“What?” Ned blurted, hardly believing what he had just heard. “Why you son of a—” he started, reaching for his pistol.
Before he could draw the weapon, Cade’s free hand clamped down hard on Ned’s gun hand, holding the pistol firmly in the holster. With his other hand, he splashed the remainder of his whiskey into the surprised man’s eyes. Appling jerked his head back from the stinging alcohol, and before he could open his eyes again, Cade planted a hard right hand that landed beside the point of his chin. Ned’s knees buckled, and he grabbed the bar with his free hand to keep from falling, giving Cade time to pull his own weapon. A sharp rap across the bridge of Ned’s nose was enough to send him on down to the floor, too groggy to know what had happened. Cade reached down and took Ned’s pistol from him, then grabbed him by his heels and dragged the half-conscious man out of the saloon.
While this was taking place, the entire saloon had remained caught in stunned silence. As Cade came back inside, the room filled with noise again as Bar-K hands and everyone else suddenly recovered their voices. “Goddamn,” was all a shocked Red Reynolds could utter.
“He don’t say a helluva lot,” Harvey exclaimed, “but it don’t do to rile him, does it?”
Cade stood there, holding both guns for a long moment. Of all the patrons in the saloon, he, more than anyone, knew that it wasn’t over. It wasn’t a coincidence that Ned Appling was in that saloon tonight. He was sent there to call Cade out, and he would be back. Dick Sullivan moved up beside Cade then and cautioned in a low voice, “I think maybe it would be best if you called it a night, and maybe you’d better use the back door.”
“Yes, sir,” Cade replied. “I expect you’re right.” He could appreciate the fear the saloon owner had of the beaten man coming back to look for Cade and shooting up his saloon. He turned to find Red standing behind him. “It’s all right, Red, I was thinkin’ about going back to the bunkhouse, anyway. I’ll see you later.” He laid Ned Appling’s pistol on the bar and left.
Outside, Cade stood at the back door of the saloon for a few minutes, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark. The rowdy din of the patrons in the saloon provided a steady hum through the rough plank door behind him as he listened for any unusual sound in the dark. Looking left and right in the narrow alley that ran between the buildings and the creek behind them, he could see no sign of anyone lying in wait. Sensing no immediate danger, he stepped out of the shadow of the door and started walking back to the ranch.
Glancing briefly down the side alley between the saloon and the dry goods store and seeing no one, he passed behind the store, and walked out to the street on the other side. Pausing again to scan the main thoroughfare, he saw nothing but a few horses tied out front of the saloon. The street was empty all the way down to the south end where the Montana Territorial Prison stood. It occurred to him then the irony of a planned assassination in the very shadow of the prison. He wondered if the man who had come to kill him had ever been a guest at the notorious institution.
It could be, he told himself as he walked along the dark road, that he had jumped to the wrong conclusion regarding the incident in the bar. Why would a man of John Slater’s obvious wealth and apparent standing hire a common gunman to eliminate a rival suitor? It didn’t make sense, especially in light of the fact that Cade was no suitor at all. Maybe, he thought, Appling just had a burr under his saddle and felt like a fight. He remembered then the challenging stare from Appling the first time he had seen him. Thinking about it now, he was surprised he didn’t recognize the man right away in the saloon tonight. Still, Appling was Slater’s hired hand. Cade could not discard the possibility the fight was at Slater’s bidding. Jealousy was a disease shared by rich men as well as saddle tramps.
He was almost back to the bunkhouse when he heard the sound of hooves on the road behind him, pounding hard in a full gallop. He turned just in time to hear the snap of a bullet as it passed beside his head a split second before the crack of the rifle. Instinct saved him from the second shot as he dived into the bushes by the side of the road, rolling over and over when he hit the ground, desperately searching for some form of cover. A low mound was the only reasonable protection he could find at the moment. He crawled behind it, pulled his Colt from the holster, and prepared to return fire.
