by J. T. Edson
“It was close,” drawled Mark, realizing that much of the story remained untold. “I reckon that big cuss saved your life.”
“Him and Beryl both,” agreed Kerry, and told of the girl’s actions.
“That’s one smart and brave gal,” commented Killem. “And just look at her standing there alongside Shaun.”
“She’s got a way with animals,” Kerry said.
“She’s got a way with folks, too,” grinned Mark. “You ask Big Win.” His face lost its smile. “Why’d they jump you, amigo?”
“Looking for evens after last night, most likely.”
“And why’d they jump you last night?”
“I’d cost them some money,” Kerry replied, and explained the circumstances, finishing, “That wouldn’t set well with them.”
“Do you reckon Corben set them up to kill you?” asked Killem.
“Nope,” Kerry answered. “He might have told them to jump me and work me over until I agreed to go back hunting for him, but he’d not want me dead. That way I’d be no use to him.”
“Want us to take out after them?” Mark inquired.
“No. They’ll be gone and I don’t reckon I’ll see any more of them. We’d best tote Wingett’s body back to town though.”
“Dobe and I’ll tend to it,” Mark promised.
At that moment Lord Henry walked over. “Thanks for saving Beryl, Kerry.”
“She saved me, too,” Kerry replied. “I’m only sorry she saw what she did.”
“It wasn’t your choosing that those thugs tried to kill you,” the peer said. “You’ll find that Beryl doesn’t hold it against you.”
“I hope not,” Kerry answered, and something in his tone brought the peer’s eyes to his face. “Let’s take the ladies back to town.”
“And the body?”
“Dobe and Mark’ll tend to that.”
Accepting Kerry’s reply as the best solution, Lord Henry mounted his horse. Accompanied by Kerry, the peer escorted the girls back in the direction of Otley Creek. For a time none of them spoke much, then Kerry brought his gray to a sudden halt and stared off to the north.
“Well I’ll be damned!” he ejaculated.
The other three also turned their eyes and followed the direction of his gaze. On a distant slope a number of small black dots moved slowly into view and downward. Of the three, only Calamity knew what the dots were and she felt a little puzzled at Kerry’s surprise.
“What are they?” asked Beryl.
“Buffalo,” Calamity answered. “You’ll see plenty of them on the plains.”
“But not this close to town, the way they’ve been hunted down,” Kerry objected. “It’s a bull and his bunch of cows.”
“Mind if we ride over and take a look, old boy?” Lord Henry inquired.
“You’re the boss,” Kerry drawled. “I see you brought a rifle along.”
“The others insisted I collect it before we came after you,” Lord Henry replied, glancing down to where his .405 Express rode in its saddleboot. “I’m not keen on taking a buffalo, unless it’s really good.”
Steering the others along a route that kept them out of plain view, Kerry made his way toward the herd. As an aid to his skin-hunting, he had studied the buffaloes’ habits and wondered what caused the herd to keep on the move at a time when they would normally be grazing.
“Can’t get in much closer on the horses,” Kerry said at last. “If we leave them down in that hollow, we can move in on foot.”
“I think I’ll stay with the horses and Shaun,” Beryl remarked.
“And me,” Calamity agreed. “I’ve seen all the buffaloes I need.”
“Have it your own way, girls,” Lord Henry smiled. “You ladies usually do.”
“Now there’s what I call a real smart man,” Calamity grinned.
On reaching the bottom of the small hollow, Kerry told Shaun to stay and swung from his saddle. He drew the carbine from its boot and looked to where Lord Henry slid out the Express. Leaving the girls, dog and horses, the two men advanced cautiously on foot toward the approaching buffalo.
The herd continued to move slowly along its original course, some dozen or so cows of the same general size and, at one side, an exceptionally big old bull. It towered inches higher than the cows, with massive horns that brought a low whistle of admiration from the big hunter.
“Just look at those horns,” he told Lord Henry.
“Are they something special?”
“You might say that. I’ve seen a fair number of buffalo and those are the biggest pair of horns I’ve ever come across.”
