Far off a coyote howled, then another. It made her think of the thin-faced man with the black eyes. Vanessa felt herself go cold. She didn’t want to think of him. There was something about him that frightened her, something evil and dangerous, as if he had no regard for any living creature who stood in the way of what he wanted. He had looked at her as if he were looking right through her clothing. She shuddered again as she remembered his words and the positive way he had spoken them. Leave my woman be . . . for now, he had said.
She heard the coyote howl again, or was it a wolf? She heard the dull thud of the stock pawing the wet sod. There was no other sound and the time passed slowly. The clouds drifted away and a few stars came out. The breeze came up and rippled the canvas on the Wisner wagon.
“Quiet night.”
The voice made her freeze with fear. She had heard nothing, seen nothing. Yet the voice reached her from the darkness directly behind her. She made a grab for the shotgun and a large, strong hand caught her wrist.
“Don’t be scared. I’m not one of them you’re looking out for.” He released her hand, but stood close behind her, his other hand on her shoulder pressing her down. “I’m mighty glad you’re not a screaming woman, Vanessa.”
“Who are you?” Fear almost choked her.
“Remember that puffed-up jackass back in Dodge?” There was laughter in his voice. “The one you ran off with the shotgun after you clobbered the boy with the shovel?”
“I remember. What are you doing here?”
“I came to tell you your mules are gone.”
“What?” She jumped up and whirled to face him. All she could see was a dark shadow against the wagon.
“Don’t get all het up and go off half-cocked. I passed a camp over by the river and saw three horses and four mules. I figured the mules were yours.”
“You’ve been following us!”
He chuckled. “Yes and no. I saw your outfit this afternoon. There’s no mistaking that wagon. I doubt there’s another like it this side of the Mississippi. I couldn’t believe you were stupid enough to strike out with only one other wagon.”
“So you tagged along to see what happened,” she said caustically.
“I’m in no hurry so I lagged behind a bit. I saw you meet up with some real fine . . . ah, gentlemen. I smelled the bacon you had for supper and saw that there were three women and two men in your party. I figured to leave early and go on ahead of you. Then I saw the mules. Tell me, Vanessa, what the hell are you folks doing out here by yourselves?” There was harsh impatience in his voice now.
The familiar way in which he used her name made her temper flare. “That is none of your damn business, sir!”
“I didn’t expect a civil answer from you. Do you have any coffee?”
“No, and I’m not making any. I’m going after those mules.”
“You’re doing no such thing. You’re not doing anything until I’ve had my coffee.”
“Well! I’ll not have a . . . a sneaking nighthawk coming in here telling me what to do!”
“Vanessa?” Ellie stepped down out of the wagon. “Who’s out there?”
“It’s all right, Aunt Ellie. It’s that—”
“It’s the puffed-up jackass from Dodge, ma’am.”
“Stop saying that!” she hissed, and his chuckle made her clench her teeth in barely suppressed fury.
“Landsakes! What’s going on!”
“Vanessa’s in a stew because I slipped up on her,” Kain said. “I made enough noise to wake the dead. I thought sure she’d turn around and shoot me, but she sat there and let me walk up on her. I’m not surprised they stole the mules right out from under her nose.”
“Stole the mules? Oh my goodness! What will we do?”
“I’ve not decided. I’ll have to study on it. Name’s DeBolt. Kain DeBolt.”
“How do you do?” The polite lady, under any circumstance, Ellie offered her hand. “I’m Mrs. Hill, and this is my niece, Vanessa Cavanaugh.”
“Vanessa and I have met.”
“Did I hear ya say the mules is gone?” John Wisner’s voice preceded him out of the darkness.
“Two black, a gray and a brown,” Kain said.
“Our mules!” Vanessa blurted angrily.
“Of course. The thieves figured they’d kill the men when they went to get them.”
“Kill the men! Why on earth would they do that?” Ellie asked.
“For you women. Your fancy outfit is worth something, but three women are worth more. There would be one for each of them and when they tired of you, they could always sell you to rawhiders or plains scavangers. They took the mules so the men would come armed. Nobody much asks questions out here, but that army platoon that passed could be somewhere up ahead. They’d just say the men rode in shooting, made a fight of it and they had to defend themselves.”
“Oh my goodness!” Ellie was shocked by his blunt words. Her hand grasped the side of the wagon for support.
“I’d appreciate a cup of coffee, Mrs. Hill.”
Ellie breathed deeply, squared her shoulders and moved to a compartment beneath the wagon bed and took out dry kindling. “Do you think it’s all right to build a fire?”
“They’ll not expect you to discover the mules are gone until daylight.”
“Why didn’t the dog make a fuss when he sneaked in here?” Vanessa demanded.
“Mary Ben’s the only thin’ that dog cares for, ma’am,” John said regretfully. “Long as she ain’t bothered, he’ll not do nothin’.”
“Fine watchdog he is!”
