“Wrong,” McCaleb said. “I sent Goose to watch over all of you. But I was watching when the Yates women sneaked out of camp two nights later. I watched Penelope follow them, and I followed her. I was close by, when she heard something, and I thought she had discovered me. We both bellied down until Monte was well past us. Penelope followed him, and I followed her. The moon- and starlight was bright enough to see the two Yates girls stripped, standing over the water. Monte was out of everything except his hat, when Penelope ran away.”
“But you didn’t,” said Rebecca.
“I gave Penelope a head start, and then I followed her,” McCaleb said. “Maybe the three of them were there just to take a swim, but being a man, I doubt it.”
“Monte’s a grown man,” said Rebecca. “I’m his sister, not his mother. If he only took what was offered, can you blame him?”
“Yes,” McCaleb said. “Can’t you see the disappointment in Penelope’s eyes when she’s lookin’ at him? He’s let the girl down almighty hard, and she’s having trouble living with the memory of him with a pair of naked females.”
“Monte?” said Rebecca unbelievingly. “Penelope’s kept him mad at her all the time, and when they’re on speaking terms, they fight like cats and dogs.”
“You’re forgetting something,” McCaleb said. “When you and me met, back in Texas, you cussed me like a mule-skinner, and I threw you in the Trinity River. Hell, we fought all the way from Texas to the High Plains, and look at us now.”
“My God, you’re right,” said Rebecca. “All the signs are there, and I haven’t been seeing them. I’d better have a talk with Rosalie. Why don’t you talk to Brazos?”
“No way,” McCaleb said. “I’m a trail boss, not Solomon. I won’t be surprised if little Penelope decides to fight fire with fire, and it’s not gonna be me that tells Brazos he’s got to order his adopted daughter to keep her britches on.”
“As trail boss, you could order Monte to stay away from those Yates women,” said Rebecca.
“I can’t order Monte or any of the riders to do anything, unless they’re somehow endangering this trail drive,” McCaleb said. “You call Monte a grown man, and now you want me to take a switch to him.”
“Be serious, Bent,” said Rebecca. “If Penelope does some foolish thing in competition with the Yates women, it’ll be awfully hard on Brazos and Rosalie.”
“I think Penelope’s old enough to take full responsibility for what she does,” McCaleb said. “Why burden Rosalie with something she can’t change? Knowing what I know or suspect, I sure as hell don’t aim to drag Brazos into it.”
“You’ve already messed up my mind with what you know,” said Rebecca. “You might as well finish the job by telling me what you suspect.”
“You remember when we suspected Monte of watching Penelope wash herself, there in the chuck wagon?”
“Yes,” Rebecca said, “and I still believe he did it.”
“So do I,” said McCaleb, “and while it was a sneaky, low-down thing to do, we can’t blame Monte entirely. I think Penelope arranged that.”
“She wouldn’t,” Rebecca said.
“She would,” said McCaleb. “The way that wagon was loaded, there was no wasted space. Yet, after Penelope complained, I found the load had been shifted enough so that a person could look in through the front of the wagon and see anybody inside. That tin of shells fell on Penelope’s foot after she rearranged things, moving some of the heavier containers to the top of the load. Is that enough to satisfy you?”
“Dear God,” said Rebecca, “you’re calling her a brazen little trollop.”
“No,” McCaleb said. “She’s just trying to get Monte’s attention. Back in Texas, when we were barely speaking, I caught you watching me, while I was in the Trinity River, jaybird naked.”*
“You would remember that,” said Rebecca, blushing.
“That, and more,” McCaleb said. “Once a female decides she wants some two-legged varmint of an hombre, she’ll take advantage any way she can. Isn’t that true?”
“I reckon,” said Rebecca. “If you’d handled it right, I would have come to you long before we stood before the preacher.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” McCaleb said. “A saloon whore would have done that, and I had bigger and better plans for you.”
“Thank you,” said Rebecca, meaning it. “What else makes you suspicious of Penelope?”
McCaleb laughed. “Just like a woman. You’ve just heard some shocking news, and now you want to hear more.”
“I’m not sure you aren’t bullyragging me,” Rebecca said. “Is there more?”
