by J. T. Edson
Despite his apologies and professions of good feelings, Churn Wycliffe had taken time to learn the name of his family’s assailant before leaving Austin. The Wycliffe clan relied too much on their name for salty toughness to mildly accept the kind of treatment handed to them before witnesses in the Bigfoot Saloon. Any plans for extracting retribution had been put off until finishing the business that had brought them to the State capital. More than that, Churn Wycliffe hesitated before making trouble for a member of Ole Devil’s floating outfit unless he could select the time and place.
So Wycliffe had led his party out of Austin in search of Trader Pegler. Too late they discovered the mistake they had made when grabbing that bearded jasper and girl. A search of the man’s body and his wagon informed them of his name and that he worked as cook for the R over C ranch, owned by Big Ranse Counter, father of the man who had rough-handled three prime members of the Wycliffe bunch.
Which meant that Sandel owed his life to Mark Counter. Maybe Sandel was not bright, but he could guess what brought the blond giant out along the Pedernales River. Even if it be no more than chance, the girl knew everything. She would tell how Billy Wycliffe shot Sailor Sam and mention Sandel’s part in the affair. Even if Mark did no more than take Sandel in for trial, the girl’s evidence would be damning. Most Texas juries held every member of a gang present to be responsible for the actions of the others. Sandel knew that family influence could not save him if Mark Counter handed him over to the law.
Darting a glance around him, Sandel could see no sign of Tejas and concluded that the Indian had gone to obey Mark’s orders. Then his eyes went to the dun horse which still stood tied to a bush. With the horse between his knees Sandel figured he could make good his escape and either join up with the rest of the gang or head for the safety of the San Saba country. Added salvation lay not far from him, in the shape of the brave who had taken his gunbelt when he fell into their hands. The butt of the right-side Cooper revolver stuck up like a signpost directing Sandel to escape from his perilous position.
Slowly and cautiously Sandel inched his way to the Kaddo’s body. Mark still stood with his back to the man, comforting the girl and oblivious of his danger. It never occurred to the blond giant that Sandel knew him, or understood his presence in connection with the murder of Sailor Sam. There would be time to deal with Sandel after they put some miles between themselves and the clearing—or so Mark believed. First he must get the girl in a condition where she could stand a hard, fast ride through the night.
Sliding free the Cooper, Sandel used the Kaddo’s body as a rest. After being tied for so long, his right hand lacked the strength to control the gun adequately. He knew the penalty of missing, so gripped his right hand in the left and propped them on the immobile flesh of the dead Indian. Running the tip of his tongue across lips which felt suddenly dry, Sandel lined his gun on Mark’s back.
While resembling the Navy Colt in a number of external details, including being the same general shape, the Cooper differed from its more famous rival in one major aspect. Being single action, the Colt must be hand-cocked for each shot. The Cooper offered its user the advantage of operating ‘double’- action; pressure on its trigger serving to carry the hammer back to full cock and then snap down on to the percussion cap. Sandel only rarely made use of the double-action, preferring to thumb back the hammer. Lining his gun on Mark’s back, he squeezed the trigger. To manually cock the hammer gave off an audible click which might reach the blond giant’s ears. One could not give chances to a man like Mark Counter without the danger of him taking them with fatal results to the giver.
The shot roared out loud in the stillness of the night. Whirling around, Mark sent his right hand down to its Colt and used the left to grip the girl and thrust her to safety behind the tree should it be necessary. He saw Sandel rear up, let the Cooper fall from limp hands and pitch forward to lie face down across the Kaddo’s body.
Smoke curled up lazily from the barrel of Tejas’ Spencer as he walked from the trees.
‘That one had a bad heart, amigo,’ the Indian said, nodding to Sandel. ‘I see it in his eyes. Wait among trees and watch him. He tried to kill you.’
‘Gracias,’ Mark replied. ‘I should have figured on it. It’s a pity, I’d questions I wanted to ask him.’
‘He not answer you now,’ Tejas stated, looking at the ruin his bullet made of Sandel’s skull. ‘Bring girl, amigo. This is not a good place for us to stay.’
