Hell Hath No Fury

by Charles G. West

  He was spotted by young Tommy Pratt when he was still a hundred yards from the house. Tommy ran to the barn to tell his father and by the time Hawk reined Rascal to a halt in the barnyard, both Thomas and Monroe were waiting for him, anxious to hear what happened in town. “Looks like your rustlin’ problems are over,” Hawk said, “at least till the next rustler moves in that cabin.” When pressed to explain what had happened, Hawk gave them the details.

  “So all the men in the family are dead?” Thomas asked.

  “The girl, too,” Hawk reminded him.

  They were joined right away by Dora and Rachel when they hurried from the house. Overhearing the exchange between Hawk and Thomas, Rachel asked, “What about the mother? Is she dead, too?”

  “I don’t reckon,” Hawk said. “At least, she wasn’t part of what went on in town last night. Sheriff Mack said he would ride over there today to tell her about the shootin’—said maybe he might offer to help her if he could.”

  “What in the world can he do for her?” Dora asked. “All her family gone, the poor woman, I can’t help feeling sorry for her. It’s not her fault that all her men were outlaws. And now she’s all by herself on the other side of those mountains. I hope the sheriff at least brings her back to town with him.” She turned to her husband. “Thomas, something should be done for that poor woman, outlaw’s wife or not.”

  “All right,” Thomas said. “I’ll send some of the boys over that way tomorrow. There’s a few cattle over there that need to be rounded up and driven back to our range. I’ll have Pete and Bob check on the woman to see if she’s still there. I’ll tell them to make sure she’s got food and firewood. If she’s smart, she’ll let the sheriff take her back to town with him—better than her staying out there by herself.”

  While that discussion was going on, Rachel couldn’t help noticing the shape of Hawk’s clothes. They seemed unusually dirty and stained and as she continued to stare, she realized there was a hole in the left shoulder. “What happened to your shirt?” she finally asked. “Is that a hole?” She pointed to his shoulder.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “I got shot.”

  Astonished, she gasped, “You’ve been shot? Why didn’t you say something? We’re all standing around worrying about that poor woman and you’re standing here wounded.” Her observation brought the others to turn their attention to him. “We need to get you inside where you can sit down. Do you need some water or something?”

  He couldn’t help laughing. “No, ma’am, thank you just the same. It’s just a shoulder wound. Dr. Smollet dug the bullet out and bandaged it up. It’ll heal just fine. I wish I could say the same about my shirt. It’s my best shirt.”

  “If you have a spare shirt, you can give me that one and I’ll try to clean it up for you,” Rachel said. “I’m not sure what’s the best way to clean a buckskin shirt, but I’m sure I can improve it a little.”

  “Thank you just the same, ma’am, but as soon as I take care of my horse, I’m goin’ into the river with a cake of lye soap and a scrub brush. That’s the best way to clean the mud offa this buckskin. I tried to clean it best I could at the stable, but I just got the biggest part of it off.”

  “Do you need a blanket or something to wrap around you while you’re washing your clothes?” Rachel asked.

  “Oh no, ma’am. I ain’t comin’ outta my clothes. It’s a lot easier to clean ’em while they’re still on you, especially buckskin.” He glanced up at the sun. “I’ve got plenty of time for the sun to dry ’em.”

  “Oh,” Rachel responded, and looked quickly at Dora, who met her gaze of amusement with one of her own, then shook her head. “Well, whatever’s best.” She had thought to do something for the evidently indestructible man who had done so much for everybody else. But it appeared he was totally self-sufficient. “Do you want something to eat before you jump in the river?”

  “No, ma’am, I ate a pretty good-sized breakfast. I reckon that oughta hold me till suppertime.”

  “All right, then,” she said, and paused to think about it before she complained. “And stop calling me ma’am. You make me feel like I’m a hundred years old.”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” he replied before catching himself. “I mean, sorry, Rachel.” He gave her a big grin and added, “You look a couple of years younger than a hundred.” He looked at Monroe then and said, “Maybe we can talk a little after supper.”

