He no longer could be content with whipping Orrin Sackett. He wanted to maim or kill him.
Get hold of an arm or a leg and break it.
Break his neck if he could. Kill him!
The Ox held his hands low, inviting the jab.
Could he grab that darting fist, so like a snake’s tongue? If he could— The fist darted, and he caught it in his open palm. The other palm smashed upward at Orrin’s elbow, but instead of resisting, Orrin went with the power and fell forward to his knees. Before he could turn, the Ox booted him in the ribs.
He felt a wicked stab of pain, and he lunged to his feet.
Orrin moved carefully. That he had at least one broken rib he was sure. He had narrowly evaded a broken arm or shoulder. The Ox was learning, and he was dangerous. He had to get him out of there, and now.
There could be no delay.
The Ox, suddenly confident, was coming in now, ready to destroy him. Orrin feinted a left, and the Ox smiled. Orrin backed off slowly, and the Ox, sure of himself, came on in. Orrin feinted a left, and the Ox blocked it with almost negligent ease but failed to catch the right that shot up, thumb and fingers spread.
It caught him right under the Adam’s apple, drew back swiftly, and struck again just a little higher.
The Ox staggered back, gagging, then went to his knees, choking and struggling for breath.
Orrin backed off a little, then said to Gilcrist, “Take care of him.” He sat down, mopping his brow; then he looked around at me. “They don’t come much tougher.” “No,” I said, “they surely don’t.
Better soak those hands in some warm water with some salts in it. It will take the soreness out.” I walked over to the fire and filled my cup.
We had made a good start, but we had a long way to go.
And we were losing two hands.
Chapter XX
We gulped black coffee in the cool, crisp air, then saddled our broncs for the drive. We roused our cattle from their resting place and moved them out on the trail. There were wild, shrill calls from the cowboys then and whoops to hurry them on. There was a click of horns and a clack of hoofs and the bawling of an angry steer, but the cattle bunched up, and old Brindle took the lead and we headed toward Carlton.
We hung their horns on the Northern Star, and the pace was good for an hour, and then we let them graze as they moved.
“Don’t bother with Eagle Creek,” Baptiste advised. “The water is brackish, although the grass is good. There’s a wooded glen beyond, a place of trees and springs. But much grizzlies, too.” By late afternoon, we were crossing a long, gently sloping flat; then we pushed the cattle through Eagle Creek and moved on toward the Bad Hills.
It was one long hill, really, and not so much of one at that, cut with many deep, wooded ravines. I did not wonder there might be bears, for the country suited them. It reminded me somewhat of the canyons in the mountain range back of the Puebla de Los Angeles, in California.
I’d been there once, long since, and there were grizzlies there, too.
We saw none of the wild horses Baptiste had told us would be there. Orrin came in with a story of old horse tracks on the far side of the herd and added, “This is Blackfoot country.” Fort Carlton was about a quarter of a mile back from the river, a palisaded place with bastions at each of the corners. We bunched our cattle on a flat and a hillside not far from the fort, and with Tyrel remaining with the herd, Orrin and I rode in.
We had come some distance from the Bad Hills, a place we were glad to be free of, as we lost two steers there to grizzlies, both of them found in the morning, one half eaten, the other dragged some distance and covered with brush.
There were a good many Indians, all friendly, in the vicinity of Carlton. At the store, where many things were on sale, we arranged to buy a small amount of ammunition and some supplies. More, they suggested, might be available if we talked to the man in charge.
We were coming out of the store when Orrin stopped short. A girl in a neat gray traveling suit came toward him, hands outstretched. “Why, Mr. Sackett! How nice!” He flushed and said, “Tell, let me introduce you to Devnet Molrone.” “Howdy, ma’am!” She turned. “And this is Mrs. Mary McCann, Mr. Sackett!” “Well, well! Howdy, Mrs.
McCann!” Mary McCann had flushed. Nettie glanced at her, surprised, then at me. I hoped my expression showed nothing but pleasure at the meeting.
“Rare pleasure, Mrs. McCann,” I said. “Womenfolks to a man on the trail— well, we surely see almighty few of them.
