George was laughing too.
The sound of the gunfire started to draw away.
Another man rode up and dismounted, coming towards them. Joe Widbee.
‘How the hell?’Will said.
Joe flashed him one of his rare grins.
‘What you tryin’ to do there?’ Joe demanded. ‘Tryin’ to run a good hoss to death?’
Will was confused, he didn’t know what to say. Other members of the crew were turning back. They crowded around. His hand seemed to be shaken from all directions. There was Jody his middle boy, his dark eyes dancing with excitement; then Meredith Quintin, the young rider. The others crowded around, laughing and talking. Clay came, graven-faced, young to have had all the responsibility of the trail. They shook and Clay said: ‘Sure good to see you, pa.’
‘Good to see you, Clay. You sure got here on time.’
Clay didn’t waste any words.
‘Joe found us and guided us in here,’ he said. ‘He told us about ma and the girls. We was on our way to do something about that.’
Will asked Joe: ‘Where’s Mart?’
‘He took out after you. Reckoned you couldn’t look out for yourself.’
‘The damn fool. I told him to stay where he was at. If he took out after me, how come he didn’t do something about them bastards on my butt?’
There was a strange face there. A lank young man standing some six inches taller than Will. Clay introduced him. ‘Pete Hasso. He ain’t too good with cows and horses sure do laugh in his face. But he’s the best liar out of Texas this year.’
Pete Hasso shook Will by the hand and grinned. Will inspected him briefly and started giving orders. He wanted a horse, a fresh one. Clay told Juan Mora to hand his over to the boss. Will stepped into the saddle and the others followed suit. Clay told Juan to head back to camp and keep an eye on things. They headed north for the pass.
Will rode thinking that luck was a funny thing. It seemed only a few minutes back that he was on his own running for his life, now he rode with a full crew at his back. If it wasn’t for Martha and the girls, he reckoned he’d feel pretty good. He turned in the saddle to look at his boys. They seemed to have matured since he saw them last. Even that young hellion Jody seemed to have sobered up a mite. Clay caught his eye and pulled alongside him.
‘You sell the old place all right?’ Will asked.
‘Sure.’
‘How many cows you bring?’
‘Two thousand three hundred.’
‘That’ll do for a start.’
‘Brought you somethin’ you didn’t reckon on, pa.’ The boy was watching his face woodenly.
‘What was that?’
‘A wife.’
What?’
Will pulled his horse in so violently that the animal shied.
‘I got me a wife.’
Jody said: ‘You wait till you see her, pa. Prettiest li’l filly you ever did see.’
‘You mean you—?’
Will couldn’t take it in. He reckoned this was one of those occasions when a father should say something appropriate, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. The boy was old enough to marry anybody he wanted. Just the same … Hell, he thought, Clay knew what he was doing, if any of them did.
‘Your ma’ll be tickled,’ he said.
‘I reckon,’ said Clay. He seemed certain Martha would like the girl.
‘She’s a local girl?’
‘No, we found her with the Cheyenne on the trail home.’
‘She ain’t an Indian, Clay?’
‘No, sir, white as you an’ me.’
‘Damn sight whiter, Mr. Storm,’ said Pepe Mora who was as dark as an Indian. ‘She’s a real lady.’
‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ Will said and urged his horse forward.
Chapter Fifteen
They came down into the Broken Spur valley in the middle of the afternoon, keeping an easy pace with two riders, Meredith Quintin and Pepe Mora riding on the valley wall to guard their vulnerable right flank. A kind of dead stillness hung over the whole valley, as if its inhabitants had either departed or were lying secretly in wait.
Looking along the valley, Will could see no sign of smoke. Strange. For a moment, he wondered if Brack had pulled out. But he knew that Brack was not the man to pull out, not from anywhere. There was little talk between him and his sons, even though they had not seen each other for several months. Their minds were on Martha and the two girls. Every now and then Will watched the valley wall for any sign from his flankers that there was danger up there. Once or twice one of the men up there came into sight, keeping pace with the men down below, but he gave no sign.