  Monroe, having been entertained by Rachel’s attempt to be hospitable to the untamed army scout, became serious then, knowing what Hawk wanted to talk about. “I expect we need to,” was all he said, however, giving Hawk the impression that he might have been giving it a lot of thought already.

  * * *

  It was getting along toward suppertime and Hawk’s clothes had failed to dry out in the sun as quickly as he had planned. He had succeeded in cleaning most of the mud from his shirt and pants, but his underdrawers were still uncomfortably damp. So he was forced to change into his spare set. When he came from his room in the ranch house, he found Rachel waiting outside his door. “Rachel,” he acknowledged.

  “Did your clothes have time to really get dry, or are you gonna sit around and suffer in your wet ones?” Rachel teased.

  Puzzled by her apparent concern, he replied, “They’re pretty near dry. A little longer wouldn’t hurt, though.”

  “What about the bandage on your shoulder? Did you take it off before you jumped in the river?”

  “No,” he answered. “Tell you the truth, I didn’t think about it till after I was already in the water.” He shrugged. “It most likely needed washin’, too.”

  Exasperated, as if talking to a child, she shook her head slowly. He gave her a big grin and started toward the back door, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Supper’s almost ready. Don’t wander off.” He nodded and started to speak, but she interrupted. “I wanted to catch you before supper. I wanted to talk to you in private. I know you’re probably going to be leaving soon and there’s something I wanted you to know.”

  “Oh?” It was all he could think to say, confused as he was by her strange behavior. It suddenly struck him that she had never approached him in such a manner before.

  “Yes,” she continued. “I think it is way past the time when I should have told you how grateful I am for having you come along in my life. Just when I so desperately needed someone, you were there. You will always be very special to me.” She paused when he appeared to be dumbfounded. “I just wanted you to know that.” She gave him a great big smile. “Now, I’ve got to get back to help Dora and Lily get supper on the table. Don’t go wandering off,” she repeated, then spun on her heel and hurried away, leaving Hawk to stand confounded by the confrontation. He was pleased to think that Rachel thought it important to let him know how he had impacted her life. He couldn’t help thinking that she wanted him to know that she had found peace on the Triple-P, and he was glad for that. Further thoughts on the matter were interrupted when Lily rang the bell for supper.

  As usual, the Pratt women set a fine table with plenty of food. The conversation was light, a pleasant respite from the talk about fighting and rustling that had dominated mealtime discussions before. When everyone was finished and Lily had poured coffee again to wash it all down, Monroe announced that there was something he wanted to say. “Several of you have already noticed it and even suggested something should be done about it.” He paused to grin sheepishly before diving in. “Rachel and I have decided it would be a good thing if we got married.” He paused again while all eyes turned toward a blushing Rachel. “We talked it over and decided that Jamie would approve and I hope the rest of you do as well.”

  Although taken by surprise, the reaction of the family was unanimous, a welcome one, for they all wanted Rachel to be a permanent member. Hawk smiled, thinking of the private conversation he had with her just before supper. No wonder she seemed so happy, he thought. I reckon there ain’t any need to have that talk with Monroe now. He ain’t g
oing anywhere.

  Not surprisingly, the family sat around the supper table a great deal longer than usual with talk of plans to be made for the wedding. After wishing the couple well, Hawk took his last cup of coffee out to the front porch to escape the noisy conversation. In a short while, he was joined by Monroe and Thomas. “I suppose we can have that talk now,” Monroe said. “Thomas and I have talked it over and decided that it’s best if I forget about trying to track Roy Nestor down. I hate to go back on my vow to make him pay for killing Jamie, but Thomas needs me here, and there would be no telling how long and how far I would end up looking for Nestor. I don’t think there’s any doubt that he’s left this part of the country and it doesn’t make sense to sacrifice a big part of my life looking for him. We agree that Jamie would approve.” He looked at his brother, and Thomas responded with a nod of affirmation, so Monroe went on. “I know I dragged you out here on the premise that you would be hired to guide me on my hunt for Nestor. But to tell you the truth, I’m not sure what we would have done without your help with Barfield. So in addition to what I promised and your wages since you’ve been here, we’re giving you a hundred-dollar bonus. Does that sound fair to you?”

