“What are you two fellas gonna do now?” asked Wingate.
Ace hadn’t had an opportunity to talk things over with Chance and explain what he had found out and guessed about Ling and Haggarty’s current scheme. It was certain, however, that they weren’t in any shape to go back into Rimfire and raise any hell tonight.
Besides, their holsters were empty and their rifles were gone. McPhee’s men had disarmed them.
“It looks like we’re going with the wagon train,” Ace said. “If you’ll have us.”
Fairfield said, “I won’t lie to you, there were some hard feelings when you left and went on into town. But you weren’t actually part of our group, and that didn’t stop you from risking your lives and helping us fight off those outlaws, not once but twice. In fact, I think there’s a distinct possibility we wouldn’t have been able to defeat them if not for the two of you. So you’re welcome to come with us, and if anyone doesn’t like it, they can take up the issue with me.”
“We’re obliged to you for that,” Ace said, nodding.
Dave Wingate rubbed his chin. “I’m a mite surprised you boys don’t want to take off for the tall and uncut and put Rimfire and this valley as far behind you as you can.”
“Not just yet,” Chance said in a voice that was flat and hard with anger.
“We already had one score to settle when we got here,” added Ace, equally grim. “Now we have another one.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Laura Fairfield brought cups of hot coffee to Ace and Chance, trying not to wrinkle her nose in distaste as she handed the cups to them.
“We know we smell pretty bad,” Ace told her.
“No, it . . . it’s fine.”
Chance laughed. “The only way we’d smell fine is if you were another hog.” He sounded more like himself.
Ace was glad of that. As he sipped the hot, strong brew he felt it restoring more of his strength and hoped it was having the same effect on his brother.
Dave Wingate came over to the wagon where the Jensen boys were still sitting. He had a silver flask in his hand. “Hold out them cups, fellas, and I’ll fortify ’em a mite.” The old scout poured a little whiskey in each cup.
As Ace drank, he felt the bracing kick of the liquor. He still hurt like hell, but at least he was beginning to feel human again. “We’ve got some spare clothes in our saddlebags. I reckon we ought to go over to the creek and try to wash this mud off before it dries any more than it already is.”
“We’ll need guns, though,” Chance said. “The sons of... the varmints stole ours.”
Laura said, “You can call them whatever you want, Mr. Jensen. You don’t have to spare my delicate feelings. I’ve been driving oxen all day for the past couple months, so I’ve probably said a few things myself that maybe I shouldn’t have.”
“Anyway,” Wingate added, “if anybody ever deserved some good old-fashioned cussin’, it’s those fellas who ganged up on you like that.” He paused, then said, “Speakin’ of gangs . . . did you see Clade Mitchell in town?”
“He’s thick as thieves with McPhee,” Ace said.
“Good choice of words,” Chance put in.
“He denies having anything to do with those attacks on the wagon train, and McPhee believes him,” Ace went on. “They seem like they’ve thrown in together.”
“McPhee’s done taken a viper to his bosom, as the Good Book says,” commented Wingate as he nodded his head. “He’ll come to regret it, sooner or later.”
Clade Mitchell wasn’t the only viper involved, thought Ace. That description fit Ling and Jack Haggarty, as well. He didn’t know exactly what that duo was planning, but he would have bet a brand-new hat that it involved stealing every bit of Angus McPhee’s money they could lay their hands on.
The Jensen brothers finished the spiked coffee and felt strong enough to head for the creek. Carrying the extra clothes, Wingate and Rufe went with them to stand guard. Ace and Chance stripped off the mud-covered clothing, left it on the bank, and waded into the stream.
Rufe said, “Them duds oughta be burned. I don’t reckon you could ever get the stink out of ’em.”
“That’s fine with me,” said Chance. “Although I really did like that suit.”
“You can get another one,” Ace told him. “After we’ve done everything that needs to be taken care of.”