They came within sight of the camp. They could see the pale triangles of the tents, the blackened patches that had been the house and bunkhouse. Will halted and the men were watchful.; Rifles were pulled out.
Will said: ‘Jody an’ you Hasso, cut around and come in from the west. Maybe Brack has some men hid out in the grass there.’
They wheeled their horses and went off. Will led the way forward. He looked right and saw Mora and Quintin high on the valley wall. He had the unpleasant feeling that Brack had moved Martha and the girls away and was now preparing to attack from the rear or make some such ploy.
‘Keep your eyes peeled, boys,’ he said. ‘This Brack is a tricky sonovabitch.’
They covered fifty yards and Clay said: ‘There’s somebody there, pa. Right in front of the tent to the left.’
Will shifted his gaze.
There was a man sitting hunched up on a log of wood. It looked like Brack. The man turned his head and appeared to say something to somebody in the tent behind him.
Will halted and shifted his rifle forward for action. This was most likely a trick. It could be as simple as having men hidden in the tents. If that was so. Brack would have a lot of deaths on his hands.
Where the hell was Martha and the girls? Worry nagged at Will.
The flap of the tent was thrown back and a man came out stooped and straightened up. It looked like young Riley Brack. He stood by the other man and stared at the riders. He pointed west to Jody and Hasso, then up at the two men above them.
Brack stood up and walked forward.
‘Stay here,’ said Will, ‘an’ cover me. Spread out.’
The men moved and he rode forward at a walk.
When he came up to Brack and the two of them stopped and stared at each other, he could scarcely recognize Brack, The man looked as though he had shrunk.
Will said: ‘Where’re my women. Brack?’
Brack stared at him as though he had trouble focusing.
‘Gone,’ he said hoarsely.
‘Brack,’ Will said, ‘I’m at the end of my rope. I want my women an’ I want them now. I’m in a neck-stretchin’ mood an’ foolin’ around won’t get you no place.’
Brack seemed to come to himself a little. He became vehement.
‘It’s the truth,’ he said. ‘That goddam brother of yours rode in here. Killed a man. My God, I never saw so many men killed in my life. You and your whole damned family’re Indians, Storm. Christ, I thought I was hard …’
‘My women,’ Will said.
‘Your brother took them. My God, I thought he’d murder me in cold blood. I haven’t ever … He took them, I swear it. When my men rode out after you. He just came in here and pistoled a man. Wounded another.’
Will believed him. The man was in shock. He was telling the truth. All the guile and power had been terrified out of him.
‘Where’re your men?
‘All gone. There wasn’t any profit in it for them. Too many men dead. They’re used to winning. Like me. I’m used to winning.’ He almost whined.
Will almost found it in him to feel sorry for him. But not quite. He owed the man too much.
‘If they’ve been touched,’ he said.
‘No harm’s come to them.’
‘No, you just frightened the life outa them. One ain’t no more’n a chi
ld.’
‘Storm, I swear … Hell, I’m beaten. I’ve said it. I’m beaten.’
Will didn’t fool himself. Brack was beaten now, he’d had the hide taken off him in this neck of the woods, but he had other outfits in other country. He could come back later in force. He didn’t see what he could do about that. But he could try.
‘Tell that boy of yours,’ he said, ‘to catch up a couple of horses. You’re comin’ for a ride.’
Fear darted into the man’s eyes, ‘What’re you going to do?’
‘I’m thinkin’ about that.’
Brack shrugged hopelessly and turned away. He shouted to his son and the boy picked up a rope, walked towards the rope corral. Will waved his men in, eight of them, armed and grim, watchful of the man who had dared to take the Storm women. Will knew that it wouldn’t take much for them to put a rope around Brack’s neck and throw the end over a tree. Jody was looking as fierce as a Comanche enjoying a blood-feud. Even the usually sober Clay was looking as if it wouldn’t take much to make him send a bullet into Brack.
There wasn’t any doubt that both Brack and his son were fully conscious of this feeling. At a word from Will, the men took the Brack guns. As they did so, Riley flinched away from them. Then they headed off down valley. Will wondered where Mart had taken Martha and the girls.