Suddenly taking form in the darkness, horse and rider appeared, bearing down on him with rifle blazing shot after shot that ripped the grass on the mound, pinning him down on his belly. The horse was almost upon him when he heard the click of Appling’s firing pin on an empty chamber. With angry determination, Appling drove the horse on, attempting to trample Cade, who rolled away, out from under the pounding hooves. As soon as he was free of the danger of being trampled, Cade raised his pistol and fired at his assailant who was galloping away in the darkness to reload his rifle. Given the opportunity, Cade scrambled to his feet and ran for the bunkhouse.
Too far committed at this point to worry about the close proximity to the ranch, and enraged beyond caution, Ned jammed more cartridges into his rifle, wheeled his horse and galloped back toward the mound. Catching a glimpse of the fleeing man in the darkness, he turned the horse sharply and chased after him.
Running for all he was worth, Cade rounded the corner of the bunkhouse and made for the shed built on the back. Spotting the barrel standing in the corner between the bunkhouse and the shed, he headed straight for it. In almost one continuous motion, he leaped up on the barrel and pulled himself up on the shed roof. There he crouched, his heart pumping in a desperate effort to supply the oxygen his lungs screamed for. In a few seconds’ time, the dark horse-man rounded the corner of the building. Kneeling on the short roof of the shed, Cade was face-to-face with the man in the saddle for a brief instant before he pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed into Ned’s chest at point-blank range, knocking him over to one side as his horse galloped on. Cade leaped to the ground and ran after him. Slumped in the saddle, Ned’s body sagged from side to side as his horse gradually slowed, finally coming to a stop. Cade approached cautiously, his pistol aimed at Ned’s back, but the wounded man never looked back. After what seemed a long time, the rifle dropped from Ned’s hand and he slid off to the side, landing dead on the ground, a bullet through his heart.
Within seconds, Cade was joined by a couple of men from the bunkhouse; one of them was Ralph Duncan. Up at the main house, a lantern appeared on the porch, the family having been awakened by the shots. In a few minutes, Carlton Kramer came down to the bunkhouse to investigate. He got there just as Cade finished telling Duncan what had happened, and why there was a dead man lying between his bunkhouse and barn. “Are you sure that’s the same man?” Kramer asked, then held his lantern close over the body while Duncan rolled it over. “That’s the same man who was with Slater, all right,” he said, answering his question himself. Then he turned to Cade. “Why would he come gunning for you? Have you had a run-in with him before?”
“Well, not since about a half hour ago in the saloon,” Cade answered. “He tried to start somethin’ with me then. Before that, I haven’t had any dealin’s with the man. Some of the men were there. They can tell you the straight of it.”
“Hell, man, I believe what you say,” Kramer quickly replied. “I’m just wondering if we ought to even bother Bob Soseby about it.”
“I don’t see why,” Duncan said. “Seems to me like Cade, here, has already handled it.” Bob Soseby was a guard at the prison who worked part time as a deputy sheriff for the little town.
“Since the man was one of John Slater’s crew,” Kramer said, “we ought to at least send word to him.”
“I expect so,” Duncan agreed.
“I’m thinkin’ it’s up to me to carry his body over to Slater’s place—since I’m the one that shot him.” In truth, Cade would just as soon drag the body down to the pig lot and let the hogs enjoy him. There was no doubt that Appling had specifically targeted Cade. He had never seen Ned before that first day when he had accompanied John Slater
to the Bar-K. He had to be sent by Slater, so Cade wanted to dump the body at Slater’s front door and face the man. “I’ll tote him over there in the mornin’,” he said.
Kramer looked at Duncan and shrugged. Then looking back at Cade, he said, “I suppose that’s the thing to do. Turn his horse in the corral and put his body in the barn overnight so the dogs or a stray coyote don’t find it.”
Returning to the house, Kramer was met at the door by his wife and Elizabeth. “What is it, Carlton?” Cornelia Kramer asked. “What was the shooting?”
“Is Cade in trouble?” Elizabeth asked before he could answer his wife, even before there was any mention of Cade.
“Nothing for you women to worry about,” Kramer assured them. “Evidently a man who works for John Slater made an attempt on Cade’s life, and Cade shot him. I’m fairly satisfied it was a case of self-defense. I’ll know for sure in the morning when I talk to some of the boys who witnessed the trouble.”