It was a warm night, but the creek, fed by springs and snowmelt from the mountains, was cold. The chill actually felt good. It helped numb some of the aches from the beating. They soaked for a long time and scrubbed off the mud caked on their skin. By the time they emerged from the stream, they might not have smelled like roses, but they didn’t smell like a hog wallow anymore.
As they dressed, Dave Wingate held out a couple pairs of boots. “Cap’n Fairfield went around the wagons askin’ folks if they had any spare boots. These may not fit perfect, but they’re better ’n what you got. The cap’n is lookin’ for some extra guns for you, too.”
“We’re sure obliged to you,” Ace said.
“Like the cap’n said, you put your lives on the line for us, so helpin’ you out now is the least we can do.”
Chance said, “We’ll do whatever we can to help these folks get their claims established, too. Anything that sticks in Angus McPhee’s craw sounds good to me.”
A few minutes later, Edward Fairfield brought them each a revolver. One was a single-action Colt .45, which Ace claimed because it was like the gun he usually carried and he had cartridges for it. Chance took the long-barreled Remington and the ammunition for it. Their holsters had been ruined by the mud, so they tucked the weapons in their waistbands, butt forward on the left side for a cross-draw. It wasn’t what they were used to, but it was the best they could do for the moment.
With that taken care of, the five men returned to the camp. Ace and Chance cleaned as best they could the mud on their saddles, since they couldn’t afford to lose the saddles. When they were satisfied they had done everything possible under the circumstances to rid themselves of the stench, they went to find Fairfield and Dave Wingate.
The wagon train captain and the scout were conferring near Fairfield’s wagon.
Ace nodded to the two older men. “We’re ready to pull out whenever you folks are.”
“Are you sure you want to cast your lot with us?” asked Fairfield. “There’s bound to be more trouble with McPhee and his men.”
Chance grunted. “That’s what we’re counting on, Mr. Fairfield.”
“Well, then, we’re glad to have you join us. But I’m afraid that since you weren’t with us when the group formed back in Missouri and didn’t pay any fee, you won’t be able to claim any land. . . .”
“That was never our intention,” Ace assured him.
“We don’t plan on settling down,” Chance added. “We just want another crack at McPhee and his bunch of gun-wolves.”
“Reckon you’ll get that, more ’n likely.” Wingate looked at the sky. “Give it another couple hours, and it’ll be dark enough for us to move out.”
Fairfield nodded. “I’ll pass the word, then, and make sure everyone knows to be ready.”
The delay finally gave Ace and Chance an opportunity to sit down and talk about what had happened in Rimfire.
“Did you see Ling in the saloon after McPhee’s men stomped us?” Ace asked his brother.
“What?” Clearly, Chance was surprised. “You mean she was there?”
“Yeah, standing at the top of the stairs, watching.”
Chance took several deep breaths. “I could say something right now, but I don’t like to talk that way about any woman, even a double-crossing one like her.”
“I asked McPhee’s men about her later on, while we were out there by that hog pen, but I think you were still too groggy to understand what was going on.”
“You’re right about that,” said Chance. “I don’t remember any of it.”
“As far as I can tell from what they said, Ling told M
cPhee that you and I kidnapped her from her father and were holding her prisoner in Fort Benton, that we planned on turning her into a prostitute. Just like those three men of McPhee’s assumed before that ruckus we had with them.”
“Wait a minute. Who the hell is her father?”
“Well, stepfather, actually. She claims Haggarty adopted her and raised her after her real parents were killed working on the railroad in California.”
There was enough light from the moon and stars that Ace could see Chance staring at him in amazement.
“You mean to tell me that McPhee actually believed that crazy yarn?” asked Chance.
Ace nodded. “Evidently he did. He invited Ling and Haggarty out to his ranch to stay there for a while as his guests.”
“They’re after his money,” Chance declared flatly. “They heard what he said about getting a new safe, and he wouldn’t be doing that unless he had a lot of money to put in it.”
“Yep. That’s sure the way it seems to me.”
“McPhee’s taken with Ling. Can’t really blame him for that, the way she looks and acts when she wants to worm her way into a fella’s affections. Is McPhee married?”