I’ve got a friend along with me who would be right happy to shake your hand, ma’am, if you was so inclined. I reckon he ain’t seen a woman in weeks, maybe months.” Mary McCann looked right at me and said, “Now that’s interestin’. I haven’t seen many men, either. Just what would his name be?” “Mr. Rountree? We call him Cap.
He’s seen most everything a man can see an’ been most everywhere, but I d’clare, ma’am, he’d be right proud to meet you!” Nettie Molrone put her hand on Orrin’s sleeve. “Mr. Sackett? My brother is not here, and they are not sure they even remember him! They think he passed through on his way west.” “I was afraid of that, ma’am.” “Mr. Sackett? You’re going on west.
Could you take me? Take us?” Orrin glanced at me, hesitating. Now the last person I wanted on a cattle drive was a young, pretty woman. As far as that goes, Mary McCann was a handsome woman, considering her age and poundage.
“Please? There’s no other way west, and I must find my brother! I have to find him!” “Well—” I hesitated, trying to find a way out, and I couldn’t see one. After all, I was the oldest brother, and officially, I suppose, I was the boss. Not that I wanted the job or cared for it.
All the time, I was wondering what Cap would say and wondering also how Mary McCann got her name and what made her change it. Not that a change of names was anything unusual west of the Mississippi, and especially west of the Rockies. The last time I’d run into Mary McCann was down New Mexico way.
“Ma’am,” I said, “it’s a far land to which we go, and the way will be hard. Nothing like what you see here. So far as I know, there’s but one fort betwixt here and the mountains. The land is wild, ma’am, with Injuns, with wolves and grizzlies.
“We may be long periods without water, and the grub may not be of the best. We can stop for nothing, man, woman, or beast, once we start moving again. We’ve taken a contract to deliver these cattle before winter sets in, and we’re bound an’ determined to do it.
“If you come with us, we’ll play no favorites. You’ll stand to the drive as the men do, and at times you may be called upon to help. It is a hard land, ma’am, and we’ll have no truck with those who come with idle hands.” Her chin came up. “I can do my share! I will do my share!” Well, I looked at her, the lift to the chin and the glint in her eyes, and I thought of Orrin there beside her, and I remembered the failure of his first marriage. If this girl stood to it, she was a woman to ride the river with, and Orrin wanted it, and her. Surely, no woman would have a harder time of it.
“All right,” I said, “but no whining, no asking for favors. You’ll be treated like a lady.” “You need have no fears.” She stood straight and looked me in the eye. “I can stand as much as any man.” “Can you ride, ma’am? And can you shoot?” “I can ride. I can shoot a little.” “Come along, then, and if your brother is alive, we will find him.” “What became of Kyle Gavin?” Orrin asked.
She frowned a little. “Why, I don’t know.
He was very attentive, and then suddenly he was there no longer. I don’t know when he left or how.” When I went outside, Cap was riding in through the gate with Highpockets Haney. “Cap,” I said, “if you see any familiar faces don’t call them by name.” He looked at me out of those wise old eyes, eyes wiser and older than the man himself, and he said, “I learned a long time ago that a name is only what a person makes it.” He stepped down and said, “What about those womenfolks?” “We’re takin’ them with us, Cap. One of
them is tough enough and strong enough to charge hell with a bucket of water. The other one thinks she is.” Cap hesitated, one hand resting on his saddle. “Tell, you and me know better than any of them what lies ahead.” “We do,” I said.
We had ridden the empty trails with a hollow moon in the sky and the bare peaks showing their teeth at the sky. We’d seen men die and horses drop, and we’d seen cattle wandering, dazed from thirst and heat. The leather of our hides had been cured on the stem by hot winds and cold, by blown dust and snow and hail falling. We knew what lay ahead, and we knew that girl might die. We knew she might go mad from heat and dust, and we knew I’d no business in letting her come. Yet I’d seen the desperation in her eyes and the grim determination in her mouth and chin.
“Orrin’s taken with her, Cap,” I said, “and I think she’ll stay the route.” “If you say so,” he said. He tied his horse. “That person you thought I might put a name to?” “Mary McCann,” I said, “and she’s a damned fine cook.” I looked at him slyly.
