll need plenty of ammunition, too.”

“I thought Texans weren't allowed to have guns during Reconstruction,” said Danielle.

“Only those who served in the war against the Union,” Tuck said. “I have a Colt and a Henry rifle. I'm sure the others will be armed, but they may lack ammunition.”

“I have three hundred dollars to buy what we'll need,” said Danielle.

“That should be more than enough,” Tuck said, “but we may have to go to Dallas for the ammunition.”

“Then take a wagon and go to Dallas after everything,” said Mrs. Carlyle. “None of us are that well known in Dallas, while going to a smaller town would be like telling everybody what we intend to do.”

“Everybody will know anyway, Ma,” Tuck explained. “You can't keep a roundup secret, but we can try. We'll buy supplies in Dallas, and the way I see it, we have four weeks to get the herd together. It's already the first week in August. If we can't get away from here by September first, there'll be snow before we can reach Abilene.”

“Then let's pay a visit to those other four ranchers today,” Danielle said. “If each of the five of you can get cattle to market this fall, you'll have the money for a much bigger drive next spring.”

“Bless you, son,” Mrs. Carlyle beamed. “It will be our salvation.”

“There's a rider coming,” Carrie announced. “Oh, God, it's Upton Wilks. Please, Tuck, don't you or Daniel leave while he's here.”

“We'll wait awhile then,” said Tuck. “He
would
show up now.”