Soft Soap for a Hard Case

by Hall, Billy

  ‘That’s plumb funny,’ Billy interjected.

  ‘That is really strange,’ Kate agreed.

  ‘Almost as strange as sittin’ here talkin’ about hot and cold water instead of eatin’ that lunch you brought,’ he brought her back to the present.

  Kate giggled. ‘Just like a man. Always thinking of your stomach.’

  Sam started to retort, ‘Not always,’ but decided against it. Instead he just grinned in response. For the next half hour they ate, talked, and thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company. It was not lost on Kate that Billy chose to sit almost against Sam, instead of next to her.

  By the end of the half hour she began to grow antsy. ‘I really am concerned about why we haven’t seen any cattle,’ she fretted.

  ‘Does seem odd,’ he agreed. ‘Cattle tracks at the water are several days old.’

  The return of that concern goaded them into action and ten minutes later saw them again in the saddle. They had ridden less than a mile when Sam veered off to one side. He rode a hundred yards that direction, then guided his horse in a large circle.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ Kate called.

  He rode back next to her, Billy trailing immediately behind him, before he answered. ‘I think we got a problem.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Rustlers.’

  Her sharp intake of breath betrayed the impact of the word. ‘Why?’

  ‘Somebody’s been hazin’ cattle thataway. Let’s see where the tracks go.’

  She was a woman of the west, but she was not a tracker. Unable to see what tracks he meant, she was content to let him lead the way. Within another mile even she could clearly see the trail left by a large bunch of cattle being driven. ‘They must have rounded up fifty or sixty head,’ she offered.

  ‘At least that,’ Sam agreed. ‘They’ve stopped gatherin’ and they’re movin’ ’em outa the country.’

  ‘How long ago?’

  ‘Not long at all. Today, I’d say.’

  ‘Can we catch up to them?’

  ‘Easy. They can’t move that many cows nearly as fast as we can ride. Don’t get in a hurry, though. We don’t know who they are or how many. We don’t want to ride up on ’em too fast.’

  She was content to let Sam take the lead. ‘Billy, I want you to stay behind me.’

  ‘But, Ma! I wanta ride up there with Sam.’

  ‘You heard me.’

  Reluctantly Billy dropped back to half a length behind her. His expression eloquently announced his discontent with the arrangement, however.

  Two hours later they began to hear distant sounds of cattle being driven. Kate pulled her rifle from its scabbard. She checked the chamber to assure herself it was loaded, then let it rest across her legs, between her and the pommel of the saddle.

  Billy started to do the same with the twenty-two caliber rifle he carried, but she stopped him. ‘Billy, you leave that gun where it is. You’re not going to get involved in anything with guns. And if I tell you to get down, I want you to get off your horse and lay down on the ground. Is that understood?’

  ‘But Ma! I can shoot good.’

  ‘You heard me.’

  Billy silently and mockingly mouthed, ‘You heard me,’ in silence. His face was red with anger, but he held his silence.

  Glancing at the sky, Sam estimated little more than an hour of daylight left. He dropped back beside Kate. ‘Is there any water ahead, where they might settle ’em in for the night.’

  She nodded. ‘There’s a basin another mile ahead, with a really big old buffalo wallow in the bottom. It’s usually full of water unless it’s been an awfully dry year. We’ve had a lot of rain this summer, so it’d be a good spot.’

  Accordingly he was content to match the pace of the herd, keeping at least one hill between it and them. When the sounds and the decreasing dust being raised indicated they were, in fact, bunching them for the night, he dismounted. ‘You two hang tight for a little bit. I’m gonna slip up on that ridge and see what I can see.’

  They watched as Sam worked his way up the slope, removing his hat at the top so he could peer through the low sage without being seen. He stayed motionless there, watching, until the lower slopes were bathed in deep shadows. Then he worked his way backward until he could stand and walk without being seen.

  ‘How many are there?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Five of ’em.’

  ‘Are they camping in the cottonwoods?’

  He nodded, noting with approval her knowledge of the land she ranched. ‘Right at the north end of ’em.’

  ‘There’s a draw that runs almost to the trees there. We could walk up that draw and be almost in their camp before they had any chance of seeing us.’

