A Trail Too Far
Page 21
Rab leaned forward a bit on the horse, and Cromwell shifted beneath him.
"Mr. Cummings, I'll ask you not to take another step toward those men. If you do, you'll be within easy pistol shot of them."
Amos Cummings turned on his heel and stared lightning and fire at Rab Sinclair, but Rab's face remained impassive.
"You'll not talk to me about where to step and where not to step," Amos Cummings thundered, but he stopped all the same.
Rab took a breath.
"Mr. Bancroft, go down to the spring and move the women over behind the wagons and under the tarpaulins where they will be safe and out of the way," Rab said.
Stuart left the fire to his sons and hurried back to the spring.
"It's Mickey Hogg, right?" Rab asked, looking at the leader of the ruffians.
"That's right," Mickey said.
"You men slow and easy toss your guns and knives on the ground. When you've done that, slide out of your saddles and walk your hawsses over to the spring. I'll go along to keep a watch on you. Water your hawsses, fill your canteens. Get enough water that you can go on back east to the Lower Spring. But you won't linger here without getting shot."
Mickey Hogg looked over at Pawnee Bill and Chess Bowman. As much as he wanted to rush the young guide and do for him once and for all, Mickey knew that the three of them were weak and exhausted. Water and rest was what they needed.
"Do as he says," Mickey instructed the other two.
It took both hands for Mickey Hogg to release the scattergun from its swivel rig. He drew out his big Bowie knife and tossed it onto the ground beside the gun. Mickey didn't carry a rifle. Pawnee Bill and Chess Bowman both did, but neither of them had their rifles loaded. Bill and Chester both unbuckled their gun belts and dropped them to the ground.
Now the three men led their horses and spares forward, taking them to the spring. Rab allowed them to pass, and then he rode behind them at a slow walk. As he passed by where he could see Matthew, Rab Sinclair raised up his hat and waved it at Matthew to get his attention. Dutifully, the young man began to hurry over to where Rab was following the three men.
"There's the spring, yonder," Rab said, loud enough for the ruffians to hear. "Now go on and water them hawsses, fill your canteens. And understand this while you've got your backs to me – I'd let you die of thirst out on that desert, and I wouldn't lose a wink of sleep over it. And it ain't for the Christian conscience that you now get to drink. I won't see them hawsses be turned out in your care without first getting some water."
The horses drank – all of them. That told Rab all he needed to know about how thirsty these men and their animals were. Even in the desert some horses, if well cared for, wouldn't immediately take to the water. But these animals had been viciously used.
Matthew came up to where Rab was sitting on Cromwell, but his eyes were fixed on the three men filling their canteens.
"They tossed down their weapons back there," Rab whispered to Matthew. "Run along, and without them seeing you, disable their guns. Take the percussion caps off of them and drop them in your pocket. Be sure they don't see you, and when you've finished, go on and skedaddle out of there."
Matthew smiled and nodded and ran back to where the men had thrown their guns on the ground.
Amos Cummings had still not spoken directly to Rab Sinclair since he'd discovered his daughter's cavorting. But now he walked over to where Rab was mounted on Cromwell.
"Give off threatening these men," Amos said. He had the decency to keep his voice down and not let Mickey Hogg or the others hear the argument. "You are only riling them and making the intercourse with them more contentious than it need be."
Rab took his pipe from his pocket, along with his pouch of tobacco. He filled the bowl of the pipe slowly, keeping his eyes on the three ruffians. He struck a match and puffed the pipe a few times to get the tobacco burning.
"Mr. Cummings, the man who does all the talking for them. Mickey Hogg is his name. Do you know why his nose is smashed all to hell?"
"I suppose that is what you did to him when he abducted my wife," Amos Cummings said.
"That's exactly right," Rab said. "Our intercourse with them fellers there, it ain't going to get less contentious until he feels satisfied that he has paid me back for his busted face."
