“It sounds like there’s a damn war goin’ on over on the other side of the bend,” Tom said when the women had gone. “I hope Perley can come outta there alive.”
“I reckon I do, too,” Possum allowed. “Perley Gates is the most unusual young man I believe I’ve ever run into. I’d bet my life against a chaw of tobacco that Perley’s the fastest gun hand between here and the moon.” He looked at Tom and shook his head slowly. “And he don’t even know it. He was just born with them reflexes like a cat. Perley will come outta there all right. I guarantee it.” As Possum had promised, they were startled thirty minutes later by a yell from the trees in the bend.
“Possum! Don’t shoot. It’s me, Perley.”
Possum looked at Tom and grinned, then he yelled back. “Come on in, Perley!”
* * *
There were a few things to take care of during the morning before the party could get started again, but no one was anxious about leaving. The threat of being chased had been eliminated. It was just a question now of a trip of about one hundred miles, five days if they ran into no problems along the way. The men searched the three bodies for anything of value but found very little. The spoils from the one-man massacre was in the form of horseflesh and tack, which could always be worth something in trade. This comprised the contribution of the deacons, but also created a problem. To keep all that had come to them on that ill wind, they were facing a task of driving two wagons, plus driving a herd of extra horses and a cow. That was no problem—if there was a spare man to act as the wrangler and drive those horses. When Perley looked around, the only available man he could see was himself. The women cooked breakfast while the men considered the problem.
“It’s gonna be hard on Emma to drive that wagon while she’s got a tiny baby to tend to,” Possum said. “I reckon she’d just have to do it if I drive that herd of extra horses. She ain’t never drove a wagon before.” He paused and added, “And I ain’t much of a wrangler.”
“Rachael ain’t no better at drivin’ a wagon,” Tom commented. “She’s scared to death of a horse.” He exchanged a quick glance with Possum, then they both looked at Perley for his reaction.
Now that the imminent danger had been avoided, Perley had figured they could find Bison Gap without his help. And he was so far behind his brothers and the Triple-G herd, he was going to have to push Buck hard, day and night, to hope to catch up before they got through Kansas. “I expect I’ve been gone from the herd a heck of a lot longer than my brothers thought I’d be. They mighta wrote me off for dead by now.” His statement only seemed to cause Tom and Possum to look up at him like dogs begging for bones.
“I understand you gotta do what you gotta do,” Possum said. “And I wanna tell you that we, all of us, appreciate what you’ve done for us. Without you, I don’t know what woulda happened to any of us. Whatever it woulda been, it most likely wouldn’ta ended up like this, with all of us still alive. From here on to Bison Gap, we’ll just get on the best we can.”
Finally Perley cracked. “All right, you can just cut out the horseshit, Possum. You and Tom can get down to Bison Gap without my help. But I’ll go with you and damned if I know why.”
Both Tom and Possum whooped their delight, since neither one had any idea what might await them between there and Bison Gap, about a hundred miles of wild, unsettled Texas plains. There might be any number of occasions when they would need the guns of a man as skilled as Perley. “I can’t wait to tell Emma you’re gonna go with us,” Possum said. He looked at Perley and winked. “She told me to talk you into goin’.”
“I swear,” Perley said, “I oughta change my mind. I ain’t got no business in Bison Gap, wherever that is.”
“Before this is over, you’ll be glad you decided to come to Bison Gap with us,” Possum said. “It’s been quite a spell since I’ve been down in that part of Texas, and there weren’t no sign of any settlement of any size back then. There was a few souls gathered on Oak Creek where buffalo had a waterin’ hole. It was mostly buffalo hunters that found that hole. That might be what folks are callin’ Bison Gap.”
“If you’ve been there before, whaddaya need me for?” Perley thought to ask.
“’Cause, like I said, it’s been awhile since I rode through that country,” Possum replied. “I ain’t as young as I used to be, and my memory ain’t that good. Besides, you already said you’d go with us.” He gave Perley a wide grin.
Cow pie, Perley thought. “Yeah, I reckon I did.” It was plain to see that he wasn’t going to back out of his commitment, so he resigned himself to make the trip. “While the women are cookin’ breakfast, I’m gonna take another look at my lookout.”
