The Hide and Tallow Men (A Floating Outfit Western. Book 7)

by J. T. Edson

  ‘Damn it all!’ Mark mused, as he found himself scanning his surroundings for something a damned sight more dangerous than a buck whitetail deer. ‘This chore’s getting me as jumpy as a blind man trying to pick a rope out of a nest of rattlesnakes. I’ll be starting to mistrust me next.’

  For all that sentiment, the big blond continued to move with—if anything—even greater care. Yet nothing happened and the woods seemed to be completely devoid of life. At last, he saw the furrowed and scaly grayish trunk of a tree with large, deeply-lobed leaves that were pale green above and whitish below. It was, Mark knew, a silver maple. According to Sparlow, there was only one such tree along that stretch of the stream. So he had reached the rendezvous at which he was to wait until the gambler joined him and he had arrived without discovering so much as a single trace of a deer.

  Coming to a halt behind a clump of bushes near the silver maple, the big blond peered through them. No matter how he tried, he could not shake off a premonition that all was far from being well.

  Was he the victim of a practical joke?

  Would he be left at the tree until he grew tired of waiting and had to return to town where Sparlow had already gone?

  Although hunters frequently played practical jokes on their friends, Sparlow had not struck Mark as possessing that kind of humor. Certainly he had appeared to be very serious while discussing Viridian and Silky.

  Even as that thought came, Mark saw a movement among the trees across the stream. Looking towards it, he found that Gianna Profaci was approaching with a small bundle of clothes in her hand. She was clad in a multi-colored blouse, black skirt and was barefoot.

  On the point of rising and calling a greeting, Mark restrained himself. The woman was looking at the silver maple, then darted a glance upstream, as if she was expecting to see something—or somebody. Halting by the water’s edge, she made another examination of the trees and its surroundings. Then she turned towards a nearby clump of bushes and spoke. Mark was too far away to hear the words, but he guessed that she had asked a question. Giving the bushes a close scrutiny, the big blond located a dark gray patch which was neither leaves nor branches. Unless he was mistaken, it was the shoulder of a jacket; but that was all he could see of the man who was wearing it.

  Gianna’s behavior drew the blond giant’s attention from the bushes. Giving a gesture of annoyance, she scowled once more in his direction without seeing him. Then she looked back over her shoulder. Dropping the bundle, she removed her blouse and skirt; leaving her with only a sleeveless white bodice and frilly-edged, knee-length panties. Attired in that scanty fashion, she knelt and picked a shirt from among the clothing to thrust it into the water.

  Turning his eyes from the woman, Mark noticed that Viridian was walking towards her. What was more, although the big blond suspected that she knew the hide and tallow man was coming, she gave no sign of it. Instead, she threw another eager searching glance across the stream. Then, as if having only just become aware of Viridian’s presence, she stood up and faced him.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Mark breathed. ‘She acted like she was expecting to see somebody over this side of the stream. Which there’s only Sparlow and me over here.’

  Easing around cautiously, so that he would not betray his presence, the big blond searched the slope without locating the gambler. So he swung his gaze back towards the couple across the stream. From them, he glanced at the clump of bushes. The patch of gray had gone, but he felt sure the man was still crouching in concealment.

  Suddenly Mark realized what was happening.

  It was a trap for Viridian!

  Other thoughts rushed through the blond giant’s head.

  Why had Gianna been so interested in the maple tree?

  Everything in her attitude had suggested that she was expecting somebody to be near it. And it was the rendezvous selected by Sparlow for the end of their hunt.

  It was possible, Mark decided, that the trap had been laid for him and Viridian had inadvertently made an appearance.

  Then a further alternative came to the big blond. What if they were both supposed to be the victims?

  On drawing the latter conclusion, Mark began to deduce what was supposed to have happened. If all had gone according to plan, he would have seen and joined Gianna. Finding them together, with her so scantily attired—she would probably have been embracing him—would have aroused Viridian’s jealousy. After what Sparlow had told him about Viridian and Silky, a youngster like Mark was pretending to be would have responded in a manner that was sure to end in gun play. Whichever of them had survived would have been killed by the man in the bushes.

