by Neil Hunter
‘That would be a damn shame,’ Lang Wilkerson said. ‘That was some good looking woman.’
Wilkerson fancied himself a ladies’ man. Gangly and prematurely balding , he was far from handsome, but imagined he had some kind of allure for the opposite sex. He was wrong and when it was pointed out to him—usually by a woman—he got angry and struck out with his fists as if it would prove his masculinity. His temper was short and he never knew when to stop. It got him into trouble on many an occasion. Wilkerson had natural aptitude with the gun he carried and had no problems using it.
‘Hell, Lang, if that gal saw you staring at her, wouldn’t be no surprise if she jumped off a cliff herself,’ Lagrange said, laughing at his own remark.
Wilkerson stared at the man riding alongside him, his thin lips curling in a sneer. He didn’t say anything, just stared as if he was expecting Lagrange to curl up and die, though if the occasion arose he would have stood side by side with the man in order for them both to survive.
~*~
Lagrange led them through the downpour with the unerring confidence of a tracker dog, picking up the pace once he had his trail set. It was as if he was following a marked route. The others fell in behind him, silent, shoulders hunched against the falling rain, ignoring the rumbling thunder and flickering lightning.
They were to a man, tough and uncompromising, yet between them they carried a loyalty to each other that was hard to match. They stood aside from others, cut off from society because of how they behaved. Yet within the group there was an unspoken bond that kept them together. A closeness of need. Each depended on the others and they rode with that unspoken tie that never needed to be uttered.
Lagrange reined in. He pointed through the trees to where a mass of rock thrust into the sky.
‘Up there. The cave.’
‘You sure?’ Gallman asked.
‘I’m sure. I’ll go take a look.’
‘Josh. Go with him,’ Gallman said.
The pair dismounted, handing over their reins and started off through the trees, Lagrange in the lead and moving like a man half his size. Stringer followed, hunched over as he followed.
The shale slope was running with water, leaving the surface loose and unstable. The big man went up sure footed, leaving his partner behind to struggle. He could hear Stringer cursing as he slipped and slid on the slope.
Reaching level rock Lagrange examined the wide cave mouth in front of him. He thrust a hand under his slicker and gripped the butt of his handgun. He peered around him until he was satisfied, then walked inside the cave.
When Stringer reached the spot he was confronted by Lagrange as the man came out of the cave. He was holding the canvas bags of stolen money in his hands.
‘Ramon’s inside,’ he said. ‘He’s dead. Someone stuck a knife in his throat. He done bled all over the cave floor.’
Stringer walked into the cave. He looked down at the body, noticing the extent of the wound. Glancing around he saw Vasquez’s rifle still leaning against the cave wall. He picked it up and took it with him. Showed it to Lagrange.
‘One thing for certain,’ he said. ‘It was no woman killed Ramon.
‘You see the hoofmarks in there? More than one horse. Ramon said someone was on our back trail.’
‘Lawdog?’
‘Mebbe. Or a bounty man.’
‘So what happened?’
‘I’m no Indian. I don’t get visions.’
‘Hell, Joe, a fuckin’ guess is all we need.’
‘I imagine the woman found the cave. Took shelter and our man found her. Then Vasquez showed up. They had at it and Vasquez lost. They took his horse and headed back down the mountain.’
‘They left the money.’
‘Didn’t want the weight slowing them down.’
‘Well, damnit, Joe, they can’t have got far.’
Stringer made for the exit, Lagrange slower as he followed. He stood outside, eyes raised to the sky where the light was starting to show through the rain. It was slackening off. He could feel the intensity fading. The storm was moving on. Give it an hour or so and the rain would be gone. He heard Stringer cursing as he slipped and slithered down the slope. Lagrange tucked the money bags under his arms and started on down the slope himself.
Reaching their horses Stringer tucked the rifle in behind his bed roll and hauled himself into the saddle. Lagrange used a length of rope to tie the money bags together and drape them behind his saddle.