Ace frowned. “I haven’t heard anybody say anything about a wife.”
Chance waved a hand. “Well, it doesn’t matter. He’s not very likely to marry a Celestial. He wouldn’t mind keeping her around as his mistress, though, and Haggarty will go along with that. They’ll do whatever they have to in order to string McPhee along until they get their hands on that loot. The question is . . . what are we going to do about it?”
“They should still have most of the money they stole from us, maybe even all of it. They haven’t been gone from Fort Benton long enough to spend it.”
Chance frowned. “Yeah, but how are we going to get it? They’ll be sitting pretty, out there on McPhee’s ranch surrounded by all his hired guns. We wouldn’t stand a chance of getting within half a mile of the place.”
“Once these immigrants stake their claims, McPhee’s going to have his hands full dealing with them.”
“Hmmm,” Chance said as he rubbed his chin. “That might give us a chance to slip in and confront Haggarty and Ling.”
“Except that we promised to help Mr. Fairfield and his people,” Ace pointed out.
“Yeah, that’s true, and I don’t like going back on my word. I don’t like being broke, either. Or letting thieves get away with stealing from us.”
Ace agreed. “I feel the same way. So we just have to come up with ways of solving both problems—and keep from getting ourselves killed while we’re doing it.”
“Yeah. That’s all.”
* * *
The moon was already slipping down toward the horizon. Once it had vanished, only the light from the stars was left, but it was enough for the drivers to see where they were going as the wagons pulled out of the camp. Anybody watching from across the creek wouldn’t notice that the wagon train was leaving. That was the hope, anyway.
Fairfield had passed the word for everyone to be quiet, too, but it was impossible to move oxen and horses and heavy wagons without making some noise. Rimfire lay dark and silent on the other side of the creek. With any luck everyone in the settlement was asleep and wouldn’t realize that the immigrants were gone until the sun came up in the morning.
Ace and Chance rode at the front of the wagon train with Edward Fairfield and Dave Wingate. Rufe was riding beside the lead wagon where he could protect Laura if any trouble broke out. Everyone was tense. Rifles and shotguns were loaded and handy.
Wingate led the wagons back up the trail for about half a mile, then swung west. The terrain was rougher but not bad enough that the wagons with their enormous wheels couldn’t handle it. It made for slow going, however.
The night seemed fleeting to Ace and Chance.
When the wagons had covered a couple miles, Wingate turned them south again. Ace pointed out a break in the trees as they approached the creek again.
“That’s where the banks slope down enough for the wagons to make it,” said Wingate. “We’re far enough from the settlement that we’ll be able to go all the way around and then make a beeline for that land folks are claimin’. It’s five miles due south o’ town, accordin’ to that map you’ve got, Cap’n.”
“Yes, there’s a large, relatively flat stretch there, between some camelback hills on the eastern end, low piney ridges on the north and south, and a rocky basin to the west.”
“We can find that with no trouble,” Wingate assured him. “There gonna be room for all your people there?”
“Plenty of room,” said Fairfield. “Good water, too. There’s a smaller creek than this one we’re about to cross, but enough water for us to irrigate our fields, especially if we dam it at the lower end.”
Ace said, “No offense, Mr. Fairfield, but if you do that, you’ll have a range war on your hands for sure. No cattleman’s going to put up with having a running stream dammed, no matter how reasonable he is. And Angus McPhee doesn’t seem to fit that description.”
“You seem awfully sure of yourself for a young man.”
Wingate said, “I reckon the boy’s right, and I’m far from young myself. You’re used to life back east, Cap’n. Folks out here do some things different, and they don’t give a damn how you used to do ’em back where you come from.”
“If we use the creek for irrigation, it’s liable to cause it to dry up downstream anyway, just the same as if we’d dammed it.”
“You’ll have to figure out a way around that,” Ace said. “Maybe divert some of the water so that you’re only using part of it and the rest flows on downstream for McPhee to use.”