  Wanting to put his theories to a test, Mark first scanned the rim. When he still failed to locate Sparlow, he stepped from behind his place of concealment. Viridian was reaching towards Gianna, but let out a curse and stepped back hurriedly. Surprise, suspicion and annoyance flickered across the hide and tallow man’s face, to be replaced by alarm as the big blond snapped the Winchester’s butt to his shoulder.

  ‘Hey, you in the bushes!’ Mark called, lining the rifle so that Viridian could see it was not pointed at him. ‘Come out with your hands empty.’

  ‘What ?’ Viridian barked, swiveling around with his right hand crossing towards the butt of the Remington.

  There was a rustling among the foliage and, raising his empty hands, Shem rose into view calling, ‘Don’t shoot! ’ Instantly Gianna gave a startled squawk, which Mark would have taken for genuine if he had not known she was aware of the man’s presence. Bending, she snatched up her blouse and skirt, holding them before her with what might have passed as becoming modesty under different circumstances.

  ‘That’s only one of you! ’ Mark went on, noticing that the man was wearing a brown suit. ‘If the others don’t show themselves pronto, I’ll put so much lead in they’ll be staying permanently.’

  ‘Come on out, Dub!’ Shem advised, realizing that he was standing exposed to the big blond’s rifle.

  ‘That’s a whole heap better,’ Mark declared as Dub appeared and joined his companion. ‘But if your big amigo’s still hidden, you’d best ask him to get un-hidden. Or shall I smoke him out by dropping you pair?’

  ‘He ain’t with us! ’ Dub stated, showing so much alarm that Mark believed him. ‘Is he, Dub?’

  ‘That’s the living truth, mister! ’ Dub affirmed, equally sure that the big blond would not hesitate to carry out the threat. He stared beyond Mark and raised his voice, ‘Silky ain’t with us. Is he, Mr. Sparlow?’

  ‘He’d better not be!’ the gambler’s voice roared from the slope beyond Mark’s position. ‘And you shouldn’t be, either. Get the hell back to the New Orleans and I’ll deal with you when I come.’

  Swinging his torso around, with the Winchester still held ready for use, Mark could not see Sparlow. Then the gambler came into view, carrying the Henry one handed and striding down the slope. Slowly the big blond lowered his rifle, but he did not move.

  For a moment, Mark wondered why Sparlow had not tried to kill him. Then he knew the answer. Due to the suspicions which he had formulated with respect to the lack of deers’ sign, he had instinctively made use of every bit of cover and avoided exposing himself any more than had been absolutely necessary. Just as he had been unable to see the gambler, Sparlow had failed to locate him.

  Returning his gaze to the people beside the stream, Mark found that Gianna was dressing quickly. Watched by a scowling Viridian, Shem and Dub were hurrying away. Then Mark became aware of another person approaching. Dressed in a dark two-piece travelling costume, which she had not been wearing at breakfast, Marlene was walking towards her husband and carried a shotgun under her right arm.

  Going to meet the gambler, Mark wondered if he could offer any explanation for what had been happening.

  Fourteen – Did He Get You, Mark?

  Pivoting smoothly, the moment that the longhorn steer came to a halt at the end of the ramp’s level section, Austin Viridian
brought the poleax from where it had been resting on his shoulder. Despite his bulk and thickening waistline, he moved with speed and almost gracefully. Whistling through the air, the deadly implement swung at exactly the right height and parallel to the floor. The poleax had been made to his own specifications. At the end if its four foot six inch long handle, the head consisted of what looked like half a sledgehammer backed by a four-inch long steel spike. The last two inches of the spike had been hollowed out in the fashion of a leather punch and for a similar purpose.

  There was an almost exultant expression on the burly man’s face as the spike of the poleax rushed towards its objective. On the point reaching the center of the steer’s forehead, just below the boss of the horns, he let out a snort of elation. Before the animal had any chance of avoiding the attack, the point was slicing through the frontal bone of its skull. The weight of the hammer-like head gave an added impetus to the blow. With the sliver of bone that had been punctured out passing along the groove, the spike sank deeper until it reached the brain.