Noticing Stringer staring at the bags Lagrange said, ‘I’m sure Ramon would have wanted you to have his share.’.
‘Ain’t about to do him much good now,’ the one-eyed man muttered.
Won’t do you much either, Lagrange thought, if that bounty man picks up our trail again.
Bounty hunters were known for their tenacity. Once they picked up a scent they just kept coming. If the man tailing them had picked up the woman he was most likely escorting her out of danger. He would off-load her at the first settlement he came across and then double-back. Now, Joe Lagrange didn’t like the idea of a bounty man dogging them. Especially if following them led him to their high country hideout. They had managed to keep it pretty secret up to now, and Lagrange knew that for certain Gallman wouldn’t sit easy knowing there was a bounty man dogging their tracks. He would want to go after the man and put him in the ground while they were still well clear of their place. Lagrange saw that as a problem and being the man he was figured the best way to face a problem was head on.
~*~
When they rejoined the others a decision was quickly made. Lagrange and Stringer would go after the man and the young woman. Deal with them in the most appropriate way. All the bagged gold was transferred over to Gallman and Wilkerson. It would make travel easier for Lagrange and Stringer. The others would head for the camp up country, along with the stolen horse and Lagrange and Stringer would join them once they had done.
Chapter Five
The storm fell behind Bodie and Ruby as they crossed lower, open slopes a few hours on. It eased off as quickly as it had started. The swollen clouds began to disperse and weak sunlight showed through. There was still a proliferation of timber ahead, but for the next couple of miles the way was open. The open landscape was green with grass and brush and the horses moved easily. Bodie shrugged out of his slicker, rolled it and pushed it under his blanket roll. He felt less encumbered with the slicker off. Ruby followed suit.
‘Any other time I would be admiring all this,’ Ruby said, staring around. ‘All I can think of is Grant and Rafer. Dead because of those men. They died for three horses. It didn’t need to happen, Bodie. They could have just taken the animals and left. Not simply shot down two men who offered no kind of threat to them.’
‘It made sense to Gallman and his crew. Dead people can’t point the finger and accuse them. And they wouldn’t want you being able to tell where they were.’
‘So two men were slaughtered to safeguard those…those…’
‘That’s the way of it, Ruby..’
‘You make it sound so normal.’
Bodie cuffed his hat back, stretching in the saddle as he took a slow look over their back trail. Even though he was expecting problems it was still a surprise when he saw two distant rider coming down off the high ground in the far distance. In a perverse way he decided it was almost welcome. His quarry was coming to him.
‘What is it?’ Ruby asked.
When she saw his backward look she swiveled in her own saddle. Bodie heard the intake of breath.
‘Let’s keep moving,’ Bodie said.
His mind was working on their best route. During his ride up from the flatland he had kept a map inside his head, pinpointing landmarks and he recalled what he had seen now.
‘The outcropping to the south. We head for that. Don’t push too hard. Ground’s going to be soft underfoot from all that rain so keep your eyes open.’
He had his rifle in his hands, checking the load and making sure the weapon was primed a
nd ready.
‘Can they hit us from that distance?’ Ruby said.
‘Let’s not wait around to give them the chance to try.’
They moved on, Bodie allowing Ruby to take a slight lead.
~*~
‘That has to be them,’ Stringer said, watching the distant riders on the lower slopes. ‘Sonofabitch bounty man.’
He jerked his rifle to his shoulder, taking aim. Felt the pressure of Lagrange’s big hand pushing the barrel down.
‘Ease off, Josh,’ he said. ‘Too damn far to hit them. All you’ll do is waste ammunition.’
‘So what do we do? Let ’em go?’
‘Way they’re going they’ll hit Kramer’s place soon enough. We can cut around and reach there first.’
