“You a trader?”
“No,” he replied, “just a man paying off a debt.”
A voice spoke behind him. “There are other kinds of debts. They all have to be paid.” It was Sparrow.
“I have met your Mr. Earnshaw. A fine gentleman, and a lovely daughter.” Sparrow studied him thoughtfully. “Mr. Chantry, I understand you and Miss Earnshaw are to be married?”
“We have discussed it.”
“Fine…fine. I am glad to hear it. And then you will be going back east?”
Chantry hesitated. Was he? “I don’t know,” he said. “Temporarily, perhaps.”
“If you stay here there will be problems.”
“Why not? There are problems everywhere.”
“These are different. I understand you killed two men on the trail?”
“It was necessary. I did not wish to do it.”
Sparrow was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “Have you heard that the men who killed your father are here, in this town?”
“I heard it.”
“You intend to do nothing about it?”
“That was long ago, Mr. Sparrow. I believe that circumstances will make them pay far better than I could. If they leave me alone, I’ll not disturb them.”
“You are right, I think,” Sparrow said, “in saying that circumstances can make them pay. For one reason or another, all of them have suffered.”
“You know them?”
“Yes.”
Chantry turned abruptly. “I must ride back to the Indians. These are presents to pay them in some measure for what they have done. These things will be useful to them.”
“You amaze me, Mr. Chantry. Only a few weeks in this country, and the Kiowas, one of the bloodiest tribes on the plains, come to your assistance.”
“It was because of my father. Long ago when I was only a boy we lived out here. The Kiowas were always welcome on our ranch, and during bad times we fed them, although I suspect we could little afford it. We never had much, you know. And just when my father had built a herd that could make him wealthy, he was wiped out by a norther.”
Sparrow was silent. After a moment he said, “Your father was a good man. Those men who killed him little knew what kind of man he was, and they must not kill you.”
Chantry smiled. “They won’t. I’m quite good with a gun, you know.”
Sparrow’s eyes were bleak. “Yes, I was afraid of that. You have your father’s hands and his eyes.” He put a hand on Chantry’s sleeve. It was a sudden, uncharacteristic gesture, and it startled Chantry.
“Please. Don’t carry it any further, Tom. Don’t kill anyone else. A man can go too far with it.”
“Thanks,” was Tom Chantry’s only reply.
*
ON A HIGH rise, with the sun growing lower in the sky, he presented his gifts to the Kiowas.
“You have helped me,” he said. “That I cannot repay. I give you these small things to show you that I value your friendship. I hope nothing ever comes between your people and mine.”
“We go,” Wolf Walker said.
“Go. One day I shall come to see you again. I shall come to your lodge.”
“You will be welcome. My fire is yours.”
He watched them ride away, straight backs dark against the sunset.
He swung his horse and rode back to town. Back to the haunts of men, the bargaining places, and the risks that attend living among rough and violent men. But he was at home now. This was his country.
And now he must see Doris. He must tell her of his plans.
The lights were on in the town. The great tents glowed with the lights inside, and black shadows moved across their canvas walls. Music came from within, and the click of poker chips and a roulette wheel.
Men leaned against the lamp posts topped off with lanterns, or thronged the muddy streets, churned by hoofs and boots. Horsemen rode by; other horses stood three-legged and sleepy at the hitching rails. He led his horse to a place near where he had bunched his cattle, and picketed it on good grass.
A man came out of the darkness and stood near him. It was Mobile Callahan.
“I figured you were dead,” Chantry said.
“No. I’ve been about my business.”
“Which is?”
“Keepin’ folks off your back.”
Ignoring the remark, Chantry asked, “Where’s Bone? Did he make it?”
“Yeah. The cattle carried us west. We figured we’d better sit tight, after roundin’ up a few. There was trouble brewin’ here, and we knew you’d want Earnshaw and his girl looked after.”
“You were right. What danger are they in?”
“They’re close to you? That makes it enough. There’s some folks don’t give up easy, and one of them is that she-cat Sarah.”
“She’s here?”
“She’s here all right, and the Talrims are with her. And they ain’t all. She’s teamed up with two other galoots. Seems they are the ones who killed your pa.”
“There were three.”
“Two now. Only one of them’s got some boys as mean as he is.”
He listened to the music, heard a loud laugh and the jingle of spurs, hard heels on a boardwalk…the only stretch of walk in town, in front of the general store, the biggest hotel tent, and a gambling place.
“Where is Earnshaw?” he asked.
Callahan nodded toward the siding. “Private car, yonder. He came west with a friend of his, a railroad man.”
Chantry turned to go. “Watch your step,” Callahan warned. “They know you’re in town. They know they’ve got to kill you.”
“Where’s French?”
“Nobody has seen him. The word is that he pulled his men away from you, figured you’d never get the herd in without him, and then he would have the herd if the Kiowas didn’t get it. I heard that some of his boys didn’t want to leave you, but he took them anyhow.”
“I hope that’s right. I liked those boys.”