  Killed instantly, the steer’s forelegs started to buckle beneath it. As it collapsed, the Negro who was sharing the platform with Viridian pulled the lever in the wall. The level section of the ramp hinged downwards, like the trap of a gallows opening. Pitched forward, the lifeless animal went sliding to the floor of the factory. Breathing heavily, Viridian turned and gazed after it.

  Watched by Mark Counter, Gus Roxterby moved forward as the longhorn came to a halt. In his hands, the supervisor was grasping a sharp-pointed and blood-smeared stick about a yard long. This was known as a pith-cane and performed an essential function in the slaughtering. Inserting the point into a neat hole caused by the poleax’s steel spike, he pushed it onwards until he located and destroyed the nerves of the spinal column. If that was not done, the nervous system could create reflex actions which—even after death—made the limbs kick unexpectedly and in a dangerous manner.

  Until the two Negroes on the platform at the other side of the exit from the ramp which led to the holding corral hauled the level section back to horizontal, Viridian continued to scowl down at the blond giant. Thinking of what he had seen and heard since Mark’s arrival, he decided that his wife had obtained a mighty dangerous and efficient ally. If it had not been for the big blond, she would be dead. The sooner he was out of the way, the safer Viridian would feel.

  Once the ramp hid the big youngster from view, Viridian swept his gaze around the vast room which formed the main portion of the factory. Maybe Marlene, Schweitzer and the other two had had the finance, but it had been his knowledge which had made the factory the most efficient of its kind in Texas. Under his expert guidance, all the fixtures and fittings—including having the majority of the roof made from sheets of glass, so that the work could continue even in inclement weather without the need for artificial lighting—had been laid out to facilitate the entire operation from holding the cattle to killing them and disposing of the unwanted portions of the carcasses.

  From his point of vantage, Viridian could see practically the whole of the room. Behind him on the platform, a lever in the wall controlled the ramp’s trap door. It was returned to its level position by the two Negroes on the second platform. That was only the start of the operation.

  Gazing down, Viridian satisfied himself that everything was progressing as it should be. Already the animals which had been slaughtered that day were being attended to by Roxterby and his Negro assistants. Having had the last but one animal to die dragged to the skinning beds and turned on to its back, a colored man was starting to make the incision along its belly that was the prelude to stripping off the hide. Beyond him, working with deft speed, other Negroes were removing, fleshing, or otherwise preparing the skins of the earlier victims. A second party worked to separate the tallow—the harder, coarser fats of the body, which was used among other things for making candles—from the skinned carcasses. When that task had been completed, the remains—including all of the meat, except the small amount appropriated by the Negroes—were pitched on to a wooden chute to slide into the Brazos River as it flowed through the Pilar Gorge.

  Turning his eyes to the chute, Viridian could visualize what was happening at its lower end. He had often watched with amusement as the blue and flathead xi catfishes swarmed to gorge upon the bloody flesh that was tumbling into the water.

  Since the founding of the factory—and others of its kind— before the War Between the States, the Brazos River’s population of blue (Ictalurus Furcatus) and flathead (Pylodicitis Oilvans) catfishes had received so much food that they had multiplied in numbers and grown to tremendous sizes. Viridian had seen many of both species in the Gorge that exceeded fifty pounds in weight. There were even some which were up to three times that size. What was more, they had forsaken their normal nocturnal scavenging along the bottom and now rose high in the water to feed.

  Although sufficient meat to have fed several families was disappearing down the disposal chute as he watched, Viridian felt no shame at such wanton waste. To his way of thinking, only the hides and tallow had any commercial value. The prices the Company had been paying for the cattle were so low that the loss of the meat did not affect their profits.

  Considering the latter point caused Viridian to think of his plans for the future. Before he could remove Marlene, he would have to get rid of the big blond. Fortunately, he had already worked out a way to do just that. All he needed was the right opportunity and he knew that it would soon be granted to him.