  ‘You’re readin’ my mind,’ he nodded, ‘except for that “we” part. This isn’t something for a woman. They’ve set one man out to watch the herd. Once it gets good and dark, I’ll take him outa the mix first.’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘Those are my cattle, Sam Heller. Billy will stay with the horses, and the two of us will deal with the rustlers. And don’t try to argue. The only way you can keep me from going with you is to tie me down, and if you think you can get that done you’ve got another think coming.’

  He studied the set of her jaw and the flash of her eyes for a long moment, thinking of a lot of things other than rustlers and cows. He decided not to offer any answer, certain he could keep her with Billy and out of danger when the time came.

  A whiff of wood smoke drifted on the breeze. Kate lifted her head. ‘They’re fixing their supper. They’ll all be in their blankets within an hour.’

  He nodded. ‘We’d just as well loosen the cinches and let our horses rest and graze. I’ll go take care of the night hawk when it’s good and dark.’

  They sat down on the ground together, talking softly, acting as if they had not a care in the world until it was fully dark. ‘Guess it’s about time,’ Sam said, standing. ‘Moon’ll be up in another hour. Be better to move while it’s still good and dark.’

  He moved off into the night as silently as a shadow. He crawled over the top of the ridge, careful not to silhouette himself against the night sky, just in case the rustler with the herd might be looking his way. While he had been on the ridge earlier, he had mapped out a route in his mind for approaching the most likely position of the night hawk. Once below the top of the ridge, he moved with speed and confidence that was surprising over ground he had never covered before.

  It took him a scant fifteen minutes to reach the spot he wanted. Squatting in the edge of a tall clump of sage, he watched and listened intently. Almost immediately he heard the squeak of saddle leather, approaching from his right. He watched that direction, remaining motionless.

  In the near total darkness, the night hawk was less than a dozen feet from him when Sam was able to pick out his form. He waited until the rider had passed almost by him, then stepped forward abruptly. He reached up and grabbed the man’s belt before the rustler had any inkling of his presence. Even his horse had not sensed Sam’s approach. As he did so now, the mount snorted and shied violently away from Sam’s unexpected presence.

  The sudden hold on his belt coupled with the horse’s leap sideways unseated the rustler before he even had a chance to grab for the saddle horn. He hit the ground with a heavy thud. He immediately tried to surge to his feet, but Sam’s gun barrel connecting smartly with the side of his head ended all such effort. He crumpled silently into a motionless heap.

  Sam strode to the nervous mount, crooning softly to allay his fears. He removed the man’s lariat from the saddle, quickly tied him hand and foot, then strode away.

  He knew Kate and Billy were waiting for his return but instead of returning to them, he headed straight for the draw he had already spotted before Kate suggested it. By the time they realized he wasn’t coming back for her, he should have the rustlers fully dealt with.

  He eased into the bottom of the draw as silently as possible. Even then, he was painfully
aware of the small avalanche of dirt his movements released. He waited motionlessly until it stopped and silence returned. He started to move on when a voice to his right nearly caused his heart to stop.

  ‘I’m right over here,’ the very soft voice informed him.

  He recognized Kate’s voice instantly. Then he nearly collapsed with a surging mix of emotions he made no effort to separate or analyze. He started to bark at her, half a dozen angry admonitions fighting each other for release. Even as he did, he knew any conversation reduced their chances of surprise. He also knew there was no way to send her back. He was left with no choice but to accept her presence with him. He refused to admit to himself he was actually glad for that presence.

  Silently he moved along the bottom of the draw. When he had reached what he guessed was the closest point to the probable campsite of the rustlers, he looked at her in the darkness. He felt, rather than saw, her nod agreement.

  Making as little noise as possible, they worked their way, side by side, up the side of the draw. At the top they peered cautiously over the rim.

  Less than fifty feet away the embers of the dying campfire glowed softly. In the near total darkness, those embers gave surprising ability to make out the forms or four sleeping men. Sam studied the scene carefully for three or four minutes before a plan formulated itself in his mind.

  Wordlessly he moved over the rim of the draw and crept forward. Kate stayed close behind him, letting him take the lead.