“An’ for much of her life she’s been in love with a miserable old mountain man turned cownurse who drifts where the wind takes him.” “I wouldn’t know anybody like that,” he said, and went inside.
We got the pemmican and other supplies we needed, including the ammunition, but we couldn’t buy them for money. They needed cattle. When we started out of Fort Carlton, we were thirty head short of what we brought in. They wanted the beef, we needed th
supplies, and lucky it was because none of us were carrying much money. We’d spent a good bit and were running shy of cash money.
We went over the bluffs and into higher, beautiful pasture land, and we let the cattle graze. God knew what lay before us, but the best advice we got was to fatten our stock whilst we could.
Many a time those days I wished I had the words of Orrin, who could speak a beautiful tongue.
It was the Welsh in us, I guess, coming out in him, but it left me saddened for my own lack. I hadn’t no words with which to tell of the land, that beautiful green land that lay before and around us. Some didn’t like the cottonwoods. Well, maybe they weren’t just that for folks up here called them poplars, and maybe that’s what they were. Only they were lovely with their green leaves rustling.
Westward we marched, short-handed by two, for we’d left the Ox and Gilcrist behind.
It had all come to a head when we were fixing to leave Carlton. Gilcrist had come to me with the Ox at his shoulder. “We want our time,” Gilcrist said.
When he had his money in his hand, Gilcrist said, “Someday I’m goin’ to look you up, Sackett. Someday I want to find out if you can really handle that gun.” “Follow me back to the States,” I said, “and choose your time.” “To the States? Why the States?” “I’m a visitor here,” I said, “and a man has no call to get blood on a neighbor’s carpet.” Westward we went following a route north of the North Saskatchewan through a country of hills and poplars with many small lakes or sloughs.
There was no shortage of firewood now, for at every stop we found broken branches under the trees.
It was a lovely, green, rolling country even now in the latter days of July.
Anxiously, we watched the skies, knowing that cold came soon in these northern regions and that we had but little time. The nights were cool and the mornings crisp; the campfires felt good.
“A good frost would help us,” Cap said, nursing a cup of coffee by the fire, “kill off some of these mosqueeters an’ flies.” We were camped by Bear Lake, a place I could have stayed forever. How many times I have found such campsites! Places so beautiful it gave a man the wi/ls to see or to think back on. So many times we said, “We’ve got to come back some time!” an’ knowin’ all the while we never would.
That night, we heard the wolves howl, and there were foxes barking right out by the cattle. In the night, we heard a squabble, an’ Tyrel an’ me came out of our sleep, guns in hand. Then the noise quieted down, and we went back to sleep, only to be awakened again with a wild bawling of a cow, the crack of a whip, and the yelp of a wolf.
Come daylight, we learned some wolves had jumped a steer; he’d been scratched in some brush earlier and had blood on him. Orrin had come in with that Spanish whip he carried on his saddle, a long, wicked lash that could take the hide off. He’d used it on wolves before, and he could flick a fly from a steer’s hide without touching the steer. I’d seen him do it.
The steer the wolves had attacked was so badly hurt it had to be shot.
We were breaking camp when we heard some yells, then a sound of galloping horses. In a moment, we had our rifles, but Baptiste gestured wildly and waved us back.
It was a party of m`etis wearing brass-buttoned capots, calico shirts in a variety of colors, and moleskin trousers. Their belts were beaded in red and white or blue and white, and most of them wore cloth caps, only a few having hats and one a coonskin cap.
They were a friendly, cheerful lot, talking excitedly with Baptiste whom they obviously knew well.
“They go to Fort Pitt,” he explained. “They are hunters, and they have been to another camp, feasting.” Tyrel indicated their horses. “Wish we had some of them. That’s some of the best horseflesh I’ve seen.” When Baptiste suggested it, they agreed to show us some stock when we reached Fort Pitt. After drinking an enormous amount of coffee, they swung to their saddles and dashed off, whooping and yelling, at top speed.