  ‘Hey, boss!’ Leathers’ voice came up the ramp from the corral. ‘Watch the next one, it’s that big mean old bastard of a bull.’

  ‘All right,’ Viridian answered. ‘I’ll tell you when I want him.’

  ‘Yo! ’ Leathers replied. ‘He’s in the chute and waiting.’

  Stepping to the edge of the platform, Viridian looked down. Adopting an amiable voice, he said, ‘What do you reckon about the way we do things, Mark?’

  ‘I’ve never seen the beat of it,’ the blond giant admitted truthfully. Although he had visited a similar establishment at Brazoria, he knew that the Pilar Hide & Tallow Company’s factory was far more efficient. ‘You can knock ’em down and skin ’em quicker than a hungry hound-dog eating a stolen pie.’

  ‘How’d you like to try your hand at it?’ Viridian inquired.

  ‘Killing them?’ Mark asked, then went on as the kind of youngster he was pretending to be would. ‘I’d like that fine.’

  ‘You don’t start by killing them,’ Viridian warned, hoping that the big blond was not familiar with the training of slaughter-man. ‘First off, you have to learn how to handle the pith-cane.’

  ‘All right, I’ll give it a whirl,’ Mark promised, knowing that—in view of the interest he had expressed in the way the factory’s work was carried out—to refuse might make Viridian suspicious. ‘Send one down and I’ll do the sticking.’

  Even as Mark spoke, he wondered what was behind the offer. While Viridian had brought him to the factory and had shown him around with obvious pride, the events of the morning had not been such that they led him to trust anybody connected with the Pilar Hide & Tallow Company.

  Taken all in all, the blond giant had never heard so much lying at one time as had taken place on the bank of the small stream. According to Sparlow, Dub and Shem had probably been doing nothing more than spying on the scantily-attired Gianna. It was, he had pointed out, common knowledge that she invariably did her laundry in a similar state of undress. When Viridian had reminded him that she had previously only spent Monday morning at the task, Gianna had suggested that the pair could have heard her discussing the change of days with one of the women at the dance. Asked what had brought her into the woods, Marlene had replied that she had wanted a change from beef and so was hoping that she could shoot some rabbits. On his wife inquiring why he was there, Viridian had explained that he had come in the hope of finding Mark so as to invite him to spend the rest of the day at the factory.

 
; Trying to sort out the facts from the fiction had left Mark more puzzled than enlightened.

  On joining Mark, Sparlow had appeared to be subjecting his face to a careful scrutiny. Then, either because he was satisfied that the big blond had suspected nothing or due to his being unaware of the trap, he had repeated his request that Mark did not pick a fight with Viridian. Having crossed the stream, the gambler had apologized for the behavior of his men and had promised to deal with them on his return to the saloon. He had sounded so sincere that Mark had wondered if he might have been innocent. It was possible, the youngster had realized, that somebody else—Schweitzer had seemed a likely prospect—had conspired with Gianna and the two saloon workers.

  With regard to the Italian woman, Mark had been just as confused. While Shem and Dub could have learned at the ball that she would be doing her laundry in the morning, most of her behavior had gone unexplained. Not only had she known the pair were watching, but she had been aware that Viridian was coming and had apparently expected to see somebody on the other side of the stream. While Mark had considered raising the puzzling points, he had decided against doing so at that time. By concealing the extent of his knowledge, he had hoped to learn if anybody else was sharing his suspicions.

  The hope had not materialized.

  Viridian’s explanation for his presence might have been weak, but nobody had attempted to disprove it.

  Going by the lack of comment Marlene’s statement had aroused, Mark had concluded that it was not the first time she had hunted for rabbits. So, although she had not mentioned a desire to change the menu at breakfast, she might have been speaking the truth. Of course, she might have been hoping to meet and talk privately with Mark; but that was unlikely. She would have known Sparlow would be nearby, if not with him. The only alternative Mark could envisage was she had heard Gianna speak of going to the stream that morning and was hoping to catch her and Viridian in a compromising position.