"Be that as it may, I am appalled that you intended to send them back out into the desert without a drink. You do not speak for me, nor for this wagon party."
Rab puffed on the pipe and looked up at the tip of the pointed rocks above them. The rocks were like jagged teeth climbing up to the height. It was a beautiful spot, and Rab was glad to have returned here.
"I sat on that point above us with an Arapaho warrior when I was younger," Rab said.
Amos Cummings shook his head, not understanding the point – not even sure that there was a point.
"I reckon you're sore angry with me," Rab said. "And I can appreciate your perspective. But being mad at me is no reason to get your family killed, Mr. Cummings."
"Angry at you?" Amos Cummings spat the words. "You have defiled my daughter. You have treated her like an Indian whore."
Rab blew out a cloud of gray smoke. "Are you talking to your daughter?"
"That is none of your concern," Amos Cummings said. His anger was growing fierce.
"I take that to mean you're not speaking to her any more than you're speaking to me," Rab said. "I want to encourage you to give up on that. Go on and be kind to her. The fact is, Mr. Cummings, when we reach Santa Fe and you've found a new guide, my intention is for Rachel to stay with me. It would be best for you and her both if you'd make peace with her now. You don't want to part on poor terms."
Amos Cummings slapped his hands together to give vent to his anger, and the three ruffians turned to see what made the noise. Mickey Hogg smiled and nodded when he saw Rab Sinclair watching him.
"She will not stay with you in Santa Fe," Amos Cummings hissed. "I'll see you arrested first."
"Arrested for what, Mr. Cummings?" Rab asked.
"Premarital relations," Amos said, and it pained him to even speak the words.
"There ain't a lawman in Santa Fe would arrest a man for such a thing," Rab said. "I'm trying to be fair and straight with you, Mr. Cummings – just like I was fair and straight with these men when I told them not to come into the desert. Your daughter loves me, and I love her. It would be best for her and you both if you'd accept that and realize the truth of what I'm saying. Ask her if you don't believe me."
The horses now started to leave off the water.
"Them canteens are full," Rab said. "Now get on back east to where you can camp for a day or two at good water."
"If we have passed it by once already, we'll never find it," Mickey Hogg said.
"Then keep on going until you come to the Arkansas, and you can get your drink there," Rab said. "Your ability to find your way or get lost don't make a difference to me. But if you're still within ten miles of this camp at dusk, I will shoot you."
"That's enough, Mr. Sinclair," Amos Cummings said, but this time he did not have the decency to keep his objections between just the two of them. "Do not utter another threat against these men."
Rab walked the roan away from the path of Mickey Hogg and the other two. Rab noticed, though, that Mickey's eyes were darting here and there, taking account of everything he could see of the camp. He looked at the position of the wagons, the location of the animals. He even craned his neck to try to get a look at the women. After the three men passed by, Rab followed them back to where they'd left their guns. He was closer this time, much closer and in easy range of the shotgun.
"I guess we won't ask if we're invited for supper," Mickey said, grinning at Rab.
"You ain't."
Amos Cummings had followed them over and was standing near to Cromwell. Rab waited and watched as Mickey tossed a gun belt first to Chess and then to Pawnee Bill. He saw a look pass between the three men, and he knew what was coming.
Just as he did, both Chess Bowman and Pawnee Bill slung their revolvers from holsters and cocked and fired their guns.
Every trigger pull dropped a hammer down where no percussion cap could fire.
But the sudden violence of it, the fear of the explosion of shot that never came, drove Amos Cummings backwards and he stumbled and fell to the ground.
Mickey Hogg laughed at the college professor sprawled on the ground, but then the smile dropped from his face as he turned his attention back to Rab Sinclair on top of the blue roan.
"I guess I didn't see you remove the percussion caps," Mickey Hogg said.
"No, I reckon you did not."
"Next time I point this gun your way and pull the trigger, there will be a cap to bust."