  At the edge of the camp, Sam motioned for her to stop. He crept forward, into the center of the camp itself. He had noted that all four men were on one side of the fire. Working from the other side of it, he silently and carefully placed several pieces of wood on to the glowing embers. By the time he had worked his way back to Kate, the embers had ignited the new source of fuel. The fire came to life, casting a flickering glow over the sleeping men. The effect was to cast them in light, while he and Kate were outside its reach, standing in darkness.

  He breathed into her ear, ‘Watch the men. Don’t look at the fire.’

  She nodded, understanding the wisdom of not letting her eyes accustom to light.

  When the fire had brightened the area, one of the rustlers abruptly raised up on one elbow. He looked around quickly, obviously confused that the fire was burning brightly again.

  Sam waited no longer. He fired his .45 into the fire, scattering sparks and embers in all directions. At the same time he yelled, ‘On your feet, you four. You’re surrounded. Throw up your hands.’

  All four boiled out of their blankets, guns in hand, eyes darting in all directions.

  ‘Drop the guns!’ Sam ordered.

  Two men did so. Two fired instead, at the sound of Sam’s voice. Sam’s .45 and Kate’s rifle barked at almost the same instant. Two men folded up and dropped to the ground.

  The other two threw their hands as high as they could reach. ‘Don’t shoot!’ one of them called out.

  ‘Step over toward the fire,’ Sam ordered.

  The two did as told. As they neared the fire, they exchanged a quick glance. Moving as one, they dove behind the fire, using it to momentarily conceal themselves. The instant they hit the ground they rolled to their feet and began running, directly away from the fire, trying to keep it between them and the threat that had appeared out of nowhere.

  Kate jerked rifle to her shoulder, but Sam laid a hand on her arm. She looked at him sharply enough the darkness couldn’t conceal her question.

  ‘Let ’em go,’ Sam said. ‘I got no stomach to hang ’em tonight, and they’d be a passle o’ trouble gettin’ to town. They’re stockin’ footed and unarmed. If they can get back to whoever sent ’em after your cattle, they just might mend their ways.’

  Kate looked at him in unabashed amazement. ‘Sam Heller, you are supposed to be a hardcase. I’m supposed to be the timid and tender one.’

  ‘The good-smellin’ soft-soap one, anyway. Even now you smell plumb good.’

  ‘Don’t change the subject! You’re just going to let them get away?’

  ‘I ’spect we already did. Let’s gather up their guns and get back to Billy.’

  ‘What about the one watching the cows? Did you kill him?’

  ‘Nope. I wrapped my gun barrel around his head, pulled his boots off and tossed ’em in the brush, and left him hog-tied.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to go get him. We can’t leave him there to die.’

  ‘Now who’s goin’ soft?’

  ‘Well, we can’t!’

  ‘I wouldn’t, anyway. I’d guess the two that took off runnin’ will find him and take him along. If not, we’ll haul ’im to town and turn ’im over to the marshal, along with these two.’ He nodded toward the bodies of the two dead rustlers.

  ‘Then we have to drive my cattle back home.’

  ‘Gonna be a long night,’ he observed, moving toward the rustlers’ horses.

  CHAPTER 8

  ‘You’d think this place was on a main road,’ Sam grumbled. He reached for his gunbelt. He stepped where he could see the approaching rider as he secured the weapon around his waist.

  ‘This one’s wearin’ a badge at least,’ he muttered.

  Kate stepped out of the door of the house, her rifle cradled in the crook of her elbow. ‘I wonder if she gets tired o’ havin’ to greet everyone that comes along that way,’ Sam pondered silently.

  Aloud, he said, ‘Looks like a lawman.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘Caught a flash of sun off his badge.’

  She took a step backward and stood the rifle inside the door of the house. They stood side by side watching the approaching rider. He appeared relaxed in the saddle, but as he drew closer Sam noticed the lawman’s restless eyes constantly scanned everything around and ahead of him.

  He reined in with a nod of his head. ‘Mornin’, folks.’

  ‘Good morning, Marshal,’ Kate responded, reading the legend “United States Marshal” emblazoned on the gold badge. ‘Get down and come in. The coffee pot’s still warm.’

