Although they still protested mildly, both of his brothers knew he was right. They left it at that and went to inform the men of their intention and caution them to be careful.
* * *
After supper was finished, Perley walked down to the barn to find Rubin staring at the sky.
He turned when he heard Perley coming up behind him. “I ain’t so sure you picked a good night to be lookin’ for those people. It ain’t gonna be long before that”—he pointed toward a low mass of dark clouds over the distant hills—“moves this way. It’s gonna be a helluva night to go scouting along the river. It’s makin’ a little noise, too,” he said, referring to a faint rumble of thunder.
“Yeah, I noticed it.” Perley held up his rain slicker. “I figured I might need this.” Actually, he wasn’t disappointed to see a thunderstorm moving across the Triple-G range. It might provide additional cover for what he had in mind. Maybe allow him to get closer in the event he did find Clementine and her gang.
John soon joined them and he and Rubin walked back in the barn to watch Perley saddle Buck.
“Damn it, Perley, you be careful,” Rubin exclaimed. “Don’t go takin’ any chances, just because you think you ought to. You couldn’t have helped any of this trouble.”
“What are you plannin’ to do if you find this bunch of outlaws?” John asked. “I hope to hell you’ve got better sense than to try to take them on by yourself.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Perley assured him. “I’m just interested in findin’ their camp, see if it is Clementine, and try to see how many she’s got with her. Then we’ll figure out what to do about it.”
“All right,” Rubin said. “Just remember to let us all decide what to do.”
He and John walked with him to the front of the barn, still watching the sky while Perley climbed up into the saddle.
“Be careful,” Ruben said again when Perley rode out into the yard.
The storm was approaching rapidly with frequent flashes of lightning that lit up the whole barnyard.
Clearly concerned for his brother’s safety, he called after him. “Never mind the damn outlaws. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get hit by lightning.” A loud clap of thunder sounded then to emphasize his words.
“Maybe,” Perley replied with a chuckle, “but I figure it’ll be harder for them to see me. I don’t expect to see them doing much in this storm but hunkerin’ down and trying to stay dry.” He pulled his rain slicker up tighter and nudged Buck. “I’ll see you in the mornin’, or maybe before if I find ’em right away.”
CHAPTER 15
With a steady rain beating against his face, Perley rode along the banks of Muskrat Creek until coming to its confluence with the Red River. It was hard dark by then, but he had no trouble finding the tracks Charlie had told him about. If the rain continued they would soon be washed out, but he easily spotted the wagon tracks where the outlaws had entered the water. He also found their tracks where they’d come out of the river on the other side. The fact that their tracks led east along the river from that point, instead of heading deeper into Indian country, tended to enforce his suspicions that it was Clementine.
He hurried to examine what tracks they had left before the downpour erased them. She had obviously come back with more men. In addition to the wagon and the horses pulling them, he saw tracks of four horses carrying riders, plus one with no rider—the fellow driving the wagon, he assumed. He was confident in his count because they had spread apart when they crossed the river instead of crossing single file. He peered out at the single-file line the tracks had become, confirming they had followed the river east.
With no more trail to follow, Perley was left to rely on his own idea of a camp that would offer cover and be hard to find. With that in mind, his first thought was to ride up from the river about a hundred yards to the low ridge that ran parallel to the river for about half a mile. Many gullies and ravines ran through those hills that would hide a camp. He had one in particular in mind, a deep, narrow gulch he had often wondered about when seeing it from the Texas side of the river. The problem, however, was they would have to hide their wagon somewhere. That gulch was not wide enough to drive a team of horses and a wagon up. Those hills offered about as good a place to make a more permanent camp as any, though. And if the party was who he suspected it was, that’s most likely what they had in mind. Deciding to check that ravine out, anyway, he turned Buck in that direction and pulled his slicker up over his hat as the rain pelted his face.
After riding a few hundred yards along the base of the ridge, he thought he recognized the entrance to the ravine. But with the storm and the absence of light, he couldn’t be sure. Riding a little way in, it became so dark it was almost totally black. He found out at once that he was going to have to be cautious.