“Nothing but my suspicions,” said McCaleb, “but you might as well have them to think about, along with the other. If you’ll remember, when Penelope went to the wagon with a pot of hot water, it was almighty cold, with near two feet of snow on the ground. Would you have stripped down to the bare hide all at once? In cold weather, you start at the top, working your way down. You remove your shirt and coat, and after washing your upper parts, you put on the shirt and coat again. Following that, you take off your boots and Levi’s, and you wash the rest of you. Then, working fast, you jump back into your Levi’s and boots, before you become a block of ice.”
“It makes sense to me,” Rebecca said. “How would you know that Penelope didn’t do just that?”
“Because she told me,” said McCaleb. “I asked her what she was wearing when she discovered somebody was watching her. She was standing there without a stitch on, with only the wagon canvas between her and the cold wind.”
Rebecca sighed. “McCaleb, why do you always know so much, and why are you always right?”
“I’m trail boss,” said McCaleb. “It’s my job.”
SOUTHEASTERN WYOMING TERRITORY.
MAY 21, 1876
“Cloudy to the west,” Will Elliot observed, as the outfit prepared to move out. “We’ve been settin’ here a week, lettin’ the horses and cattle graze, and there hasn’t been a cloud in the sky. Now that we’re ready to move on, it rains.”
“Not before sometime tomorrow,” said McCaleb. “We’ll go as far as we can today.”
They took the trail, Rebecca keeping the chuck wagon close behind the drag riders. The Yates wagon followed the chuck wagon. Pen Rhodes, Susannah, Rosalie and Penelope were riding drag, and it was Penelope who noticed the Yates wagon was no longer moving.
“Penelope,” Rosalie said, “you’d better tell McCaleb so he can mill the herd. Something must have gone wrong back there.”
“Old Roscoe likely went to sleep at the reins and fell off the box,” said Penelope.
But she dutifully rode on ahead, and when she told McCaleb, he stopped the drive.
“It’s their first day on the trail with us,” Penelope said, “and already they’re slowing us down. Why don’t we just go on and leave them there?”
“Here, now,” said McCaleb, looking at her with a stern eye. “That would be a heartless thing to do.”
“Would it?” Penelope said.
She rode with McCaleb back to the Yates wagon. The drag riders were there, as was Rebecca. Monte Nance was the next to arrive. Roscoe Yates still sat on the wagon box, but his “daughters” had climbed down and were staring at the shattered left rear wheel.
“Yates,” said McCaleb, “Rebecca brought the chuck wagon over the same ground without busting a wheel on that drop-off. This is rough country for a wagon, and you should always be looking ahead.”
“I don’t need or want a lecture, Mr. McCaleb,” Yates said stiffly. “I trust my mules to follow your wagon, which they have done.”
“I’m prepared to believe their judgment is as good or better than yours,” McCaleb said, “but your mules don’t care a damn about your wagon. It’s up to you to watch for and avoid chuckholes and drop-offs that might break an axle or damage a wheel. You do have a spare wheel, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Yates, “but I have a weak heart.”
“Pen,” McCale
b said in disgust, “you and Monte wrestle that spare wheel out. I’ll get a hub wrench from our wagon, loosen the broken wheel and help you mount the new one.”
“I am immensely grateful for your help,” said Yates.
He remained where he was, while Connie and Kate seemed mildly amused. Using the hub wrench from his own chuck wagon, McCaleb was sweating over the broken wheel.
“There’s no wagon jack in here,” Pen said, from inside the Yates wagon.
“I’ll get ours from the chuck wagon,” said McCaleb.
McCaleb jacked up the rear of the wagon, while Pen and Monte rolled the new wheel into place. McCaleb then loaded the hub with grease and tightened the hub nut.
“Yates,” McCaleb said, when the wheel had been replaced, “we’ve already used our spare wheel, and now you’ve just used yours. Break another wheel between here and Deadwood, and the lot of you will be riding those mules bareback. With all due respect for your confidence in your mules, you’d better watch where the hell you’re going.”
“I could take the reins to their wagon,” said Monte.