“Is there any chance of my bagging him?”
“Reckon that Express’ll stop him.”
“If I’m close enough.”
“We’ll move down to that bunch of bushes at the foot of the slope then.”
“Where’ll be the best place to hit him?” asked Lord Henry before moving.
“Right smack between his two eyes,” Kerry replied.
“That would spoil the head for mounting,” Lord Henry pointed out.
“Then you’ll have to wait until it swings and get it just behind the shoulder. Aim about halfway down and you ought to hit the heart.”
“And if he doesn’t——”
At that moment another bull topped the slope over the advancing herd, chopping off Lord Henry’s words as it stood for a moment and gave out a deep guttural roar. Swinging around, the herd bull faced the other and gave vent to a bellow in answer to the newcomer’s challenge and then moved to the rear of the bunch of cows.
While not quite as large as the herd bull, the newcomer packed a fair amount of size and weight; it also appeared to be somewhat younger. To the watching men, it seemed that the herd bull showed some reluctance at turning to meet the challenge. The reason for the herd’s continuous movement now became obvious. Having beaten off its younger challenger, the herd bull tried to leave it behind and avoid another clash. At last the younger bull caught up and prepared to resume the battle, bawling out a challenge that must be accepted.
Down the slope thundered the younger bull, giving vent to the whistling hiss Kerry knew so well. Sounding like steam rushing through the safety-valve of an overheated engine’s boiler, the charge whistle of the attacking bull shattered the air, mingling with the deep grunt of the older animal which advanced to meet the attack. Both bulls carried signs of previous engagements, open wounds giving mute testimony to a mating battle that had been carried on intermittently for the past eighteen hours.
Using the momentum built up in the downhill charge, the younger bull crashed into the elder and forced it backward. Although the herd bull kept its feet, the challenger drove it back on to the level ground at the foot of the slope. For almost twenty minutes the two bulls charged, butted and hooked at each other. Standing clear of the fracas, the cows showed no interest in the contesting males and grazed unconcerned.
More than once during the fight Lord Henry could have taken a side-on shot at the herd bull but made no attempt to do so. He would never have even thought of taking such an unfair advantage. Instead, he and Kerry stood and watched a primeval struggle for mastery.
“The old one’s losing,” Lord Henry breathed.
“Looks that way,” Kerry agreed.
Head to head, the bulls strained against each other, hooves churning the earth and sending it flying. Slowly the herd bull gave ground and, sensing its rival weakening, the challenger thrust with renewed vigor. Reeling under the extra force, the herd bull turned away from the challenger. Instantly the younger bull lunged, slamming full into the other’s side and hooking savagely. Staggering from the impact, the old bull turned and fled, bellowing dolefully. After giving chase for a short distance, the young challenger and new leader of the herd swung back to claim his spoils.
In its attempt to avoid the pain of its rival’s attack, the old bull headed straight for the clump of bushes behind which Kerry and Lord Henry had hidden on halting to watch the fight.
Still bawling pitifully, as if knowing its days as herd leader had ended, and trailing thick blood behind it, the old bull rushed blindly into the bushes, smashing through as if they did not exist.
“Look out, Kerry!” Lord Henry yelled, diving to one side while the scout flung himself in the other direction.
On landing, Lord Henry swivelled around and threw up his Express. As the fleeing bull buffalo burst between the men, he fired left and right, aiming the shots just behind the shoulder and in the center of the body’s depth. The bull’s legs buckled on the impact of the bullets and it crashed to the ground some feet beyond the two men. Instantly Lord Henry broke open the Express, thumbing out its empty cases and replacing them with two loaded bullets from his jacket pocket.
“Good shot,” Kerry said admiringly, and meant it. “Reckon you’ll need them?”
“I’d say he was done for,” Lord Henry answered. “Only there’s no point in taking chances. Chappie I knew did, walked up to a lion he’d shot and the blighter got up just as he reached it. Hadn’t bothered to load his gun first. They say he still had the annoyed expression on his face when they buried him.”
