"Ease that cannon down, an' turn around."
Gil didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. He had to restrain himself from the overwhelming temptation to just turn and shoot Long John through the head. A man needed a sense of humor, but by God, this Cajun fool made a joke of everything, up to and including death. Taking the Sharps by its muzzle, he rested it butt down on the rock on which he stood. Controlling himself, he turned to face the grinning Long John. Bo was with him.
"T'was yer brother what sent us to see 'bout ye," said Long John. "Ye startin' whangin' away wi' yer rifle 'bout the time we foun' yer hoss. Is they somethin' er somebody out ther', er ye jus' feel the need fer practice?"
"Long John," said Gil as calmly as he could, "don't you ever again come on me from behind. If I hadn't recognized your voice, I might have dropped the Sharps, drawn my Colt and killed you."
"Ye might of tried." Long John chuckled, his good humor not diminished in the slightest. "I've seen ye draw, an' yer fast. Keep at it, son, an' in a few years ye may be nearly as good as me. What'n hell ye shootin' at that ye plugged twice an' still ain't kilt?"
"Walk back there a ways," said Gil, "and climb up that chain of rocks. I'll let you have that third shot, mister dead eye, and see if you can do any better."
When Bo and Long John reached the point from which Gil had been firing, Gil said nothing, allowing them to see for themselves.
"It is much larger than the snake we saw," said Bo. "Can we not take another way and avoid it?"
"We could," said Gil, "but there'll be more miles, and a dry camp tonight."
"Wal, hell," growled Long John, "we ain't goin''t' lose a day over some damn snake hoggin' the trail, even if the varmint's sixty times bigger'n any son o' Satan's got any right't' be. Gimme that Sharps an' stand back."
"That snake's had its spine busted," said Gil, "and the wound's started to putrefy. I'd say he's been hit by a rock slide."
"We smelt that," said Long John, "an' reckoned maybe ye an' yer hoss had come down wi' loose bowels, all at oncet. Then ye started shootin', an' we figgered things had done got all complicated."
Long John raised the Sharps, not allowing it to waver in the slightest, and fired. To Gil's amazement, and probably Long John's, he scored a direct hit. The thrashing reptile's movements slowed markedly.
"One more shot," said Long John, "onless ye want't' wait an' let him cash in on his own."
"If we were goin' to do that," said Gil, "we might as well have found another way across this valley and left him where he is. Let's reload and finish the job. This part of it, anyway. We'll have to drag the carcass a ways off, or the herds still won't cross."
Gil reloaded the Sharps, offered it to Long John, but the Cajun shook his head. Raising the big rifle, Gil fired, and the slug caught the snake just below its head. Long
John had the grace not to mention that the big rattler's movements had been slowed drastically or that Gil's marksmanship had improved. It had been a well-placed shot. The trio climbed down from the rocky abutment, making their way back to Gil's horse, where Long John and Bo had also left their mounts.
"Some curious," said Long John, "as't' how that snake got its backbone busted. Was I able't' git to the bastard, I'd fight the devil hisself, wi' guns, knives, er pitchforks. But whatever er whoever it was that was big enough an' mean enough't' bust that rattler's back an' git away alive, I'd be scairt't' face that varmint."
"Snakes may be the least of our problems," said Gil. "I reckon you saw the bones of the gent the Apaches used to entertain themselves."
"Yeah," said Long John, "but like I tol' you, they's good Apaches an' they's bad Apaches. He jus' fell in with a bad lot."
"And you," said Gil dryly, "know the difference between good and bad Apaches. Is it an old Cajun family secret, or will you share it?"
"Nothin' to it," said Long John, with his usual laconic grin. "Anytime ye come away from Apaches forked end down, an' wi' yer hair in place, now them's good Apaches. But when they treats ye like they done this unfortunate bastard here in the valley, now that's a bad lot."
"Long John," said Bo, "when you can tell me how to know these savages are evil without having them first shoot me full of arrows, I will listen to you more closely."
"Amen to that," said Gil. He took the lariat from his saddle.