Elijah Kramer ran a trading post that stood near the banks of a tributary of the Powder River. The post had been there for years and had a welcoming reputation. Kramer was ambivalent when it came to his customers. If they had the money he would deal with them. Good, bad, or indifferent, Kramer made no distinction. His establishment was open on a permanent basis, providing food, drink, a place to rest, and a safe haven for anyone who called by. The law tolerated him because Kramer, an honest man, offered the same to anyone calling in and for a financial enticement he would offer information. On the reverse side of the coin Kramer kept his less than honest clientele informed about any law in the area. He walked a thin line, but knew he was reasonably safe because he offered what they all wanted. Apart from that he was a haven of comfort, albeit less than the best, to any traveler. A mutual and neutral necessity in the area. Far from any other ports in the storm, Kramer’s provided a need and in the wild, desolate reaches it would have been a foolish act to do anything that might close the place down.
Lagrange cut off across the high slope, his partner following, both of them satisfied they would reach Kramer’s ahead of the pair they were trailing.
~*~
When he saw the riders turn aside and vanish from sight Bodie had a moment of doubt. He was sure they hadn’t quit. So that meant they were taking a different route, going for the opportunity to get ahead of him and Ruby. He accepted his intimate knowledge of the territory was thin. That worried him. The Gallman bunch knew this country. It was where they operated from, so it didn’t take a deal to understand they would have knowledge of short cuts.
He stared at Ruby’s slim back as she rode ahead of him. As much as he didn’t want to lay blame, he couldn’t help but call it bad luck he had happened upon her. Meeting up with her in that cave had added to his problems. Bodie couldn’t hold it against the young woman. What had happened to her and her companions had not been her fault, leaving her on her own and defenseless. Bodie showing up had offered her a chance of survival even though now they were far from in the clear.
As if reading his mind he heard Ruby say, ‘ Are they still there?’
‘No. They’ve gone.’
She drew rein, turning in her saddle, her eyes fixed on Bodie.
‘Are they trying to cut us off? Taking a another trail to get ahead?’
She was sharp. Bodie had to give her that. Too sharp to even think of trying to fool her.
‘They know the country better than I do. Could be that’s what they’re doing. So we need to keep our eyes open.’
‘Give me an honest answer,’ she said. ‘If they have the chance will they try to kill us?’
Bodie nodded. ‘No question about that.’
She placed her hand on the rifle’s stock, slid it from the sheath and laid it across her thighs.
‘They’d better do it first time,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry about me, Bodie, I’ll give as good as I get.’
Bodie figured she meant every word.
Chapter Six
Elijah Kramer saw the pair of riders coming in across the flatland to the east. They must have come down out of the distant hills and were on their way in towards the post. He stood in the open door, arms folded across his chest, watching until he was able to make the pair out cleanly. Kramer sighed when he recognized them.
‘My luck must be out,’ he muttered.
Joe Lagrange and Josh Stringer. Two of Lew Gallman’s bunch.
Kramer was well used to having visits from all kinds of men. Good, bad, indifferent. Men on the run. Riding the Owlhoot. Drifters and wasters. Out of work cowhands. Looking for a place to rest for a while. As long as they paid their way—and often if he took to someone because of their circumstances—Kramer would offer a man credit. He knew that in most instance they would pay him back. It might take time but Kramer figured if you gave a man trust he would usually honor it. He tolerated them all because he ran an open house.
But even he had his own personal dislikes. Not many but he did not like the Gallman bunch. Kramer found the whole lot of them beyond redemption. He knew their way and he despised them for it. A bunch of hard, unrepentant killers without a single good bone in their bodies. They were to man simply butchers. So when he recognized Lagrange and Stringer he saw trouble riding in.
As it was Kramer was on his own that day. The two Crow Indians who helped him around the place were away visiting family. It left Kramer alone, though he was also glad the Indians were not around. He didn’t want anyone else around who might fall foul of Lagrange and Stringer.