"Maybe," Rab said. "Or maybe we should find out right now whether or not there is a cap on this Hawken."
Rab raised up the butt of the gun and dropped down the barrel, catching it in his left hand. He sighted down the barrel right at Mickey Hogg, and Mickey must have seen death in the Hawken, for he quickly scrambled up into his saddle, wheeled his horse and rode off at a gallop. Pawnee Bill and Chester Bowman were not as quick to run, but they followed close behind.
Amos Cummings was still sitting on the ground, a horrified look on his face.
"They would have killed us," Amos said.
"Yes, sir."
"You had Matthew remove the caps?"
"I did."
"We allowed them to have water, and they would have killed us," Amos said, and he still seemed to struggle to believe it.
"You allowed them to have water, Mr. Cummings," Rab said. "You've seen now for yourself that they will pull triggers on you. They will kill you, unprovoked. Now you have some hard decisions that you have to make, because those men will be back here after sundown."
Rab urged the blue roan forward and rode through the grove of cottonwoods to where he could see the three men riding across the desert. They would soon be out of range of the Hawken. All the same, Rab raised the gun to his shoulder again, sighted it well away from the men, and pulled the trigger. The explosion boomed across the open plain and only one of the three riders turned to see Rab Sinclair reloading the big Hawken.
27
"He's made a fool of us, and that's twice he's done it," Mickey Hogg complained. "And he's killed Dick. We're going to pay him back, and we're going to do it tonight."
"I'm hungry," Pawnee Bill said. "They had deer or something they was fixing to cook over that fire. I saw on a table they had onion and potato. They's fixin' to have a feast. I saw we ride back in there right now. I want that supper."
"You saw it yourself," Chess put in. "The only one of 'em that'll fight is that guide. They's three of us and one of him. Bill's right. We should go right now and take everything they've got that we want. Including that venison."
The men left out of the cottonwood grove and rode east until they were down below a hill and out of sight, only the distant table rock visible from their location.
Mickey Hogg was a killer, no doubt, but he was a close-in killer. His victims sat across a table from him, or stood in a room with him. Often as not, they had their backs turned when he dropped the hammers on the scattergun. He wasn't the type of man to face another man in a stand up fight, and certainly not with rifles. He did not like his chances if they rode back at the campsite in daylight.
"We could turn around and ride back there right now, but you'd better believe that guide is standing watch with that Hawken rifle," Mickey said. "If he sees us again, he ain't foolish enough to let us ride up to their camp. He'll shoot one, maybe two of us before we ever get close. But if we wait until dark, we can sneak in there through the cottonwoods. He'll never see us coming. If we're lucky, we can catch him asleep."
Pawnee Bill was trying to find shade behind his horse, squatting down some behind its neck. He took a long drink from his canteen, more water than he'd taken at once in many days.
"I am damn glad to have that water," Bill said.
Mickey had already left off the water for the last bit of whiskey in his bottle. "I'll be damn glad if they've got whiskey in one of them wagons."
"Leave the women untouched," Pawnee Bill said. "I've been too long without a woman. They's enough of them there for all of us to have one to ourselves if we don't kill them."
Mickey spat at the ground and took another drink. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
"We'll get the women, don't you worry about that," Mickey said. "But if we don't kill that guide right away, it'll be a trouble for us."
"Don't you worry about him," Chess Bowman said. "It'll be a pleasure to kill him after what he done to Dick."
"Now, when we rode out of that camp, I took a good look around. The emigrants is all camped up by their wagons. I saw bedrolls and tarpaulins hanging over by the wagons. But I also saw a pannier sitting off by itself. I'd wager good money that will be the pack that belongs to the guide. When we go in tonight, you two follow me, and I'll lead you right to him."
The three men attempted to sleep, but the baking sun and the heat made it impossible. So they dozed on the ground.
