“Jason!” she uttered.
Her sudden exclamation startled Pike and he froze for an instant before jumping to his feet. The very name of the scout provoked a sense of panic. He searched the slopes behind him frantically, trying to spot him. She had been staring at the ridge when she saw Coles. He wasn’t there now, and Pike knew that if he was already making his way down the slope, he would be here within minutes. He glanced quickly back at the battered woman tied to the tree. He never counted himself as a fool and she wasn’t worth risking his life for.
Knowing time was his enemy, he wasted no more of it. Pulling up his pants as he ran for his horse, he was in the saddle within seconds. Once mounted, his fear of the Indian scout gave way for a final moment of anger and he wheeled his horse around to look down at Abby. “Don’t think you’re gettin’ away with this, bitch.” He drew his pistol and pumped two shots into the helpless girl’s chest. She recoiled with the impact, then lay still. He grinned briefly then kicked his heels into his horse’s sides and was off up the ravine at a gallop.
Some two miles away, Jason heard the pistol shots and urged the paint to pick up the pace. This made four shots fired in the last twenty or thirty minutes and all from a pistol. He couldn’t even guess what the shots meant—someone was firing at close range, since that was all a pistol was good for. After leaving the miners’ cabin by the stream, it was easy enough to pick up the trail. Abby had left tracks that anyone could follow and the man riding the horse with the nicked shoe was right on her trail. Jason knew he was gaining ground even though the tracks showed that Abby was pushing her horse hard. The nicked shoe was not pushing as hard. He didn’t speculate on what the pistol shots meant any longer—he would cover the ground as fast as he could without getting careless and find out when he got there. From what he had seen following this man, he was chasing a ruthless murderer and he didn’t like the thought of the animal catching up to Abby. She might think she was tough but this was a two-legged critter with the conscience of a coyote.
He covered the two miles in short order and pulled up on the top of a ridge to scout the ravine below before riding down. His eyes picked up the form lying beneath the pine tree. From that distance, he could see that it was a body. He looked the ravine over carefully before descending the slope to the bottom. It was apparent that there was no one else around, so he made his way cautiously toward the body under the tree.
As he approached, his mind was filled with the dread that he was about to find something he didn’t want to find. When he got a little closer, he was able to see the form under the tree more clearly. “Ah, damn,” he uttered as his heart sank. It was just what he had feared.
She was lying still, her hands tied to the tree behind her, her body naked from the waist down. Poor darling, he thought, the son of a bitch left her all bloodied and naked to the world. The anger boiled up in his throat and his first desire was to gallop after the bastard and gut him like the pig that he was. Instead, he dismounted and went to Abby’s side.
He took the torn trousers lying on the ground and covered her nakedness. Then he cut her hands free. When he did, she groaned. He was startled by the sound, for he had been convinced she was dead. He knelt beside her and propped her head on his knee while he looked at her wounds. One look told him that she was not far from gone. It looked as if all the blood that was in her had drained. His heart went out to her. If only he had been here sooner—if he hadn’t taken so much time tracking her to the miners’ cabin—if he hadn’t taken time with the dying Lakota. But in his rational mind, he knew he had done the best he could.
Her eyes fluttered briefly, then opened, and she stared into the face of Jason Coles. It was weak, but she managed a smile when she recognized the sunburned face and the deep blue eyes that peered at her so intently with such deep compassion. She started to speak but could not before coughing up blood from her lungs. After a moment she was able to manage a few words.
“Jason,” her voice barely above a whisper. “I saw you on the ridge. I knew you would come.”
“Abby,” he started, not really knowing what to say. “You’re gonna be all right. We’ll fix you up in no time.”
She smiled and shook her head slowly. There was no uncertainty in her voice. “No, I’m dying.” She groped for his hand and he took hers and held it. “Pike ran when I saw you on the ridge, but he shot me before he left.”
“I know, Abby. I’m sorry I was late getting here.”