Kramer never carried a weapon on him, though he had them placed around the store where they could be reached quickly if needed. A rifle and two hand guns. From where he stood in the doorway there was, on his right-hand side, a loaded, cut down shotgun. It rested on wooden pegs, driven into cracks between the wall timbers. All he needed to do was reach across with his right hand and lift the shotgun off the pegs. It was an old weapon. A Greener, its barrel sawed off to allow it to be employed quickly. Kramer looked after the shotgun, as he did all his weapons. It was cleaned and oiled on a regular basis, keeping the workings smooth and ready. He changed the loads every once in a while so he knew he wouldn’t end up with a malfunction. Kramer didn’t get involved in firefights very often, but he understood the need to keep his weapon ready. It was too late to discover a fault when the other feller was already making his play. A dead man didn’t get a second chance if he messed up his first.
Now Kramer didn’t move from the doorway. He understood how Lagrange and Stringer operated. If he stepped inside the door, for no apparent reason, once he had seen them, their minds would shout trap. They were a touch paranoid in that respect. So Kramer stayed exactly where he was watching his problem become larger as the pair rode in. Halted by the empty corral and tied their horses beside the water trough. Each man took his rifle, stood stamping the cricks out of their legs before they came across the yard.
‘Long time,’ Lagrange said.
‘I’ll wager he forgot us,’ the one-eyed Stringer said.
‘Hell, boy, it was a struggle but I done managed it.’
Stringer made an angry sound. He might have made a move if Lagrange hadn’t placed a massive hand against his chest and held him back.
‘Ease off, Josh. The man is funnin’,’ he said. ‘Ain’t that the truth?’
Kramer smiled, easy, knowing he had trod dangerous ground.
‘Come on, fellers, you know I make everyone welcome. I got a free drink inside.’
Now he deliberately turned his back and led the way inside the one-room post. Threaded his way between the stacks of trade goods of all kinds to where he had his bar set up. He stepped behind it and watched the pair as they came on. Their eyes searched every corner of the room, checking shadows and searching for any sign of other presences.
‘Pretty quiet, Kramer,’ Lagrange said.
‘That’s the way it goes. Come tomorrow I could be seein’ ’em piled high.’
‘Had any callers today?’ Stringer asked, leaning against the bar.
‘Nary a one. You fellers are my first in the last couple of days.’
‘The storm could have kept ’em away,’ Lagrange said. Still wary. Still looking around. He placed
his rifle on the scarred bar top. ‘Where’s that drink?’
‘On its way.’
Kramer reached behind him and took a bottle off the shelf. Picked up a couple of shot glasses and placed them down. He uncorked the bottle and poured the whisky.
Lagrange tasted his slowly. At his side Stringer tossed his off in a quick gesture and held out his glass for more.
‘You boys lookin’ for supplies?’
‘Just lookin’,’ Lagrange said and offered nothing else.
Stringer turned around and leaned against the bar. He could see the open door and the spread of the flatland.
‘You got food?’
‘Yeah.’
‘We just rode a distance. Couple of big steaks be nice.’
‘Sure. Be a while. I need to get the stove hot.’
‘Well I don’t see we’ll be going far for a time,’ Stringer said. ‘Why don’t you go get those steaks. And leave the bottle.’
Stringer picked it up and slouched to one of the tables close by. As Kramer turned to go in back Lagrange joined his partner.
Kramer didn’t asked any more questions. He took himself to the kitchen which was in the back, behind the bar area, and set to preparing the food. He stoked up the cast iron stove and set out the big metal fry pan to heat up. He went down into to the cool-cellar where he kept supplies and brought up a quarter side of beef. It was no more than a couple of days old since he had slaughtered one of his own beeves himself for fresh meat. He placed the meat on the smooth slab of wood he used for carving and took one of his heavy butcher knives, cutting off a couple of big, thick steaks. Once the pan was hot he dropped the steaks in, hearing them sizzle as they began to sear in their own juices. He caught each steak and turned them, then left them to slow cook as he stirred the pot of beans sitting on the stove. Kramer added a measure of molasses to the beans that gave them a slightly sweet flavor. The slow cooked beans thickened slightly as they cooked and would accompany the steaks as a vegetable.