Afraid he might injure his horse, he dismounted when he came to a point where the ravine made a sharp turn. He left Buck there, giving him some protection. The floor of the ravine began to rise from that point on, forcing Perley to be even more careful, lest he stumble on the uneven path. Suddenly, a gust of wind from above forced a downdraft that stopped him in his tracks, for he was sure he smelled smoke.
Almost immediately after, Buck whinnied behind him and far up the ravine he heard another horse answer. He knew at once that he had guessed right. Someone was camped near the top of that ravine.
The question before him was whether or not to proceed any farther up the ravine to get a closer look. He thought that over for a few seconds before deciding he needed to know how many were in the camp. He had gone that far, maybe he could get just a little farther, he decided, and took a few dozen more cautious steps.
* * *
“What was that?” Beau Cobb asked. “I thought I heard a horse whinny.”
“I heard one of our horses snort,” Coleman said.
“I mean, I thought I heard one down the ravine,” Beau insisted. He turned to Jesse. “You got younger ears than me. Did you hear a horse down there?”
“Nope,” Jesse answered. “This storm’s makin’ so much noise, you can’t hear nothin’.”
“How ’bout you, Clementine. You hear a horse whinny down that way?” Beau asked.
When she said she had not, Jesse volunteered to go down the ravine to see if his father was hearing imaginary sounds.
“You be careful,” Beau warned him. “There might be some of that ranch crew snoopin’ around. They mighta found our wagon.”
“In this weather?” Clementine had to ask. “I damn-sure doubt it. We’re the only ones sittin’ out here tryin’ to keep our behinds dry.” She reached up and pushed on the canvas over her head to empty a puddle that had formed. “Besides, they ain’t got no business over here in Oklahoma. We ain’t on their damn range, and they’d ’a had to be snoopin’ around the backside of these hills to run across that wagon.”
“I’m tired of settin’ around this little fire, anyway,” Jesse declared. “I’ll go take a look down there. I hope there is somebody sneakin’ up that ravine. I’ll give ’em a real good welcome.” He was anxious to limber up the .44 on his hip, even if it was just to shoot a horse or a cow. The stormy camp was a little too crowded for his taste, especially with Junior Grissom taking up most of the space. The big simpleton always made an effort to stay as close to Jesse’s Aunt Clementine as possible.
The problem wasn’t helped by the fact that there was not enough room at the head of the narrow ravine to set up the tent they had brought. Consequently, they had to simply drape the canvas over the five of them huddled together. The raid on the Triple-G had sounded better back in The Hole. Jesse would have preferred a shoot-out in the middle of the street in Paris. He was faster with a six-gun than either his father or his uncle, and he never missed an opportunity to demonstrate his talent.
The rain seemed to come down harder when he left the cover of the tent. He pulled his rain slicker all the way over his hat to keep the rain from beating him in the face. Pitch-black darkn
ess in the narrow ravine was made even worse by the fact that his eyes had not yet adjusted after staring into the fire for so long. As a result, he almost stumbled a couple of times as he made his way down.
Suddenly a flash of lightning illuminated the path before him as bright as day, and in that few seconds, a ghostlike figure was revealed, no more than twenty feet from him. Then it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, leaving him stunned for the moment. Terrified, he pulled his pistol and fired as fast as he could, round after round, shooting blindly, until he emptied the weapon.
Equally stunned when the lightning had flashed, Perley fell back against the side of the ravine, hugging the wall while .44 slugs zipped and whistled all around him as Jesse tried to cover every inch of the narrow opening. In a frantic effort to get his own pistol out of an entanglement with his rain slicker, he didn’t free it until Jesse had fired all six shots. Still unable to see clearly in the dark confines of the gulch, he nonetheless was able to hear the metallic clicking of Jesse’s empty gun.