She coughed up more blood, convulsing in pain when she did. Calm again, she tried to squeeze his hand but her grip was so weak it was barely more than a twitch. “I knew you’d find me. I knew you cared about me. We’d have made a good team.”
“That’s right, Abby. I care about you.” He felt badly that he had held very little emotion for the girl but he wanted to comfort her. “We’d have made a helluva team.”
Her smile faded. “Get Pike, Jason. Promise you’ll get him.”
“I promise. I’ll get him.” And he knew inside that he would. If he had to chase him to hell and back, he’d get him.
She suddenly stiffened with a sharp painful spasm before her body went limp again. After a moment, she spoke almost in a child’s voice. “Hold me, Jason. It’s getting cold.” He sat down with his back against the tree and cradled her in his arms. “Don’t leave me, Jason. I’m afraid.” He pulled her closer.
“I won’t leave you. I’ll stay right here with you.”
She relaxed then, content to be in his arms. She knew she was dying but somehow the thought of dying was not so frightening anymore. She felt safe at last, safe in Jason’s arms. He had come for her as she knew he would. And he had come because he cared for her—he had said so. She was at peace.
He stayed with her, holding her in his arms until, when it was almost evening, eternal night settled its misty veil gently over her and Abby passed peacefully into the beyond, a smile on her face. Jason had witnessed Death’s call many times, perhaps more times than a man was meant to. But he had never reached the point where he was indifferent to it. With the passing of Abby’s last breath, there was an emptiness that settled around him, an emptiness he could feel, like the gentle breeze that stirred the leaves of the tree he sat under. Even though he knew she was gone, he continued to hold Abby close to him, gently rocking back and forth as if calming a baby. All she wanted was for someone to care about her and he felt guilty that she had never found that person, as if he should have cared more. He sat under the tree, holding her cold body long into the night before finally laying her gently on the ground and covering her against the chill night air.
There wasn’t much in the way of personal items to collect, but he found a silver locket and a fine comb in her coat pocket. He took those, along with her Colt and a rifle that looked like the one Nathan White Horse had carried. He wondered how she ended up with it. He packed them in her saddlepack to take back to Fort Lincoln for her father. That is, he thought, if I get back to Fort Lincoln. For he had it in his mind that he was going after Pike, no matter where the murdering dog ran—he owed her that. It didn’t sit lightly on his mind that his job had been to find Abby and bring her back safely—and he hadn’t done that worth a damn.
He didn’t have a shovel to dig her a proper grave but he was determined to lay her to rest somehow. So he found as soft a spot as he could and scratched out a shallow grave with his knife, using a frying pan for a shovel. When he had wrapped Abby up as best he could, using her coat as a shroud, he laid her gently into the grave and filled it in. Then he piled rocks on top of it to keep the critters away. When it was done, he backed up a few steps and sat down on a rock to try to think of some kind words to say over her.
There had not been enough time to get to know the girl, but she seemed spunky enough and she had evidently been a fighter right up to the end. “It’s a damn shame,” he mumbled. Her last words pointed to the idea that she thought he had some special feelings for her and he had let her think so since it had seemed to ease her pas
sing. He couldn’t see any harm in it. When he thought back on her last words, it struck him that she had said something mighty curious. He concentrated hard on just how she had put it. She said she saw him on the ridge before Pike shot her. But that was impossible because he was at least two miles away when he heard the last two shots. Even when he did get to the ridge, he doubted if she would have been able to see him, lying half under that tree like she was. Yet she was dead sure she had seen him. Jason shook his head, bewildered. What, he wondered, did she see? Maybe she saw an Indian…or a ghost. He couldn’t say, but it did strike him as curious.
He got up from his seat on the rock and stepped closer to Abby’s grave. Taking his hat off, he looked up at the sky. “Lord, if you’re listening, I reckon you already know about Abby’s passing. She was about the homeliest woman I think I’ve ever seen, but I feel certain that the ugly was mostly on the outside, I hope you’ll set her a place at your table. Amen.” He started to put his hat back on then paused and looked back up at the sky. “And Lord, tell her I’m gonna get that son of a bitch that shot her.”
