Mustang (A John Cutler Western Book 5)

by H. V. Elkin

  Chase was wondering how he was going to handle things when they confronted Harmon. He had trouble figuring that out because he was also thinking he was glad Ellen had snapped at Cutler, and maybe if she felt that way about the trapper now, she might start to see Chase in a better light. He did not realize that the degree of Ellen’s anger was an indication of the depth of her feelings toward Cutler, feelings that really had nothing to do with anger.

  Harmon was waiting for them when they rode up. Cutler threw Chase’s rifle, and Harmon caught it, still surprised to see Chase coming back with Cutler and Ellen.

  Cutler turned in his saddle and faced Chase. “Who’s gonna tell him? You or me?”

  “What’s this all about?” Harmon asked.

  Chase bought some time by dismounting and tying his horse to a fence rail. “Well, it’s like this,” he said finally. “I was out lookin’ for strays when I come on Cutler’s trail. I figured I’d go along and see if there was anything I could do to help. But when I got to the valley where the mustangs was, Cutler was just lyin’ there lookin’ at ’em and not doin’ nothin’. So I figured, hell, if that’s the way the man’s gonna work, I might’s well take a try at creasin’ Mesteño. Didn’t know when I’d get a clear shot like that again. I figured creasin’ ain’t killin’, and that way we’d get him alive and quick and get this whole thing over with. Would’ve done it, too, except this gun on the other side started shootin’ at me. And that’s the whole story, Ben. Now, I ain’t used to havin’ to explain what I do around here, and I don’t like startin’ now. But is that good enough for you, or ain’t it?”

  Harmon turned to Cutler. “What’ve you got to say about it?”

  “Well, Ben, I’m wonderin’ if anything I say around here’s ever gonna do any good. Seems to me we got a big epidemic of hard hearin’ or forgetfulness on this ranch. Last night I thought you and me were singin’ out of the same hymn book. Didn’t you let Chase in on it?”

  “Didn’t I tell you this mornin’,” Ben asked Chase, “that Cutler was gettin’ a chance to play it his way?”

  “Yeah,” Chase said. “I wasn’t lookin’ to get in his way, Ben. But when I saw he wasn’t playin’ it no way at all . . .”

  “He was makin’ a plan!” Ellen screamed at Chase. “You damn fool! He was makin’ a plan, and now you went and spoiled it.”

  “That right?” Harmon asked Cutler.

  “Oh, it ain’t entirely spoiled. But it’s gonna be a hell of a lot harder, and I’ll need more help. How many men you figure you can round up in another day?”

  “Oh, twenty, thirty. How many you need?”

  “All you can get. But I’d rather have two good men who can take orders,” he jerked his head to Chase, “than a hundred like this one.”

  “They’ll take orders if I tell ’em to.”

  “I’m gonna take you at your word, Harmon. Have ’em here day after tomorrow.”

  “What about tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow I got more lookin’ to do to make up for what happened today.”

  “You want Ellen again?”

  “That’s up to her,” Cutler said. “I figure she’s probably as good as any man you got on this place, and maybe better than most. But it’s up to her if she wants to come.”

  “Where is she?” Harmon asked.

  “She stomped into the house,” Chase said.

  “Well,” Harmon said, “I’ll talk to her. If she won’t do it, I’ll take you myself.”

  “Okay,” Cutler said.

  “You want to eat with us again tonight?”

  Cutler shook his head. “No, thanks. See you in the mornin’.”

  That night Cutler settled for jerky and hardtack that he still had in his wagon. He thought it tasted better than anything Ellen cooked the night before. And eating alone with Red nearby was a damned sight more peaceful than the supper he had had in the house.

