She shrugged. “None that I can remember.”
“Try to remember.”
“Buy me a drink?” she asked.
Josh shook his head. “I don’t think so. Nothing against you, but this stuff could pass for rat poison.”
“Hey,” the barkeep said. “This is some of the best moonshine available. I paid top dollar for it.”
“You got cheated.” Josh returned his gaze to the girl. Despite the heavy make-up, which Josh usually found less than inviting, there was something almost pretty about her.
“My name’s Felicia.”
“Pleased to meet you, Felicia,” Josh said. “Maybe I’ll buy you that drink some other time. We have a lot of miles to cross, and not a lot of daylight left.”
Josh and Dusty made camp at the base of a wooded hill a mile or so from town. Dusty sat with his back against the trunk of a large cedar, a tin cup filled with coffee in one hand.
“Josh,” Dusty said, “I have me an idea our search is about to end. I think those raiders have a camp somewhere within riding distance of this town.”
“And what makes you think that?” Josh was stirring some life into the fire. Looked like another night of beans. They were down to their final can.
“Partly a gut feeling. I’ve learned not to ignore a gut feeling. But also, I think that old barkeep lied.”
“And why would you think that?”
“Because anyone who would try to sell that concoction as drinkable moonshine is a born liar. And because I don’t believe a man on the trail is going to pass up a saloon whore he can buy a drink for. And since I know the way outlaws live, or at least Sam Patterson and his boys, they would never pass up a situation like that.”
“Would men on the run take the time to dally around at a saloon?”
“They would have no way of knowing we are following them, so there’s no reason for them not to take their time.”
Dusty took a sip of his coffee and continued. “I have to wonder if somewhere in those ridges west of town there might be a canyon that would suit their purposes, like that old one Patterson used back when I was a kid. If I’m right, then they’re at their hideout now, nursing their wounds. Maybe riding into town once in a while to visit the saloon, and the women that work there. One thing Sam taught me, you have to get to know your enemy, learn the way he thinks. And part of that is learning his habits. And a man doesn’t often change his habits. ”
Josh nodded. “Of course, if they do have a hideout somewhere in these hills, and they’re frequent patrons of that saloon, and that barkeep would lie for them, and presumably the saloon girl did too, then you can bet Patterson and the boys know we are following them, now.”
Dusty nodded. “That means we’re going to have to be more careful.”
“I have to admit,” Josh said, “and this ain’t easy for me, I’m glad you came along. I ain’t had a lot experience at trailing a man. I would be out of my league, here.”
“I haven’t had much experience with it, either, really. But I’ve been on the other end of the hunt a lot.”
“Well, now is the time to put to use all you learned from Patterson.” Josh pulled the can of beans from his saddle bags. “This is it. The last can. Either we shoot us a rabbit tomorrow, or we’ll be sleeping on empty stomachs.”
“We could always eat at that saloon,” Dusty said with a grin.
Josh returned the grin. “I don’t think so. He’d be likely to serve us rat, and try to pass it off as chicken.”
“I wonder what kind of wine Aunt Ginny would want to serve with that?”
Josh chuckled. “So, you think we should figure Patterson knows we’re following him, and who we are?”
“I think it would be best to err on the side of caution, as Patterson used to say. But he may not know exactly who we are. For all they know, we might be lawmen, or bounty hunters. Of course, you can bet Patterson knew which ranch he was hitting, and who it belonged to. He’s gotta expect anyone trailing him could be gunhawks from that ranch.”
Dusty took another sip of coffee. “You know something that bothers me? Patterson was always so careful in everything he did. He seemed brazen to some, but there was always a shrewd caution in his brazenness. He never took unnecessary chances, especially with his own life, or the lives of the men riding with him. He took his responsibility to them seriously.”
Josh nodded. “Any good leader would have to.” He stirred the beans around the skillet with his bowie knife.
“And part of that caution always involved advanced scouting.”