“I’ll go with you,” Possum said, leaving Tom to inform the women that Perley had decided to go with them.
Perley led him out the north end of their camp to the stump where he had left Jack Pitt. They found the corpse where Harley and Pete had left it, the only difference being Pitt was lying on his side beside the stump. “He was sittin’ up against the stump when I left him,” Perley said.
“Is that a fact?” Possum replied. “It looks like he was tryin’ to take cover behind it when they shot him.” It was obvious that two of the bullet holes happened long after Pitt was dead.
“I reckon we oughta be thankin’ him for doin’ his job,” Perley allowed. “Because of him, I was able to spot those two in the gully before they saw me.” He studied the corpse for a long moment, trying to decide. Finally, he said, “I reckon I’ll just leave him where he is, instead of draggin’ him over to the gully and throwin’ him in with the two that shot him.”
“I know ol’ Pitt would appreciate it,” Possum said. He was not particularly interested in helping to drag his big body anywhere, especially since Pitt had developed an eye-watering putrid smell. “It’ll give him a little longer to enjoy the evenin’ air. Besides, he might not like the idea of travelin’ to hell in the same stagecoach with them that shot him.” The two of them had carried Branch Cantrell’s body over to join his two partners in the gully, just to make sure the women or the little girls didn’t stumble upon it. He didn’t mind that as much, since Cantrell had not as yet developed that distinctive odor. “Let’s get on back,” he suggested. “The women oughta have breakfast ready by now. Ain’t nothin’ makes me hungry like the smell of a really ripe corpse,” he said facetiously.
Emma and Rachael greeted Perley with big smiles when he and Possum walked back between the two wagons. He answered with a shy smile of embarrassment, knowing that Tom had assured them that he was going to accompany them to Bison Gap. He knew they saw him as their protector, and he was not especially comfortable in that role. He wanted to tell them that things just happen the way they happen and sometimes he was lucky, but sometimes he wasn’t. At least, it was a good thing to see everybody’s spirits uplifted again, now that they knew no one was chasing them. It made for a lighthearted breakfast and an eagerness to get started in search of the place they planned to settle in.
* * *
When everything was packed up, with Emma’s and Possum’s money stowed away under every thing else, the horses were saddled and hitched up, Possum started out in the lead, with one wheel leaning to the left as before. At Tom’s advice, they would follow the river south until reaching a point where the Brazos took a turn leading off more to the south-west. He remembered, when talking to the mule skinner at Tuck’s Store, he had said Bison Gap was straight south from there. Since none in their party had any more information than that, they set out along the river. They figured to avoid trouble with the Lazy-S Ranch by traveling on the east side of the river. According to Tom, the Lazy-S range was supposed to end at the western side of the Brazos, so they would not be crossing the Lazy-S range at any point this way. With Perley pushing their little herd of horses behind them, the wagons set the pace. And as Perley suspected, they had a tendency to follow the wagons with a minimum of herding by him. There was some concern about Emma’s wagon and the bent axle, but th
ey had no way to straighten it, so Possum said he would drive it until the wheel broke down, and so far it was still doing the job.
* * *
“Lookee yonder, Ace!” Billy Watts said when he pulled his horse up beside him.
“What is it? Where?” Ace Barnett asked.
“Over yonder,” Billy said and pointed, “on the other side of the river.”
Ace reined his horse to a stop and studied the two wagons for a few seconds. “The other day when Rance was over here with me, we run up on these folks in a wagon with another feller on a horse. They was part of that bunch of Gypsies squattin’ on that bottomland. Me and Rance stopped ’em and they said they was tryin’ to find their way to Butcher Bottom. Rance let ’em pass on through, even told ’em how to get there. I swear, that wagon in front looks like the wagon we stopped. Looks like they picked up another one.”
“Lookee yonder,” Billy exclaimed again when they saw the little herd of horses coming up behind the wagons. “Looks like they’re drivin’ about half a dozen horses.”
