It was an oddly assorted party of riders that set out from Gunsight. Nation was riding his blue roan, Annie a rangy buckskin. The Muleskin took the dapple grey, having made arrangements for the mule to be looked after in his absence.
‘I figure I might need a hand up,’ he said as he made some final adjustments to the horse’s harness. He turned away and went through the batwing doors. When he appeared a few moments later, he was dragging a contraption behind him.
‘Made it myself,’ he said. ‘It’s a travois for Midway. He can ride with me in one of the saddle-bags, but I figured he might get a mite uncomfortable if he has far to go.’
‘Not to mention the horse,’ Annie said, bursting into laughter.
‘I don’t know what you’re sniggerin’ at,’ Muleskin said. ‘I trailed some heavy loads this way in my time.’
‘I’ve seen a dog doin’ the pullin’,’ Nation remarked, ‘but I never seen a dog as the passenger.’
The travois consisted of two crossed poles which Muleskin proceeded to fasten to the shoulders of the grey. The free ends trailed behind and across them he had spread some blankets.
‘Up you go, old fella,’ he said. Midway ambled onto the blankets and after sniffing them carefully, lay down and put his head on his paws before looking up at the old-timer through a bloodshot eye.
‘He’s taken to it right away,’ Muleskin said. ‘I knew he would.’
‘OK,’ Nation said. ‘If everyone’s ready, let’s get started.’
Riding at a slow but steady pace, they soon left the town behind them. Nation was not sad to see the back of it. Gunsight was an oppressive place; it felt good to be on the move. As they rode, Nation was occupied with the question of who could have known his identity or that he was in Gunsight – and he was finding it hard to avoid the logical conclusion. The only person who knew was Muleskin. He liked the old-timer and he owed him a lot. It didn’t seem right to suspect him and he fought hard against it. He tried to put the matter from his mind and give his attention to the present moment.
Ma Winslow was sweeping the boardwalk outside the grocery store when she looked up to see a group of five riders approaching. The few people who were out and about paused to look at them apprehensively and she felt a quiver of alarm herself till she saw that the leading figure was her nephew. She had not expected to see him so soon. It was only very recently that he had been in Gunsight. If she was expecting him to call on her, she was mistaken. The group of riders rode straight past and pulled up instead outside the old Broken Wheel saloon. They jumped down from their horses and, drawing their guns, burst through the batwing doors. They paused for a moment to look around.
‘Hobbs, Mangold, take the stairs!’ Gunter rapped. ‘You two, come with me.’
He led the way into Muleskin’s room and from there to the stable and the corral. One of the men he had sent upstairs appeared at a window.
‘There ain’t nobody up here!’ he shouted.
Gunter was exasperated and smashed his fist against a veranda rail. ‘We musta just missed him,’ he said.
‘Your aunt coulda been wrong about Nation bein’ here?’ one of his companions suggested.
Gunter turned on him with a glowering look of rage across his countenance. ‘She’s not wrong!’ he shouted.
‘Perhaps. . . .’
‘Shut up and let me think for a moment!’ Gunter yelled.
He sat down on the veranda step, his head in his hands. After a few moments he jumped to his feet again. ‘He can’t have gone far,’ he muttered.
He was struggling to make sense of the situation. He knew that the old-timer Muleskin lived here and that the place still belonged to Double-Cinch Annie. So where were they? Were they with Nation? It was odd that none of them were about. All in all, it seemed likely that they had all left together. He crashed his fist against the stanchion and then, in a blaze of anger, ran back into the house and began to smash up what few items of furniture he could find. The others grinned at one another. They had seen this sort of thing before. They watched as he clattered up the stairs and began to vent his rage on whatever was up there. The sounds of breaking furniture and the tinkling of glass resounded through the building but it wasn’t long before his first fury had abated. He came thumping down the stairs.
‘I figure they ain’t been gone long,’ he said. ‘We’ll soon pick up their trail.’ The others lingered, irresolute. ‘Come on, then,’ he yelled. ‘What in hell are you standin’ there for? Let’s go get ’em!’
