by Jack Martin
Of course there was always the chance that the rider could be just a harmless saddle bum with no interest whatsoever in Cole Masters. But that seemed unlikely and the remotest of remote possibilities.
He smoked the pipe slowly and as the rider neared Cole began to realize that there was something familiar about him. He was still too far away to see clearly but Cole recognized the way he sat in the horse.
There was also no mistaking that horse, that roan.
‘Damn you Em Tanner.’ Cole said and started down the mountain to meet the old man.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Damn you’d nearly caused my heart to jump out through my mouth.’ Em said, clutching his chest and trying to catch his breath. ‘Scaring a man like that. Damn fool thing to do.’
He was exhausted from the climb, for what seemed like miles, all of it on the upward, he had been walking and leading the roan. It didn’t help that the horse had been reluctant to take each and every step and several times had tried to pull back. The higher they had gone the more determined the horse became to go back down.
Cole who had just jumped out from behind a large berry bush, startling the old man, laughed.
‘Take a lot more than a scare to finish you off,’ he said. ‘Now what you doing way out here, old man?’
Em sat down, cross-legged on the ground, and wiped his brow with the back of a hand. He was panting and looked as much in need of a rest as a man ever had. He took several deep breaths.
‘There’s a posse on your tail.’ He said.
‘Figured there might be,’ Cole said. ‘But they won’t come here.’
‘They’re coming;’ Em bent over and coughed, spittle sticking in his beard. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘I snuck past them a ways back.’ He said and spat. His breathing relaxed slightly as he regained his puff. ‘They’ll be here by noon.’
Cole looked into the distance but there was no posse to be seen. The land looked so peaceful, so comforting. There was nothing in the horizon but more and more land. It looked like a wondrous vista stretching out before them in every which direction. It was so still it could as well been an oil painting.
‘A posse,’ he said, thoughtfully. ‘Must be a damn good one to track me out here.’
‘It’s being led by two men I’ve never seen in Squaw before. They look like professional, bounty killers maybe. I think one’s a Mex or a Comanche. Couldn’t be too sure with the glimpse I had of him.’
‘Bounty killers.’
‘Could be,’ Em said. ‘Or simply hired guns. Either way I don’t think they’ll be wanting to arrest you. They’ve got eight of Bowden’s men with them including the new sheriff.’
‘New sheriff?’
Em nodded. ‘Sam Bowden,’ he said. ‘As plum-loco as it all sounds Sam Bowden is the sheriff of Squaw.’
Cole grinned, coldly.
Sam Bowden, wearing the badge. It was beyond belief and mocked the very core of the law. Far worse than Steve McCraw being sheriff this was just one big joke. Sam Bowden was a nasty sadistic little coward and now he wore the tin star. He knew Clem Bowden would be behind this and he could see the reasoning in making his son sheriff. It was simple, really. But brilliant in its simplicity.
‘How many in total?’
‘The two men, Sam, and seven others. Ten men in all. They’re all heavily armed.’ The old man shivered. ‘I’ve not seen men so well armed since the Indian wars. I reckon that posse is carrying more arms than Custer took to the Big Horn.’
Cole looked at him. ‘Ten men, you say.’ He hadn’t quite been expecting this. Her wasn’t really sure what he had been expecting but it certainly wasn’t this.
‘Let’s get up higher,’ Cole said. ‘See if we can see them approaching. ’
This hadn’t been in Cole’s plan.
He hadn’t seriously considered that anyone would find him out here and had thought it only the remotest of possibilities. Course he’d realized that Em would be able to figure his whereabouts if he really thought about it but for someone to actually track him, to follow him to the mountain range. That was something he hadn’t given any serious thought to.
He’d been so careful too, first laying that false trail and then covering up as many of his tracks as possible. Whoever it was leading that posse they certainly knew what they were doing. A Comanche, Em had said, and that would figure—the Comanche people could track a snowflake in a blizzard.
The old man had been right.
This did stink of bounty killers.
‘We’ll be in a perfect spot to hold them off,’ Em said.
‘Sure,’ Cole agreed. ‘But that don’t serve my purpose. I’ve got to meet the stage. Speak to the judge and sort this whole damn mess out. If we get into a shooting match it’ll quickly turn into stalemate. It could go on all day or until either side runs out of ammunition.’
‘Which will be us,’ Em pointed out. ‘Less you got an armory hidden away somewhere around here.’
Cole shook his head and looked steely eyed to the far horizon. Still all was still. ‘I’m going to meet that stage.’
‘And if the posse tries to stop you?’
‘Then we’ll have a war.’ Cole said and his words were colder than any he’d ever spoken before. A fierce, stripping, wind came with those words.
Bloodshed was still to be avoided if at all possible but Cole was not going to let anyone stop him in what he had to do. He’d meet the stage, get Sam Bowden locked away, and in doing so break the Bowden’s influence on the town.
With the Bowden’s hold on the town a thing of the past then maybe the citizens would stand up and speak out.
Make a town folk would be proud to call home.
Law and order couldn’t exist if even one solitary man was beyond its power. The law had to be absolute and no one could stand aside from its reach.
This all had to end and end soon.
