“Think this ties in with the wanted posters?” Curley asked.
“Could be. The U. S. Marshal’s office would have the money to send someone around.” Sully scowled. “Damn, when everything was going so well.”
“So you figure he’s here somewhere maybe watching the camp?” Annie asked. “With the smoke from the fires it’s easy to spot.”
“Could be,” Sully said. “Depends on what he wants to do. If he’s going to identify me and arrest me, that would take some doing. On the other hand if he’s a man I might know who you described, he might just be angry enough to bushwhack me and forget he’s a lawman.”
“You think it’s somebody from the raid we made on that payroll?” Curley asked.
“Think about it, Curley. Doesn’t the description sound a lot like that Captain who got shoulder shot and yelled at us on that payroll hit?”
“Hey, damned if you ain’t right. If it is him he could just blow you away with a long range rifle shot and call the debit paid.”
“Might. First thing we do is get this herd with the rest of our gather in the pen. Any of the others check in yet?”
“Yep, you’re the last one. Wander brought in a hundred head and Young’s team penned up another seventy five. That’s mighty close to six hundred out there now. We better start branding tomorrow or we’ll be out here all summer.”
“Right, branding tomorrow. That is if this Captain of the payroll division will let us alone.”
“So what can we do?” Annie asked, her face showing tear stains.
“First I’ll stay on the far side away from the pen to help get the cows penned. Then I’ll vanish into the woods back there. He must be watching the tent and the chuck wagon. Next, Annie, I’m sending you back to town with Harry Young. I want you out of any sign of trouble.”
“If you think that’s best.”
“Keep the cattle moving,” Sully said. Curley helped get the animal in some semblance of a line to get through the new gate. Sully wondered how many of his riders had been in the army on one side or the other. Most of them he guessed. If that Captain showed his hand they could launch a drive to flush him out and send him riding for his life.
Curley took Annie back to the chuck wagon under the trees. He found Young grabbing an apple. He introduced him to Annie.
“Harry, your job now is to guard and guide Miss Annie here back to her store in town. Have supper on me and then get back here. We may have some trouble brewing.” He gave the man two silver dollars. “Don’t eat that much or you won’t be able to ride.”
They all laughed and Harry saddled his horse and he and Annie took off north on the trail back to Connor’s Corner.
Sully saw the last of his bunch penned then rode deeper into the woods on the far side of the fence. If the Captain was there he would be on the Chuck Wagon side waiting and watching. Sully was worried about the branding. They would do as they had before set up a temporary fence on crossed poles that they could move quickly. They would fence off this end of the pen and put the branded steers and cows in there. As they branded more and the area filled, they would move the fence toward the far end. It should work. The animals were not hard to control. Now what about the Captain? He had to make the first move. Sully had to be sure that the first shot was not the last one he ever heard. He would not go near the chuck wagon. He’d yell for one of the riders to bring him out a big plate full of whatever supper was. He settled down beside a tall maple tree and tried to think as that Yankee captain must be thinking. Vengeance, not law work.
He waited.
It was almost dark when Sully had finished his supper and was working on a third cup of bad coffee when the shot rang out in the high valley. Sully dropped his plate, drew his six-gun, and rushed around the end of the big pen into the woods and charged down toward the chuck wagon.
Chapter Eighteen
Sully had to cross the open space between the two ridges that formed their little valley. He didn’t hesitate, charged forward just outside the new fence on the pen, and plunged into the trees and brush on the chuck wagon side. He expected two or three shots to come his way but the air was quiet and he paused just inside the cover. Maybe the shooter couldn’t see him at this angle.
He worked his way as silently as he could through the dark woods toward where the tent and the chuck wagon showed their camp. When he could see the camp through the fringes of trees, he slid in behind a thick tree trunk and peered around it. He saw no one in the camp. Then a head lifted from behind the chuck wagon’s rear wheel. It was Curley.
“Anybody hit,” Sully asked just loud enough so he hoped Curley could hear him. Curley turned toward where the voice came from.