John started a small fire. Ellie filled the blackened coffeepot with water from the barrel, added coffee, and set it on the grill over the flames. Vanessa stood back out of the light. She looked often at Kain DeBolt as he stood talking to John. In the faint light she could tell that he was dressed in buckskins, wore knee-high moccasins, and had a gun belt strapped around his slim hips. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, and his face was turned toward her. Damn him! He was watching her.
Henry came out of the back of the wagon, yawning and scratching his head. “Is it time to hitch up?”
Vanessa went to him before he reached the circle of light and urged him back against the wagon. “The mules are gone, Henry. Those men we met yesterday stole them.”
“Well, golly! I didn’t think they were very nice fellows anyway. They looked mean. Is he one of them?” he asked in a low voice, but it carried in the stillness.
“I don’t . . . think so.” Vanessa made sure her voice carried across the camp. “But you can’t trust anyone you meet up with out here in this accursed land.”
“Henry, come meet Mr. DeBolt.” Henry moved obediently toward his mother. “My son, Henry.” There was always pride in Ellie’s voice when she introduced her son.
“Howdy, Henry.” Kain held out his hand.
Henry took it, mumbled a word, and stepped back into the shadows beside Vanessa. He could tell that Vanessa didn’t like this man, so he didn’t like him either.
Vanessa stood silently beside Henry for a moment, then slipped into the caravan. She pinned her hair up on the top of her head, put on Henry’s old hat and pulled it down over her ears. Kain DeBolt was too smooth and it bothered her. As a matter of fact, everything about him bothered her a lot. He was so damn sure of himself. The way he laughed at her infuriated her. She wanted to cry when she thought of the mules. Had they been stolen while she sat there daydreaming? The possibility of their being taken by white men hadn’t occurred to her. Indians, perhaps, but not white men.
One thing was sure, she thought. They couldn’t stay where they were and they couldn’t move without the mules. They had to get them back since they couldn’t pull the wagon to Colorado with one saddle horse. Maybe she could ride ahead and find the army patrol. The more she thought of it, the more she realized that was the only hope they had. She would have to do it and she might as well get started. She stepped out of the wagon to tell her aunt her decision.
“The only hope we have of getting our mules back is to reach that army patrol up ahead. I’ll ride out and try to find them.”
“You’ll do no such thing.”
Vanessa turned slowly, disbelievingly, when she heard those softly spoken words. Kain was still squatting beside the fire. His eyes caught and held hers. He wasn’t smiling. Silence pressed down on the entire camp as the two did battle with their eyes.
“If you said what I think you said, you just watch me,” Vanessa said through lips stiff with anger. “We’ve got enough trouble here without you adding to it, so ride out, mister.”
Kain stood, his face rigid with impatience and anger. He would have given a year of his life to be able to throw her across his lap and spank her bottom.
“You’ll have more if you ride out of this camp by yourself, you stubborn, muleheaded little brat. In an hour’s time you’ll find yourself flat on your back in the grass, and when those woman-hungry drifters get through with you, if you’re still alive, you’ll wish you were dead!”
“Well I never! You don’t have to be so crude!”
“Crude? For God’s sake! Who do you think took those mules? Sunday school boys? They’re cutthroat drifters, outlaws, the scum of the Plains. They want women! And here, in this camp, is a woman for each of them. Get some sense in that stubborn head of yours and stop acting like a balky mule.”
“You hadn’t ought to talk to Vanessa like that.” Henry came to stand beside her and Vanessa looked up at him in dismay. He had squared his shoulders and was trying to look Kain in the eye, although she could feel the hand on her arm trembling violently.
“I’m not being disrespectful, Henry,” Kain said gently but firmly. “I had to speak plainly so she’d realize I will not allow her to go off on a wild goose chase that could get her killed or . . . worse.”
“I don’t want her to get hurt, either.” Henry’s voice dropped to a whisper.
Surprised by Henry’s defense and Kain’s understanding of what an effort it was for him to speak up, Vanessa was silent for a moment. And when Henry backed down, an overwhelming desire to hit Kain made her clench her fist and bite her lower lip. He had won Henry over to his side! She was losing control. This . . . puffed-up jackass was taking over.
“You won’t allow?” Vanessa focussed on what irritated her the most.
“I won’t allow,” Kain answered evenly. “Now climb down off your high horse, Vanessa, and behave yourself. I have to get going if I’m going to get those mules back.”
“How do we know you’re not one of them?”
“You don’t. But I’m the only hope you’ve got.”
“He’s right, dear. Please listen.” Ellie stood on the far side of the campfire, her hands wrapped in her apron and a worried look on her face.
“Saddle up, Henry. You’ll have to help me bring the mules back if I get them.”
“He’s not going with you,” Vanessa said quickly. “I’ll go.”
Kain ignored her. “You can handle the mules, can’t you, Henry?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I tell you he isn’t going!”
“No, Mr. DeBolt,” Ellie said worriedly. “Henry . . . has never shot a gun.”
Kain looked from one woman to the other and then to Henry. Henry hung his head and looked away. Kain muttered something under his breath that sounded like a string of curses.
John spoke, breaking the awkward silence. “Young feller, I’d be obliged to go with ya.”