  A piece of jerky in his hand, Cutler went to the corral to check on Apache, Emma and Kate, Red walking along beside him. He called them over. He rubbed Apache’s muzzle, then Emma’s. He thought they seemed restless, but whatever was bothering them, it was something they were unable to communicate to Cutler. The oddest thing, the thing that seemed to give substance to the feeling of restlessness among the animals, was that Kate did not come when called. She stayed back at the far end of the corral. Cutler called her again. She nodded her head and pawed the ground but did not move. Again. “Kate!” The mule hesitated, then came to Cutler slowly, reluctantly. “You get some bad feed?” She did not move her head as he stroked it. “What’s the matter, Kate? You in heat? You catchin’ something from the other females around here?” He got in the corral and examined the mule, feeling its nose, looking at its eyes, and Kate seemed to be in good health. Whatever was bothering her, and exciting the other animals, had nothing to do with what they had eaten.

  Cutler left the corral and kneeled beside Red. He rubbed the dog behind the ears. Red was not reacting in the same way. If there was some threat nearby, Red did not sense it yet.

  “Red!” Cutler pointed to a spot by the corral. “Guard!” The dog took the position. Then Cutler went to the bunkhouse. “You boys better stay away from the corral tonight. Got my dog on guard there, and he won’t let nobody near it.”

  “What’s he guardin’ for?” asked one of the cowboys from his bunk.

  “Don’t know,” Cutler said. “But it’s something, you can be sure of that.”

  After he left, Cutler heard the cowboy say, “Trapper gone loco, has he?”

  He could hear Chase answer. “What do you mean, gone? You can’t go somewheres you already are.” Then there was a laugh.

  Cutler smiled to himself, and went to his wagon. He got inside and lay down on the mattress and started thinking about the things that would have to be done the next day. He was still awake when the figure appeared by the tailgate. His right arm twitched, an automatic reaction that usually preceded reaching for his gun. But the hand never moved to the place where the six-gun lay at the right of the mattress. It was because there was a softness to the figure, and it could not be a threat, certainly not the danger that seemed to threaten this night.

  “Cutler?”

  A chill went up his back. He felt threatened in a different way. Usually his name came from another person’s mouth in a different way, the “Cut” of “Cutler” giving the word the feel of slicing through the air, a sharpness to it. But this voice gave it a melody that made his own name wash over him in a soft, disturbing wave.

  “Miss Harmon,” he said to acknowledge her presence.

  She seemed to be biting a knuckle and looking toward the house. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Not surprised,” he said. He could understand it for two reasons. She may have been sensitive to whatever it was that was disturbing the animals tonight. Or whatever it was about the gunman who supposedly got away might be resting heavy on her mind. Cutlet avoided thinking about a third reason. He avoided noticing that the moonlight lit up her figure through the nightgown. “I’ll come on out,” he said.

  “No,” she said. “I think it’d be better if I came in there. That okay?”

  “What do you think your pa’d think about that?”

  “He usually stands back to watch what’s gonna happen to me. But I’d rather not make it so easy for him. Anyway, he’s got no say in my life anymore.” She was silent a moment, and her face turned from the house toward the darkness inside the wagon. “But you got a say about who gets in your wagon.”

  Cutler held out a hand. She took it with a firm grip, put one foot on the tailgate, and he pulled her inside. She lost her balance as she entered and fell on him, lingering there a moment, then rolling over beside him. She sat up quickly.

  “That other gunman today,” she said, “he didn’t get away from me. I let him go.”

  Cutler had figured that was the case, but did not say so.

  “It was Dave Baker,” she said.

  “Must’ve been a good
reason you had to let him go.”

  “Guess it had something to do with what you told me about him, his grandparents and all. I couldn’t believe he was up there to cause any harm, unless it was to Tom Chase, and Chase’s got one comin’ sooner or later.”

  “Yeah,” Cutler said. “There’s nothin’ but trouble waitin’ at the end of that man’s trail. Almost sorry Dave missed him.”

  “Dave said he could explain, but he didn’t want to do it in front of Chase.”

  “Well, the less Chase knows the better. You ridin’ with me tomorrow?”

  “Pa said you wanted me to. Do you?”

  “Sure.”

  “We gonna see Dave?”

  “Yeah, that’s one thing. And I want to see as much of the land as I can from one place, so we’ll have to ride to the highest spot.”