“That jasper drivin’ those horses looks like the one me and Rance talked to. He’s ridin’ that same bay. Looks like he’s picked up another wagon and a few extra horses somewhere. We might better ride over there and see where they’re headin’ with ’em.” He wheeled his horse around and gave it his heels, heading at an angle to cut the wagons off.
Perley was at once concerned when he looked up ahead and saw the two riders crossing the river to cut the wagons off. Possum pulled his wagon to a stop when the two riders approached, their rifles drawn and resting across their thighs. “You’re the feller I saw the other day when you cut across Lazy-S range,” Ace said as he and Billy pulled up on either side of the wagon.
“That’s a fact,” Possum replied. “What can I do for you fellers?”
“Looks like you picked up some more Gypsies and some horses since you been here.”
“Well, you’re half right,” Possum replied. “We picked up some horses, all right, but we didn’t pick up no Gypsies.” By this time, the extra horses began to catch up and gather around them, and Perley rode up to the wagon.
Ace gave Perley a hard looking-over before returning to Possum. “I reckon we’re gonna have to take a closer look at those horses you’re drivin’.”
“Why is that?” Possum asked.
“To make sure they ain’t Lazy-S horses,” Ace came back sharply. “We run up on horse thieves from time to time.”
“How come some of them horses have got saddles on ’em?” Billy suddenly interrupted.
“’Cause it’s easier to carry ’em that way,” Possum answered.
“Makes me wonder what happened to the fannies that was settin’ in ’em. Like I said,” Ace continued, “we’ll take a look at them horses.
“Reckon not,” Possum said. “This ain’t Lazy-S range on this side of the Brazos, so it ain’t really no concern of yours where we got our horses. But it was a pleasure seein’ you again, and now we’ll be on our way. If you still think you’ve gotta look at our horses, why, go right ahead. You can admire ’em while Perley drives ’em by you.”
“Take it easy, Billy,” Ace told him when he started to lift his rifle off his thighs, noticing that Perley had his Winchester out of the saddle sling. “All right, mister, I reckon you’re right, we ain’t on Lazy-S range. We’re just doin’ our job. Come on, Billy.” He pulled his horse back and watched the wagons start out again.
“Damn, Ace . . .” was all Billy could say, being accustomed to Ace’s usual brash and bullying behavior.
Without waiting for Billy to ask questions, Ace said, “That feller’s name drivin’ the horses is Perley Gates. Ain’t that a helluva name?”
“Perley Gates?” Billy exclaimed, even more amazed that Ace didn’t jump on the opportunity to give the fellow a little hell, just for the fun of it.
“Did you look at the woman settin’ there in the first wagon, holdin’ the baby?” Ace continued. Billy nodded. “Well, that little woman is Dan Slocum’s wife, and that’s his little boy.”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about, Ace?” Billy responded. “Where’s Dan?”
“Dead is what they told us, and now we’d best get on back to the ranch and tell Rance about it and that they’re on the move again.” He gave Billy a wide grin. “Boss is gonna spit fire when Rance tells him.”
* * *
Margaret Cross answered the knock at the kitchen door to find Bob Rance standing on the steps. “I heard Mr. Slocum got back this mornin’,” Rance said. “I was out on the east section, but I came in as soon as I heard Boss was back. I’ve got something he needs to know.”
“Come on in, Bob,” Margaret said. “I’ll go see if he’s up and about yet. He got in this mornin’, but he’d rode half the night, he was so anxious to get home. I made him go to bed after I fixed him somethin’ to eat.” Rance didn’t doubt her word. The tall, somber woman, of uncertain age, ever neat and clean, even in the midst of cooking or cleaning, was always polite and soft-spoken. She had served in the Slocum household several years before Zachary Slocum’s wife passed away, some nine years before this day. There was always speculation floating around the bunkhouse regarding the range of services Margaret performed for the boss, but none was ever verified. As for Rance, he had always found her to be quietly cordial. “There’s still some coffee on the stove, if you’d like a cup,” she said. When he politely declined, she said, “Very well, I’ll go check on Mr. Slocum.”