“I was counting on you staying in camp and looking after the women, Mr. Wisner. I was also counting on Henry to bring the mules back if I got pinned down.”
“Mary Ben can shoot a rifle good as any man I ever did see. With Mary Ben they be as well off as if it was me here.”
“I want to go, Vanessa. I want to help.” Henry was shaking her arm to get her attention.
“Henry! It will be dangerous.”
“Saddle the horse, Henry,” Kain said quietly and waited until he walked out into the darkness. Then he spoke to Ellie. “John will go with me, and Henry can bring back the mules. He’ll be all right. I left my horse back in the trees. I’ll get him.”
“Who does he think he is?” Vanessa sputtered after Kain left. “He just comes waltzing in here and takes over.”
“Ma’am,” John had turned away, but came back. “I been all up ’n down the cattle trails from the gulf to Kansas, ’n I seen men aplenty. This one knows what he’s about. Them’s three bad fellers we come up against. We be mighty lucky DeBolt came along.”
“He’s right.” Ellie rolled and unrolled her hands in her apron. “Oh, I wish we’d never come to this godforsaken land.”
“If Henry goes, I go,” Vanessa announced stubbornly before stalking off in the darkness.
She was mounted behind Henry with the shotgun in her hand when Kain rode into camp. He eyed them for a long moment, as if that was what he expected. John spoke to Mary Ben, picked up a big buffalo gun, checked the load, and climbed up on one of his horses. He rode Indian fashion with only a blanket between him and the horse as if he’d been doing it all his life.
“Does she know how to use a gun?” Kain nodded toward Mary Ben. “And would she use it if she needed to?”
“You can bet yore life on it.” John rode to the far side of the camp and let loose a stream of tobacco juice before he spoke again. “Ma’am, ya’ll be all right with Mary Ben. She’ll do what’s got to be did. She been down the trail ’n cross the creek.”
Kain’s eyes sent a silent message to Vanessa that she interpreted to mean, “He’d much rather have Mary Ben along than Vanessa.” She tilted her chin defiantly and glared at him.
“Come on. Let’s get at them before they know this is all they’re up against.” Kain led off and John followed with Henry and Vanessa bringing up the rear.
Vanessa, snug against Henry’s back, could feel his excitement. She wondered why in the world Aunt Ellie had permitted him to go. Henry was her whole world. If anything should happen to him it would kill her aunt. It would kill her, too, she thought and hugged him close.
“You be careful, hear?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer because Kain had stopped his horse and they had moved up beside him.
“The camp is just ahead, Henry. John and I will ride in. You stay back until I tell you to get the mules. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you stay out of sight,” he said to Vanessa.
Fifty yards from the camp he held up his hand and Henry halted the horse. He pointed his finger. Henry slid off the horse and went silently through the brush to the spot where the mules were tied to a line strung between two trees. Kain and John walked their horses to the edge of the camp. Light streaked the eastern sky. Birds chirped noisily and fluttered in the willows that grew beside the river. The horses and mules, not used to being together, added to the noise by stamping and blowing gusts of breath through quivering lips.
The men by the fire didn’t hear anyone approach until a horse whinnied a greeting. They looked up, and the heavyset man jumped so quickly to his feet that he dropped his coffee cup in the fire. There was a short hissing sound when the liquid hit the flames, and then quiet. They stood waiting, their eyes going from the man on the sorrel to the old man riding bareback.
“Our mules got loose in the night. I reckon you caught them and are holding them for us,” Kain said. “We’re much obliged. We’ll take them off yo
ur hands.”
“Ya will, huh?” The fat man wiped his greasy hands on his shirt and looked nervously at the thin, dark man in the black vest. “Wal, now, I’m athinkin’ we ort a study on that a bit. Finders is keepers is what I hear. Ain’t that right, Tass?” The thin, dark man stood stone still, his coal black, unblinking eyes on Kain’s face. The light-haired kid grinned, showing missing teeth. Kain knew exactly what the kid was thinking: they’d be easy pickings because there were only two of them against three.
Although the fat man was doing the talking, Kain knew instinctively the breed was the one to watch. He wore his gun tied down and his right hand was ready. He had that still look about him that spelled trouble.
“The mules belong to the folks back there. We’re taking them back.”
“Are you?” The dark man spoke for the first time. His face was tight and his lips barely moved. “We’ve got the number on you. That means we keep the mules till the woman comes to get ’em.”
“She’s here.” Vanessa spoke from somewhere behind Kain. “Now it’s three on three.”
An oath sprang to Kain’s mind that he dared not voice. The damn fool girl would mess around and get them killed. He shoved his anger to the back of his mind. He couldn’t allow it to tighten him up.
“No,” Kain said, choosing his words carefully and looking squarely into the dark eyes of the man who stood tensely, as if coiled to spring. “It’s just you and me.”
Tass’ thin lips tightened, honing his already sharp features. He had not expected that. There was quick calculation in his eyes. The stranger was mounted, he was on the ground. But there was the old man with the buffalo gun.
Dorothy Garlock - [Colorado Wind 03] Page 5