“He sure scouted the ranch extensively. Watching us from the ridges using a spyglass. He took his time, probably making sure he had all the information he needed. Even sent a man in as a spy.”
“That’s my point. He had to know this was the ranch of Johnny McCabe. He has to know what Pa is capable of. And anyone who knows anything about Johnny McCabe knows that where he is, Zack Johnson is never far away. And even if he didn’t know I was there, he had to know you are there. And despite what you might think, you are very much the son of our father. No one is going to take you lightly.”
Josh let those words sink in. He had to admit, they felt mighty good.
“So, my question is,” Dusty continued, “why would he even bother to attack the ranch the way he did? He must have known Pa and Zack would have a small army put together, waiting for the attack. He had to have seen Zack and Fred and the others crossing the valley, from Zack’s place to ours. Yet he rode in anyway.”
“Got caught in a crossfire. Half of his men got killed.”
“In the time I was with them, they never had a casualty count that high. Once, a man got killed when a shotgun rider on a stagecoach cut loose with a load of buckshot, and tore him apart. A couple other times, men got wounded. But Patterson planned so far in advance, planning for all the contingencies, as he called it. The element of surprise was your biggest strength, he always said. And yet, he had to know we’d be waiting for him.”
Josh shrugged. “Getting careless in his old age?”
“We’re going to find out. And I think we’re going to find out soon.” Dusty got to his feet, and went over to the fire to refill his cup. “Come morning, we’re going to ride in a wide circle around that little mud hole of a town, and cut for sign. I’ll bet we’re going to find the tracks we’re looking for, leading into the mountains.”
“And what happens when we find their hideout?”
“Then, things will get really interesting.”
They ate their beans. Dusty from an old, battered tin plate, and Josh directly from the skillet.
As darkness settled upon the land Dusty stretched out on his unrolled bedding with his saddle under his head. Josh sat on a fallen log he had rolled near the fire. He held a twig in the flames until its end caught fire, then removed it and watched the tiny flame flicker until it died away.
“You know,” Josh said, “if we’re as close to the raiders’ hideout as you think we might be, we should be more careful riding tomorrow. Especially after we find their trail.”
Dusty nodded. “And this should probably be our last campfire. These foothills are a lot more open than the mountains the ranch is in. A fire could be visible for quite a distance.”
Dusty was about to kick off his boots and crawl into his bedroll when a horse wickered from somewhere in the darkness beyond the rim of firelight.
“Sioux?” Josh asked.
“If they were, we wouldn’t have heard them.”
Dusty slowly, casually, slid his pistol from the holster, moving so as not to let on to whoever was out there that he and Josh were aware of their presence. Josh just as casually rose to his feet and strolled to his saddle.
“I think I might turn in,” Josh said as he moved. “Morning’s going to come mighty early.”
“That it is,” Dusty replied. “I was thinking the same thing myself.”
Josh slid the Winchester from his saddle, then dove behind the cover of a cedar,
landing in a shoulder roll and coming to a kneeling position behind the trunk of the tree, his hat skittering away somewhere in the darkness behind him. Dusty sprang to his feet and leaped behind the log Josh had been sitting on. Lying prone, Dusty raised his head until his eyes were above the edge of the log, and he held his pistol ready for use.
Josh jacked a cartridge into the rifle’s chamber. He called out in a gravely roar, “Whoever you are, we know you’re out there!”
A female voice, sounding vulnerable and a little scared out in the darkness, called back, “Don’t shoot. I’m coming in.”
She rode forward. Platinum hair caught the dim firelight and almost glowed, telling Dusty and Josh it was the girl from the Pick and Shovel, before she was close enough for them to even see her face. Her saloon-whore dress had been replaced with a simple blouse and a skirt, and she sat astride the saddle. She held the reins in one hand like an experienced rider.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m alone.”
“What are you doing out here?” Josh asked as he stepped out form behind the tree. Dusty stood also, and holstered his pistol.