Cole planned to marry Jessie and build a solid future for them both. He’d been a drifter all his life, spent far too long in the saddle, and he was ready for some stability. The thought of a comfortable home, a loyal wife waiting for him at the end of the day, was a good one; it was all he wanted out of life.
His saddle-bum phase was over and now he intended to shape the future in a way that suited him.
He’d be damned if he’d let the Bowden’s or anyone else jeopardize that.
‘Damn.’ Cole said, not realizing he had spoken aloud.
It was slow going.
Alone, Cole could have covered the distance in half the time but the old man’s roan took some coaxing to negotiate the more severe sections of the mountain. Cole had never seen a more ornery horse.
They continued their trudge upwards, leaving the tree line and entering an area that seemed to consist entirely of rock. And some forty or so minutes of hard climbing later they stood outside the caves where Cole had made camp.
‘You made yourself at home.’ Em said, pointing to Cole’s bedroll that was still on the ground next to the remains of the previous night’s fire. The coffee pot was still steaming and the old man went to it and lifted it, cursing when the handle burned his hand.
He tore a piece of his shirt and used that to lift it.
‘A regular home from home.’ Cole said and went to his lookout point. From here he could see for miles and there was still nothing on the distant horizon. For a second he thought he saw movement in the heat haze that framed the land but there was nothing.
He was getting jumpy and his imagination was getting the better of him.
‘Ain’t no one to be seen.’ Cole said.
‘I got a few hours start on them,’ Em replied and tethered his horse beside Cole’s. Carefully he sipped at the coffee, straight from the pot. ‘They’ll be here soon enough.’
‘This puts a new slant on things,’ Cole said and started to fill his pipe.
Em came over and stood besides Cole. ‘We could cut and run for it.’ He suggested.
> Cole sucked his pipe to life. ‘Might turn out to be the only thing to do,’ he said. ‘Though I would prefer not to have a posse on my tail when I stop the stage.’
Cold wondered about making a break for it and trying to keep ahead of his pursuers but the stage wasn’t due near this area until noon tomorrow and they’d catch up with him before then, forcing a fight.
It was starting to look even more unlikely that he’d be able to totally avoid a fight but out in the open it could turn into a bloody war.
They were outnumbered, just the two of them against ten heavily armed men.
Some kind of showdown was inevitable, always had been.
Cole knew that if he had any chance of survival then he had to increase the odds in his favor.
‘Damn you Samuel Bowden.’ He said, speaking more to the absent Bowden than the very present old man.
‘So what’d you cotton on doing next?’ Em asked. He mouthed the last of his chewing tobacco. ‘If I got to meet my maker I’d like to have some baccy to take with me.’
Cole continued to watch the distant horizon for any sign of movement. The sun was high now and the heat haze blurred his vision. ‘We may both be shaking hands with the maker before the day is out.’ He said.
‘Hell no,’ Em said. ‘That ain’t going to happen. I promised Jessie I’d get you home safe for the wedding. Don’t want to die with a woman mad at me. I’d never rest in peace.’
Despite the situation, Cole laughed.
~*~
‘You think it was Masters?’ Boyd asked and swiped at a fly that was bothering him. He rolled and lit a quirly and pulled his hat down over his eyes to ward off both the fierce sun and the troublesome insect.
‘No.’ Quill stood up and brushed the dirt from his knees.
They had noticed the fresh tracks as soon as they’d crossed the river this morning. They were fresh, not more than a few hours old, which meant that whoever had made them had passed by the camp during the night. If the posse hadn’t split then the sentry would have been feeling Quill’s wrath.
‘This is a much smaller man,’ Quill said. ‘A different horse too.’
‘Boyd looked around them and then cast his eyes back to the river. He watched the waters for a moment.
‘Who?’ He asked.
‘Don’t know.’ Quill admitted. ‘Don’t really twig to this at all.’
‘Someone going to help Masters?’
Quill shrugged his shoulders. ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But I can’t think how that’s possible. Unless whoever it was has been trailing us while we’ve tracked Masters. Maybe we’re getting old and losing our touch.’
Boyd shook his head and then climbed onto his horse.
‘Guess we’ll know soon enough.’ He said and spurred the horse forward.
Quill took a last lingering look around before also mounting up and following after his partner. He urged some speed out of the horse to catch up with the other man and steadied the beast when he drew level.
‘Let’s wind up this business and go home.’ He said.
They rode, as was their custom in silence, but the fresh tracks troubled Quill and he tried to think what they could possibly mean. There was no doubting that someone had come past their camp during the night and seemed to be heading, like them, towards Masters.
Question was who and why?
There was a slim chance that it was just some saddle-bum who had passed by and not noticed the resting posse, that there was no connection to Masters at all, but he didn’t believe that. No matter how careless the sentry had been he would have heard a rider stumbling through. The sound of a careless rider would have woken the entire posse.
Whoever these fresh tracks belonged to there was no doubting the fact that they were an ally of Masters. And, more than that, they had slipped past them with the utmost care. Clem Bowden hadn’t mentioned Masters having any possible compadres but these tracks sure weren’t made by a phantom. The situation had suddenly changed and now with the departure of the rest of the posse it made the numbers more or less equal.