Satisfied he had done everything he could do for the girl, he climbed on the paint, and started out after Jack Pike.
Chapter XIII
Pike rode his horse hard until the poor beast foundered. Only then did he stop in his flight from the narrow ravine where he had left Abby. As quickly as he could, he pulled his saddle from the beaten animal and put it on the extra horse he had been leading since leaving Selvey by the river. As an after-thought, he pulled the saddle off Abby’s horse and dumped it on the ground. Ordinarily he would not have discarded the saddle, since it would have some trading value, but now he didn’t want the extra weight. He couldn’t be sure how far back Jason Coles might be and the uppermost thought in his mind was to travel as light and as fast as possible. He packed his supplies on Abby’s horse and, with no more than a glance at the discarded saddle and a few other items that he deemed unnecessary, he was off and running again. Coles would find the saddle, and probably the spent horse, but that didn’t concern Pike at the moment. Of most importance to him now was the need to gain as much distance as he could. When he felt he had that safety margin, then he would make an effort to disguise his trail.
Pike figured his best prospects for staying alive would be to make his way back deep into Indian territory—or better yet, into the relative safety of a large Indian camp. For reasons he could not fully understand but was well aware of, he had worn out his welcome in the few Sioux and Arapaho bands he had traded with. The one village he could think of that might still tolerate him was the Cheyenne: Two Moon’s. He didn’t even consider pushing south to Laramie, or north to Fort Lincoln, since he was wanted by the army for desertion.
Two Moon was more than likely still somewhere on the Tongue River. Pike set out in that direction after leaving the South Fork of the Cheyenne River, where he had attempted to lose his trail by following the river downstream for most of an hour. Coles had been good enough to track him through the mountains, so he had taken more pains than usual to cover his trail.
After another full day’s ride and still no sign of anyone on his backtrail, he began to feel more comfortable. Coles may be as good as they say, he told himself, but he ain’t slick enough to catch Jack Pike. Feeling in command once again, he began to think of his prospects for financial gain in regard to his dealings with the Cheyennes. Guns, they always wanted guns, and he had nothing to offer them in his present situation. Something would have to turn up, he thought, and almost as an answer to his prayers, he spotted a small black object on the distant horizon.
Keeping to the low side of the ridges and tablelands, he rode on a path to intercept the object. He wanted to make sure he was not spotted by whomever it was until he knew what he was stalking—it wasn’t healthy for any white man to encounter a hostile hunting party. It took more than an hour to close the angle between himself and the object to a point where he could identify it. “Ain’t that sweet?” he sneered, a grin spread wide across his face. “Just what the doctor ordered.”
It was a large freight wagon, pulled by six mules. Pike couldn’t have been more pleased. He hoped it was prospectors instead of homesteaders who may have strayed from the trail. Homesteaders never had much of value, while miners usually equipped themselves with weapons and ammunition for their defense and, sometimes, a supply of whisky. His thoughts of Jason Coles were not entirely forgotten but, with the immediate prospects before him, they faded somewhat. He would be a great deal more welcome in Two Moon’s camp with some rifles and bullets to trade.
* * *
Harley Dawson craned his neck and squinted his eyes in an effort to make out the figure that appeared at the top of the rise before him. He made it out to be a man, sitting a horse with a pack horse behind. He didn’t appear to be an Indian.
“Seth,” he called back over his shoulder, “get yourself up here. We got company.”
Harley’s younger brother roused himself from his blankets, where he had been catching up on some sleep, and climbed over the wagon seat to join his brother. Harley pointed to the rise ahead. “Look like a white man to you?”
Seth studied the figure for a few moments before answering. “Looks like,” he finally stated. “I’d better get my rifle.” He climbed back in the wagon and retrieved his rifle, then rejoined his brother on the seat.