Twelve – The Remains of Pegler’s Trading Post
Tejas insisted Mark checked the saddle of the dun. Then, while the Indian appropriated Sandel’s gunbelt and Cooper revolvers for his own use, Mark helped the girl on to the horse. Much as he wanted to question her as to the fate of Sandel’s companions, one glance told him doing so at that time would be fruitless. Shock and strain rendered the girl incoherent. So, even without the urgent necessity to leave the area, he wanted to take her from the clearing and give her a chance to recover.
Leading the dun, Mark followed Tejas through the trees to their camp. After helping the girl down, the big blond saddled his blood bay. No less swiftly Tejas prepared to leave and led the way through the woodland away from the river. Already satisfied with Tejas’ abilities, Mark found the Indian worthy of ranking with the Ysabel Kid in the matter of moving through the darkness. So Mark left the guiding of the party in Tejas’ hands, staying by the girl’s side to encourage and support her through a four-mile ride.
After falling behind for a time, so as to listen for sounds of pursuit, Tejas caught up with Mark and the girl. He told Mark that they had travelled far enough, but he wished to find a secluded spot in which they could spend the rest of the night. Ranging ahead, Tejas selected a draw with steep walls and a stream flowing along its center.
‘This what we want,’ he told Mark in satisfaction, leading the way between the walls.
By that time the girl seemed on the verge of collapse. She slid limply from her horse as Mark swung out of the blood bay’s saddle. Turning, he caught her and set her down on the springy grass.
‘Reckon we can chance a fire, Tejas?’ he asked. ‘She’s cold, tuckered out and could likely stand some food in her belly.’
‘Nobody followed us that I could hear,’ the Indian answered. ‘Down here we make small fire and not be seen. Have it out before daylight then they not see any smoke. I make-um, you watch girl.’
However, the girl seemed over the worst of the shock, so Mark left her and went to tend to the horses. She shuddered, but could think well enough to realize they might need the animals when daylight came. Neglecting their mounts at that moment could easily cost them their lives later, so she made no objections. Sitting on the ground, she hugged her arms about her knees and shuddered at the thought of what the past two days had brought her.
Soon a small fire blazed close to the girl, and her rescuers joined her after removing saddles and seeing to the horses’ welfare. While Mark looked after the girl at the clearing, Tejas had taken time to gather various things discarded by the Kaddo which his party could use. It seemed that the Indians hunted with some success and travelled intending to feed well. They had left behind a cooked hindquarter of prime whitetail buck meat, a parfleche-covered slab of pemmican and a cleaned-out buffalo paunch filled with honey. Bringing the food along, Tejas presented his companions with the means of making a good meal. Despite the ordeal she had passed through, the girl ate well and at the end, although tired, seemed to be recovering from the shock.
‘Now you just settle down,’ Mark told her when she finished eating. ‘We’ve made up a bed for you and comes morning we’ll see about taking you back home.’
‘Home!’ she gasped. ‘Lordy lord, I never thought I’d want to go back there.’
‘We’ll see you get there, don’t worry on that score,’ Mark assured her. ‘So just lie down and get some sleep.’
The girl shuddered, but obeyed. ‘After what’s happened to me and what I’ve seen these last couple o
f days, I doubt if I’ll ever sleep again,’ she groaned as she drew one of Mark’s blankets over her.
‘Talk then,’ he suggested. ‘It’ll maybe help you to go to sleep and I’d like to hear how you came to be out here and all.’
Slowly the girl’s story came out. Her name was Winnie Odville and her folks ran a small place down on the Cibolo River. After hearing travelling men talk about the gay, exciting life in the cities, Winnie had decided to see some of it for herself. Borrowing an older brother’s clothes, she took one of the family’s plow mules and set out for Austin. On the way to the capital a black bear had spooked her mule and set her a-foot. Catching up to her on the trail, Sailor Sam had offered her a ride. He accepted her story that she lived in Austin and had been visiting kin when the mule threw her.
Mark listened patiently to the girl as she began to tell him about her family. While life had been boring and occasionally hard, she no longer wanted to put her home behind her. Instead she wished that she had never left and would be only too pleased to return, even if Pa did whale the tar out of her for losing the mule.
