Return of the Gunhawk (The McCabes Book 3)

by Brad Dennison

  “You need time to sort all of this out. But right now we have to focus on finding those riders.”

  “They probably have a big head start on us.”

  Johnny shook his head. “They’ve been hitting other ranches in the area. Safe bet is they’re local.”

  “Then we’ll find ‘em.” Matt went to the gun rack. “I saw that Sharps in your saddle. But you might want a Winchester, in case there’s shooting.”

  “My Sharps will do me fine. You don’t need a lot of shots if you shoot straight.”

  The old joke between them. When they had made their cross-country ride from Texas to California years ago, Matt had a Spencer repeater in his saddle, but Johnny carried an old Hawken muzzle-loader, and they had the same conversation a couple of times. Johnny grinned, and despite the distress Matt was under, Matt found a grin rising to the surface himself.

  Then Johnny grew serious. “Matt, there’s something to think about.”

  Before he could say anything further, Hiram came striding in, Timmons right behind him.

  Hiram said, “Father, what you need is to slow down. Join me for a scotch.”

  Matt said, “I think I’ve had enough scotch over the years, don’t you?”

  He snapped the words maybe more than he had intended to, Johnny thought. Or maybe not.

  Johnny said, continuing what he had started saying before Hiram interrupted, “Matt, from what you told me of it, those men who ambushed Dan and the others—they were waiting for them. They knew where they would be.”

  Matt said, “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying someone tipped ‘em off.”

  Matt looked at him silently. With everything that had been going on for the past twelve hours, his mind had been overloaded and he hadn’t considered this. Then he said, “Had to be someone here. Who else would have known?”

  Hiram rolled his eyes. “Johnny, you can’t be serious. Do you know what you’re suggesting?”

  Matt snapped his gaze to him. “Uncle Johnny to you.”

  Hiram gave a weary nod of acquiescence. “Uncle Johnny. Do you know what you’re implying? And Father, you can’t listen to this. Everyone here is loyal. I mean, what would anyone possibly have to gain by tipping off rustlers? It was our cattle they were stealing.”

  Johnny said, “I’m not implying anything. I’m outright saying those rustlers knew men from this ranch were coming out there. They laid there, waiting for them. I’ve been in a few gun battles, son. I know how these things work.”

  “I’m not your son.” Hiram sneered the words.

  There were boots scraping at the porch outside the full-length window, and then Ben Harris stepped in. He was wiping dust from his jeans, and a worn sombrero was perched on his head. He wore his gun high on the belt, like most cowhands did.

  “Ben,” Matt said, “I know you were up late last night, but do you feel up for a ride? I want you to take Johnny and me out to where it happened.”

  “Uh..,” he glanced a little uncomfortably from Matt to Hiram, and then back to Matt. “Mrs. McCabe gave the order no riders are to leave the house without her permission.”

  Matt stepped up to Ben, stopping only a foot from him. Matt was thinner than he had been years ago, but he drew himself up straight. His tired posture now seemed gone.

  He said, “Ben, you’re a good man. But hear me. I’m in charge of this spread. From now on, you take your orders from me. Is that clear? Because if it’s not, then collect your pay and get off this range.”

  Ben swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. Perfectly clear. I take my orders from you.”

  “Saddle up. And while you’re at it, have Diego get me and Johnny fresh mounts.”

  “I’m all right,” Johnny said. “I’ll take my stallion. He’s covered a lot of miles, but he can cover some more.”

  “All right, then. A mount for you, and one for me. Bring a rifle. I want to be riding out in ten minutes.”

  Ben nodded. “Yes sir, Mister McCabe.”

  And he was out the door.

  Hiram was in a white shirt and a black string tie, and in a burgundy smoking jacket. His arms were folded and he took a few paces thoughtfully, then looked at Johnny. “Do you think you’ll be able to track them?”

  “In this dirt? It’s dry, but not too dry. You haven’t had rain for a little while, and judging by that sky out there, there’s not any coming anytime soon. Should be as easy as reading words across a piece of paper.”