‘We’re getting close.’ Quill said. ‘I feel we’ll meet up with Masters before sundown.’
Boyd nodded and looked at the distant mountain range. ‘Plenty of cover for a couple of men up there.’
Quill looked ahead in silence, eyes becoming slits as he surveyed the distant mountain range. His nose seemed to twitch as if he was testing the very air for the scent of Masters and the unknown rider.
‘That’s where we’ll find them.’ Quill said.
He knew the Squaw Mountains well and was aware of the many possible hiding places there were for a man to conceal himself. The caves alone, famous in the area, ran miles and miles beneath the ground but there were enough secluded places around the mountains to hide an entire regiment let alone a couple of men. If a man had a mind to he could stay hidden forever.
‘Masters knows what he’s doing.’ Boyd said, breaking the silence. ‘Don’t suppose he’s as much of a greenhorn as Clem claimed.’
Quill offered a grim smile in reply.
Tracking would be difficult once they started going into the mountains and if Masters knew the area, as he guessed he must, then it would prove nigh on impossible to locate him amongst the miles and miles of mountains that ran clean into the next territory.
If a man didn’t want to be found then there were ways to ensure it in the mountains.
‘Might be a little harder than we expected,’ Boys said and slid a gleaming Winchester from his saddle boot. He checked the gun was loaded, tested the action, and slid it back into the boot. The gun looked new, a virgin weapon, when in actual fact it was several years old, such was the attention Boyd gave to its maintenance.
‘Let’s just get the job over and done.’ Quill said. ‘I’m getting too old to be sleeping in the open.
‘Just pointing out the fact that we might have to negotiate a little more money from Clem Bowden,’ Boyd said with a grin. ‘Especially with his fool son and men running out on us.’
‘Leaving us all on our lonesome.’ Quill said.
‘Just the two of us to face the music.’
Quill grinned. ‘Just the way we like it.’
‘Sure is.’ Boyd agreed and then the two men exchanged glances that were wholly private and would have been strangely troubling to any onlookers. He rolled and lit another quirly and drew the smoke deep into his lungs, letting it escape slowly through his teeth.
‘I’m getting kinda eager to meet up with this Masters fellow.’ He said, presently.
‘And whoever these fresh tracks belong too.’ Quill reminded him.
‘Killing’s killing,’ Boyd said. ‘Don’t make much difference if it’s one or two.’
‘Guess not.’ Quill nodded and checked his own weapons. Quickly, with the skill of a man familiar with guns, he checked both pistols and his own rifle, a battered looking Remington that fired true to sight despite its gnarled appearance.
‘Then shall we dance with the Devil?’ Quill said and kissed the butt of his rifle. He slid it back into its boot.
Boyd said nothing but the lopsided smile that failed to reach his eyes spoke volumes.
They both spurred their horses into a gallop and rode as expert horsemen, forcing their respective mounts to display all the speed of their thoroughbred. The grass lands between them and the mountain range blurred beneath the galloping hooves.
Chapter Fifteen
Fear was tangible in the air.
The feeling of foreboding hung over the town like an oppressive cloud.
Folk went about their business as usual but everyone seemed quieter than was normal, as if each carried their own shame within their hearts. Each did what they had to do and then got off the street and back to the safety of their homes as quickly as was possible. The heavy Bowden presence in town had everyone on edge.
Jessie stood outside the schoolhouse while the children took their morning break by running around the school grounds and scrambling over
the climbing frames and swings that a few of the townsmen had constructed for their use.
She looked down onto Main Street and shuddered when once again she saw Clem Bowden and two of his men riding back into town and head directly to the jailhouse.
Two days had passed since the posse had ridden out in search of Cole with Em following behind them at a discrete distance and to Jessie’s knowledge Clem Bowden had mostly remained here in town. The old man seemed to have made the jailhouse his base which, she supposed, he was entitled to seeing as how his son was now the town’s sheriff.
‘Morning.’
Jessie had been lost in thought and she looked up to see Betty Harker standing by the school fence. She was carrying a basket containing groceries and she had a thick shawl draped over her shoulders despite the heat of a still young day.
‘Good morning,’ Jessie said, smiling, wondering what snippet of gossip Betty had to pass on. ‘Wonderful day.’
‘The children seem to be enjoying it,’ Betty said and looked over at them. They were full of the vigor’s of youth, living each moment to the full, not a care in the world.
‘Personally I don’t like this weather. Too many flies about,’she said.
‘Yes,’ Jessie said but her attention was taken by the sight of two of the men coming out of the jailhouse and crossing over the street towards the Majestic. There was, as usual, no sign of Clem Bowden emerging. He seemed to spend most of his time in town cooped up in that jailhouse.
Betty, noticing the schoolteacher’s preoccupation, cast a look over her shoulder and saw the two men as they entered the saloon. ‘It brings shame on this town,’ she said. ‘It truly does.’
‘Yes,’ Jessie nodded.
‘Must be hard on you. Now that they’ve run Sheriff Masters out of town.’
‘They didn’t run Cole out of town,’ Jessie snapped.