  “That’s close to Dave’s property,” she said.

  A long silence.

  “Guess I’d better go,” she said, started to leave, then turned back to Cutler. “Why do you think he did it?”

  “Dave?”

  “Yes.”

  “No sense wonderin’ about things we’ll know for sure tomorrow.”

  She nodded. “Anyway, I feel better now that you know he didn’t get away from me.”

  “Didn’t think he did.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No. It’s not Dave gettin’ away from you that I’m wonderin’ about.”

  “What are you wonderin’ about?”

  “Just wonderin’ if I’m gonna get away from you.”

  She nodded. “Do you want to?”

  “I’m not runnin’.”

  “Neither am I.”

  He took her shoulders in his hands and with a gentle urgency pulled her toward him. The waiting was over. Now they became a part of the force they had both felt most strongly this day and which seemed unbearably strong this night, like a fire that needed to consume, that grew stronger as it consumed and that showed no hope of ever dying out.

  It was not just there in the wagon between Cutler and Ellen. It was in the air and also felt by the animals in the corral. Now it was finally felt by Big Red. The dog’s hairs bristled on his back as he stood on guard at the corral. His jaw dropped slightly and a wheezing sound came out. Every part of the dog told him something was there in the darkness.

  Then the thing emerged softly, quietly, as a ghost might materialize, not even threatening. Spots of white appeared in the moonlight, gradually revealing themselves to be the markings of the medicine hat. The horse paused, stood stock still and watched the dog. The dog stretched forward, sensing the horse was not a threat, still wanting to give chase but duty-bound to his post. All the dog might have done was sound an alarm, but there was no reason to do that. The two animals stared at each other for a long time, until Red’s posture changed. He relaxed and sat down. Then the medicine hat seemed less interested in him but still did not move.

  There was a loud crash of timber, a pandemonium of mules and horses, all ripping through the night with such explosion that Red’s barking only became drowned in it. As the noise grew, the medicine hat took two steps toward Red. Red was in a frenzy, his attention divided between the horse and the noise from the rear of the corral. When Red made to go to the noise, the medicine hat moved forward, always distracting the dog from the second source of danger.

  When Cutler got to the corral, he could hear Red barking in the distance. Emma pawed the ground nervously looking at the opening that had been smashed in the rear of the corral. Apache could be heard whinnying somewhere out in the darkness. Kate was gone.

  And the air was charged with electricity.

  Chapter Five

  “Why the hell didn’t we take off after ’em?!” Chase thought he had Cutler on the defensive.

  Cutler looked toward the hill in the early morning light, leaning on a corral rail and drinking coffee from a tin cup. “Just what you would’ve done, isn’t it, Chase?”

  “Damned right! Wouldn’t see me just goin’ back to bed after a stallion stole my horse!”

  “Apache’ll be comin’ back.”

  “Now, how the hell do you know that?”

  “You ever hear of a mustang band with two males in it, except for some colts?”

  “Your horse is a gelding, Cutler, ain’t it?”

  “Yeah, but he don’t know it, and the band won’t accept him. Mesteño won’t, anyway.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I was you.”

  “Then take a look up there.”

  Chase looked to the hill and saw Apache returning. The horse was moving slowly but surely in their direction.

  Cutler shook his head. “Damn!”

  “What’s the matter?” Chase asked. “He’s comin’ back, ain’t he?”

  “He’s comin’ back after losin’ a fight,” Cutler said, “can’t you see that?”

  “Sure I can,” Chase said although he was lying, “but so what?”

  Cutler did not answer him. He walked over to his wagon, paused at the back of it a moment as he looked at the empty mattress, then reached inside for a bottle of liniment and a steerhorn trumpet with a silver mouthpiece. He came back to the corral and blew on the trumpet, a slow, mournful blast. He waited a moment, then blew again.

  “Your horse answer a bugle, does he?” Chase asked.