Kerry glanced at the Englishman’s sober face and caught the twinkle of humor in his eyes. It seemed that Lord Henry was not the aloof, unsmiling man he gave the impression of being. Nor did he lose his opinion of the peer’s hunting savvy while watching the cautious manner in which the other approached the bull. Although the precautions proved unnecessary, neither man regretted taking them.
“Twenty-six inches at least,” Kerry remarked, trying to sound nonchalant and hide the excitement he felt. “I’ve not seen many as big and damned few bigger.”
“That’s how I like them,” Lord Henry replied. “We’ll have to arrange for the head-skin to be collected.”
“I’ll tend to it,” promised Kerry. “He’ll be tougher’n an old Sioux moccasin to eat, but the marrow bones’ll still be tasty. Tongue shouldn’t be too bad, either.”
At that moment the two girls rode up, each leading a horse and with Shaun loping alongside Beryl. Dropping from her saddle, Beryl studied the bull for a moment, then turned to her brother.
“He’s a beauty, dear. I think we’ll have his head mounted between the tusks from the big bull elephant you took in the Transvaal.”
“I thought of replacing Aunt Agatha’s portrait over the fireplace with it,” grinned Lord Henry. “But I don’t think she’d go much for the idea.”
“I know she wouldn’t,” Beryl replied. “What do you think, Calam?”
“I’d hate like hell to try eating him,” answered the practical Miss Canary. “But I reckon our two hunters know what they’re doing. Only I states now that they’d best come up with something a whole heap younger once we hit the plains happen they want to keep me happy.”
“That we’ll do,” Lord Henry promised. “I’ll stay here while the rest of you go to town and send out the means to move the trophy in.”
“There’s no need for that if you lend me your jacket,” Kerry replied.
Without arguing, Lord Henry removed his jacket and passed it to the hunter. Kerry went to the buffalo and hung the coat so that it swung and swayed from the horns.
“Will that work?” asked Beryl.
“Sure will,” Calamity assured her. “Them turkey buzzards up there and the buffalo wolves won’t come near for a fair spell as long as it moves.”
With the precautions for safeguarding the trophy taken, the party rode back to Otley Creek. On reaching the hotel, they found Dobe Killem standing on the porch and Calamity needed only one glance to warn her that the freighter had something on his mind.
“Have Frank’s men arrived yet, Dobe?” Kerry asked.
“Come in on the westbound. I’ve sent them down to Ma Gerhity’s.”
“Going to need the skinner and your wagon.”
“You’ve got trouble here, Kerry,” warned Killem quietly.
“How’s that?” Kerry asked.
“Corben’s putting it about that you never paid for the last load of supplies and claims he aims to have you held for debt.”
“He does, huh?” said Kerry gently, and dropped from his saddle, drawing the carbine as he landed.
“One moment, Kerry!” barked Lord Henry. “That’s no answer.”
“I figure it’s a right smart one,” Kerry replied.
“It is—if you want everybody to believe Corben’s telling the truth.”
“I’ve never lied to any man, ’cept about hunting, and that’s not lying,” Kerry growled and swung away from the party.
Tossing a leg across the saddle, Calamity lit down on the ground and swung free her whip.
“You just stand fast and listen to Hank, Kerry,” she ordered. “Just try walking away and you’ll do it on a broken ankle.”
Nothing he had heard or seen of Calamity led Kerry to believe she might be making an idle threat. That whip in her hands possessed the power to do just what she said and she knew how to handle it so as to achieve the desired result. Even so, he might not have stopped. His eyes met Beryl’s and found them quizzical, yet holding an expression which clearly said their future relationship depended on how he acted.
“You’ve got a right good argument, Calam,” he said.
“That’s better,” Lord Henry stated. “We’ll go and see Corben now.”
“That jacket won’t keep the wolves and buzzards off the buffalo forever,” Kerry warned. “Its head might be ruined.”
“Blast the head!” Lord Henry barked. “There’ll be others.”
But not many with such a size of horn, as all the party knew. Beryl smiled at Kerry, letting him know that she approved of his decision. “If you wish, dear, I’ll accompany the skinner. Perhaps Calam will come along?”
