by Tell Cotten
“That’s all it takes?” Sergeant Wagons was surprised.
“Yep,” I replied, and I gestured at the crates. “I want all of these rifles disabled tonight.”
Sergeant Wagons nodded and got busy.
Josie finished setting up camp, and then she walked up with my needle and thread. She held them out to me, and my hand shook as I reached for them.
“You are in bad shape,” Josie observed.
“I’ve been better,” I admitted, and then I sighed. “Can you sew?”
“Indian way?”
“I don’t care what way.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I can.”
“Good,” I said. “Stitch this up then.”
Josie grabbed a stick, knelt beside me, and offered it to me.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
“Bite down,” she instructed, “so you don’t scream this time.”
I scowled and took the stick.
“Ready?” She asked.
“No, but go ahead.”
Seconds later I was being stabbed with a sharp needle, and I bit down hard on the stick.
Chapter forty-two
The sun was setting as Yancy and Rondo rode up to the cabin.
“There’s a horse in the corral,” Yancy pointed.
“Yeah, but the cabin looks empty,” Rondo added.
They dismounted, and Rondo frowned as he studied the ground.
“There’s been a lot of activity here today,” he announced.
“I can tell,” Yancy agreed as he looked down.
“Riders coming and going from all directions,” Rondo said as he walked in a small circle.
He stopped by the lean-to and squatted on his heels.
“What is it?” Yancy asked.
“Mule tracks.”
“Cooper had a mule named Jug-head,” Yancy said, and there was hope in his voice.
Rondo nodded and stood.
“Before it gets dark, I’m going to look around some,” he said.
“I’ll take care of the horses and cook up some supper,” Yancy offered.
Rondo nodded and took off.
Chapter forty-three
I felt like I had just been beaten with a cedar post.
I lay on my side, trying to recover from the torture I had just gone through. Sergeant Wagons was busy disabling rifles, and Josie was cooking supper.
My hip was now stitched, and the bleeding had stopped. However, I was in considerable pain, and even breathing hurt.
Painful as it was, I tried to ignore it as I assessed our situation.
“Soon as we eat, we need to put that fire out,” I told Josie.
Josie understood, but Sergeant Wagons shot me a curious look.
“What for?”
“It’ll be harder to find us in the dark,” I explained.
“Oh,” he nodded.
“Those rifles disabled yet?”
“Almost.”
“Soon as you’ve finished, put those rifles back in the crates,” I said. “They need to look untouched.”
“That’s a lot of work,” Sergeant Wagons objected.
“It is,” I agreed. “And that ain’t all. I also want you to pile up some wood, out in front of us in the opening. Stack those crates on top of it.”
“You’re going to burn the rifles?”
“Only if we have to,” I replied.
Sergeant Wagons didn’t understand my reasoning, and he mumbled to himself as he returned to his work.
I looked at Josie.
Our eyes met, and I smiled. She returned the smile, and then I turned and kept watch.
Chapter forty-four
Rondo scouted around until it got too dark to see, and then he walked back to the cabin.
Yancy was standing by the door, and his hands were stuck in his vest’s pockets. He looked to be deep in thought.
“I found where the mule went,” Rondo told him. “There’s a hill to the south, and from there a mule and a horse leave going west. I’m hoping its Cooper and Josie.”
Yancy nodded but didn’t reply.
“What’s the matter?” Rondo frowned as he studied him.
Yancy gestured inside.
“There’s a dead man in there,” he announced. “He’s got two holes in him.”
“Bullet holes?”
“They ain’t termites.”
“Who is he?”
“Never saw him before.”
They went inside. There, in the corner, was a young man laid out on the ground.
“I don’t recognize him either,” Rondo said as he studied him. “What do you suppose happened?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
It fell silent as they thought on it, and Rondo cleared his throat.
“There’s one thing I do know,” he announced.
“What’s that?”
“I ain’t sleeping in here with him.”
“Me neither,” Yancy agreed.
There was a shovel in the corner, and Rondo grabbed it.
“There’s a fresh grave out there,” Rondo recalled. “Think I’ll go dig another grave beside it.”
“I’ll help,” Yancy offered, and they went outside.
Chapter forty-five
Choc rode until he couldn’t see Cooper’s tracks anymore, and he pulled up and made camp.
By the time Wade, Floyd, and Jeremiah rode up, Choc had built a fire and had the coffee on.
They tended to their horses, and then everybody huddled around the fire and filled their cups.
“We’re a long ways from the cabin,” Wade said, pleased. “How far ahead is Cooper?”
“Not far, Pa,” Choc replied. “Tracks are as fresh as you can get.”
Wade grunted his approval.
“Soon as we finish our coffee, we’ll look around and see if we can spot his campfire,” he said.
“Cooper Landon isn’t dumb,” Jeremiah spoke up. “He knows we’re after him.”
Wade shot him a dark look and said, “You sure know a lot about the Landons.”
“I do.”
“Just remember whose side you’re on when the shooting starts,” Wade said sternly.