Chantry walked back to the street. He stood for a moment against the side of one of the frame buildings, looking up and down the street. It was crowded, any of those men might be the ones who sought him. He stepped out from the shadows and made his way between the scattered tents toward the siding where the private cars waited. Lights showed from their windows.
He studied the layout with care, but no one seemed to be about. Fifty yards or so away were a dozen empty boxcars and some flatcars, and beyond them the stockpens and a loading chute.
After a moment he crossed the open space to the nearest of the private cars and, grasping the handrail, swung up the steps to the platform at the rear. The door was of frosted glass, and he rapped gently.
The door opened and a white-coated Negro showed him into a comfortable lounge of plush-covered furniture, crystal chandeliers, Venetian mirrors, looped and fringed draperies, and antimacassars.
Doris Earnshaw was seated on a sofa, a book in her hand. At the sound of his voice she rose hurriedly and came to meet him.
For a moment she looked at him in astonishment. “Tom! How you’ve changed!”
He grinned. “I need a bath,” he said. “I just got in off the range.”
“But…but you’ve changed! You’re bigger, older, browner…everything!”
“Part of it will wash off. Out where I’ve been, having a bath isn’t a simple thing.”
Earnshaw came in. “Tom! Am I glad to see you! How are the cattle!”
“We brought most of them in. Around two thousand head, give or take a few.”
“What did you pay for them?”
He explained as briefly as possible. “When the herd is ours?” Earnshaw said. “It all seems unbelievable.”
“Out here,” Chantry said, “almost everything is.”
Earnshaw listened as he told of the beef situation and the conditions in the area. “I can get twenty-two dollars a head for your stock right now, if they are in good shape,” he said. “What would you say to a quick sale right here, then
buy another herd to ship east to our own plant?”
“Fine.”
He was thinking of the street out there, and what remained for him to do. “I’d prefer that you two stay in the car,” he said, when Earnshaw had finished outlining his plans. “Let me handle the outside business. This is a pretty rough place.”
“I gathered as much,” Earnshaw said dryly. He gave Chantry a quick, searching glance. What is thus I hear about you?”
“Things are very different out here, sir.” He indicated the street. “Every man out there carries a gun. I expect you’ve heard some shooting.” He hesitated. “There are several men out there, and at least one woman, who want to kill me.”
He could see they did not believe him. “That’s silly!” Doris said. “Why would—” She broke off. “Tom, you’re serious. You mean it.”
“Yes, I do.”
“A Mr. Sparrow told me something of the sort,” Earnshaw said, “but it all seemed rather melodramatic.”
“Mr. Sparrow,” Chantry replied, “is a businessman. He is a cattleman and a rancher, and from all I gather, a very successful one.”
“He is certainly interested in you,” Earnshaw commented. “He assured me you were quite a remarkable young man.”
“But we knew that, didn’t we, Papa?”
Earnshaw studied him. “You’ve changed, Chantry. I don’t know what it is about you.”
“I’ve survived, that’s what it is. I think periods of change are rather drastic out here, as compared with what happens in the East.”
When Earnshaw had retired to the sleeping compartments Doris came closer. “Tom, you mentioned a woman. What is she like?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I actually met her only once, and we weren’t exactly introduced. I don’t even know her last names her first name is Sarah. She is here in town, I hear, and she seems to believe that my death would be advantageous. My advice to you is to keep your door locked at all times. Don’t let anyone in unless you know them well.”
He paused a moment. “Dons, your father mentioned a quick sale. Whom did he have in mind?”
“Colonel Enright. His car is right behind ours. He is here to buy beef, and he will pay cash…in gold.”
Chantry sat on the edge of the plush sofa, his hat in his hand. He was restless and uneasy. Was it the sudden change of surroundings? Was it only that he needed a bath, a change of clothes? Or was it the knowledge that out there in the dark trouble awaited him, trouble he could not avoid.
Slowly, almost thinking out loud, he reviewed for Doris all that had happened. When he had finished, she said, “What will she do now? You have the cattle here. You are alive, and possibly Mr. Williams is alive too. So what can she do?”
“If you were she, what would you do?”
She answered quickly. “I’d go for the money. When you sell the cattle, I’d steal the money.”
He considered that. Until now Sarah had been working to inherit the cattle and sell the herd herself, and she had balked at nothing…nothing at all.
Yes, he agreed reluctantly, she would steal the money. She would do just what Doris had suggested.
He knew what the trouble was, for he had a touch of it himself. There was a feeling here that this was somehow out of the world, that what one did in the West belonged only to the West, and when one left, it could be left behind. Of course, that was not true. But…hadn’t it been true for some people?
So many of them had that idea. They came to get rich and get out.
Chapter 20
*
WHEN HE LEFT the private car, Tom Chantry moved quickly to the shadow of a pile of lumber. There, crouching in the darkness, he waited and watched.
He had been in the West only a short time, but it was true that circumstances had changed him. He had grown more watchful, less trusting of people or appearances. He had enemies of whom he knew little except that they seemed prepared to stop at nothing. He had some friends, but he could not feel entirely sure who were friends and who were enemies. He would do well to play out his hand as if he were alone, and without help.
