This last back-breaking task was one that Dan Tyler seemed to glory in; and Wolf—whose sympathies would always lie with the cattlemen, not the nesters—found himself shaking his head in wonder at the capacity for hard work exhibited by Dan Tyler; the man seemed to have an infinite willingness to expend huge quantities of sweat. And with his daughter back under his roof, his energy and his enthusiasm seemed inexhaustible.
The other settlers along the river began arriving even before daybreak, which made it somewhat awkward for Wolf. Since he was still a wanted man in the area, he had to keep back in the dugout and stay well out of sight. But as soon as the work began in earnest, Wolf was able to move to one of the windows of the dugout and watch the men sending the logs up the skids, some pushing from below, others hauling on a rope from atop the slowly rising wall. It was fascinating how swiftly and expertly they cut the logs to fit around the windows and the doorway, and kept going.
Others worked on the barn and on the corral and still others were busy making rough hewn tables and chairs and other furniture from the split logs Ben had prepared. The cabin’s floor, meanwhile, was being put down by someone—a tall, bewhiskered fellow with a high-pitched voice—who seemed to take that as his specialty; and as Wolf saw from his vantage point how the man fitted the split logs together and smoothed them with an adze, the chips flying like a miniature snow storm, he could only shake his head in admiration.
Just before dinner, with two sides of the cabin already up, two riders approached, greeted a few of the settlers and dismounted. They had come to help also, it seemed, though it was soon obvious that they were cattlemen, not sodbusters, and had few useful talents for this particular undertaking. But that was not what caught Wolf’s attention.
Though the riders were a man and a woman, both were dressed almost alike, and the skill with which the woman rode made it almost impossible to tell her from a man. She rode like a man and carried herself like a man. Recalling Tinsdale’s description of Laura Placer and Charlie Hanks, Wolf knew he had found them. As he had guessed, Tinsdale had been lying when he maintained the two of them had gone south, back to Texas.
This was where they had all come then, to bury the stench of their past.
Wolf watched them closely for the rest of the day. The woman he was sure was Laura Placer—she was a slight figure of a woman, considerably shorter than Hanks—found work with the settler’s wives, preparing sandwiches and doing what she could to help stoke the ravenous appetites of the furiously working men, all of whom, Wolf noticed, treated her with elaborate respect. Wolf wondered if this was because of her frail stature—or the gleaming six-gun strapped to her waist.
That night one of the men who had been toiling over the furniture produced a fiddle, and before long the entire company was square dancing in the light of lanterns hung from ropes stretched between trees. The cabin and the barn were finished; they looked raw but sturdy in the lantern light; and again Wolf was astonished at the energy of the men and the women. They had been working like draft animals all day and now seemed ready to dance all night.
But at last they began to call to their children and climb into their wagons and flatbeds and start off through the night to their homesteads. Anxious to be free of his confinement, Wolf left the dugout and, keeping to the shadows, moved closer to the few remaining families still clustered around Dan, Bobby, and Mary.
Then Wolf saw that Dan was talking to the man he was certain was Charlie Hanks, Laura Placer at his elbow. When the two of them mounted up and rode off, Dan turned to the two remaining families, one of which Wolf knew to be Dan’s brother-in-law, the one who had helped Dan settle here—and whose friend had first caught sight of Mary in Landusky.
At last they too left, and as the sound of their wagons faded south along the river, Wolf stepped from the shadows.
Dan turned to face him, a weary but happy smile creasing his face. “Hungry, Wolf? You must be famished—holed up all day in there.”
“No, Dan. Mary took care of me just fine.” He glanced at her. “That last piece of rhubarb pie you sent Bobby in with really hit the spot.”
“I made it myself,” Mary said, her smile suddenly shy.
Bobby piped up. “Wolf was watching the whole thing from the window.”
“I found it mighty interesting,” Wolf admitted. Then he looked sharply at Dan. “Soon’s you get Bobby to bed, I’d like a word with you, Dan.”
Bobby started to protest, but Mary scooted him ahead of her toward the dugout. As they disappeared inside, Dan turned to Wolf.
“What is it, Wolf?”