They climbed the saddle and rode slowly down into the valley of the Three Creeks. Will thought he had never seen a land so fair. There was time now to look around at the cattle Clay and the crew had brought in. They looked as if they had been on a long trail, but they were in good condition. They would fill out quick enough on this grass. Brack saw them and glared at them in a kind of despair. Here was his best summer graze finished. As he rode, Will planned how he would go about growing beef in this country. When they were in prime condition, he would sell off the steers and the old she-stuff; then he would get down to increasing the quality of the herd. Bring in breeding stock that would not only improve the Texas cattle for market, but which would help increase their ability to survive in the cold winters. Yes, sir, the years ahead were going to be good and full ones. The Storms had their land, they were together. Young Clay had gotten himself a wife. There would be grandchildren. Will smiled to himself. Now, all he wanted was sight of Martha, Kate and Melissa.
They angled across the lush green of the valley towards the creeks. Will saw smoke curling softly into the still air. A cow bawled. It sounded as if peace had come at last to the valley. He prayed the violence was over and done with. After all he was a man of peace.
As they came across the rolling grassland towards the water, he could see figures by a wagon, women. One of them waved a white cloth.
That was Martha.
By God, he thought. He urged his horse forward. The other men touched their animals with spurs and they galloped towards the camp, taking the two Bracks with them.
Martha was running forward. Behind her he could see Kate and Melissa, Mart. They were all alive and together again. Back there, he could see a still slender figure of a woman; that would be Clay’s young wife.
He pulled his horse in like a young show-off vaquero and then Martha was in his arms, sobbing and laughing. He didn’t have enough arms for them all – Martha, Kate, Melissa.
‘My, my,’ he kept saying over and over. ‘My, my.’ He couldn’t think of anything else to say in the embarrassment of the emotion. Martha couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t credit that they were back together again with their sons and daughters around them. It was like coming back together again after the war. And the two Bracks stood there, isolated, one scared, the other defeated.
Mart was in front of him grinning.
Will said: ‘Thanks, Mart.’ Mart shrugged and grinned some more.
Finally, Will said to Martha: ‘You all right? You an’ the girls all right?’
Sure, she kept telling him, they were fine. But she had a surprise for him. Had Clay told him? Sure, he said, of course, Clay had told him.
Clay was coming forward holding a young woman by the arm. Will blinked. He should have known it, of course. The Storm men always had a good taste in women. Clay had kept to the standard. He’d been raised with Martha and Kate as an example of good looks. And he’d chosen a looker. Not a girl with obvious beauty. There was character there. Steady grey eyes under the raven black soft hair. She was a lady. Somebody had said that earlier. He’d been right.
The small slim hand was firmly in his, the grey eyes looked into his. Clay was smiling proudly. Well he might.
‘My wife, Sarah,’ he said. ‘This is pa, honey.’
Will was a mite shy, always was around strange females.
‘Welcome,’ he said. ‘You’re real welcome, ma’am. Sorry you didn’t come at a better time. My, I knew Clay could pick a horse, but he sure knows how to pick a wife too.’
‘I picked Clay,’ the girl said in a husky voice.
‘That a fact?’ said Will. Clay could homestead further north along the creek. He and Martha would see their grandchildren grow. All this was too much for a man to take in at once. He turned gruff, started giving orders. The men caught the note and braced themselves. There’d been enough emotion for one day. Then he looked at Martha and saw how bright her eyes were. Will hustled around, seeing that things got done. Mart and Joe must rest up. They’d earned rest more than two men ever did. This was the first Martha had heard of Joe being hurt. She fussed around them. Joe glowered, Mart liked it fine. Pete Hasso was all eyes at the sight of Kate. Will reckoned his daughter had made yet another conquest. He supposed he’d have to fire Hasso soon or late. Looked like a good man, too. Pity.
The horses were unsaddled, the girls were helping Martha prepare a meal; The new Mrs. Storm gave them a hand. Good – she wasn’t too fancy to cook. She was smiling, chatting with Kate who would be glad to have a girl of her own age to talk to. Little Melissa couldn’t take her eyes off her new relative.