Jeremiah took a swig of coffee, and then he looked at Wade. It was silent for several seconds, and Jeremiah nodded.
“I’ll remember.”
“Good,” Wade said.
Chapter forty-six
They gathered more furs, and then they waited. But, the white men never came back.
No Worries sat in front of his lodge with his arms crossed. A scowl was on his face as he watched the sun disappear behind the mountains.
No Worries hated liars, and he also hated white men. Wade and his men were now both.
He needed rifles to fight his war against the whites. However, these men had already dishonored him by being late, and now they dishonored him again by not showing up. It was too much.
No Worries stood.
All of the young braves in camp had been watching him impatiently, and they gathered around him.
“White man lie,” he told them in Apache. “We leave at first light.”
An excited murmur rose from the crowd, and each brave went to his lodge to prepare for war.
No Worries’ eyes glowed with triumph as he watched his men, and then he turned and went inside his lodge.
Chapter forty-seven
Stew rode until almost dark.
By then he was deep in the woods, and he pulled up and scouted for a good spot to camp.
He hadn’t traveled as far as he had wanted, and he was slightly irritated at that. The mule had refused to be led, and that slowed their pace.
He finally decided to camp on a high ridge with a little cove.
It was a good spot.
Stew could see the country for a long ways in all directions. There were also thick trees all around to help hide smoke from a campfire.
He unsaddled his horse and unpacked the mule, and then he built a fire and c
ooked up some supper.
Stew turned in after he ate, and he slept hard. The past few weeks had been stressful, and this was his first chance to relax.
Daylight woke him the next morning.
He glanced at the sun, and he was surprised to discover that it had been daylight for over an hour.
Stew was in a lazy mood as he stirred the coals and got some coffee on. He rolled up his bedroll and warmed himself by the fire while he waited for the coffee to boil.
He was reaching for his cup when he heard a noise.
He looked below and spotted two riders. They were close, and they were trotting up the ridge.
Stew was startled, and he dropped his coffee cup and grabbed his rifle.
He brought the rifle to his shoulder, took aim, and fired.
Chapter forty-eight
Lee rode with his head down, studying the ground. Brian rode beside him, searching the landscape for anything suspicious.
They had made camp a few miles west of the cabin. It had been a dark camp again, and they’d now gone three days without coffee.
“Been thinking,” Lee said as they rode along.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Brian replied.
“I think we’re on the wrong trail,” Lee announced as he ignored Brian’s comment.
“What makes you think that?”
“Why would Stew follow somebody? He wants to be alone so he can get the money and be gone.”
“But we trailed him to the cabin,” Brian argued. “And, according to your tracking expertise, these are the only tracks leaving the cabin.”
“I could have missed something,” Lee admitted.
“So what do you suggest?”
“You remember what Stew said. The money is near the cabin,” Lee said. “I think we should go back there. Sooner or later, he’ll show up.”
“He might have already picked up the money,” Brian pointed out.
Lee hadn’t thought of that, and he looked displeased.
Suddenly, to the south, a rifle shot bellowed out. Lee and Brian were startled, and three more shots echoed in the distance.
“What was that?” Brian asked as they pulled up.
“I’m not sure,” Lee said.
“How far do you reckon?” Brian asked.
“Can’t be too far.”
“Do you think it’s Stew?”
“At this point, I have no idea.”
“Should we find out?”
“Why not,” Lee said.
Brian nodded, and they kicked up their horses and headed south.
Chapter forty-nine
Yancy and Rondo were up early.
They ate some beef jerky and drank some coffee, and as the sun was coming up they saddled their horses and took out.
Rondo rode with his eyes on the ground. Yancy followed, watching the landscape.
Neither one said much. They didn’t hurry, but they didn’t stop either.
An hour passed, and the ground got rougher and the trees got thicker. There was a high ridge with a little cove in front of them, and the tracks led up it.
They were halfway up the ridge when a rifle shot bellowed out. There was a loud thump as a bullet hit flesh, and Yancy’s horse stumbled.
Yancy managed to throw himself out of the saddle as the horse fell, and he landed in a heap beside him.
Rondo dove off his horse.
While in midair he grabbed his Colt, and as he hit the ground he fired up the hill. His shots were close, and he heard a surprised yell.
The sudden movements spooked Rondo’s horse, and he snorted and blew backwards. But then Yancy jumped up and grabbed the reins, and he led him behind some trees.
He tied him to a branch and squatted behind a tree, and Rondo hunkered down behind a log.
“You all right?” Yancy asked as he peered upwards.
“I’m good,” Rondo replied. “You?”
“I’m fine, but my horse ain’t.”
“Who do you suppose is up there?”
“If it’s Cooper, he owes me a horse.”
Rondo was about to reply when they heard a noise from above.
“What was that?” Rondo asked.
“Sounded like a horse,” Yancy replied.
Seconds later a rider appeared. His horse was in a run, and he used the trees for cover as he made his escape.