  “Maybe I should come with you.”

  Matt said, “Won’t be necessary. Too many riders’ll let ‘em know we’re coming. Stay here and watch after your brother and mother.”

  “When can we expect you home?”

  Matt shook his head. “When the job is done.”

  Soon Ben was at the window. “We’re ready, Mister McCabe. I had Johnny’s stallion brought around back with the other horses.”

  Matt said to Hiram, “Tell your mother I’ll be back when I can.”

  And he, Johnny and Ben were gone.

  Hiram and Timmons stood in the office and listened to the hoof beats as the three rode away.

  Hiram said, “Timmons, go wake Mother. Tell we have some real problems developing.”

  Timmons nodded and left the room.

  10

  They rode for an hour, stopping every so often to let the horses blow. All about them were low grassy hills that rose to a small rounded summit. Occasionally they would pass a grove of trees. About them would be a couple hundred head of longhorns grazing away, and then they would be past them and riding through some open grassland, then would come to some more cattle scattered about. And all the time they were on Matt’s land.

  Impressive, Johnny thought. He knew Matt owned thousands of acres. The ranch was much larger now than it had been back in the days of Frank McCarty. But to read about it in a letter was not the same as actually seeing the land before him. He knew of few other spreads this size. The Walker ranch in Texas was one of the few. There was another a hundred miles or so south of here, near Stockton, and another in Nevada, in the Tahoe area.

  They came to a long, deep ravine. It looked almost like God himself had taken a shovel and scooped away a section of the ground. The floor of the ravine was maybe twenty acres in size, Johnny estimated, and grass grew. It was almost a small box canyon.

  Ben Harris reined up at the mouth of the ravine, and Johnny and Matt did the same.

  “Here’s where it was,” Ben said. “The rustlers, they waited for us there,” he pointed to one high spot at the ridge of the ravine, “and over there.” He aimed his hand toward the other side. “They just shot at us, catching us in a cross-fire.”

  Johnny said, “How’d they know you’d be here?”

  “This ravine, we found all sorts of tracks in there. Steers, and horses. We thought the rustlers had been using it as a sort of natural corral when they took stock from other ranches. I thought there was no reason they wouldn’t be using it again last night. It was my idea to ride out here.”

  “But they knew you were coming,” Matt said.

  “Must have. It’s the only way I can figure it. The moon was bright last night and the sky was clear, and maybe they saw us coming. But I doubt it. We were riding single file, and as quiet as we could.”

  Matt said to Johnny, “We’re about a quarter mile from the edge of our land. Maybe less. This is sort of a four-corners country. Another spread abuts against ours, south of here. Another to the west. And one more to the north. All three of ‘em have been hit by the rustlers. A few hundred head from each place. At the Colson place, to the north, one of their men was killed in the process.”

  Johnny turned Thunder up to the high spot Ben had pointed out, and stepped down out of the saddle. Matt and Ben followed him, and sat in their saddles while Johnny took a look around.

  On the ground were crimped cigarette butts.

  “They waited a while,” Johnny said. “Had the time to roll a few smokes.”

  There were boo
t tracks, too. Some indicating where men stood, others that had the look of being made by a man in motion. As he was walking.

  “Two men were here. Good, clear boot prints. A man about your size, Ben, and another maybe a little bigger.”

  Empty cartridges were scattered about, too. Johnny picked one up. “Forty-four. Probably from a Winchester. The rifle favored by most. It’s too far from here for a pistol shot.”

  Matt backed his horse down from the low hill that formed the high spot. “They picketed their horses here. Tracks and droppings everywhere.”

  Ben said, “So they knew we were coming, but didn’t know when.”

  Johnny swung back up into the saddle. “Who’d you tell about your idea to ride out here last night?”

  Ben shrugged. “Mister McCabe, here. Hiram. Dan. Pretty much everyone at the bunkhouse. I suppose all of the men know about it.”