Then she returned to telling him what he wanted to know. He let her tell the story in her own way, knowing that way would give him more than if he pressed questions on her.
Much of what Winnie next told him did no more than confirm Tejas’ reading of the sign. Wycliffe’s men had rode up to the wagon, acting in a friendly manner until close. Then they had drawn guns and ordered Sailor Sam to leave the trail. Down by the river he had attacked his captors in an attempt to let Winnie escape. Billy Wycliffe had shot the cook in his rage at having been knocked down.
‘That big feller they call Churn went near crazy wild with Billy,’ Winnie went on. 'I think he’d’ve whupped him right there and then only one of the others said he thought they’d got the wrong man. And they had. They thought Sam was a trader called Pegler.’
‘What happened then?’ Mark prompted gently.
‘They just left Sam where he lay. I thought they’d kill me as well, but the big feller said for them to take me with them—so they took me, went back and watched the trail—Sheriff came, they saw him and a posse in the distance.’
While talking, her eyes fought to stay open. Then the exhaustion which filled her took over and she sank into a deep sleep.
‘Girl not tell much,’ Tejas commented.
‘Only what we knew,’ Mark replied. ‘Likely we'll get more out of her after she’s rested.’
The two men settled down once more and spent the remainder of the night undisturbed. Waking before daylight broke. Tejas doused the fire and made sure that no smoke rose from it. The girl slept on for some time and they let her. While Mark stayed in the draw to guard her, Tejas slipped off to scout the surrounding country for signs of the Kaddo. He returned before the girl awoke and brought disturbing news. Although the braves from the clearing did not appear to be on their trail, Tejas saw a bunch of maybe a dozen more passing in a downriver direction.
As the men sat discussing the news, Winnie stirred and sat up rubbing her eyes. Then she seemed to remember where she was and stared at her rescuers for a few moments in panic before realizing who they might be.
‘There’s only water to drink, but we’ve still food left,’ Mark told her.
‘Food cold,’ Tejas went on. ‘We can’t have fire.’
Cold venison without salt might be unpalatable, but pemmican, ‘Indian bread’, generously coated with honey rated as a delicacy and more than made up for the deficiencies of the meat. After eating, Mark prompted the girl to start telling her story again. Shaking her head sadly, Winnie cursed the Wycliffes in general and Billy in particular.
‘He’s a mean one, that,’ she told the two men. ‘Why, he just shot old Sam down like I’d swat a fly. And he figured to bad-use me, only his uncle wouldn’t let him. That was in camp the night they killed Sam. Next day they got me on a hoss, it was a spare that Sandel feller had along, and made me ride with them. Churn said they daren’t wait around with the sheriff on the prowl and they’d go look for Pegler. So they brought me up to that river, crossed it and started going upstream. Then they met another six of his men. All the time Billy kept eyeing me and mauling me. I tell you I was one scared gal until his uncle told him to keep his hands off.’
Shuddering, Winnie stopped talking for a short time. Then she regained control of herself and went on with the story. There had been some argument about the best course of action among the men. At last Churn Wycliffe had stated they would split into four parties of three men each. He had also stamped on Billy’s suggestion of being the one who escorted Winnie, putting her in the care of Sandel. During the night Sandel won Billy’s dun horse in a poker game, although Churn insisted he loaned the youngster his own mount. The Kaddo braves had ambushed Winnie’s party, killing two of the men. Thrown when the dun reared, Sandel had been captured alive along with the girl. After riding a time, the braves made camp for the night. At first they had ignored their prisoners, but decided to have some fun following a drinking session. When she realized the braves’ intentions, Winnie screamed and was gagged. The rest Mark knew without her telling.
‘What’d Wycliffe tell the others before they split up?’ he asked.
‘To spread across the range and watch for Pegler and they’d meet up again at the trading post,’ Winnie replied. ‘Say, how’d you come to be out this way?’
‘I’m looking for the Wycliffes. Sailor Sam worked for my pappy and was a good friend.’
‘It was Billy killed him ’
‘I figure to see Billy about it.’
‘That big feller, Churn, he didn’t want it to happen and he stopped Billy abusing me.’