Using that sound as his target, Perley fired a couple of shots in that direction and heard his assailant grunt and fall. Not certain what his next move should be, he paused to decide. In a few moments, he heard voices from up above him sounding the alarm and knew he had to do something. First, I’d better see if that one is dead.
In the dark ravine, he could barely see the body lying in the middle of the path. He moved cautiously up closer to it, his .44 ready to fire until he could see that the man was dead. Bending close over the body, he knew he had never seen him before. It was not Clementine or the big ox he had wounded at the railroad depot in Atoka. Concerned with the voices he had heard above him, could he expect a charge down that ravine? His common sense told him they would be foolish to do so, since the ravine was so narrow they would have to charge single file. It amounted to a temporary standoff—they couldn’t come down, and he couldn’t go up. To get to him, they would have to go out the top of the ravine and circle back down the ridge to trap him inside.
Those thoughts were interrupted when he heard a shout from above him.
“Jesse!” Beau Cobb yelled. “Are you all right?” There was a brief pause, then, “Jesse! Answer me, boy!”
In anticipation of what might follow when Jesse failed to answer, Perley eased back down the ravine to a point where a slight turn in the path provided a little bit of protection.
“He ain’t answerin’,” Beau said and turned to Coleman for help.
“He’s dead,” Coleman declared. “Walked right into an ambush. Ain’t nothin’ we can do about it, Beau.” He was already thinking fast, trying to decide what their options were, and the only thing he could think of was for them to go out over the top of the ridge.
“We’re trapped in this damn pocket, like a rat in a hole,” Clementine said, thinking the same as her brother. “We’ve gotta go out the top.” She had no fear in her voice, only anger, for she felt certain Perley Gates was at the bottom of this. “There ain’t no tellin’ how many is down there. There was a helluva lot of shootin’, but we’d best give ’em a little somethin’ to think about.” She drew her pistol and prepared to shoot down the ravine. Following her lead, Junior drew his pistol as well.
“Hold on!” Beau exclaimed. “You might hit Jesse!”
Drawing his own pistol, Coleman said, “Beau, Jesse’s dead.” He fired the first shot that ignited a hailstorm of .44 slugs down the dark, narrow ravine.
Below them, Perley lay flat on the floor of the ravine as it filled with flying lead, praying that his luck would hold. Even with sudden death only inches above his prone body, he couldn’t help thinking that he had managed to step in the biggest cow pie of his life. He hoped that would not be his final thought. After a barrage of three or four minutes, which seemed eons longer, the shooting finally stopped. It occurred to him then that he had not seen proof that the people shooting at him were Clementine’s gang—and he had killed one of them. That thought was replaced by one that was more urgent, as his mind formed a mental picture of half of the party above him spilling out of the top of the ravine in a hurry to circle around behind him. Thinking he needed speed more than caution, he jumped up and ran recklessly back down the ravine, hoping when he turned the sharp curve near the opening that his horse would still be standing.
His luck was holding. Buck was still there, although stamping nervously from all the shooting that had occurred. The big bay did not have to be told that it was time to depart. As soon as Perley jumped up into the saddle, Buck wheeled and headed for the opening.
Out of the mouth of the ravine, Perley headed toward the river, aided by a flash of lightning to show him the best approach. His one objective at the moment was to find a place to hide where he might be able to hold off an attack if he had to. Not certain about the number of his enemies, he assumed there were four left . . . if he had read their tracks correctly. He figured they would surely split up, with two going out the top of the ravine, and two staying put, hoping to trap him between them.
In the cramped camp, the outlaws were reacting exactly as Perley had figured, although Beau had to be restrained from rushing blindly down the ravine to take his vengeance.
“Don’t be a damn fool!” Coleman reproached him. “Just because they didn’t shoot back, don’t mean we killed all of ’em. They might be hopin’ you’ll come chargin’ down there to get shot.”
“They killed my boy,” Beau lamented. “I ain’t gonna just set here.” His need for vengeance was almost choking him.