“Well,” Fairfield said with a frown, “that seems reasonable enough, I suppose. Do you really think McPhee is the sort to compromise, though, or is he going to insist on getting his way completely?”
Wingate pursed his lips. “He didn’t exactly strike me as a reasonable fella.”
“That’s what I thought, too. We’re going to have a fight on our hands.”
“That’s what I been tellin’ you all along, Cap’n. But at least we’re gonna have surprise on our side this time.”
The four men rode down the bank and splashed across the creek.
Wingate was right, thought Ace. It was a good spot to ford the stream.
One by one, the wagons made the crossing and rolled up the bank on the south side. Wingate told Laura to drive far enough that the others could line up behind her and then stop. She did, waiting with Rufe to keep her company until all the wagons were across.
Then Fairfield, Wingate, and the Jensen brothers led the way again, swinging west into the valley that represented new homes for the pilgrims.
But like anything else worth having, they might have to fight for those homes and pay for them with blood and tears.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
By the time the eastern sky began to turn gray with the approach of dawn, the wagons were rolling through the broad valley. From what Ace could see of the landmarks in each direction, the map that Edward Fairfield had brought from Missouri was accurate.
The train came to a halt beside the creek Fairfield had mentioned. It was shallow and only about ten feet wide, but it had a nice, steady flow to it, Ace found when he dismounted and dipped his hand into the water. He cupped some of it and brought it to his mouth. Cool, clear, and good, as most streams in the high country were.
“Better circle up again,” Wingate advised. “I know you folks are anxious to roam around and look at the land so you can figure out which spots you want to claim, but you’ll be a lot more vulnerable if you’re scattered.”
“How do we go about staking our homesteads, then?” asked Fairfield.
“Maybe you should work in bigger groups,” Ace suggested. “One man can find a parcel he likes and stake it while the others with him keep an eye out for McPhee’s gunmen.”
Chance said, “Once McPhee knows you’re here and realizes you’ve st
olen a march on him, it won’t take him long to come calling with every gun at his disposal. It would be a good idea to get as much done today as you can, even though everybody’s tired after traveling most of the night.”
Wingate’s leathery face creased in a grin. “You youngsters got good heads on your shoulders. I reckon you’ve already been to see the elephant a time or two, ain’t ya?”
“We’ve run into our share of trouble,” Ace agreed.
“And we expect to run into more,” said Chance. “If we live long enough.”
Working quickly, the immigrants began setting up the camp that would serve as their base while they were staking out their claims. The eastern sky turned rosy, then golden sunlight washed across the landscape as the fiery orb peeked above the horizon.
With enough light to finally look around, Edward Fairfield decided he didn’t need to search for a claim. “This will do fine for me, right here where we’re camped,” he declared.
“The livestock’s gonna trample down the grass,” Wingate cautioned him.
“It will grow back.” Fairfield hunkered on his heels and dug up a handful of dirt. “This is fine soil. Rufe, would you mind helping me with my stakes?”
“No, sir,” Rufe answered without hesitation.
“I’ll come along, too,” Laura said, which made Rufe’s smile widen into a happy grin.
“Boy’s like a big ol’ puppy dog,” Dave Wingate said quietly to Ace and Chance as he watched his nephew walking away with several wooden stakes in his arms. “That gal’s got him plumb wrapped up. Lucky for him she’s mighty pretty, and a decent sort, to boot. Her grandpa’s a good man, too. A mite stuffy, that’s all.”
“I’ve got a hunch Rufe may not be moving on with you, Mr. Wingate,” said Ace.
The old scout sighed and nodded. “I been startin’ to realize the same thing. Well, it don’t matter. Long as he’s happy, that’s all I care about. I just hope he don’t expect me to put down roots with him. I been lettin’ the wind carry me along for too many years to stop now.” Wingate looked over at Ace and Chance. “Ain’t known you boys long, but I get the feelin’ you’re the same way. Just too fiddle-footed for your own good.”
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