“Take it easy, boys,” Pearlie said. “We’re just a couple of miners up here looking for gold.”
“Bullshit!” the first man said, his hand dropping toward his pistol. “You’re the men who shot us up the other night.”
Pearlie crouched and filled his hands with iron, while Cal took one step to the side to give the men less of a target to shoot at and drew his Colt Navy .36-caliber pistol.
Pearlie and Cal got off the first shots, taking two of the men in the chest and blowing them backward into the other two, knocking them all to the ground.
Pearlie thumbed off another shot, hitting one of the men on the ground in the forehead, exploding his head in a red mist of brains and blood and bone.
Cal’s second shot took the fourth man in the shoulder just as he fired. The force of the blow threw the outlaw’s aim off and his bullet tore into Cal’s left thigh with a loud smack, spinning the young man around and throwing him to the ground.
As the man eared back his hammer for another shot, Pearlie put lead between his eyes, putting his lights out forever.
Pearlie rushed to Cal’s side and leaned over him. “Cal, you all right, boy?”
Cal rolled over and sat up, his face covered with sweat from the shock of being shot. He pulled his leg up and looked at where the bullet had torn a hole in his pants and burned a shallow groove along the outside of his thigh.
His face paled and he looked as if he was about to faint. “Yeah, I guess so. He just winged me.”
Pearlie shook his head. “I should’a know’d it. It’s been over a month since you got shot the last time. You were past due, boy,” he said, grinning with relief and teasing Cal about the number of times he’d been wounded in the past.
Cal’s eyes fluttered and he took deep breaths to keep from passing out. “It was just a lucky shot,” he moaned.
Pearlie stepped behind him and put his hands under his arms, lifting him to his feet. “Nevertheless, we got to git goin’. Them gunshots is gonna bring Slaughter an’ his men up here like bees buzzin’ round a nest with a stick poked in it.”
Cal gingerly put his weight on his injured leg, grimacing with pain as he took off his bandanna and tied it in a knot to slow the bleeding. “You go get our horses an’ I’ll be there in a minute.”
When Pearlie brought their mounts, Cal walked around and got on from the right side, his left leg unable to pull him into the saddle.
“Come on, Cal,” Pearlie said. “We got to make tracks around the mountain to the other side where we can find some cover. They gonna be searchin’ for us ’fore long.”
Cal nodded, leaning over his saddle horn and holding on for dear life, trying his best to stay in the saddle. He knew if he passed out he was as good as dead.
* * *
In the valley below, Slaughter jerked around at the sound of gunshots on the ridge above them, his hand automatically going for his pistol.
When he realized they were not under attack again, he began to shout orders. “Whitey! Get some horses saddled and get some men up on that ridge and find out what the hell’s goin’ on!”
“Yes, sir!” Whitey shouted back, motioning to several men by the fire to follow him as he ran toward the corral.
“Goddamn!” Slaughter growled, putting his pistol back in its holster. “It’s probably the same men who were here the other night.”
“Maybe we should’a kept the sentries doubled up, Boss, ’stead of cuttin’ ’em back to one man at each station,” Swede said, his eyes scanning the mountainside, looking for any movement.
Slaughter glared at him, knowing Swede was right but resenting the implication that he himself had made a mistake. “You know we were short of men after the attack, Swede,” he snarled.
Swede, realizing his mistake in questioning his boss’s orders, nodded quickly. “That’s right, Boss, an’ who would’a figgered they’d hit again so soon?”
Mollified a bit by Swede’s statement, Slaughter turned and watched as Whitey and five men rode up the narrow trail leading to the ridge where the shots were heard.
In less than thirty minutes, Whitey came back down the trail alone.
He rode over to Slaughter and got down off his horse.
“What happened up there?” Slaughter asked.
“Four of the men cutting timber for the cabins were shot and killed,” Whitey said. “From the tracks, it looks like two men were lying up there watching us and were surprised by the other four.”
“Four to two and all four of our men were killed?” Slaughter asked, his face doubtful.
“Yes, sir. But it looks like they managed to put lead in one of ’em, ’cause there’s blood on the ground where their tracks were.”