“I had to see you both,” she said. “It’s really important.”
Josh leaned his rifle against his saddle, and took one of her hands as she swung down from the saddle.
“You set a horse like you know how to ride,” Josh said.
“I was raised at an Army post. My father was a cavalry sergeant.”
Josh looked at her incredulously. “Then, what are you doing in that town?”
Dusty said, “We have time for her life story later. What I want to know is, what’s so important it’ll send a girl riding a mile out into the darkness alone?”
“I had to come alone. There was no other way. If anyone knew I had come out here, all three of us would be killed.”
As she spoke, she folded her arms tightly about her, rubbing each shoulder with the opposite hand.
“Are you cold?” Josh asked.
“The night is turning off a little chilly,” she replied. “I guess I didn’t dress properly for it.”
Josh pulled a faded blue jean jacket from his saddle bags. He motioned for her to sit on the log, and then draped the jacket about her shoulders.
“Dusty,” he said. “Why don’t you see if we have any coffee left? And toss some more wood on the fire. Get it burning big and warm.”
Dusty dropped a piece of a dead branch into the fire, dropping it hard enough so sparks would fly. Josh glanced at Dusty with surprise at the sudden shower of sparks, and Dusty gave Josh a look that said he did not appreciate being a go-fer.
As Dusty was draining the last of the coffee into Josh’s cup, the girl said, “Felicia’s not my real name. It just sounds like the kind of woman who would be able to get men a-wantin’. My real name is Sarah-Ann.”
“You don’t need a fancy name to get men a-wantin’,” Josh said.
She gave him a pleased smile.
Dusty rolled his eyes with disbelief, and handed her the coffee.
“Do you mind if we call you Sarah-Ann?” Josh asked.
“I think I’d like that. It’s been so long since anyone called me that,” she said a little sadly.
“Look,” Dusty said. “I don’t mean to seem rude, but I have to wonder what you’re doing out here, alone, at this time of night.”
“I came here to warn you. Go back where you come from,” she said gently. “There’ll only be trouble if you stay in this area. Real trouble.”
“You don’t even know us. And yet you’re risking your life to ride out here?”
“It’s just that, I know what those men are capable of. You two seem like good sorts. I just don’t want to see them hurt anyone else.” She took a sip of coffee. “I can’t stay long. If they even suspect I rode out to talk to you, they’ll shoot me.”
“Who would?” Josh asked.
“Flossy Knight, the woman I work for. And her beau, Victor Falcone.”
“Vic Falcone?” Dusty asked.
She gave him her full attention now. “You know him?”
Dusty was careful with his reply. “I know the name. He rides with..,” he hesitated a moment while he appeared to search his memory for a name, “...Sam Patterson, doesn’t he?”
She nodded. “That’s him. Only now, he’s got his own gang together. I’ve never met Sam Patterson. Vic and the boys have a hideout somewhere in these hills.”
“How do you know that?”
“Flossy has them bring us girls to the hideout sometimes for...for..,” she stopped as if she could not bear to speak the word, and lowered her head in shame.
“Those-sons-of-a-,” Josh visibly erupted, and almost made a show of keeping his temper in check.
Dusty had to hold back a grin. He had already seen Josh’s temper enough to know when it was real. Just be careful, he thought. Don’t over-act.
Josh said, “Could you lead us to their hide-out?”
She shook her head. “Whenever they take us there, they always blind-fold us.”
“How do they take you? Wagon or horseback?”
“By horseback. A wagon couldn’t make it over the trail.”
“How long does it take you to get there from town?”
She shrugged. “Three hours, maybe.”
Dusty stepped away to think for a moment, one hand rubbing his bristly chin unconsciously.
“They’re afraid of you boys,” she said.
“Why?” Josh asked.
“Because of the way you carry those guns, and the fact that you asked about them as soon as you rode into town.”
Josh shrugged. “Well, we’ll make sure and be careful.”
“Please do.” She gave him a smile.