  “More than fair,” Hawk said. They were right in thinking the likelihood of tracking Roy Nestor down was extremely slim because there would be no sense for him to stay in the territory. “I’ll pack up my possibles and ride outta here in the mornin’, if that’s all right.”

  “Of course that’s all right,” Monroe was quick to reply, “if that’s what you want to do. But there’s no hurry for you to leave. Why don’t you stay around for the wedding?”

  “’Preciate it,” Hawk said. “But I expect I’d best get on back to my place and to Fort Ellis. I’ve been gone so long already that I’ll be lucky if I’ve still got a job.”

  Both Monroe and Thomas stepped forward to offer their hands, both thanked him again for his help. He had to admit that he had begun to feel like part of the family, so in a way, it made him feel a little sad to leave the Triple-P. On the other hand, he suspected that he would no doubt soon be feeling fenced in. Anyway, he knew he still didn’t care much for punching cows. “Well, the wedding planning is still going on inside, so I guess I’d better get back in there to make sure they don’t get outta hand with it,” Monroe finally announced.

  “Reckon you’d better,” Hawk said. “I think I’ll go down to the barn to look my pack rig over. I think I might have to repair one of those straps.” He started to go back inside, but Thomas offered to take his cup back for him. “Right,” Hawk said. “’Preciate it.”

  While checking over his packs, most of the cowhands came in to say “so long” and to wish him well. Marvin Tatum jokingly told him there were no hard feelings for Hawk having gotten him shot. Pete tried to talk him into asking Monroe for a permanent job on the Triple-P. “You know dang well he’d hire you, even if he had to let one of us go.”

  “Is that so?” Hawk joked. “Well, I wouldn’t want one of you boys to lose your job. Besides, I’ve got a job that’s been waitin’ for me to get my behind back down to Fort Ellis. I don’t know how much longer the army can operate without me to tell ’em what to do.”

  He went to bed that night with confidence that all his gear was in good shape and ready to pack up in the morning. He opted to start out a little later than he normally would have in order to take advantage of another good breakfast under his belt. By the time he finally climbed up into the saddle, he was beginning to regret that decision. For there was a long round of good-byes and Pete must have talked to Monroe the night before because Monroe offered him a job on the ranch. He declined, of course, even though he was tempted to accept in spite of his dislike for working cattle, because this was the closest he had ever come to being a member of a family. Hell, he told himself, aware that he was revisiting thoughts he had thrashed through the night before, that warm fuzzy feeling would wear off in another week. Then he’d remember that he liked it best alone, without too many folks to crowd him. So he said his good-byes to the ladies, even a brief farewell to Miss Emily, who had Lily wheel her out to the porch. She took his hand again, thanked him for helping keep her family safe, then cautioned him to be extra careful on his ride back to Helena. “There are men who would harm you,” she warned. He assured her that he surely would be careful, thinking that there always were men like that in this part of the territory. Then he remembered to tell the women how good their cooking was—so they would welcome him back, although he doubted he’d ever see them again. By the time he had finished with a manly handshake with Tommy, the sun was well up when he finally headed Rascal up the path to the river trail toward Missoula.

  It was midmorning when he passed Skinner’s store and thoughts of the Triple-P were already fading away, replaced by his usual anticipation of what might lie on the trail ahead. Financially, he was well fixed for the coming winter with money to buy extra ammunition as well as any cooking supplies he might need in the event he was not hired by the army before next spring.