“That conversation you were having at the end there—with your brother-in-law and those two riders. It wouldn’t have been about Weed Leeper, would it?”
“As a matter of fact, Wolf, it was.”
“How’d it come about, Dan?”
Dan sighed. “Mary knew both riders,” he said. “Met them when she worked at The Miner’s Palace in Landusky.”
“Then Mary’s told you.”
Dan nodded. “Everything, Wolf. She figured she had to. She’s afraid Weed will come after her—if he’s still alive. She wanted to warn me.”
Wolf nodded. He was glad that Mary had had the courage to tell her father—and that the man had taken it with as much understanding as he obviously had.
“Just one more thing, Dan. Do you—or Mary—have any idea who those two riders were?”
“The Smiths,” Dan said with a slight smile. “But whoever they are, they just bought the Double D ranch in the foothills, where the river curls north. It’s quite a spread, I understand.”
“I think they are Charlie Hanks and Laura Placer, Dan—members of the Dawson Bunch—and longstanding friends of Weed Leeper. I think there’s a damn good chance that Weed Leeper might have searched them out—after he lit out from that valley of his.”
Dan swore softly and looked with quick alarm at the dugout, from which Mary was only now emerging, having tucked Bobby away for the night. “Then ... my God! We told Weed where Mary was!”
“Exactly what did you tell them?”
“I told them Weed Leeper was a madman. That he held Mary a prisoner in that valley of his. And I asked them all to keep an eye out for him—and I made it pretty damn clear that if I ever laid eyes on him, I’d kill him.”
“Strong words, Dan.”
“I mean it, Wolf.”
“If he’s with them, he’ll get the message—and be on his way back here for Mary as soon as he can ride. If, that is, his wounds did not kill him.”
“Kill who?” Mary asked, striding out of the darkness toward them.
“Weed Leeper,” Dan said grimly. “Wolf thinks he might be staying with the Smiths.” he glanced quickly at Wolf. “What did you say their names were?”
“Charlie Hanks and Laura Placer.”
“Weed Leeper’s with them!” Mary cried.
“It’s just a guess on my part,” Wolf told her. “My hope is that Weed’s dead somewhere, that I might have killed him in that exchange. And even if he’s alive, there’s no certainty he went to those two—or that he’s still with them if he did.”
“But there’s a good chance he is,” Mary said, her voice betraying the fear she felt.
“Yes,” Wolf admitted, “there’s a chance.”
“What are we going to do?” Mary asked in a hushed voice, her arms hugging herself—as if a sudden chill had fallen over her.
Without answering her directly, Wolf looked at Dan. “I’m riding out tonight, Dan. If you’ll help me saddle up and if Mary could fix me some supplies, I’d appreciate it.”
“You’re going after them?” Dan asked.
“As soon as I can.”
“You don’t have to do that, Wolf. You’ve done enough for us already.”
“This was my business before it was Mary’s, Dan,” Wolf replied. “And I don’t think we should talk on it much longer. Charlie Hanks and Laura Placer are already well ahead of me.”
“But you’re st
ill pretty weak,” Mary protested. “How can you ride?”
“I’m well enough to ride, Mary.”
Dan started past Wolf toward the pasture. “I’ll get your horse,” he said.
Mary started to say something to Wolf, but evidently thought better of it. She turned quickly and hurried toward the dugout to pack Wolf’s supplies.
It was well past midnight when Charlie Hanks pulled in the reins of his bay and came to a halt on the ridge overlooking the Double D. As Laura halted her horse beside him, he stared with grim eyes down at the ranch house below and the lights still glowing within. Weed Leeper was inside, burning kerosene and waiting for their return. He was probably cleaning his six-gun at the moment. It was something he did constantly.
“What is it, Charlie?” Laura asked.
He looked at her and poked his hat back with a single thumb. “I been thinking. All during the ride back I’ve been doing some hard thinking.”
“About Weed.”
“That’s right. About Weed. And those nesters back there.”
“You mean the Tylers—and that woman of Weed’s.”
“That’s it, Laura. Mary Tyler.”