  ‘Can’t turn down an offer like that,’ the marshal responded.

  His extraordinarily large handlebar mustache that extended clear to the bottom of his jaws bore well stained testimony to his love of either coffee or chewing tobacco.

  Kate stepped into the house, and he followed, sweeping the broad-brimmed, high-crowned hat from his head as he walked through the door. Sam followed, sending one last glance around to assure himself the marshal was alone.

  ‘Nice place you folks have here,’ the marshal observed, seating himself in the chair Kate indicated. ‘I’m Harm Denton, by the way.’

  ‘I’m Sam Heller,’ Sam offered, extending his hand to return the marshal’s solid grip. ‘This is Kate Bond. Actually, it’s Kate’s place,’ Sam explained. ‘I’m just sorta helpin’ out for a few days.’

  The marshal eyed him appraisingly, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts. ‘That so? You a drifter?’

  ‘Not really. I work for the Rafter J down in the Indian Nation.’

  The marshal’s eyebrows rose. ‘That’s a purty good distance from Wyoming. Who’s your boss?’

  ‘Hap Harvey owns the place. Thad Messmer’s the straw boss.’

  ‘That name rings a vague bell,’ the marshal mused. He picked up the steaming cup of coffee Kate had set before him, blew across the top of it and slurped off a sip of the dark, slightly cooled liquid. ‘How many cows you run down there?’

  ‘Upwards of three thousand,’ Sam replied. ‘You’d most likely heard of us from our horses, though. Chisolm Chief is one of our studs.’

  The marshal raised a hand. ‘That’s where I heard the name! Lester Magnuson over by Laramie won’t use a stud if it ain’t outa Chisolm Chief.’

  ‘I’ve met him,’ Sam confirmed. ‘Small man. Wears a mustache pertneart as big as yours.’

  The marshal grinned, stroking his very striking facial feature. ‘Pertneart as big, but not near as fine and handsome a mustac
he, though, wouldn’t you agree?’

  Sam grinned in response, taking refuge in his own cup of coffee. ‘I won’t take sides,’ he dodged. ‘I wouldn’t wanta offend one of the boss’s best customers.’

  ‘So what brings you clear to Wyoming?’

  ‘Horse thieves.’

  The marshal’s eyebrows shot up again. ‘Horse thieves?’

  Sam nodded. ‘Someone stole a bunch of our horses, along with some from three of our neighbors. I tracked ’em north.’

  ‘You find ’em?’

  ‘I found ’em. Four of ’em.’

  The marshal simply sipped his coffee, staring at Sam, waiting silently for a lot more information than that.

  Sam decided to comply. ‘I caught up with ’em over at Hinsmeyer’s Mill Iron.’

  When he offered nothing further, the marshal pursued it. ‘You call ’em out?’

  ‘I called ’em horse thieves.’

  ‘Hinsmeyer and his boys back your play?’

  ‘They would’ve if I’d needed it. Things happened sorta fast. I had to go ahead and empty their saddles afore Hinsmeyer’s hands had a chance to get in on it.’

  The marshal stared hard at him for a long moment. ‘You took on all four of ’em by yourself?’

  Sam shrugged and took another drink of his coffee. ‘Only three at once. The ringleader made a dumb play by himself when he figured out we was gonna take a good look at his bills o’ sale.’

  ‘Are you really that fast with a gun?’

  ‘He’s really that fast with a gun,’ Kate replied across her own coffee cup. ‘One of Lance Russell’s gunmen drew on him the other day. He didn’t have a chance.’

  The marshal studied Kate, betraying the fact that she had mentioned something of greater importance than the stolen horses. ‘You saw him shoot Texas Tom?’

  ‘I saw him shoot one of Russell’s hired gunmen. I don’t have any idea what his name was. Why?’

  The marshal looked back and forth between Kate and Sam, studying them carefully. ‘The story I got was that Texas Tom was shot in cold blood by a drifter.’

  Kate snorted. ‘That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard in my life. Lance Russell and two of his hired guns tried to force me to sell out to him for five hundred dollars. He threatened to turn his hired guns on me right in front of my son until I agreed. If Sam hadn’t been here, I don’t know what I would have done.’