“Sure I will,” agreed Calamity. “I reckon old hot-head here won’t go shooting up the whole danged town. Say, where’s Mark?”
“Gone to tell his boys they’ll be staying on for another day. The town’s been giving a party to honor their distinguished visitors,” Killem explained. “I reckon you and M—Lady Beryl’ll attend, Henry?”
“Of course,” Henry agreed. “But let’s get this business with Corben settled first, shall we?”
“Yeah,” Kerry agreed. “Let’s.”
Just a touch of nervousness crept through Corben as he saw Kerry Barran enter the store. Not even having Berkmyer and Sharpie hovering in the background made him feel any more secure as both had failed to handle the big hunter. Behind Kerry came Dobe Killem and that damned dude Englishman. Worse than that, the railroad’s depot agent stood at the tobacco counter being served, and brought the presence of an independent witness into the affair.
“Hear tell you want to see me, Corben,” Kerry said, his carbine under the crook of his arm. “Where’s Bernstein?”
“Huh?” grunted the startled storekeeper.
“I paid him for the stores and watched him enter it in your books.”
“The book’s right here,” Corben answered, waving his hand to a thick ledger on the counter top. “But there’s no record of your payment in it.”
“Where’s this Bernstein chap?” Lord Henry put in.
“He left town on vacation.”
“I saw him go, mister,” the agent put in. “Looked like he was heading down track to find a dentist, way his face was bandaged.”
Exchanging glances with his companions and seeing they also caught the significance of the words, Lord Henry turned to Berkmyer. “Have you any interest in this matter, marshal?”
“Only to keep the peace.”
“Including serving a warrant on Mr. Barran?”
“If I have to,” Berkmyer agreed.
“Which also entails gathering all witnesses?” Lord Henry went on and the marshal nodded. “Then you must arrange for the speedy return of this Bernstein chap.”
“I don’t know where he’s gone,” objected Berkmyer.
“Telegraph the police in each town along the railroad,” s
uggested the peer. “If that does not bring results, hire the Pinkerton Agency.”
“And who pays for it all?”
“The one who loses the case, if I know anything about the law.”
Apprehension bit into Corben at the words. He knew that the Pinkerton Agency possessed the means to locate and return Bernstein, no matter where he went, even if some town marshal along the track did not pick him up. Once returned the reason for his facial bandage would be learned. Toothache did not make it necessary—as Corben well knew.
“One other thing, marshal,” Lord Henry said, having watched the storekeeper’s expression and chosen his moment perfectly. “Could you tell me the name of a general store in the next town along the track. I wish to buy supplies for my hunting expedition.”
“I’ve everything you’ll need, sir—my Lord,” Corben pointed out in his most ingratiating manner.
“Under the circumstances, I hardly feel it advisable to do business with you,” Lord Henry answered. “I might discover that payment for my goods was not recorded by your clerk.”
Give him his due, Corben knew when to call a game quits. Nothing he could say or do would induce Kerry Barran to work for him again. He decided to give up his efforts and forget revenge, if doing so brought him the Englishman’s business.
“Waldo!” he called to his second clerk. “You were here when Mr. Barran paid for his stores?”
“Yes, Uncle Cyrus,” Waldo agreed, catching on with remarkable speed. “I remember Bernie didn’t mark it in the book. Told him about it, too, and he said he would. He must have forgotten to do it.”
“That’s what he must have done,” beamed Corben. “I’m sorry about all the trouble this has caused, Mr. Barran.”
“We all make mistakes,” Lord Henry remarked, jabbing Kerry hard in the ribs before the hunter could raise any objections. “Of course, Mr. Corben will make a public announcement that gives the full facts.”
“Sure I will,” Corben agreed, willing to do anything if it brought him a sizeable order.
“And I think you’ll admit he can supply us with everything we’ll need for our trip, Kerry?” the peer went on.
“Sure he can,” Kerry answered grudgingly. “Maybe better than any other store closer than Chicago.”