She was what Weed Leeper wanted. He’d told them about it often enough—how she’d struck him from behind, spoiling his aim and letting that one-eyed fellow get the drop on him. Weed wanted her back—to punish her and then to take her back with him to his valley, wherever the hell that was. It was all he talked about—when he talked, that is. And now, by a lucky stroke him and Laura had found her.
Hanks looked into Laura’s face, pale in the starlight, and knew she understood what he wanted to do.
“I don’t like it, Charlie,” she said.
“You think I like the idea? But hell, Laura—we come away from here to figure a way to rid ourselves of Weed Leeper, didn’t we? Can you think of a better way? Besides, didn’t that Tyler fellow issue a kind of challenge. He said he’d kill Weed if he ever laid eyes on him. Hell, Laura, maybe he will.”
Laura snorted. “Weed’ll eat him alive. You know that, Charlie.”
“Either way, it’ll rid us of Weed Leeper. If Tyler kills him, we’re out of it; if Weed takes the woman back, he’ll high-tail it back to his roost.”
“You’re forgetting something, Charlie.”
“I know. That one-eyed bastard. He wasn’t at the Tyler place, not that I could see.”
“That don’t prove nothing. He’s around, Charlie. I can feel it.”
“Sure, he’s around. Looking for Weed Leeper. And that’s another damn good reason for sending him after Mary Tyler. If that guy’s after Weed, we don’t want Weed with us.”
She sighed and shook her head resignedly. “It’s such a hell of a thing to do,” she said. “Sending that man after the Tylers. Makes me feel ... dirty.”
“Okay, then,” Charlie said, clapping his spurs to the wet flanks of his horse, and starting down the trail toward the ranch house. “We won’t say a thing to Weed Leeper about Mary Tyler. After all, a house guest like Weed Leeper’s a real joy to have around.”
He heard Laura’s horse picking its way down the trail behind him and then her voice, sharp, decisive. “Do it, Charlie. Tell the sonofabitch. And then we’ll both pray that Tyler will take him.”
He turned in his saddle and smiled bleakly through the darkness at Laura. “That’s right,” he said. “We’ll both pray.”
Weed was sitting in a chair by the kerosene lamp, an oily cloth in his hand, the gleaming six-gun beside him on the table. Charlie had been right: Weed Leeper had been sitting here cleaning his six-gun while he waited for them to return. As the two of them stomped in, Weed’s eyes regarded them warily.
“Been gone some time,” he remarked.
“Hell, Weed, we put up a cabin and a barn, complete with a corral. We’re turning into real fine neighbors.”
“For a pack of nesters. How come you so anxious to help out some poor trash shit-kickers?”
“It wouldn’t have looked right if we hadn’t gone,” said Laura. “You know that, Weed.”
“Shit!”
Weed plucked his six-gun off the table and hefted it, his eyes on the both of them. He suspected them—of what, Charlie could only guess. If there had been any doubt in his mind what to do, this greeting by their house guest had taken care of that.
He cleared his throat. “I got some news for you, Weed,” he said.
“News?” Weed was immediately wary. He glanced quickly at Laura, as if he thought it was some kind of a trap, and she was behind it. She looked away from Weed and Charlie could read the sheer terror in her face.
“That’s right. News. Don’t you want to hear what it is?”
“Sure.”
“We found Mary—that woman of yours.”
Weed was on his feet in an instant. “You found her—where?”
“Her name is Mary Tyler, Weed,” Laura said. “She’s the daughter of the nester we went to help today. She said you held her prisoner.”
“I paid for her, by God! She’s a liar!” His eyes narrowed warily. “You say she was with her father? Where was Caulder?”
“We didn’t see him nowhere, Weed,” said Charlie. “They didn’t mention him.”
“She couldn’t have got out of that place without him. That means I didn’t kill him.” His eyes narrowed and his jagged yellow teeth were bared in what passed for a smile. “He’ll be after you two, you know. It ain’t just me he’s after.”
“We’ll be ready for him, Weed.”
“Sure you will.”