By the time they reached the snake, it was dead, or seemed so. Up close, the odor was really bad. Nose and mouth covered with their bandannas, they got on with the grisly task. The snake had died with its head flung over a boulder, so Gil was able to stay a few feet away, catching it with an underhand throw. None of them rel-ished getting close to the monster, even after it apparently was dead. They got their shoulders under the rope and started dragging.
"By the Almighty," groaned Long John, "this thing mus' weigh a good three hunnert pounds. Ever' man wi' a good, strong hoss, an' we ends up draggin' this over-growed bastard by hand."
Gil said nothing, nor did Bo. None of them, Long John included, could have gotten a horse anywhere within sight of the giant rattler. They began dragging the carcass up the valley, over broken rock that made passage more and more difficult. Finally they reached what Gil judged was three hundred yards north of where they would cross the valley.
"This is as far as he goes," said Gil. "He still may have left enough stink, blood, and hide to make it tough on us."
"Yeah," said Long John. "Fust hoss er cow that gits a whiff o' that, they gon' light out, hell-fer-election,'t'other way."
"Once they go so far," said Gil, "that jumbled rock becomes walls. They can't go anywhere but straight ahead. It'll be our job to get 'em to the point they can't break and run, where there's rock on both sides, and other horns digging into their backsides. They'll be well-committed before they reach the place we had to kill the snake. We'll push hard from behind, and if they get spooked, the only way they can run is straight ahead."
They started back to meet the trail drive, aware of the sun moving ever toward the western horizon. On rare occasions, even Long John became serious, and this was one of the times.
"Makes ye wonder," said the Cajun, "what the rest o' the world mus' be like, them parts we ain't been to. Me, I'd purely hate't' go back't' the bayou country an' try't' convince anybody I'd seen a rattler big enough't' swallow a man."
"On the Amazon, in South America." said Bo, "there are reptiles capable of doing just that. Of course, this is wild country where man has never lived, and perhaps never will. Reptiles grow large, because they have gone undisturbed for centuries, and I believe that is the case on your western frontier. In the old days, when much of this territory was claimed by the Spanish, it remained unsettled. The Spanish—and they are not alone, of course—acquired vast holdings wherever they could, with the intention of taking silver and gold from the new territory."
"And they learned damned pronto," said Gil, "that most of the territory they'd grabbed on the western frontier didn't have enough gold or silver for a good poker stake."
"An excellent summation," said Bo. "It is ironic that kings from the old world, in their haste to seize the wealth of other lands, got so little for their efforts. In less than thirty years, the Spanish lost their frontier holdings to Mexico, and Mexico, through a foolish war, was forced to cede these same territories to the United States."
Long John chuckled. "Jus' nine days "fore Sutter made the big strike in Californy."
"Exactly," said Bo. "They could not see, or chose not to see the real potential. Here, they saw only the sagebrush and rattlesnakes."
"I won't fault 'em none fer that," said Long John. "I still ain't seein' nothin' but sagebrush an' rattlesnakes."
They rode on in silence. In Gil Austin's eyes, Bo had become more of an enigma than ever, speaking casually of kings and of foreign lands. Yet he seemed content, with only his horse and saddle, on a trail drive across a mostly uncharted western frontier. Comparing himself to Bo, Gil felt woefully inadequate. There was guilt too, as he recalled his uncle Stephen's l
ibrary, long unused. Gil had many questions about Bo, and he strove to put them out of his mind. The questions to which he most needed answers had to do with himself, and he suspected that when he came face-to-face with those answers, he wasn't going to like them.
"Well, thank God," said Van when the trio met the trail drive. "I was already three riders short, or I'd have sent somebody to look for the three of you."
"We could of used the help," said Long John with a straight face. "Me an' Bo comes up on our segundo, an' he's been treed by a rattler half as big as Texas. Took the three o' us't' cash the bastard in."
The drive had slowed to a crawl, and some of the other riders had come forward to see what was causing the delay.
"Listen," said Gil, addressing them all, "before we get too far from here, I aim for every one of you to have a look at this snake Long John's talkin' about, because there may be others. For right now, we may have a problem. There's a rock-cluttered valley ahead, maybe two miles across, and there's only one good path to the other side. Now maybe a hundred yards into this head-high jumble of rocks and boulders, there'll be enough hide, blood, and snake smell to stampede every horse and every longhorn steer all the way back to Bandera Range."