Pawnee Bill found small relief in the wind, hot though it was, but Mickey Hogg despised the wind because it kicked up sand in his eyes and teeth. For Chess Bowman, none of it mattered. He did not care about violating women. Chess Bowman was miserable, but a sense of fate had come over him ever since he shot Dick Derugy. Chester was convinced, now, that this trail would never end, that they would never reach a destination, and somehow everything left in life would have to be lived here in the desert.
28
Amos Cummings was frightened.
Those men that Rab Sinclair called "killers" and "ruffians" had pulled triggers and attempted murder. Amos still could not believe that after he let them get water from the spring they still would have tried to kill him and Rab Sinclair.
So he ordered that two people keep watch at all times through the night, breaking the watch up into three shifts.
He even set aside his anger at Rab and discussed the possibility of leaving in the night again. But the young guide said it was impossible.
"The animals need the rest," Rab said. "They need another day here at the springs, under the cottonwoods, with decent grass for grazing."
"And if those men come back?" Amos Cummings asked.
"We'll have to do what we can."
Amos Cummings put no more restrictions on what means could be used against the men. He armed the night watch with hunting rifles, and those who were not staying awake to keep watch got into their bedrolls, every man and woman with deep concerns.
Rab Sinclair gathered up this things and moved out into the grassy clearing where the animals were picketed. His concern was that Mickey Hogg and the others might try to drive off the oxen and mules. He laid out his bedroll near Cromwell, trusting the horse to alert him if anyone approached.
Matthew and Jeremiah took the first watch of the evening.
They set up lanterns throughout the camp to make it easy to see if someone came within the camp. Rather than sit in one place, the boys carried hunting rifles and walked around the camp. Rab Sinclair instructed them to always be sure that they could see each other, and if someone approached them the important thing was to get off a shot, even if the shot went into the ground or straight into the air. The noise of the gun, he said, was more important than striking a target because the noise of the gun would wake the rest of the camp.
Near the animals, Rab was farther away than he would have liked. If a rifle shot woke him, he would be some vital seconds getting to the camp. But protecting the livestock was as important as protecting the people. If the ruffians drove off the mules and oxen, the people would all be dead just the same. They could never walk out of this desert.
Awa
ke and unable to sleep, Rab looked through the darkness of the cottonwoods to the lights around the camp. As he watched, he could see Matthew and Jeremiah patrolling around the campsite.
Rab was opposed to leaving lanterns lit through the night, but Amos Cummings insisted on it. The memory of his wife's capture weighed on him. Amos viewed the light as a protection and did not give thought to the way it would help their enemies. Rather than coming into the camp blind, Mickey Hogg and Pawnee Bill and Chess Bowman would have the benefit of seeing everything they needed to see.
Thirty minutes turned into an hour and an hour into two. Exhaustion overtook fear, and those in the camp who had trouble sleeping began to drift off at last.
Rab dozed, the way he did when he was in the saddle and exhaustion came over him. He was not fully asleep, but he was resting all the same.
So when Cromwell snorted, Rab was immediately awake.
He did not move, but he heard the noise of a person walking among the nearby cottonwoods. The person was taking great care to keep quiet.
Rab felt the grip of his Colt Dragoon and he slid it under his thigh to mask the sound of him thumbing back the hammer to full cock. Then he slid the heavy Colt out of the blanket so that it would not be hampered when he needed to raise and fire the gun. With his free hand, Rab found the grip of his big Bowie knife, tucked inside its scabbard beside his bedroll. He silently slid it part way out so that he could easily fling off the scabbard.
And now he waited as the soft footsteps got closer.
Cromwell blew again. One of the other horses, Rab thought it was the buckskin, snorted and became restless.
A hoot owl somewhere among the trees let out its lonely call, and Rab eased the hammer back down on the Dragoon.
"Rachel?" Rab whispered into the night.
"How did you know?" Rachel asked, her voice barely audible. She was still trying to find her way to him, but the moonlight illuminated the shadow of the horses, and she knew Rab would be bedded down near Cromwell.