Rondo and Yancy fired at him, but he was moving too fast and the distance was too far.
Yancy scowled as they watched him disappear over the ridge.
“Did you recognize him?” Rondo asked as he reloaded.
“He looked like Stew Baine,” Yancy replied. He thought on that and added, “But it couldn’t have been him.”
“Mebbe Stew has a brother.”
“I hope not.”
“Want me to go after him?”
“And leave me here without a horse?”
“Don’t forget about that horse at the cabin. You could go get him.”
“That’s a long walk,” Yancy protested.
“I reckon it is,” Rondo agreed, and he squinted as he studied the ridge. “I’m going up there and look around. Somebody else could still be up there, waiting for us to stand.”
“That’s good thinking,” Yancy said. “I’ll cover you.”
Rondo nodded. Then, staying behind the cover of the trees, he carefully made his way up the ridge and disappeared.
A few minutes passed, and Yancy frowned impatiently.
Suddenly, Rondo appeared at the top of the ridge, and he waved at Yancy.
“Come on up!” He hollered.
Yancy breathed a sigh of relief, holstered his Colt, and trudged up the ridge.
A campfire was still burning, and there was a pot of coffee on. There was also a thick bundle on the ground, and a mule was picketed nearby.
“Whoever it was, he lit out in a hurry,” Rondo said. “He didn’t pack anything.”
“What’s in the bundle?” Yancy asked.
“Nicest pack of beaver pelts you’ll ever see.”
Yancy nodded and glanced at the mule. He frowned thoughtfully, and his eyes grew wide.
“That’s Cooper’s mule!” He exclaimed.
“Are you sure?”
“That’s Jug-head all right,” Yancy nodded. “We were short a horse a while back, so Cooper bought him at Landry.”
“I wonder how he ended up here?”
Yancy’s face turned somber as he thought on that.
“I reckon we’ll have to track down the feller that shot at us and ask him,” he said.
Rondo nodded and glanced at Jug-head.
“Is that mule broke for a saddle?”
“He’s green,” Yancy scowled at the thought. “But Coop rode him, so I reckon I can too.”
“What do we do with these pelts?”
“We’ll have to leave them,” Yancy replied, and he turned to leave. “I’ll get my saddle.”
Rondo nodded, and while Yancy was gone he packed up everything that they could take.
Yancy returned a few minutes later, carrying his saddle.
Jug-head stood perfectly still as Yancy saddled him. He tightened the cinch, and the mule pinned his ears and humped up.
“Are you sure he’s been rode before?” Rondo looked concerned.
“I’m sure.”
“Looks to me like he needs a few wet saddle blankets,” Rondo observed.
Yancy grunted as he led him in a circle to loosen him up.
“I told Coop the same thing, right after he bucked him off,” he grumbled.
“Want me to top him off for you?” Rondo offered. “I wouldn’t mind. I grew up busting broncs.”
Yancy was tempted, but he shook his head.
“No, if I did, Coop would never let me forget it.”
“I understand,” Rondo smiled, and added, “Be careful.”
Yancy nodded, and he walked up beside the mule. He stepped into the saddle and got settled.
A few seconds passed, and Jug-head grabbed
himself and started to buck. The jumps were high, but Yancy stayed with him.
Suddenly, in midair, Jug-head sucked backwards. Yancy was thrown forward in the saddle, and Jug-head took advantage and started spinning.
There was no chance for Yancy to recover, and he came off over his shoulder and landed hard.
While Yancy gasped for air, Jug-head quit bucking. He walked away and started grazing as if nothing had happened.
“You all right?” Rondo asked.
“I’ll be fine,” Yancy managed.
“Yep, wet saddle blankets is what that mule needs,” Rondo declared.
“That, or a bullet,” Yancy groaned.
Rondo chuckled as Yancy got to his feet.
Before either one could say anything, they heard a faint noise from below.
They glanced at each other, and Rondo hissed, “Somebody’s coming!”
They found cover behind the trees, and then they waited with their Colts in hand.
A few seconds passed, and two riders came into view. They started climbing the ridge, but they stopped when they spotted Yancy’s dead horse.
“Recognize them?” Yancy whispered.
“I sure do,” Rondo replied. “It’s Lee and Brian.”
Yancy sighed and nodded.
“Soon as I saddled that mule, I should have known Lee would show up,” he muttered.
Rondo chuckled and cleared his throat.
“Hello below!”
Lee and Brian were startled, and they both drew their Colts.
“Hold your fire!” Rondo hollered. “It’s us, Rondo and Yancy Landon!”
“I thought I recognized that voice!” Lee yelled back.
“Come on up!”
Lee and Brian kicked up their horses. They rode up to the camp, and a huge grin crossed Lee’s face.
“Well now. If it ain’t Rondo Landon,” he drawled.
“Lee,” Rondo said, and he glanced at Brian. “Good to see you, Brian.”
“It’s been a while,” Brian replied.
Rondo nodded, and it fell silent as Lee and Yancy looked at each other.