"They go through on the run," said Ramon.
"Not totally," said Gil. "We don't want a stampede once they're out of the rocks. We do want 'em moving fast enough that they're past this trouble spot before they've had a chance to do anything foolish. Mostly, we want them bunched, horns to rump, so they can't go anywhere except straight ahead. Any questions?"
There were none, and they headed for the valley. Gil thought of something he should already have considered. Since the horse remuda could move much faster than the longhorns, why not push the horses ahead, crossing them before the longhorns arrived? Gil spoke to Van, to Ramon, and finally, to Mariposa and Es-tanzio, who were with the remuda. Van would keep the longhorns moving, while Gil, Ramon, Mariposa, and Es-tanzio took the remuda ahead.
"Lead them into it," Gil told Estanzio and Mariposa once they approached the valley. "Ramon and me will be at the drag, keeping them bunched. While we don't want a stampede, if everything goes to hell and they decide to run, let's just be sure it's straight ahead."
Gil allowed Estanzio and Mariposa to choose the gait, and by the time the horse remuda entered the confines of the rock abutments, they were moving at a slow gallop. Each of them would pass the trouble spot within a matter of seconds. On the negative side, however, they were but a gait away from a stampede. Once the leaders broke free of the barricaded valley, it would depend entirely on Mariposa and Estanzio. If the leaders emerged in a fast gallop, there would be no stopping those that followed. Gil could tell when the leaders reached the point where the huge snake had died. One of the leaders nickered, and the horses at the tag end seemed to pause. Gil and Ramon laid on their doubled lariats, keeping them bunched, lest the trailing horses attempt to wheel and bolt back the way they had come. When the last few horses picked up on the snake smell, they tried to balk, to turn, but they could not. Gil and Ramon were there, shouting, shoving, and slapping rumps. To Gil's relief, the herd began to slow. Mariposa and Estanzio had calmed the leaders. Gil and Ramon stayed with the drag until the remuda was out of the valley and under control. Gil waved his hat, and the Indian riders responded with raised hands. They would slow the horse remuda until the longhorns caught up.
"Ramon," said Gil, "I'm goin' to take Rosa, Juan Padillo, and Bo, and cover the drag. I want the rest of you ahead of the herd, slowing the lead steers once they're past the snake scare. When they break free on the other side of the valley, the flank riders can fall back. We won't allow them any slack at the drag, so they'll have nowhere to go, except straight ahead. Once they're past the snake smell, slow the leaders, and the others should settle down before they're free to run."
As he rode to drag, Gil sent the extra riders forward to join Ramon. A look at the sun told him they had to make up some time, or spend the night in a dry camp. His companions at drag were having the same thoughts. Rosa rode her horse alongside his.
"Do you think we can reach water before darkness comes?" she asked.
"I think we don't have a choice," said Gil. "A dry camp could ruin us. Once we get the longhorns across this valley, I aim to ride on to the water, no matter how far it is. It'll be a hard drive the rest of the way, and we have to know what's ahead of us."
He rode on, passing the word to Bo and Juan Padillo, and when the herd picked up the pace, the four drag riders had to fight to keep the stragglers bunched. They hit the valley floor in a lope, the herd narrowing down to accommodate itself to the limited passage through the field of broken and scattered boulders.
"Keep 'em tight," Gil shouted. "The leaders may try to balk."
The lead steers would have balked, had they been able. Within seconds of Gil's warning, the leaders picked up the snake smell and began bawling their fear. A shudder seemed to run through the herd from front to back, and while his companions swung their lariats at longhorn rumps, Gil fired his Colt. While the resistance among the front ranks slowed the herd, it was forced ahead by the shouting, shooting, flank-popping drag riders. The farthest slope was reached by the lead steers, and the eight riders were there ahead of them, moving them in a widening stream as they again spread out. Gil, Rosa, Juan, and Bo brought up the rear, keeping the steers close, allowing them little opportunity to quit the bunch. But the scare was past, and the longhorns lumbered along, still at a faster than normal trot. Once the herd was trailing well, riders began dropping back to flank and drag positions, and Gil rode to the head of the drive.