The Bracks sat on the ground apart and silent. Joe sat not far off, watching them hawk like. They had about as much chance of getting away as a man with a foot in a bear trap.
Will seeing everything was going smoothly detailed a couple of riders to get some grub in them and go ride line. He didn’t want any of the cattle drifting out of the valley. Then he sat down for a .think. Clay came and joined him.
‘Well, pa,’ he said. He and Will thought alike, They never crossed each other because they both allowed the other to exist as an individual. Which didn’t mean they always agreed.
‘Well, son. First thing, we build a house. Right where the other stood. Only bigger an’ better. We have the hands to do it.’
Clay grinned.
‘Wing for me?’
‘No, sir, You an’ your missus can stake a claim further north. Take a ride up that way tomorrow and have a look. Or there’s good land to the west of here. Coupla hours ride. You could do worse. Start as you intend to go on. Hell, you been in my pocket long enough.’
Clay nodded. He waited to hear what his father thought about his wife.
Will obliged—
‘Took her right off, boy.’
Will looked at the boy, The responsibility sure had matured him. Time he branched out on his own. Give them some good stock as a wedding present. He could afford it now. That felt pretty good, being able to give a son a hand. He’d been poor long enough. He had the money from the Kansas herd and the rest from the sale of the brasada land. He felt expansive and man-size. A good feeling after the years of poverty. He didn’t forget that men had died to put them there. He gave silent thanks that miraculously the Storms had come through without a death. He looked across at the Bracks. They were beaten now, but how long could a man like Brack bear to stay beaten?
Clay followed his gaze.
‘What about them?’ he asked,
‘When we’re through eatin’,’ Will said, ‘we’ll go talk with them.’
The meal that followed was a gala occasion. There was a lot of laughter. Will didn’t sa
y much, he was too full for that. He sat there, listening and watching them all, content. He saw the looks exchanged by Clay and his new wife; saw Kate become conscious of Pete Hasso, the new hand; listened to Mart joshing young Jody, The Bracks sat apart with Joe watching them tirelessly.
When they were through eating, Will rose and gave Clay the sign, caught Mart’s eye. The three of them walked over to Brack and his son. Brack watched them sullenly. Will guessed that he had gotten some of the fight back into him now. Nothing like a full belly to put some iron into a man and Brack had just eaten some of Martha’s cooking.
Will squatted down. Mart and Clay followed suit. The others turned to look.
‘Right now,’ Will said, ‘you wonderin’ if we’re goin’ to let you loose to go back and plan to retake this valley or if we’re going to do the sensible thing and stretch your fool neck.’
‘No, sir,’ said Brack. ‘I’m thinking neither one nor the other.’ Will was right. There was more fire in the man now. He was more his old self. ‘You dare not kill us. For one, your women wouldn’t let you. For another, you wouldn’t get away with it. You’re not dealing with a thirty and found hand. I’m Ed Brack. Remember?’ He pushed the words at Will, his aggressiveness growing as he spoke. ‘I have the ear of the governor. When I whisper, it’s heard in Washington.’
Mart said softly: ‘You’re being threatened, Will.’
‘I’m not talking with a wanted man,’ Brack said. ‘You keep your nose out of this.’
Joe said: ‘White trash. You hush your mouth or speak politely, man. Or I bend this gun barrel over your head.’
Brack gave the Negro a look of pure hatred.
‘Momentarily, you have me where you want me,’ he said. ‘But it won’t be like this for long. Don’t fool yourself that I’m dickering from a weak position, Storm. I have all the strength in the world. I could raise an army if I want.’
Mart said: ‘You couldn’t get the army itself to come in here right now, Brack. You think word hasn’t got out about the righting here? They heard it in Denver. Why, I reckon they’re talkin’ about it down in Texas right now. You couldn’t hire the toughest gun-handler to come in here. Use your head and talk soft. You think we can’t kill you? You have another think comin’. We let you ride out of here. Every man, woman and child here sees you go safe. Then some nasty man’s hiding in the hills waitin’ to cut down on you. You and the boy’re killed. But nobody moved from this camp-fire. Man, I could kill you as easy as look at you. Walk soft.’
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