After they had gone, Baptiste stopped me as I was mounting. “Bad!” he whispered. “Ver’ bad! They speak of many mans, maybe ten, twelve mans near Jackfish Lake. They wait for somebody, or somet’ing. Today, they say the mans move back into woods, hide horses.” Haney came in for coffee at the nooning.
“Seen some tracks. Two riders, keepin’ out of sight. I caught a flash of sunlight on a rifle and slipped around and taken a look.
They’re scoutin’ us.” “White men?” “You betcha! Well mounted, Tell, well mounted an’ well armed.” Well, we had known it was coming. Now we were in wild country. If we vanished out here, who would know? Or care?
Chapter XXI
Wolves hung on our flanks as we moved out, nor would they be driven off. We had no wish to shoot and attract undue attention, nor would the waste of ammunition have done any good, for their ranks were continually added to by other wolves.
We pushed on over some flat country dotted by trees and groups of trees, crossing several small streams.
It was the thought of a stampede that worried me.
“If they scatter our stock, we lose time in the gather,” I said. “Cap? Why don’t you scout on ahead and try to find us a camp in the woods? Some place where we can fall some trees to make a so-so corral?” “I can look,” he said.
“Ride easy in the saddle,” I said. “This is an ugly bunch. I don’t think much of them as fightin’ men, but they’ll kill you.” He rode off through the scattered trees, and we came on. Fleming was doing a good day’s work, but I still had no trust in the man. There had seemed to be something between him an’ Gilcrist.
Nettie was proving herself a hand. She caught on to what was necessary, and she rode well. I’d no doubts about Mary McCann. She might be no youngster, and she might be carrying some weight, but she could still ride most anything that wore hair.
We pushed on, and I had to smile at Haney and Shorty. Both of them were pretty handy with the cussing, but since the girls showed up, there was none of that. It must have been a strain, but they were bearing up under it.
Cap had us a camp when we came to it, a small meadow near a stream with trees and brush all around. We watered them, got them inside, and dragged some deadfalls across the openings. Then we scouted the brush and trees on both sides to see how an attacker might approach us.
Cap an’ me, we went back in the trees and rigged some snares and deadfalls, traps for anybody who might come sneaking up.
If they wanted to come up on us in the night, they were asking for whatever they got. Come daylight, we’d dismantl
e the traps so’s they wouldn’t trap any unwary man or animal after we’d gone.
Lin fixed us a mighty nice supper, having a mite more time. Nettie came to me while we were eating. “Why can’t we stand watch? You men need the rest.” “Let them,” Cap was saying.
None of us had been around when Cap finally met Mary, and none of us asked any questions, although I was curious as to what made her change her name and leave that place she had back in New Mexico. But it was her business. By the position of the Big Dipper, it was maybe two o’clock in the morning when Nettie touched me on the shoulder.
“There’s something moving in the brush,” she said, “several somethings.” She and Mary had been riding herd, and I rolled out, shook out my boots, and stuck my feet into them. Haney was already moving, and so were Orrin and Tyrel.
Taking up my Winchester I followed her to her pony. He was standing head up, looking toward the woods, his ears pricked. At just that moment, there was a sudden crash in the brush and a grunt, then an oath.
“Sit tight, boys,” I said. “Don’t go into the woods.” Somebody called for help in a low voice, but there was no answer; then there was some threshing about, we all just awaiting to see what would happen.
Nothing did until suddenly there was a louder crash and some swearing.
“Nettie,” I whispered, “you and Mary might as well get some sleep.” “And miss all the fun?” Me, I taken a long look at her.
“Ma’am,” I said, “if anything happens, it won’t be fun. It will be hard times for somebody, probably them. You get some sleep whilst you’ve the chance.” Turning to Orrin, I said, “You an’ Tye go back to sleep. Me an’ Highpockets can handle this here.” “You figure we caught something?” “By the sound, we caught two somethings,” I said, “and I suspect we’ve persuaded them that crawlin’ in the brush ain’t what they want to do.” When day was breaking, we stirred up the fire for Lin and Highpockets and me; we decided to see what we’d caught and whether it needed skinning or not.
Lonely On the Mountain (1980) Page 14