“Cade wouldn’t shoot anybody in cold blood,” Elizabeth insisted, her face captured by a frown.
Kramer paused for a moment while he studied the young woman’s face. “You know that for a fact, do you?” he asked. When she hesitated to answer right away, he continued. “There is very little anybody knows about that young man except he has a knack for handling horses. He just showed up one day, from nowhere, heading nowhere. He seems nice enough. I like him, too. But it’s about time somebody warned you to be a little more cautious in your choice of friends.”
Taken aback, because she never expected a lecture from Carlton Kramer, Elizabeth was speechless for a moment. She looked at Cornelia for support and received nothing more than raised eyebrows telling her that she agreed with her husband. “Well, I know he wouldn’t hurt anybody unless he had a very good reason,” she said, then excused herself for bed.
Back in her bed, under a heavy quilt, she did not fall asleep right away. Her thoughts were of the quiet, sometimes brooding, young man who had so recently ridden into her life, and she questioned the suddenness of her interest in him. She could not rationally explain her attraction to him, and, too, she could not deny it. At times it came to her, to lie heavily upon her mind, and she would try for a while to make sense of it. Then, like this night, she would eventually give up trying to solve her weakness for Cade Hunter. He just needs someone to take care of him, she told herself as she finally drifted off to sleep.
The solid cloud cover that had moved over the valley and darkened the nights for the past week suddenly became restless. A cold wind swept down from the northwest, stirring the clouds into an unsettled state of agitation, bringing early snow flurries skipping across the Flint Creek Mountains to lightly blanket the prairie grass with silver. Cade saw it as a warning from Old Man Winter that he would be visiting the valley in earnest before long.
With Red’s help, Cade lifted Ned Appling’s body up across the saddle of his horse and tied his hands and feet beneath the horse’s belly. “He’s already a little stiff,” Red commented, “I thought we were gonna have to crease him across his behind to bend him, but he ain’t board-stiff yet.” He finished tying off the body, then walked around the horse to stand by Cade while he secured a lead rope to his saddle. “Maybe I oughta ride over there with you, you know, just to keep you company. We don’t know nothin’ about that crew of Slater’s. I ain’t ever run into any of ’em, to tell you the truth. Folks say he’s runnin’ cattle into that stretch of land on the other side of Clark Fork, so I expect he’s got a crew.”
Cade paused to give Red a patronizing look. “You mean you wanna make sure I don’t get into any more trouble. Right?”
“Well . . .” Red sputtered, “you ain’t had much luck in gettin’ along with any of his men so far.”
“I expect Duncan would appreciate you helpin’ move those cows in closer to the lower range,” Cade said. “I can take care of myself.” Red shook his head, concerned. Cade could readily see the reluctance in his friend’s face. “I’ll be careful,” he said, trying to reassure him, then climbed into the saddle.
Chapter 12
“Well, lookee comin’ here,” Joe Stover remarked to the other three men lolling around a fire in front of a battered old barn. As one, they turned to stare in the direction he indicated.
“Ain’t that Ned’s horse that feller’s leadin’?” Bonner asked. A big man, he got to his feet, trying to get a better look at the stranger slow-walking a mottled gray horse toward them.
“Looks like,” Joe replied, “and I reckon that’d be Ned ridin’ belly down across the saddle.”
“You’d best go get Mr. Slater,” Bonner said. “Looks like ol’ Ned got hisself in a little trouble last night.”
Unaware of the special mission Slater had sent Ned Appling on, the rest of his men had assumed that Ned must have slipped off to go to town the night before. The only speculation among them had been whether or not Ned had quit, or had just decided to have a night out for himself. Slater had issued strict orders for none of the crew to visit the town except on the occasion when it was necessary to drive a wagon in for supplies. Joe maintained that the reason was because Slater was new in the valley and he didn’t want the good citizens of Deer Lodge to see the rough-looking band of cowhands he had hired. In truth, there was more experience in rustling cattle in Slater’s crew of misfits. Like any saddle tramps, they favored the pleasures afforded by the saloons and bawdy houses, but Slater saw to it that there was plenty of whiskey kept at the ranch. Considering the fact that there were no more than a few head of cattle to take care of, there was little reason to complain.