Both brothers studied the stranger as they approached, keeping a sharp eye for any signs of an ambush. They had not made it this far from the Platte by being careless, and a lone white rider in this part of the territory was cause for suspicion. There had been no occasion to use their rifles to defend themselves other than one halfhearted attempt by a party of half a dozen Pawnees—looking, no doubt, for weapons—who had been easily discouraged by the two brothers, both crack shots with a rifle.
“Look out behind us again,” Harley said. “If it’s an ambush, it ain’t a likely place for one. I can’t see a soul on either side of us.”
“I don’t see nobody behind us,” Seth reported. “I reckon he’s alone.”
They were within a hundred yards of the stranger now and the man took off his hat and waved. They continued on up the rise until they pulled up beside him. “Keep your eye on him, Seth,” Harley warned in a low whisper. “He’s got a look about him.”
“Howdy, neighbor. Name’s Jack Pike.” He rode over closer to the wagon. “I’m a wagon guide just took some folks up to Montana territory.” He fashioned a grin that was intended to be friendly. “Looks like you boys are a long way off the trail. Where you headed?”
Harley answered. “We’re figurin’ on heading up to Dakota territory.”
“Prospectors, huh?” Harley nodded. “Heading up to the Black Hills, I reckon, looking fer some of that gold.” Pike’s grin spread wider. “Well, there’s plenty of it up there. I’ve took some folks up there myself.” He shook his head to emphasize the wonder of it. “Yessir, folks is gittin’ rich up in them hills. Me, I don’t have no cravin’ fer the stuff. Guiding’s my business and I’m glad I happened on you boys. I can save you a powerful load of grief and maybe your scalps to boot.”
This caused Harley to raise an eyebrow. “Oh? How’s that?”
“Well, fer one thing, the way you’re headin they’s a heap of hostile Injuns just waiting fer a wagon like this to come along.” Both brothers sat up at this. “You boys is lucky I was riding this a’way. You need to strike further to the west to git around ’em. I can show you the way.”
“Much obliged, but we wouldn’t want to take you out of your way. I figure you were on your way somewhere, same as us.” Harley glanced at his brother. “We’re pretty handy with a rifle, ain’t we, Seth?” Harley was a little skeptical about guardian angels that popped up in the middle of this wilderness, especially guardian angels that looked as capable of mischief as this one.
“You’re dead right. I’m on my way back to Laramie. I’ve been hired to lead another train, but they won’t be ready for another we
ek or two so it ain’t no trouble to see a couple of fellers like yourself to safety. Lord knows them bloodthirsty devils is kilt enough folks out here, and just to keep ’em from having gold that the savages ain’t got no use fer anyway.” It was becoming a strain for Pike to maintain a kindly facade. This Harley was a suspicious cuss and his little brother kept staring at him with that Henry rifle cradled in his arms. Pike would have preferred to have shot both of them by now and been on his way, but they were watching him so closely that he couldn’t risk fighting both of them. He would just have to play along for a while until he got a good shot at their backs. Since it was obvious the two brothers were not keen on the idea of his joining them, he made another attempt. “You’re right, though. I reckon I had better get on down to Laramie. Them folks always feel a lot better when I’m around to help ’em get ready fer the trail. I wouldn’t feel right though if I didn’t at least lead you a few miles and show you a safe trail to take. That’s the least I can do.”
Harley glanced at his brother. “Well, that’s considerate of you, if it wouldn’t be no trouble.”
While the brothers watched, Pike tied his packhorse onto their wagon and then led them out toward the west, constantly scanning the horizon to both sides as if concerned for their safety. When he was in front of the wagon, and they could no longer see his face, a scowl returned to replace the friendly grin. He was irritated that he had to waste time with the two prospectors. He even wished he had Selvey back with him. It would have been a simple matter for the two of them to get the brothers between them and gun them down. Now he was beginning to fear he would not get an opportunity to take both of them. He might have to bid them farewell and then sneak back after dark and bushwhack them, but he didn’t want to wait around that long.
Cheyenne Justice Page 20