Undoubtedly Earnshaw wanted to make a quick deal, a quick profit that would put him on his feet once more. Then there could be the purchase and shipment of a second herd that would launch him into business again. That made sense, and this was the place to do it.
But Sarah was in town, and she had with her the Talrims, who killed without qualm or hesitation. Apparently she had also established a working arrangement with the killers of his father. These were his enemies, persons to whom his death seemed a necessity.
The area covered by the town, even with the scattered piles of building materials, corrals, and freight cars, was small, and his enemies would be moving in and around that area; there was small chance of avoiding them. He must locate their headquarters, for there had to be a focal point.
He thought of Mobile Callahan, who had helped him, paid to do so by Sparrow…why? For the time being he would dismiss that, while keeping it in the back of his mind. No matter what the motive, this did not present any immediate danger.
Bone McCarthy was, he believed, still working for him. Of Sun Chief there had been no sign, and it seemed likely that he had been killed in the stampede. And where was French Williams? Knowing the man, Chantry was sure he would not give up without a fight.
Crouching and waiting to see if he had been followed, or if anyone was watching the car, he considered his situation.
Sparrow’s warning had been a good one. He must avoid further shooting if possible. What he had to do was simple enough. He must bring the sale of the cattle to Colonel Enright to a conclusion, get the money into Earnshaw’s hands, effect the purchase and shipment of a second bunch of cattle, and then get out.
Though a move now against the herd was possible, it was unlikely. Doris’ conclusion, he felt sure, was the right one. Sarah would be apt to make an attempt to get the purchase price into her hands. So…the car must be guarded against any such attempt.
He must get Enright and Earnshaw together at once, and effect the sale and the transfer of money. And then he had to find a herd of cattle available for purchase within a reasonable distance of the railroad.
All this he had to do while avoiding trouble with any of his enemies. He was going to need eyes in the back of his head.
Sarah would wait until she found out the payment had been made for the cattle, and she would keep the Talrims in check until then…at least, that was the way he saw it. With him out of the way, the whole affair might be moved along quickly.
He straightened up and went around a tent and between two piles of lumber to the street. He stopped there, scanning the street carefully.
It was likely that this town was only temporary. This was for a brief time the end of the tracks, and when they built them on west, the town itself would move too. Everything here was set up to be torn down. The camp of the construction workers was a mile further west even now; but the whiskey, the women, and the gambling were still here.
The street was scarcely two hundred yards long, with frequent gaps. There were occasional piles of lumber, stacks of goods covered with tarpaulins, wagons drawn up, back end to the street. At least fifty men were walking or standing along the street, most of them only dark figures, and any one of them might be an enemy. The tents and shacks were jammed to the doors with men.
Chantry waited a moment, then crossed the street and made his way back to the herd.
Bone McCarthy was squatting by the fire. “Gettin’ worried about you, boss. I nigh come a-huntin’ you.”
“Who’s out there?”
“Four cowhands from town. All of ’em busted and glad for the work. Good men, too. I punched cows with two of ’em down on the Brazos one time.”
“Bone, I want you to guard that private car where Earnshaw and his daughter are.” He explained the situation, and added, “There’s just the two of them and a man named Whitman. He’s out here for the railroad, an
d the private car is his. I don’t expect any trouble until the gold is transferred from Enright to Earnshaw. I understand that Enright has a couple of tough railroad detectives guarding his car on the inside.”
“Have you seen French?”
“No.”
Bone filled his cup. “Worries me, that does. It ain’t like him to give up.”
With the cattle guarded and Bone McCarthy taking over the job of watching over Earnshaw and Doris, Chantry had made his first move in the events that were shaping up.
He left McCarthy and went to the general store, where he bought a new outfit, with several extra shirts and pairs of pants. He selected a new pistol, oiled it well, and tried the balance. He loaded his belt with cartridges, filling all the empty loops, and then, carrying his purchases, he went to the barber shop, where he got a shave and a haircut. He went back to the private car and asked for the use of the bath. He scrubbed and soaked, and came out wearing fresh clothes and feeling clean for the first time in days.
When he glanced outside the car window there was no one in sight. A minute later Colonel Enright appeared with Earnshaw.
“I’ve been looking at your cattle, young man. They’re in good shape. I’d buy another herd of the same size at the same price.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Chantry said.
Then they discussed the price, and it was finally settled at twenty-two dollars per head—more than he had expected, much more than Sarah had hoped for. In round numbers it came to forty-five thousand dollars in gold.
“You’ll have to come and get it,” Enright said, and added, “Once that gold is out of my hands it is your responsibility—and if I were you I’d have myself ready for trouble.”
“We’ll be all right,” Earnshaw said. “I don’t expect any trouble.”
Chantry walked out on the brass-railed observation platform. Bone McCarthy was loitering nearby and he strolled over.
“You stay where you are, Bone,” Chantry said. “Keep an eye on things and don’t let anybody get behind you.”
“All right.”
Chantry went back inside. “Doris, keep the door of the car locked while we’re gone, but be prepared to open it quickly to get your father inside.”
Talon & Chantry 07 - North To The Rails (v5.0) Page 15