  As he headed on to Missoula, he thought of Roy Nestor. A truly bad man, but was he worth taking the remaining days of summer to track down? Nestor had not only murdered Jamie Pratt, but he had also tried to kill Hawk. His attempt had failed, his two paid assassins killed, and Nestor sent running for his life. If that was enough to change Monroe’s determination to track him down, then it should also be enough to satisfy Hawk’s personal need for vengeance. At least, that’s what he decided on this sunny day in late summer as he rode up the Bitterroot Valley. He had no scores to settle. Eager to get back to the life he knew best, he pushed his horses a little harder, planning to make camp at Fort Missoula that night.

  * * *

  There was little difference in the scene that he rode in upon when he reached the army post that evening. Like before, the fort was in the early stages of construction with no progress that he could see. There were quite a few more men there than there had been when he had camped with Monroe and Rachel before. But they were far short of the two full companies that had originally started construction before the Nez Perce came over Lolo Pass into the Bitterroot Valley. After making his camp in the same spot as before, he was visited by a soldier on sentry duty who was delighted to share a cup of coffee with him since his post was not easily seen by the sergeant of the guard. “Don’t look like much work has been done on the fort since I passed through here a while back,” Hawk said. “But it looks like you’ve got a lot more men.”

  “Hell,” the soldier replied. “These men ain’t here to build the fort. They were all wounded fightin’ the Nez Perce at Big Hole Basin. They were brought back here to recover.”

  “Well, I’ll be . . .” Hawk started. “I thought the Nez Perce passed on through real peaceful and weren’t lookin’ for a fight.”

  “I reckon they weren’t, but our boys caught up with ’em at the Big Hole and there was a big battle.”

  “They whip the Indians?” Hawk asked.

  “Hell, no, they got away, gave our boys a helluva fight, then slipped out on ’em and headed toward Yellowstone country. And that’s why there ain’t no soldiers here to build this fort.” Hawk was surprised they had heard nothing about the battle, not even in Stevensville. “Where you headed?” the soldier asked.

  “Fort Ellis,” Hawk said. “I’ll head out for Helena in the mornin’.”

  “Best keep a sharp eye when you head down that way,” the soldier said, “especially if you’re thinkin’ ’bout takin’ the Mullan Road. With most of the troops gone after the Nez Perce, there’s been a little more trouble with Sioux raidin’ parties along that road—mostly between here and Helena. They know there ain’t no patrols sent out from here right now.”

  “Oh?” Hawk replied. “What about Lieutenant Conner’s camp down near Fagan’s tradin’ post, is it still there?”

  “For a fact, I don’t know,” the soldier replied. “We ain’t had no contact with ’em is all I can tell you.” This was not good new
s to Hawk. It meant he was going to have to be extra careful. A picture of Miss Emily popped into his mind and he recalled the solemn warning she had given him about people who would do him harm. I guess you were right, he thought. Anyone could caution you to be careful, but that old lady acted as if she was getting her information from some mysterious source.

  He considered leaving the road and riding down the opposite side of the river. But the ride would be so much easier on Rascal and his packhorse that he decided to stick with his intention of taking the Mullan Road down to Helena. With that in mind, he planned to start out early in the morning, figuring on reaching Fagan’s that night after a full day’s ride. “Well, I’d best get back on my post,” the soldier decided. “The sergeant of the guard’s likely to come sneakin’ around, tryin’ to catch me asleep. Thank you for the coffee.” He picked up his rifle and started back toward the unfinished buildings. “Watch your back on that road tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder.

  Intent upon crawling into his blankets early, Hawk pulled his horses in close and hobbled his packhorse, There was no need to hobble Rascal, the big buckskin would not wander far from his master’s side. Before the sun revealed itself the following morning, he was in the saddle and on his way.

  CHAPTER 15

  “I think we are wasting our time coming back to this trail again today,” Running Bird complained. “There have been no more wagons since the Nez Perce rode over the Lolo Pass and the soldiers went after them.”

  “Running Bird is right,” Crooked Leg said. “It is too late in the summer for the white settlers to be traveling farther west. It is almost the moon of colored leaves. Soon the snow will fall and there will be no one on this trail. Maybe we should go back to the others.” The rest of the fourteen-man war party had decided to move on to the northwest after finding no wagons on the Mullan Road.