Without waiting any longer, he turned and stormed out of the saloon, quickly followed by the others. Without so much as a glance around him, he stepped into leather and jabbed his spurs into his horse’s flanks. In a cloud of dust, they rode out of town.
Buck Nation was in no particular hurry to reach the Little Purgatory River; he and his companions made their way slowly, not taking risks with any of their horses. As evening began to descend he called a halt and they made camp alongside a shallow stream in the shade of some cottonwoods. The air was chilly; after they had eaten they sat by the flickering flames of the fire with mugs of coffee in their hands and looked up at a sky filled with stars. A gathering breeze whispered in the branches and the stream lapped against its shallow banks. Lying alongside Muleskin, the dog began to snore.
‘That old fella seems to spend most of his time asleep,’ Nation remarked. ‘He was snorin’ like that the first day I rode into town.’
As he spoke the words something flitted across his memory. He was in the grocery store, looking through the window at Muleskin and his hound, both apparently dozing. Suddenly he realized that someone else apart from Muleskin did know about his arrival in Gunsight: Mrs Winslow, the woman in the grocery store. He had even told her his name. And now another memory flickered, something someone had said almost in passing about there being a connection between Gunter and the Winslow woman. He sat up, looking across the flickering shadows at his two companions.
‘This might sound like a strange question,’ he said, ‘but what do you know about the woman who runs the grocery store?’
‘Mrs Winslow?’ Annie said.
‘Yeah. What kind of a woman is she? Does she have any family? Did she know Cliff and Henrietta Nation?’
‘No more than the rest of us,’ Annie said. ‘Cliff and Henrietta used to drop by for supplies from time to time when they were in town. As far as I know, she hasn’t got any children. She was a widow woman—’ Suddenly she stopped.
‘What is it?’ Nation said.
Annie turned to Muleskin. ‘Duane Gunter,’ she said. ‘Didn’t he stay with her for a time when he first came to Gunsight?’
‘Dang me, you’re right,’ Muleskin said. ‘I believe there was some sort of relationship between them.’
Nation remembered that Muleskin himself had once previously referred to the connection. Annie turned to him with an expectant look on her face.
‘So why is it relevant now?’
‘It might not be relevant at all, but on the other hand . . .’ He stopped, gathering his thoughts. ‘We have two names: Rackham and Gunter, both of whom were associated with the Forty-Five and with what happened to Cliff and Henrietta Nation. Now, I couldn’t figure out how anyone knew who I was or that I was in Gunsight. The only person who knew both those things was Mrs Winslow.’ He turned to Muleskin. ‘Do you remember, when I came into town I spoke to you and asked where I might get some supplies? You directed me to her.’
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ the old-timer replied. ‘I think I see now what you’re drivin’ at.’
‘Maybe it’s just a coincidence that there’s a link between Mrs Winslow and Duane Gunter, but you got to admit it’s a mighty odd one.’
Annie considered his words for a few moments. ‘If you’re right,’ she said, ‘it means that either Mrs Winslow passed the information on to Duane Gunter or she took a shot at you herself.’
‘Yeah, but I don’t think it’s very likely to have been Mrs Winslow. Besides, I caugh
t a glimpse of whoever it was and it didn’t look like any old woman.’
‘So you’re sayin’ it must have been Gunter?’ Muleskin said. ‘Hell, that throws a whole new light on things.’
‘It means we’re on the right track,’ Annie said. ‘If it was Gunter who fired that shot, he must have something to hide. And it must be something pretty important if he was prepared to kill for it.’
‘Somethin’ to do with keepin’ the truth about what happened to Cliff and Henrietta from comin’ out,’ Nation said.
Annie turned her head and looked out beyond the firelight into the darkness. ‘If he was prepared to kill once, he’ll be ready to try it again,’ she said.
Nation felt an urge to calm her fears. ‘Don’t worry. We’re better off now than we were before,’ he said. ‘It’s a big advantage to know your enemy.’