“They killed my son, too,” Coleman reminded him, “and I damn-sure mean to make ’em pay for it. We don’t know how many’s down there. We’d best get outta this hole before they split up and trap us in here before we can get to our horses.”
“I know how many’s down there,” Clementine declared after rethinking her original thoughts and relying on a gut feeling that had suddenly struck her. “There ain’t but one man down there and I aim to get in behind him before he has a chance to get out. Maybe one of our shots got him and maybe it didn’t, but if he’s still holed up in there, I aim to get him. You two stay right here. I’m going out the top and get down the hill behind him. I’ll drive him up the ravine to you.” In her mind, she still saw Perley emerging like a demon out of hell from the railroad depot trapdoor to shoot Brice down. It fed the flames of her hatred for him to intensity. Not waiting to hear any argument from her brothers, she threw the canvas back from over her and climbed up to the top of the ravine.
“What if you’re wrong?” Coleman called after her. “What if it ain’t just one man?”
“I ain’t wrong,” she called back. “It’s that one son of a bitch.”
“I’ll go with Clementine,” Junior announced at once, to no one’s surprise. Like a faithful hound, he shuffled his huge body out in the rain after her. With little choice, Coleman and Beau situated themselves in position to fire at the first person to appear in the ravine below them.
* * *
Finally, Perley noticed a lessening of the rain as the wind moved the storm farther along the river, so he moved Buck a little farther into the stand of trees on the bank. Holding his Winchester under his slicker to keep it dry, he ran in a crouch along the low bluffs to a spot where he could see the opening to the ravine he had just vacated. While he waited to see if his assumption would prove to be true, he pulled his railroad watch from his pocket.
Shielding it with one hand to protect it from the rain, he could just barely make out the time. It would be at least two hours until daylight and he hadn’t figured out what he was going to do when that occurred. Already exasperated with himself for bungling his scouting mission, he wondered if he had made matters worse. His objective, as he had told Rubin, was to see if he could find the outlaws’ camp so he and his brothers could plan their attack on it—and that was only if the outlaws showed they intended to stay on Triple-G range. He hadn’t counted on running smack-dab into one of the party in the middle of that dark ravine.
> Thoughts of his misfortune were immediately forgotten when something caught his eye farther along the line of hills. He stared hard at the spot for a few moments before he realized something was moving down the slope toward the foot of the hill. Thinking at first that it was maybe a deer, he was jolted when he could see it was two people. As he had figured, they were headed to the ravine, moving cautiously, rifles in hand.
What to do? He wasn’t sure. At that point, they weren’t on Triple-G range. They weren’t even in Texas. He hadn’t seen them stealing Triple-G cows, so he couldn’t lay the front sight of his rifle on them and just blaze away. When he thought about it, he realized that they might be in the right, merely protecting their camp from attack. And he had shot one of them.
Rubin’s words came to mind again. If there wasn’t but one cow pie . . . and then he recognized them. Clementine and her big sidekick—no mistaking the pair.
She was big as most men—the reason he didn’t know it was her until she turned to look back the way she had come to caution the brute to be careful.
Perley just then noticed the man still limped from the slug he had put in his leg. All his suspicions were confirmed. By identifying Clementine and Junior, there was no longer any doubt about the party’s purpose in showing up on Triple-G range. They had come for him and evidently intended to do critical damage to his home and family, as well.
Knowing he was totally responsible for bringing this misfortune down upon the family, he felt it was up to him to protect them from the lawless murderers. The trouble was, he wasn’t quite sure he could get the best of four hardened outlaws. The plan had been for him to locate them, and if they were still lingering around Triple-G range, his brothers and some of the cowhands would join him in driving the outlaws out of the territory. The natural thing to do was to ride like hell back to the house to sound the alarm, but that was not to his liking. While he was riding back to headquarters, Clementine and her gang might decide to thin the herd out and start shooting cows at random. The only other option he could think of was to get them to chase him. That way, he might at least lead them away from the cattle.
A Reason to Die Page 24