  Matt said, “We got us a snake back home. That much is clear. And I intend to find out who it was, and it’s not going to go easy for him. That much I can assure you.”

  Ben said, “Who do you think it was?”

  “It couldn’t have been you or anyone who rode with you last night. No man in his right mind would knowingly ride into an ambush.”

  “Whoever it was,” Johnny said, “we might find some answers when we find out who these tracks belong to. Looks like they regrouped here, and then headed south.”

  “All right.” Matt looked at Johnny, squinting into the sun. “Let’s ride.”

  The riders made no attempt to hide their tracks. One trick Johnny had learned was if you didn’t want anyone to know how large your party was by the tracks you left, ride single file. But these men were riding along as though they expected no one to be able to follow them, and they seemed to be in no hurry. Like they were out for a casual ride.

  “Appears to be four of ‘em,” Johnny said.

  Matt nodded. “That’s the way it looks to me, too.”

  Johnny glanced at Ben, riding along with them. Ben was no gunfighter, and there was no way to know what they would be riding into.

  Johnny said, “Ben, it might be best if you rode back to the ranch.”

  Matt said, “You can tell Hiram and the others about our progress.”

  “If it’s all the same,” Ben said, “I’d like to ride along with you. I want a piece of ‘em, too.”

  Matt looked at Johnny. “What do we do when we catch up to ‘em?”

  Johnny said, “That depends on how peaceable they are when we find ‘em.”

  The trail took a leisurely bend to the southeast. They came to a small stream where the rustlers had stopped and let their horses drink. Probably took some water themselves. Maybe filled their canteens. A little later on, at a stand of alders, Johnny, Matt and Ben found where a small campfire had been made. A pile of old coffee grounds was by the fire, still damp.

  “They stopped to make coffee,” Johnny said. “They were in no hurry at all.”

  “Mighty curious,” Matt said, scratching his chin. “You’d think they’d want to put as many miles between themselves and that ravine as possible.”

  They rode on.

  The trail then curved its way directly east.

  “They headed toward town,” Matt said, clearly puzzled. “Greenvile’s only a few miles ahead of us.”

  Ben said, “Wouldn’t you think they’d want to hide out somewhere? And it would have to be a place where you can keep a lot of cattle.”

  “North of here, the land sort of becomes a bunch of ridges. Small ravines and such. It gets even more so beyond the Colson place. If I was stealing cattle, that’s where I’d take ‘em. Find some small canyon miles from anywhere. Some place where you could keep that many head without drawing attention to yourself.”

  “Maybe they are,” Johnny said. “Doesn’t look like they took any cattle at all last night. They were out for one thing only. To get your men in a cross-fire.”

  “But why?” Ben said. “It makes no sense a’tall.”

  “We won’t find answers sitting here.”

  The trail continued eastward. The afternoon drifted its way toward early evening, and they found themselves on a small grassy knoll looking down at the buildings of Greenville.

  “They rode right into town,” Matt said.

  Johnny nodded.

  “So, what do we do, now?”

  Johnny said, “We gotta find some way to smoke ‘em out. I think I should start by asking some questions. I know Artie Crocker, runs the Cattleman’s Lounge.”

  Matt nodded. “Artie’s a good man.”

  “A bartender tends to hear things. I’ll see what he’s heard, and tell him to keep his ear close to the ground. There’s also a gambler there. A man named Middleton.”

  “Think he might have something to do with it?”

  “I doubt it. I wouldn’t think cattle rustling or setting up an ambush would be his style. But he might know something. I have the feeling very little gets past him.”

  “All right. Let’s ride on in.”

  Johnny shook his head. “Not you, Matt. You’re too well known here. Half the men in town work for you. Men don’t tend to be as forthcoming when the boss is the one doing the asking.”

  “You might have a point.”

  “Go back to the ranch. Check on Dan. I’ll be along as soon as I find out something.”

  Matt nodded. “All right.” He looked to Ben. “Come on. Let’s ride.”