He was surprised to see a smile steal across her features. ‘I wasn’t worried,’ she replied, ‘just establishing the facts. Seems to me like we might need to set a guard. I’m volunteering for the first shift.’
Nation made to disagree but she was not to be moved. Consequently she took her station a little way from the fire while the other two turned in to grab some sleep. It wasn’t long before the old-timer’s snores were competing with those of his dog but Nation remained wakeful. Eventually he got to his feet and, being careful not to alarm her, made his way to where Annie was sitting.
‘It isn’t time yet for you to take over,’ she remarked.
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ he said.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ she replied, ‘about what we were talking about earlier.’
‘And have you arrived at any conclusions?’
‘As a matter of fact, I have. Duane Gunter worked for the Forty-Five. But so did Rackham. If they were working together in those days, maybe they still are. What if Gunter is now workin’ for the Grab All?’
Nation considered her suggestion before replying. ‘It would make sense,’ he said. ‘If so, it’s goin’ to make the situation even more dangerous. I’d understand if you wanted to call it a day and go back to Gunsight.’
Annie put her hand on his arm. ‘Muleskin and I came into this with our eyes open. We ain’t gonna walk away from it.’
‘Are you sure you speak for him?’ he said.
‘Muleskin and I are old friends. We think the same. We’re with you all the way.’
Nation turned to Annie. She was close to him and he became aware of her physical presence. He felt an urge to take her in his arms but, with a struggle, he resisted.
‘Thanks, I appreciate it,’ he mumbled. ‘Look, why don’t you go back and get some rest? I can’t sleep. I would only be lyin’ awake anyway.’
She hesitated, as if about to remonstrate with him, but instead she only nodded before rising to her feet. ‘Goodnight,’ she said. ‘Take care.’
He watched her retreating figure as it passed in front of the dying embers of the fire. He felt disturbed and angry with himself but he didn’t know why. What else could he have said or done? He was more awake than ever. Resting his back against a rock, he made himself as comfortable as he could and prepared for a long, hard night.
Doc Hurley came out of his office and began to stroll towards the centre of town. As he approached the livery stables he heard the sound of hammering. He stopped at the open doorway and peered inside. Tom Irwin, the handyman, was doing some repairs to one of the stalls.
‘Hello, Tom,’ the doctor said. ‘You’re just the man I want to see.’
‘You got a job for me, Doc?’ Irwin asked. ‘Things have been kinda slack recently.’
‘Is that why you dug that fresh grave?’ the doctor replied.
‘Sure. I don’t like to wait around doin’ nothin’. After all, it ain’t likely to stay empty for too long.’
The doctor smiled. ‘I guess that’s guaranteed,’ he replied.
‘How did you know?’ Irwin asked. ‘I ain’t spoken to you about it yet.’
‘Someone told me.’
‘Would that be the fella who’s been stayin’ over at the old Broken Wheel saloon?’
‘Word gets around,’ the doctor replied.
‘I saw him ridin’ out with Annie and Muleskin. I thought that was kinda strange. Old Muleskin don’t get around much and I ain’t seen Annie in a long time. But the really odd thing was that a gang of riders turned up there later.’
The doctor stroked his chin. ‘Did you recognize any of ’em?’
Irwin shook his head. ‘They didn’t stay long and when they left they didn’t look too happy.’
‘This town could do with a regular marshal,’ the doctor said. ‘Maybe I’d better get over to the Broken Wheel and take a look.’
Leaving the handyman to carry on with his work, he set off down the road. It only took a few minutes for him to reach the old saloon. The batwing doors were open as usual and he wandered inside. His first glance told him everything he needed to know. The place was a shambles. The door to Muleskin’s room stood open and he glanced inside. What little furniture there was had been completely destroyed. He hesitated at the foot of the stairs. Annie’s rooms were private. Anyway, he knew what he would find. He pondered over what he had seen for a few moments and then made his way back to his house. He kept his horse in a field behind it and in a short space of time he was in the saddle and riding out to pay a visit on ex-marshal Quitman.