  The sight of Apache approaching made Cutler irritable enough without Chase asking dumb questions. “Chase, there’s nothin’ in my deal with Harmon that includes helpin’ you with your ignorance. There ain’t enough money in the world that’d make me want to take on that job. So shut up!”

  Chase sneered back. “Your day’s comin’, Cutler. And maybe sooner’n you think.”

  Cutler blew on the trumpet again, then put it down and went over to meet Apache. The horse was bloody on its right flank, but that was not his worst injury. His eyes were glassy and he held his head low, the sure sign of a horse whose spirit had been injured in battle. Cutler stroked his mane and spoke soothingly, but Apache did not respond. It might be a day or more before the horse would be its old self again. Cutler rubbed liniment on the wound, then led Apache to the corral. As the horse walked through the gate, a cowboy called from the rear, “Hey, we ain’t got it fixed yet.”

  “Never mind,” Cutler said. “This horse won’t go anywhere today.” Apache stood against a rail, head down and did not move. Cutler knew he would be like that for quite some time,

  He picked up the trumpet and blew again, his eyes watching the hill. The sound of the trumpet brought Ellen out onto the porch of the ranch house. Then she came over to Cutler at the corral.

  “I made us some breakfast,” she said. “We got us a long day. We better eat something first.”

  Cutler nodded. “In a minute.”

  “Okay,” she said softly and went back to the house.

  Chase watched this brief interchange with a great deal of interest and no pleasure. He was not so ignorant that he didn’t sense something new existed between Cutler and Ellen. Now there was an easiness. They were more relaxed together. Chase did not know what it meant, but he knew he didn’t like it. His hate toward Cutler and his growing need for revenge against the man who had outfaced him twice, all of that doubled in the brief instant.

  Cutler saw Red coming over the hill. He blew once more on the trumpet to encourage the dog. When Red got to the corral, his tongue was lolling out and his feet were bloody. Cutler spoke some encouraging words to the dog, rubbed him roughly behind the ears, then treated his feet with the liniment. Red’s spirit had also been hurt, and the dog felt this far more than the pain in his feet. It would take time to heal both. After the medication, Cutler sat with Red by the wagon. “Good boy,” he said over and over again. “Good boy.” Right now, the dog needed a job more than anything, and it had to be one that would keep him still until his feet healed. Cutler put the dog in the wagon and said, “Red, guard.”

  When he turned from the wagon, Cutler saw Chase watching the h
ill. Chase, after seeing Apache and Red return to the ranch, probably expected the mule would be the next member of the parade to come back. Cutler shook his head and thought to himself, “No sir, not for any amount of money would I want to have to deal with that cowpoke’s ignorance.” Then he turned and went to the house.

  Ellen had breakfast on the table when he got there, and Harmon was already eating. He looked up briefly as Cutler came in, a thin look of disgust on his face, then went back to his food.

  “They’re back?” Ellen asked.

  “The horse and the dog,” Cutler said. “Kate’ll be with the band.”

  “So,” Harmon said with his mouth full, “now you got more of a stake in this than a thousand dollars.”

  “Yeah, and the job’s gonna be that much tougher.”

  “Seems like every time I see you lately, you got a new reason why the job’s gonna be tougher.”

  “Ain’t that a fact?”

  “You still think you can finish it?” Harmon asked.

  “Harmon,” Cutler said as he sat at the table, “if I change my mind about that, you’ll be the first to know.” His tone was hard and was a polite way of telling Harmon to shut up.

  “Okay,” Harmon said. “No hard feelin’s. Have some breakfast. Least there’s been one improvement around here.”

  “What’s that?” Ellen asked.

  “The food,” Harmon grinned. “Tastes good today.”

  Ellen blushed. Harmon had never seen that before, and he wondered what it was all about. Not only was Ellen beginning to cook like her mother, but she was beginning to look a little like her, too.

  Dave Baker’s ranch was proud like its owner. It was neatly laid out, and the buildings looked freshly whitewashed. Baker was branding a calf in a fenced enclosure when Cutler and Ellen rode up. Cutler rode the mule Emma.