“Blood but no body?”
Whitey nodded. “I’ve got the boys tryin’ to track ’em down now. With any luck, they’ll find ’em and kill ’em.”
Slaughter snorted. “Huh, if I had any luck they’d already be dead.” He pointed his finger in Whitey’s face. “I don’t want those men back in camp until they find and kill these bastards. It’s probably part of the same bunch who attacked us the other night.”
Whitey looked upward at the ridge. “Yeah, it’s the same place they fired from before.” He looked back at Slaughter. “What I’m wonderin’ is, how’d they get up there without our sentries knowing about it?”
Slaughter’s eyes narrowed. “There must be a back way up there that don’t go by our sentry posts. That’s the only way I can figure it.”
“What are we gonna do about it?” Whitey asked.
Slaughter shrugged. “Nothing. It won’t matter after tomorrow, ’cause we’ll be on our way to Colorado.”
20
Halfway down the back side of the mountain, on the opposite side from the hole-in-the-wall, Pearlie found a cave hidden among a group of granite boulders.
He dismounted and pulled his pistol, warily walking into the cave entrance. “Phew,” he called to Cal, “smells like a bear crawled in here and died.”
From his saddle, Cal said, “Be careful, Pearlie. Now’s the time of year fer bears an’ such to hibernate. Liable to be a big ol’ grizzly in there just settlin’ down fer winter.”
“If’n there is,” Pearlie replied, “it’s gonna git awful crowded in here, ’cause we got to find a hole to crawl in ’fore those bandidos come after us.”
When he disappeared into the black hole of the entrance, Cal shucked his Winchester rifle from its saddle boot and cradled it in his arms, ready to fire if Pearlie came running out of the cave with a bear on his trail.
After a few moments, Pearlie reemerged, taking a deep breath of fresh air. “Nothin’ in there but some old bones. Looks like a bear had his dinner in there an’ decided it weren’t time for the long sleep just yet.”
Cal rebooted his rifle and climbed painfully down from his saddle. His leg felt like it was on fire, but at least the bleeding had stopped.
“Come on,” Pearlie said as he grabbed the reins to the horses. “Let’s see if we can get these mounts to go in there.”
When they smelled the acrid bear-scent, both horses reared back and fought their reins, wanting no part of a dark place that smelled of a carnivore as large as a grizzly.
After some coaching and lots of heavy pulling, the boys finally managed to get the horses into the cave and back to where it opened up at the rear. There was a hat-sized opening in the rocks above that let a little sunlight and some welcome fresh air into the cavern, so the horses calmed down a little, helped some by handfuls of grain handed out by Cal.
“You try to get the broncs settled down and I’ll go sweep our tracks and put some deadfall around the entrance,” Pearlie said. “With any luck, the outlaws won’t find us.”
“And if our luck don’t hold an’ they do?” Cal asked.
“Then we’ll blast hell out of ’em an’ take as many with us as we can.”
While Cal was trying to get the horses completely calmed down, Pearlie took a pine limb and used it
like a broom to sweep away all tracks leading to their hiding place. After he was finished, he moved piles of fallen branches and limbs to the front of the cave, hiding the entrance from sight.
In less than an hour, the two men could hear sounds of horses and men outside the cave. Cal stayed in the rear, his hands on the noses of their mounts to try and keep them from whinnying or making any other sounds, while Pearlie took his rifle and lay on his belly just inside the entrance, peering through branches at the outside.
Five outlaws rode down the narrow trail through the piney woods, rifles and shotguns cradled in their arms. Pearlie could hear them joking about what they were going to do to the men who’d killed their friends.
“I jest hope we can catch ’em alive, so’s we can string ’em up over a fire and roast their asses off,” one of the men growled.
“I don’t care if’n we git ’em alive, just so’s we git ’em. Slaughter’ll have our butts if’n we come back without them bastards,” another replied.
“Well,” yet another added, “I ain’t seen no sign of tracks nor nothin’ fer the last hour, an’ it shore looks like we gonna git a blizzard ’fore long.” He shook his head, glancing at the sky, which was overhung with dark, roiling clouds blocking the sun and causing the temperature to drop rapidly.