His smile vanished and the wild eyes grew thoughtful. “Well, the next time he comes after me, I’ll be in my roost, waiting for him. But I’m not going to wait for him there alone.” He reached for his gunbelt hanging on the back of the chair and buckled it around his waist. “I’m going out to saddle up,” he told them. “I’ll need provisions.” He glanced at Laura.
She nodded quickly.
Then Weed looked around the room. His eyes fell on Charlie’s sombrero and the poncho hanging on a wooden peg beside it. “I’ll want that sombrero and the poncho, Charlie. I can’t ride without a hat, and I didn’t take my coat when I left my place. I was in too much of a hurry.”
Charlie tried not to hide his eagerness as he said, “You’re welcome to it, Weed. Go ahead and take them both.”
Weed grinned. He was enjoying himself immensely. “You sure as hell are glad to get rid of ol’ Weed, aintcha? Well, let me tell you. I want clear directions to this Tyler place, and if my woman ain’t there, I’ll be back. And you’ll wish I was Caulder when I get through.”
Then he limped from the room and disappeared into the darkness toward the stable. Weed wasn’t even going to wait until daybreak, but Charlie didn’t mind—not one bit.
He looked across the room at Laura. She looked back at him.
“Thank God,” she whispered.
Ten
The high, thin k-see! of a blackbird awakened Wolf. He opened his eyes and found himself looking up through the branches of the enormous pine tree under which he had camped. When he saw the pale light in the eastern sky, he cursed softly and sat up, shucking off the poncho. It was sopping wet from the pre-dawn dew. He stood up, shook it out, then rolled it hastily and packed it into his saddle roll.
He had not intended to sleep this late. He still had a considerable distance to ride through wooded foothills before he reached the Double D spread. But he had been almost completely exhausted by the time he had reached this far; so he had concluded it would be a good idea to make camp until daybreak. But it was well past daybreak now and, unhappy with himself, he decided against taking the time to build a fire and make breakfast.
He was lugging his saddle over to his black when he heard the click of a horse’s hoof against stone.
The sound had come from far below him. Someone was riding along the trail at the foot of the hill.
Wolf put the saddle down quickly and hurried to the edge of the ridge upon which he had camped. Fr
om far below came the sound of a bit jingling and the steady clop of a horse’s hooves. But Wolf could see nothing, since that portion of the trail directly below his campsite was well-screened by thick stands of mountain ash.
And then the rider emerged from cover.
It was a Mex. The sombrero he wore was a large, exuberant one and his poncho most colorful. What a Mexican would be doing this far north, Wolf had no idea; but he was going toward the river, in the opposite direction Wolf was taking. Wolf watched him until he disappeared into a stand of pine, then went back to his horse to saddle up.
The sun was peeking over a high pine ridge to his right when Wolf finally crested a hill two hours later and found himself looking down at the ranch buildings of the Double D. He had found few cattle so far on the ranch’s rangeland and was not surprised. Ranching was work; Charlie Hanks and Laura Placer were ranchers in name only—and as soon as their money ran out, they’d return to their old ways of earning a livelihood.
The buildings were tucked along the bank of the Indian River, which reappeared in a great loop as it finished its coil around the foothills and proceeded north again toward the range. At the back of the ranch the Indian River Range reared up massively and on both sides of the compound smaller foothills, heavily wooded, looked down upon the ranch.
Wolf touched his spurs to the black’s flanks and followed the spine of the ridge further west, having decided to approach the ranch buildings from the northernmost foothill.
An hour later Wolf was sitting his horse in a thick stand of pine on the crest of the foothill. He had been watching the compound for close to half an hour, hoping for some sign of Weed Leeper. But all he had seen was Laura Placer and Charlie Hanks and there was something about the ease and freedom with which they moved in and out of the ranch house that seemed to indicate to Wolf that they were alone.
Now, as he peered through the branches, he saw Laura Placer mount up and ride out of the compound, heading toward the river, along which a small herd of cattle were grazing. A moment before, Charlie Hanks had been talking to her; now he was in the small blacksmith shop alongside the stable. As the sound of Laura’s horse faded, Wolf could hear the steady clangor of Charlie’s hammer as he pounded a shoe. Puffs of white smoke erupted from the blacksmith shop’s stovepipe chimney.
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