"Keep them moving at this pace," he told Ramon and Van. "I'm riding on to the water. After this snake killing, I want to know what's ahead of us. If I run into trouble of any kind, I'll warn you as quickly as I can. If you don't hear warning shots, or if I don't ride back, just keep rolling. I'll be looking for anything that might slow us down, or for some better way. I aim to be back before you reach water. Don't slow or halt the drive unless you hear warning shots."
"I ain't doubtin' your word," said Van, "but I still want to see that snake. I've heard too many of Long John's windies."
"Get Long John or Bo to ride back with you," said Gil, "but just a pair of you at a time. Don't slow down the drive; we may already be in trouble."
Gil rode out, pushing his horse to a slow gallop. He wanted to reach water and return to the trail drive as quickly as he could. Once he was sure there was no potential trouble ahead, they could step up the pace even more. There was a chance, once the sun was down, that the wind would bring the scent of water. The herd would run the rest of the way, and every rider would be needed. He passed within sight of another rattler sunning itself on a flat rock. The reptile was nothing like the one they had just killed, and it slithered quickly away well before Gil reached it.
Much to Gil's relief, he reached the water they were seeking in less than an hour. He figured it at eight miles. The large year-round spring flowed out from a patch of rocks. Shaded by willows and undergrowth, the substantial runoff formed a series of pools for maybe a mile before the stream disappeared into the dry earth. Gil scouted the area for Indian sign and found none. He watered his horse and rode back to meet the trail drive.
On a distant ridge, concealed by brush and pinion oak, a lone rider sat his horse. He watched until Gil was lost to distance, then wheeled his pony and kicked it into a run. His words would cause much talk in the lodges. The old ones would speak bitterly of the iron hats who had come across the great water seeking plata and oro, and, their greed unsatisfied, had tortured and killed. His people, the Chiricahuas, knew and hated the white man.
Chapter 12
"It looks good the rest of the way," Gil said when he returned to the drive. "No bluffs, bad canyons, and no Indian sign. We'll push on, even if we wind it up in the dark."
"Bueno," said Ramon. "Is better than dry camp." Nobody disagreed with that. They redoubled their efforts, secure in the know
ledge they wouldn't go over an unexpected bluff or canyon rim in their haste. The sun left them in purple shadow and then in twilight as the night birds began tuning up. Gil heard a shout from somewhere far ahead, and before he had time to ponder the reason, he knew. The longhorns, already in a lope, surged ahead. The water was near! The drag riders were galloping their horses. Gil tugged his hat brim lower, trying to protect his eyes. Dust filtered through his bandanna, tickling his nose and lying gritty on his tongue. Rosa galloped her horse next to his, and she seemed oblivious to the dust. Her old hat rode her shoulders, secured by a leather thong under her chin. Her dark hair had grown long, and streamed in the wind. She laughed, her face a muddy mask; she hadn't even bothered with her bandanna. Gil had scarcely thought of her all day, but he did now. She seemed more the woman than ever, more beautiful than the last time he'd looked at her, and his feelings surged anew. The tag end of the herd began to slow, a sure sign the leaders had reached water. There would be little for the riders to do, except, as the animals drank, moving them away so that the rest could water. Mariposa and Estanzio had wisely guided the horse remuda far enough from the spring to avoid the expected rush by the longhorns. While the horses watered from the very end of the runoff, the steers fought each other for access to what was left. The riders, wouldn't even dismount until the last thirsty animal had drunk its fill and settled down to graze.
"It's already dark," said Van, "but after the day we've had, we purely need some hot coffee and hot grub. Do we risk a supper fire?"
"Only if it's well-concealed," Gil replied, "and we douse it soon as the grub's done. I didn't see any Injun sign, but that's when they're the most dangerous."
Nobody wasted any time. Once they had eaten, the first watch rode out to circle the herd. Gil and the rest of the second watch rolled into their blankets for what sleep they could get. As usual, Mariposa and Estanzio were with the horse remuda. When the second watch took over at midnight, there had been no sign of trouble, not even the mournful cry of a coyote.
California Trail Page 15