“I vote we head on back ’fore we git trapped up here an’ freeze our balls off.”
The first man nodded. “Yeah. If those men are up here, they gonna die in the blizzard without no cover to git to. We can tell Slaughter there just ain’t no way they could survive out here when the snows come.”
There was a general mumbling of agreement, and the group of searchers jerked their mounts’ heads around and headed back the way they’d come.
Only when they were out of sight and Pearlie couldn’t hear them any longer did he let himself breathe a sigh of relief.
He walked back to the rear of the cave, and heard Cal talking in a low voice to Cold and Silver. Pearlie smiled. The boy did have a way with horses, he thought.
“Good work keepin’ them animals quiet, Cal,” he said. “I think they’ve given up on findin’ us.”
“Then we can get out of here an’ head on back to town?” Cal asked, a hopeful gleam in his eye.
Pearlie shook his head. “Nope. Looks like there’s a helluva storm brewin’ out there. It wouldn’t do fer us to get caught in it halfway to town, an’ we still got to keep an eye on these bastards till they leave so’s we can warn Smoke.”
Cal wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know if’n I can stand to spend the night in here, Pearlie. I cain’t hardly breathe with the bear-stink so strong.”
Pearlie shrugged as he walked to his saddlebags and took out a bag of fried chicken and biscuits and canned peaches. “Suit yoreself, Cal, but if’n you go out there tonight, I’m gonna have to build a big fire in the mornin’ to thaw yore frozen butt out. It’s gettin’ mighty cold an’ it ain’t even dark yet.”
Pearlie opened the bag of chicken and pitched a leg to Cal. “Here. I know you likes the legs the best.”
Cal took a bite and as he chewed, he asked, “You got enough sinkers fer both of us?”
Pearlie pursed his lips. “I dunno. There might be one or two I can spare.”
* * *
Slaughter was furious when the search party returned and reported they’d caught no sight of whoever killed the four men on the ridge.
“Goddammit!” he screamed, fire in his eyes. “There ain’t no place to hide up there on the mountain. How could you not find any sign of them?”
Billy Bob Justice, the man in charge of the search, hung his head, not wanting to look at Slaughter. “I don’t know, Boss. They just seemed to disappear. One minute they’s tracks as plain as day leading around the mountain, an’ the next they was gone with no trace.”
“And you say it looked like there was only two of ’em?”
“We only found tracks of two hosses.”
“What about the blood trail?” Slaughter asked.
“It went for about a hundred yards, then it petered out too,” Justice said. “We figgered they’s gonna freeze to death if they stay up there on the mountain with this blizzard that’s comin’.”
“Damn! I’m surrounded by fools,” Slaughter yelled as he turned and walked toward the fire. He stood there a moment, warming his hands and thinking.
After a moment, he looked up at the sky as large, wet snowflakes began to fall. “All right, I guess it can’t be helped.” He turned to Whitey, who was standing next to him.
“Whitey, get the men ready and pack up our gear. I want to leave at first light, if this damned storm is over by then.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We need to get movin’ before those men have a chance to get back to Jackson Hole and get reinforcements to come attack us again.” He glanced around at the valley of the hole-in-the-wall. “Right now, we’re easy targets down here since our sentries don’t seem to be able to stop ’em.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll get the men ready,” Whitey said.
“I just wish I knew who it is that’s doggin’ us,” Slaughter said.
“Once we get on the trail, I’ll have men watching our back trail to make sure they don’t follow us an’ surprise us along the way,” Whitey said.
Slaughter nodded. “That’s a good idea, Whitey. At least someone around here is thinking besides me.”
He turned to Swede. “It might even be a good idea to leave a few men behind to set up an ambush, catch those bastards with their pants down if they try to trail us.”
Swede nodded, his face grim.
“Swede, pick five men you think are pretty good with their guns. After we get five or six miles down the trail toward Colorado, you look for a likely spot for an ambush and get those men set up. We’ll teach those sons of bitches not to mess with Big Jim Slaughter.”