While Joe went to the cabin to alert Slater of the visitor, the others continued to sit and stare at the rider now crossing the tiny stream that trickled down from the hills north of the ranch. “Wonder who’s gonna move up to take Ned’s place?” one of them speculated aloud. They all looked toward Bonner then, thinking there was little doubt who it would be if it came to a contest of strength. Ned had been the one who seemed to have Slater’s confidence, and he was sure as hell the quickest with a gun. He had been the one who hired the rest of them, and even they found it strange that they had been recruited to drive cattle for a wealthy man like John Slater. In fact, it was a common joke among them, until Ned explained that Slater was a man who wouldn’t hesitate to use any means to build his cattle empire, and he needed men who were not troubled by conscience and didn’t ask questions.
With light flurries of snow swirling around him, Cade guided Loco slowly toward the cluster of rough buildings gathered at the foot of a long, rocky ridge. No more than shacks, abandoned by the previous owner, they stood in sharp contrast to the sturdy structures of the Bar-K. Cade looked the spread over as he rode toward the fire by the barn. Evidently, Slater was slow getting started on building his ranch, he thought. There were only a few odd cattle to be seen on the place, and from the looks of the group warming by the fire, it appeared no one was working.
When still fifty yards or so from the men watching him approach, he reached down and pulled his rifle from the scabbard and rested it across his arms, just in case there were others here who, like the late Ned Appling, fancied themselves handy with a gun. No one by the fire moved to meet him as he rode up to about a dozen yards, and no one spoke, as they stoically watched him pull Loco to a stop. He scanned the impassive faces for a long moment, wondering if Slater had found the lot of them in the prison at the south end of Deer Lodge’s main street.
Distracted then by the sight of John Slater emerging from the door of the cabin followed by another man, Cady reined Loco back to hold him steady while he untied the lead rope. Wearing a heavy fur coat, Slater stalked angrily across the yard toward Cade. The silent snowflakes seemed to eddy behind him as he strode forth, his long, dark hair swaying to and fro under his hat. Cade remained silent until Slater marched up to stand defiantly before Loco. Dropping the lead rope to the ground, Cade said, “I believe this belongs to you.”
His eyes blazing with anger, Slate
r locked his gaze on Cade. Without breaking his relentless eye contact, he ordered, “Get him down from there!” Joe and Bonner immediately stepped forward to lift the corpse from the horse and lay it on the ground.
Looking at the crusted blood on Ned’s vest, Joe said, “Shot through the chest.”
Still with his eyes never leaving Cade’s, Slater demanded, “Who shot him?”
“I shot him,” Cade replied evenly.
“You got your damn nerve ridin’ in here with his body,” Slater growled, “after murderin’ him.”
“Poor ol’ Ned,” Joe lamented. “I know damn well it warn’t a fair fight.”
Cade gave the man a scathing glance. “Poor ol’ Ned,” he repeated sarcastically, “got a bullet in his chest, not his back. He came lookin’ for trouble and he found it.” Loco stamped nervously when a gust of wind blew sparks from the campfire. Cade held the big horse steady while he locked his eyes on Slater again.
“That’s your story, Hunter,” Slater growled, “but I say the day ain’t come when you could take Ned Appling in a fair fight. By God, I oughta shoot you down right now.”
“You could try,” Cade replied calmly.
“Look around you,” Slater shot back. “You’re a damn fool for ridin’ in here like this.” His angry frown faded slowly to a wicked grin. “I make it five to one—pretty good odds that you won’t make it outta here alive.”
The remark caused a perceptible change in the passive stance of Slater’s men as they at once realized what their boss was threatening. A couple of them moved in a little closer, their hands dropping to rest on their gun butts. “Maybe,” Cade replied, casually swinging the muzzle of his Winchester around to level at Slater, “but I make it dead certain that you’re goin’ with me if the first shot is fired.”
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