  Matt and Ben turned their horses away, and circled around till they came to the trail that would take them back to the mansion that passed for Matt’s ranch house.

  Johnny sat and watched them move along for a bit, then he turned his attention to the town below. The sun had set and it was getting dark. There were some lighted windows. He started Thunder forward and said, “Let’s go, boy. Let’s see if we can find out what’s going on.”

  11

  Johnny swung out of the saddle and left his tired stallion at the hitching rail in front of the Cattleman’s Lounge. It was now fully dark, and the street was lighted from the windows of the saloon and others like it.

  He had no intention of staying in this town any longer than he needed to. He would talk with Artie. See if he had overheard anything that might be helpful. Maybe talk with the card shark Middleton if he was still around. Then he would take Thunder out of town and they would make camp somewhere.

  The town was busier than it had been when Johnny was here a couple of days ago. Riders were moving along the street, heading for the Cattleman’s, or one of the other saloons in town. Or one of the brothels. Miners and cowhands walked along the boardwalk. One cowhand was walking with one of a saloon woman.

  Johnny stepped in through the swinging doors. A man with a short brimmed derby and white sleeves pushed up by arm garters was rattling away a song on a piano that seemed to Johnny to be a little out of tune. Five saloon women were at work, getting men to buy drinks for them. One was the woman who had been working with Middleton. Peddie, Johnny remembered Middleton calling her. The one called Belle seemed to be nowhere in sight. Miners and cowhands and a few men who looked to be just plain drifters were at the bar or sitting at tables. Middleton was at a table with two miners and a cowhand, shuffling a deck. Peddie was at a different table, so maybe this game would be a little more honest.

  Artie was not at the bar. An older man. Thin and with a tired looking face. He was filling mugs of beer and sliding them down the bar to the patrons.

  Middleton glanced up toward Johnny. Probably caught motion at the doorway with the corner of his eye. He gave a nod of his head, as if to say come over here a minute. Since he was one of the men Johnny had planned to talk with, he made his way over to the table.

  “Boys,” Middleton said, a cigar clinched between his teeth, “I’ve got to bow out of this game.”

  He handed the deck to the man to his left. A miner.

  “Hey,” one of them said. “We want the chance to win some of our money back.”

  “
You’ll get it,” Middleton said, pushing his chair back and standing up. “I have to talk to this man a minute.”

  He took the cigar from his teeth and flicked ash on the floor. He had exchanged his black jacket and hat for gray ones.

  “Let’s get straight to the point, McCabe. Belle’s dead. She was strangled the night you were here. Only a few hours after you left, by my reckoning.”

  Johnny stared. He hadn’t been expecting this.

  Without waiting, Middleton continued. “The so-called marshall here, Wells, has decided you did it. You were seen talking with her outside.”

  Johnny said, “I walked her to her tent. She insisted. She warned me to get out of town. Said they had killed another man who had come to town.”

  “Quite right. A stranger who might be trouble is someone they don’t like. They haven’t got me quite figured out yet. I think I scare them just enough to leave me alone. But they’ve decided you did it, and they have announced their plans to arrest you if you ever came back.”

  “Why are you warning me about this? Why do you care?”

  “Belle was a friend of Peddie’s. And Peddie’s an old friend of mine, which gives me an interest in finding out who did it. But I don’t think you did it, and don’t want to see the wrong man hang.”

  Johnny was about to say he was here to ask if Middleton had heard anything about the cattle rustling going on at ranches in the area, but Middleton said, looking toward the doorway, “Too late.”

  Wells was stepping in. He had a shotgun in his hands. Bardeen was with him, also with a scattergun. They were followed by a third man. All three walked toward Johnny, and then spread out maybe twenty feet from him.

  There was a sudden scraping of chairs and drumming of boots on the floor as men cleared away from their tables. Some got to the other side of the room and others just got out of the building entirely. Middleton moved, too. Not to escape, but he caught up with Peddie and said something to her Johnny couldn’t hear. She gave one nod of her head, and then pushed through the crowd and out through a back door.