Possibly Wycliffe had acted in a chivalrous manner, but Mark doubted it. More probably the burly man had kept Winnie alive and unharmed for less noble reasons. He could not be sure how soon the law might come after him and did not want the rape or death of a girl added to his crimes. So he kept Billy at bay. Sending Winnie with Sandel showed more cunning than trust in the man. If a posse should be on his party’s trail, they would probably follow the group with the girl. Wycliffe did not want to be in her company should the law catch up with him.
‘I never got ’round to telling you my name,’ Mark drawled, not mentioning his thoughts to Winnie. ‘It’s Mark Counter ’
‘Them Wycliffes talked about you,’ Winnie answered. ‘Billy claimed when they found out they’d made a mistake and who Sam was that shooting him helped them get evens for what you did to them in some saloon. Is that why Loney Sandel tried to kill you after you saved him?’
‘Some of it,’ Mark replied. ‘When I saw the dun, I thought maybe the Kaddo got Billy.’
‘He wasn’t with us,’ the girl said. ‘Are you after Billy now?’
‘After we’ve put you someplace safe,’ Mark agreed.
‘Don’t you bother none about that,’ Winnie hissed. ‘You take me along so’s I can see that damned Billy get his. He’s the worse of them all.’
‘Maybe as safe to take her on as try to go back,’ Tejas put in. ‘Kaddo’re behind us.’
‘How far’s this Pegler place?’ Mark inquired.
‘Not know,’ admitted Tejas. ‘But river getting smaller. What you want to do, amigo?’
‘We may as well keep going. At least, if the worst comes to the worst we can fort up at the trading post.’
When agreeing to Mark’s going after the Wycliffes, Murat had stated his intention of gathering a strong posse and following should the blond giant not return by the end of the week. If the Kaddo did corner Mark’s party at the trading post, they ought to be able to hold out until help arrived.
Receiving the girl’s assurance that she could stand up to the journey, Mark and Tejas made preparations to leave. The Indian went ahead as scout and selected a route which kept them from being seen on a sky-line, or offered cover in which they might hide to make a fight should the need arise. While they saw no raiding parties, Tejas found tracks which told of
considerable Indian movement.
‘Hunting parties, maybe,’ Mark suggested when given the news.
‘Indian only hunt buffalo in bunches of ten or more,’ Tejas replied. ‘Too many braves make noise, scare off deer. This not buffalo country.’
‘On the warpath, then.’
‘Maybe so. Not have women with them. Could be raiding.’
‘Is there any difference?’ Winnie inquired.
‘Some,’ Mark answered. ‘A warpath means just that, they’re looking for a fight. When they’re raiding, they’re out for loot. Sure they’ll fight if they have to, but they’d sooner not take chances. Let’s get going, Tejas.’
Under such conditions travel must be slow, for they had to pick their way carefully. Nor did they stick to the river, but followed a line parallel to it at a distance of a mile. Once they hid among a clump of white oak and chestnut trees for almost an hour while a band of Kaddo braves ate a meal and rested their horses on a slope a quarter of a mile from them. Night came without Mark’s party reaching the trading post, or even seeing anything to tell them how close they might be. So they made camp, waiting until after dark before lighting a fire, and finishing off their food.
Dawn came and they rode on again. Before they had covered more than a few hundred yards, Tejas found tracks of six shod horses going their direction the previous afternoon. Riding on again, the Indian soon came to a stop. The tracks went up a slope and Tejas signaled his companions to halt while he advanced on foot. After peering cautiously over the slope, he turned and waved.
‘Get down, we’ll walk up there,’ Mark ordered, noticing that Tejas remained in cover.
‘Trading post over ridge,’ the Indian announced, slipping back down the slope to meet the others. ‘What’s left of it.’
Carefully keeping to cover, Mark joined the Indian and looked down a bush dotted slope to an open valley floor. Only one building remained standing, the other two log cabins having been reduced to burned-out ruins. Even the corrals and woodpile had been destroyed, but Mark could see no sign of the wagon. The six tracks led down to the remains of Pegler’s trading post, yet he failed to locate the horses which had made them.