“If you do,” McCaleb said grimly, “you’re no longer part of this trail drive. Yates, if you don’t keep up, or if you bust another wheel, you’re on your own. Now all of you return to your positions. We’re movin’ out.”
The outfit obeyed McCaleb’s order, with the exception of Monte Nance, who paused to speak to Roscoe Yates.
“Sorry,” said Monte. “He’s like that all the time. Since he married my sister Rebecca, he thinks he owns me.”
“If he doesn’t already, he will,” Yates said. “Until you stand up on your hind legs and at least look like a man, you’ll get walked on and stomped on a lot.”
“You don’t look like the kind that’s been throwed and stomped,” said Monte, “so why should I listen to you?”
“You shouldn’t,” said Yates, “as long as you’re satisfied to jump when McCaleb shouts froggy. Can you handle them twin pistols, or do you carry them for show?”
“I can use them when there’s a need,” Monte said angrily.
“Once we reach Deadwood,” said Yates, “I’ll have need of a man who’s good with his gun and his fists. I have heard that Deadwood’s a lawless town, and I’m willing to pay for protection.”
“That depends on who or what you’re wantin’ protection from,” Monte said cautiously. “I won’t side you on anything that’s crooked, and I won’t sell my gun unless I’m first told what I’m expected to do. A man’s got to have some principles.”
“I’m prepared to pay two hundred a month for your gun and your principles,” said Yates. “Are you interested?”
“Maybe,” Monte said, “but not if it means selling out my family and friends.”
“A man that sells his gun shouldn’t have family and friends,” said Yates. “All he needs is a fast gun and a slow conscience.”
“Then I won’t be selling my gun,” Monte said. “I got the idea that what you’re plannin’ involves Benton McCaleb and the Lone Star outfit. The only decent thing I can do is tell McCaleb not to turn his back on you.”
“You are a fool,” said Yates.
“Maybe,” Monte replied, “but I’m an honest one.”
“When all the smoke clears, you may be a dead one,” said Yates ominously. “Play by my rules, and there’ll be plenty of money and women.”
“I don’t want your damn money,” Monte said. “As for your women, I’ve sampled all these two have to offer, and I don’t expect them that’s to follow will be any better.”
The women in question—Kate and Connie Yates—had been listening with considerable interest to the strange conversation.
“I must confess that I’ve misjudged you,” said Yates. “When a man can’t be bought with women and whiskey, that don’t leave much. Now I suppose we’ll just have to decide what your reputation’s worth.”
Monte laughed. “You can’t tell McCaleb anything about me that he don’t already know, and if you could, nobody would believe you. McCaleb’s never liked me, but he’s fair, and I won’t double-cross him. Not for you, not for anybody.”
“You continue to refer to my daughters as fallen women,” said Yates. “It might interest McCaleb and the others to learn it was you who led them astray. You’ve ruined their honor, and if McCaleb refuses to accept that when we reach civilization, I’ll turn everything over to the law.”
“I doubt that,” Monte said. “There is no law in Deadwood, except maybe the army, and as for this pair of blanket-warmers you got with you, they’re no more your kin than I am.”
“I see you’ve never been to a boomtown after a strike,” said Yates. “All I’ll have to do is spread the word that you’ve violated both my young daughters, and a miners’ posse will come after you with a rope.”
“Go ahead and do your worst,” Monte growled, “and I’ll violate you with lead.”
“You have until we reach Deadwood to change your mind,” said Yates.
“I won’t be changing my mind,” Monte said.
Yates said nothing until Monte was well out of hearing. He then turned angrily on the two women.
“You two don’t follow instructions worth a damn,” said Yates.
“You told us to make friends with him so you could hire his gun,” Connie replied.
“So I did,” Yates conceded, “but I thought the two of you had better sense than to let him have his way with you, all in one night.”
“You didn’t say when,” Kate said. “What should we do now?”
“Leave him alone,” said Yates. “Even Judas had his price, and so will Monte Nance.”
*The Virginia City Trail (Trail Drive #7)
*The Goodnight Trail (Trail Drive #1)
12
EASTERN WYOMING TERRITORY.