Night-time drew towards dawn and Nation remained watchful. He wasn’t expecting any trouble and had just about decided to roll himself a cigarette when one of the horses began to stamp and snort. He got to his feet, drawing his six-gun as he did so. Silently, being careful not to wake the others, he quickly made his way towards them. They were standing with their ears pricked, sniffing at the air. Something was disturbing them. He listened for any tell tale sounds but there was only the familiar rippling of the water and the sighing of the wind. He remembered his encounter with the bear. Suddenly he was startled by the sound of snarling and spun round but it was only Midway. In another moment, the figure of Muleskin appeared.
‘What is it?’ he whispered.
‘The horses are restless. I figure there’s somethin’ out there.’
The dog continued to snarl and made to move forward. Muleskin held it back. ‘Midway figures the same,’ he said.
‘Let’s take a look,’ Nation replied. ‘Hold on to the dog. He’ll show us the way.’
They crept forward. The sky was clear and dawn was approaching. There was enough light for them to pick their way through the undergrowth. At a little distance the brush grew thicker. They came upon the stream again where cottonwoods and willows grew together with other timber. The dog had ceased snarling and seemed to have lost any scent.
‘He woulda kept at it a few years ago,’ Muleskin whispered.
‘Maybe we were wrong,’ Nation replied. ‘Maybe it was nothin’ but a snake or a water rat.’
‘We ain’t doin’ no good here,’ Muleskin said. ‘We may as well go back.’
They began to retrace their steps. Nation felt increasingly anxious and when he reached the camp his senses told him that something was not quite right. The dog began to sniff and scratch at Annie’s blanket. Nation rushed over and knelt down.
‘Annie!’ he breathed. There was no reply. He tugged at the blanket and discovered that there was no one underneath. The bed was empty. Annie was gone.
‘How could we have been so stupid!’ he exclaimed. He looked at Muleskin with a look of anguish in his eyes.
‘Maybe she ain’t far! Maybe she decided to take a walk, get some water,’ Muleskin replied.
Although they knew it was hopeless, they rushed to the stream and began to search up and down the banks. As the first rays of light climbed the sky, they returned to the camp-ground.
‘We got ourselves to blame,’ Nation said. ‘We acted like a pair of greenhorns.’
There was no need for Muleskin to respond. Nation was right. They should never have left the camp.
‘Duane Gunter!’ Nation rapped. ‘He must have tracked us. He probably intended to sneak up and kill us but settled for somethin’ else once he realized we’d been alerted.’
‘We don’t know that for sure.’
‘Who else could it have been? It was Gunter or some of his henchmen.’
‘At least it seems Annie’s still alive. They couldn’t have shot her.’
‘And give themselves away? No. At least we should be able to find some sign.’
Without wasting any time, they began to search for traces of the intruders. It wasn’t long till Muleskin found what they were looking for: some footprints embedded in the mud of the riverbank. ‘And look here,’ he said. ‘A piece of the riverbank has come away.’
‘Could just have been the water,’ Nation replied.
‘No. The water’s too low. And it’s been displaced by somethin’ from above rather than beneath.’ He splashed his way across the stream. ‘Over here there’s part of another footprint.’ He bent down to look closer. ‘There are some more, but they’re faint. I don’t know how many of ’em there were, but it looks like they crossed the stream and then took advantage of the cover.’
‘Not the direction we were lookin’ in,’ Nation said.
‘I wouldn’t expect Midway to get it wrong,’ Muleskin replied, ‘even if he is growin’ old. There were probably more of the varmints over that way.’
‘We didn’t hear any horses,’ Nation said.
‘They must have left them further off and come at us on foot.’
Mention of the dog’s name made them pause. Nation looked down at Midway, who had followed them to the stream. ‘What do we do with him?’ he said.
‘Guess we’re gonna have to leave that travellin’ contraption behind,’ Muleskin said. ‘He’s gonna find it a mite uncomfortable, but he can ride in my saddle-bag. It’s big enough. He’s done it before.’
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