In a few minutes time, she returned to tell Rance to go into the study, and that Slocum would be in after he pulled a shirt on. She stepped aside to let Rance pass into the hallway, knowing he needed no directions. When Slocum entered the room, he seemed to be in a good mood. Rance figured it was because he was home where he wanted to be. He feared that the news he was bringing might destroy that mood. “Rance,” Slocum greeted him—he never called Rance by his first name. “Glad you came in. I was gonna check with you this afternoon to see how things were going while I was in Fort Worth. You want some coffee or something?”
“No, thank you, sir,” Rance replied respectfully. “Margaret offered me some already. I wouldn’t have bothered you after you just got back from a long trip, but I figured you’d wanna know about this as soon as possible.” He paused, hesitating to go on with the news he had brought.
“What is it, Rance?” Slocum pressed, sensing his foreman’s reluctance.
“Well, sir, I hate to be the one to bring you the sad news that your son, Dan, is dead.”
Slocum’s reaction was what Rance had feared it would be. Stunned, the old man was speechless for a long minute before he uttered, “My son, dead?” He paused again, as if trying to digest the fact. “How did he die?”
“Sir, I’m told he was shot by a bank robber he was helpin’ a marshal capture in Dodge City, Kansas.”
“So that’s where he ended up,” Slocum said, hanging his head sadly, but only for a few seconds before his anger arose. “What the hell was he doin’ in Dodge City?”
“I don’t really know, sir, but he died helpin’ the town marshal go after a bank robber,” Rance repeated, hoping to give the shaken man some pride in his son, even though they had parted with bad feelings. Slocum had never forgiven his youngest son for taking up with what the old man called a Gypsy bitch. The trouble between them caused Dan to run off with the girl and marry her. Tempted to leave it at that, Rance hesitated, but decided he’d best get it all out, because it was bound to come out sooner or later. “That ain’t all, sir. The girl, Emma Wise, has a baby, a boy, named Daniel Seaton Slocum, Jr.”
It was as if he had been hit with a club. Slocum rocked backward and gasped when he heard the name. It hit him especially hard, since his other son, Brent, and his wife, Raye, had been unable to produce a son, giving birth to three daughters instead. Slocum had been hoping that Dan might be the one to provide him with a grandson, someone to carry on the Slocum name, a tradition that Zachary Slocum held dear and importan
t. Lost in the tragedy of the news for a long few minutes, he suddenly asked, “How do you know this?”
“Well, sir,” Rance started reluctantly. “Just the other day, I intercepted a wagon cuttin’ across our range. The woman, who calls herself Mrs. Daniel Slocum, and her baby were in that wagon. She was travelin’ with one older man and a young man named Perley Gates. They were headin’ back to Butcher Bottom.”
Slocum hung his head and slowly shook it, overwhelmed by the news. “So the bitch took my grandson back to that hellhole she came from.”
“That’s not all, sir,” Rance continued. “She’s done left there. Ace Barnett and Billy Watts saw them on the other side of the Brazos this mornin’. They were headin’ south.” He went on to repeat the report he had gotten from Ace, that the party now consisted of two wagons and they were driving a small herd of horses.
By the time Slocum heard the whole story, he had worked himself up into a livid rage. The woman, Emma, who was by law his daughter-in-law now, was of no consequence to him. She was no more than a broodmare who had given birth to his grandson. His son, Dan, was the sire of that birthing. That baby had Slocum blood in his veins and no business growing up with the likes of Emma Wise to raise him. Maybe he could save his son by virtue of saving his grandson. After an extended period of eerie silence, Slocum spoke again. “That baby boy has to be brought back to this house. Here’s what I want you to do. Get some of the men ready to ride this afternoon. We’ll catch that ragtag bunch of Gypsies and take my grandson.”
“Are you ridin’ with us?” Rance asked.
“You’re damn right I’m ridin’ with you!” Slocum roared. “Get Ace and Billy, and we’ll take Tate Lester. He’s a good tracker. That’s all we’ll need, if you say there ain’t anybody ridin’ alongside the wagons, just the two families. That’ll leave the rest of the men to continue gettin’ the cattle ready to drive to market. They can handle it till we get back. It shouldn’t take long before we’re back here to help.”
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