MAY 18, 1876
“JUST OUR BRAND OF luck,” Brazos said, his eyes on the western horizon. “We take some time to graze the remuda and the cattle, and the sun’s shinin’ every day. Now that we’re barely back on the trail, we got a brand-new storm brewing.”
“The trail boss bein’ the equal to God, what do you aim to do about that storm that’s coming, McCaleb?” Monte asked.
“We’ll remain here for the night,” said McCaleb, his eyes on Nance, “and if the storm’s a bad one, it’ll be everybody in the saddle. When it’s your turn to sleep, don’t shuck anything except your hat, and be sure to picket your horse close by.”
“Is that all?” Monte asked, his words shot full of scorn.
“No,” said McCaleb. “Most of you know I don’t have many rules, but the few I do have are engraved in stone. On a trail drive, probably the most important one is that none of you are to wander around after dark.”
“You didn’t bother telling us that when you said we could trail with you,” Yates said.
“My riders—except for one—know and respect my rules,” said McCaleb.
“You’re aiming that lecture at us, are you not?” Yates demanded.
“Yes, putting it bluntly,” said McCaleb. “When you’re in Sioux territory with no idea where the hostiles are, you’d better be prepared. Starting tonight, nobody leaves camp after dark, except those on sentry duty. Anyone else wandering around is to be considered an enemy and is subject to being shot.”
“You’re a hard man, McCaleb,” Roscoe Yates said.
“It’s kept me alive,” said McCaleb shortly.
“Well, I don’t like it,” one of the Yates women said. “When I get up at night, I’m not used to having some jackleg cowboy tell me where and when I can’t go.”
“She’s right,” the second woman said. “Even if it is dark, I won’t squat with all these men surrounding me.”
“It’s your choice,” McCaleb said. “You’ve been warned.”
“McCaleb,” Yates almost shouted, “I won’t have my girls compromised or embarrassed by your stupid rules.”
“I reckon they’ve been compromised a lot,” said Penelope, “but they wouldn�
��t know embarrassment if it walked up and bit ’em.”
The two women glared at Penelope, and if looks could have killed, Penelope would have been dead. Rosalie went red with embarrassment, but Brazos caught her eye, and she held her tongue. Yates looked as though he’d like to pull a gun and commit murder, but every man in the outfit was just waiting for him to make a false move. Goose, the Lipan Apache, held a big Bowie knife, and began border-shifting it from one hand to the other. Suddenly the tension was gone. Roscoe Yates got to his feet and without a word started back to his wagon. Kate and Connie followed.
“You’ve made some enemies, Bent,” Rebecca said when they were alone.
“I reckon,” McCaleb agreed, “but what else was I to do? What I said wasn’t aimed at the women. I wanted Monte to know I mean business. Anyhow, what can Yates do?”
“I’ve heard what can happen in lawless mining towns,” said Rebecca. “Yates could lie about you just as he can lie about Monte. There’s probably a shortage of women in Deadwood, and with those girls testifying, a miners’ court might hang anybody.”
“I don’t believe the old varmint will go that far, getting revenge,” McCaleb said, “and I really don’t think he can press charges against Monte, even if it would serve him right.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Rebecca nervously. “It seems like Monte’s spent a lot of time with Roscoe since you laid down the law to them.”
“I figure Monte thinks his nuzzling up to Roscoe Yates will irritate me,” McCaleb said, “while gaining him favor with Connie and Kate.”
“There’s no way we can get through to him, then,” said Rebecca.
“I’ve tried to ignore him for your sake,” said McCaleb, “but it’s gettin’ more difficult by the day. Not because my hide’s not tough enough, but because a trail drive depends on every rider, every day. I’m through with favored treatment to Monte or anybody else. If he steps over the line just one more time, he’ll see a side of Benton McCaleb he’s never seen before.”
McCaleb’s eyes were ice-blue and unrelenting, and a chill crept up Rebecca’s spine. In the years they had been together, she had never seen him threaten anyone. Now she must face the truth. McCaleb had been making exceptions for Monte, and only the closeness and kinship of the Lone Star outfit could prevent almost certain mutiny.
The Deadwood Trail Page 18