She handed him the coffee cup. “I really should be heading back to town.”
“You took a risk coming out here,” Josh said.
“Not really. I often ride alone at night, when business is slow, to clear my mind.”
She climbed back into the saddle, and handed him back his jacket.
“You ride careful, now,” Josh said. “Take care of yourself.”
“I always do.”
She turned the horse out of the ring of firelight, and once her hoofbeats had disappeared into the distance, Josh said, “Well, now. We’ve met a vamp named Felicia, and a shy farm girl named Sarah-Ann. Two for the price of one.”
Dusty said, “If she’s telling the truth, then that might explain why they were careless when they attacked the ranch. Vic has leadership skills, but never was as thorough as Sam in his thinking.”
“Even if this Vic Falcone is the one in charge now, and he’s as careless as you remember, would he be stupid enough to have sent a girl out riding into the night alone just to pry information out of us? It seems like kind of an elaborate thing to do.”
“Yeah. He might. The thing about being on the run, it makes you wary. Maybe overly so. And you sometimes take foolish chances. The interest you seemed to show in the girl, back at the saloon, might have made Vic think sending her out here would be a good idea. What he did, though, was tip his hand. Because, now we know for sure he and the boys are in the area. It was a mistake I don’t think Sam would have made. Underestimating your opponent can get you killed.”
“So, what’s next?”
Dusty grabbed his bedroll and began to roll it. “Grab your gear. We’re getting out of here. We’ll ride a while, then set up another camp.”
“Why?”
“Precaution. And we’ll make cold camp tonight. We’ll bank this fire good so it will burn long into the night and give anyone out there something to look at while we ride away. In the morning, before we start cutting for sign, we’ll take us a little ride back this way. You might find it educational.”
By sun-up, they were already saddled up and riding, heading back to their first camp of the night before. The earth in and around their camp was littered with a scattered collection of hoofprints and bootprints.
“You can see they tr
ied to pay us a visit last night,” Dusty said. “They waited out there in the darkness, giving us time to go to sleep. Then they charged the campfire.”
“That’s a second time they underestimated us.”
“We can’t keep banking on them doing that, though. We can’t afford the luxury of underestimating them.”
Josh could seem, among the boot prints made by the men, was a set of smaller tracks. They matched the smallish bootprints he and Pa had seen at the raider’s camp, back in the ridges that rimmed their valley.
Josh said, “These tracks look like they were made by maybe a woman. Must have been Felicia.”
Dusty nodded. “She probably didn’t ride out alone. These men held back, maybe a half mile out, while she rode into our camp alone. Then they held back and waited.”
“Come on,” Josh said. “Let’s go find their hide-out.”
THIRTY-FIVE
The trail created by the woman who called herself both Felicia and Sarah-Ann, and the men who rode with her, moved its way into town. Josh and Dusty followed the trail until they reined up on a low grassy hill overlooking the tents and ramshackle buildings that were Midas.
“So,” Josh said. “Looks like those riders might have spent the night right down there in town. And they might be there now. Maybe we should check it out.”
“No, you’re not riding down there,” Dusty said.
Josh looked at him. “Why not?”
“Because, here’s where we part company. You’re turning back for the ranch.”
“Like hell I am.”
Dusty twisted in the saddle to face him. “Josh, this is pointless. You’ve got too much to lose. Those men down there are professionals. You’re good with a gun, better than most, but you’re not a professional killer. They all are. Go back home. Aunt Ginny and Bree need you. Go back. Run the ranch with Pa. Live the life you’re meant to live.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“I’m going do what I have to.”
“And why is it all right for you?”
“Because, it’s my fight.”
“Wait a minute.” Josh’s shoulders sagged a bit with exasperation. One thing Dusty had noticed about him – very expressive body language. You knew where you stood with him, what he was thinking, but he would never survive in a poker game. “How is this your fight, and not mine?”
The Long Trail (The McCabes Book 1) Page 34