21
Unable to start a fire, Pearlie and Cal spent the night in the cave bundled in their ground blankets, and even covered themselves with brush and pine needles to try to keep from freezing. Luckily, the space was small enough that the warmth given off by the two horses helped keep the temperature bearable.
When he awoke, just after dawn, Cal felt as if his leg was on fire. He pulled the blanket off, and was alarmed to find his thigh swollen to almost twice its normal size.
Pearlie rolled over and glanced at Cal, sitting upright, staring at his leg.
“What’s goin’ on, pardner?” he asked, yawning widely.
Cal quickly covered his limb and said, “Nothin’, just tryin’ to wake up.”
Pearlie climbed stiffly out of his blankets and walked to the cave entrance. Snow had drifted to a depth of three feet, and had almost covered the hole in the rocks.
Pearlie kicked and dug his way out into bright sunshine, grateful for the warmth of the sun, though the temperature was still below freezing.
He clambered back into the cave. “Damn,” he said, “the weather is clearin’. I’d kind’a hoped the storm would stay around for a while to give us some cover.”
He fished around in his saddlebags and pulled out a couple of biscuits and one piece of fried chicken left from the night before.
Turning to Cal, he held them up. “Looks like we got to share one lonely piece of chicken an’ two sinkers.”
Cal tried to get to his feet, but his leg collapsed beneath him and he fell to the ground, his face furrowed with pain.
Pearlie rushed to his side. “What’s the matter, Cal?”
“It’s my leg, Pearlie. It hurts somethin’ fierce an’ it’s kind’a swollen.”
Pearlie, noticing the flushed appearance of Cal’s face, put his hand on his friend’s cheek. “Damn, boy! Yo’re burnin’ up with fever.”
He pulled the blanket down and winced when he saw Cal’s swollen thigh.
“Git those pants down an’ let me take a look at that wound, Cal.”
Cal unbuckled his belt and struggled to get his trousers down over the swollen leg. Wh
en it came into view, Pearlie gasped. The thigh was bright red, swollen, and there was pus flowing from the furrow the bullet had dug in Cal’s flesh.
“Shit, boy. You done got suppuration in that bullet wound.”
Cal laid his head back, breathing through his mouth. “It’ll be all right, Pearlie. Just help me get up on my horse so’s we can see what the outlaws are doin’.”
“I’ll get you up on your hoss, Cal, but we ain’t gonna bother with no outlaws this mornin’. We gotta git you back to Jackson Hole so the doc can fix that leg.”
Cal shook his head. “We cain’t, Pearlie. We gotta keep an eye on them so we can warn Smoke when they leave.”
“Bullshit, Cal,” Pearlie said as he helped pull Cal’s pants up. “If’n we don’t git you some doctorin’, yo’re gonna end up losing that leg.”
Cal’s head lolled back, and he almost fainted from the pain when his trousers moved against his swollen flesh.
Pearlie quickly moved to their horses and began to lead them from the cave. “I’ll git the hosses saddled an’ then I’ll come back for you. You stay still now, you hear?”
* * *
It took the boys until almost noon to make their way down the mountain through the heavy drifts of snow. Several times Pearlie had to grab Cal’s shoulder to keep him from passing out and falling off his horse.
By the time they reached Jackson Hole, Cal was almost unconscious from the pain in his leg and Pearlie was having to support his full weight to keep him in the saddle. He reined the horses in when they got to the doctor’s office, and let Cal fall off Silver into his arms. He had to carry him into the doctor’s waiting room.
Doctor Josiah Curry glanced up from his position in front of a cowboy with a swollen red jaw. The doc had a pair of dental pliers in his hand, and was fixing to pull an infected tooth.
“Doc,” Pearlie said as he stood there with Cal cradled in his arms, “my friend’s got a bullet wound that needs takin’ care of.”
“Take him in the other room and I’ll be there directly,” Dr. Curry said. He turned back to the cowboy, stuck the pliers in his mouth, and yanked a bloody tooth out of his gums.
Heart of the Mountain Man Page 14