“Sully. Yeah. Bill Banks, the new guy. Took what sounded like a rifle shot in the left thigh. It’s bad. We getting it tied up, but he’s going to need to see the doctor in town.”
“Can he ride?”
“He thinks he can. Later on that. What about the shooter?”
“Any idea where the shot came from?”
“Sounded out at least a hundred yards. Only open spot like that is to our north. Any ideas?”
“How many men you got close by?” Sully asked.
“Six, maybe seven. All took cover fast.”
“Get each man with a rifle and put them in a line so they all can shoot north. Then put five rounds from each rifle into that area to the north.”
“Yeah, I like it.”
“Working my way in there. Don’t let anyone shoot in my direction.”
“You got it.”
Five minutes later Sully pulled his Henry out of his bedroll and joined the line of riflemen.
“We all ready?” Curley asked. A muffled sound came from the men spread out about twenty feet. “Then get off your five rounds starting about now.”
The sound of the eight rifles each sending out five shots reminded Sully of the war years. Then it was over and silence settled in as the sounds echoed off into the plains.
“No reaction,” Curley said.
“Didn’t expect one we could hear,” Sully said. “Just hope that we scared the shit out of whoever fired that first shot in here.”
“What about Banks?” Curley asked.
“Give him five dollars and three more for the doctor. Do you think he’ll be able to ride with us in a week?”
“Bad hit. Looked like a ricochet that went in sideways and didn’t come out. Looks like it could have broken some of the bone up high toward his hip. No, don’t think he’ll ride for hire for two months, maybe longer.
“Write a note to the hotel telling them to charge Bill’s stay to the B bar C Ranch. Then give Bill twenty dollars more to eat on. We’ll cover his costs until he can ride again.”
“Damn good of us,” Curley said. “You’re right. Who should we send with him to be sure he doesn’t get lost in the dark?”
“Send Greg Victor, tell him to stay the night and get back here first thing in the morning.”
“Now what about our sniper out there? Think he’s still watching us or is he gone?”
“Oh yes. No try to arrest anyone. He’s decided on the bushwhacking so he’ll be around. Keep all fires out down here. I’ll ride out and see if I can find any kind of fire or smoke out there. My guess is he’s a tenderfoot in the bush. He might just think he needs a fire. If he does, he’s coyote dinner.”
“Think it’s that damn army captain?”
“Put fifty dollars on it. He’s out for blood now, to try to balance out what he lost. He should cut and ride away, but he won’t. See if I can find him out there. See you when I get back.”
“Want some help?”
“Nope, got to be a silent operation, a one horse and rider deal. Take care.”
Sully faded out of the camp, claimed his horse, and rode as silently as he could to the edge of the brush and timber. Then he turned up the slope of the ridgeline. Every twenty feet he stopped and listened, checked for any smoke or glow of a fire on the right hand side of the valle
y, then moved on forward. He had no high hopes of finding anyone out here. But he knew he had to make a try. If the shooter could not find his victim he might try to kill the work of the men by stampeding the cattle out of the valley so they would have to be gathered up again. When he got back he would post three guards along the new fence and keep at least half the men awake and on guard duty the rest of the night.
Then he sniffed again. Yes, wood smoke. The idiot had started a fire after all. Sully wondered if it was still burning. He tested the wind. Coming down hill and slightly to the west. Good. He should have a highway straight up to the fire. Now his big hope was that Captain Tracey would be sitting there staring at the fire. He grinned. Tracey, the name had jumped into his mind all at once. That was the name Captain Dan Tracey. Yes, he turned slightly to the right and rode silently forward following the smoke trail.
No more than five minutes later he saw the glow of something in the brush ahead. He eased off his mount, tied her to a tree, and moved up toward what had to be the glow of a fire. He came closer but could see little through the trees. He moved with more caution now, his gun in hand, and making no noise whatsoever. Ten yards later the trees opened up and he could see across a clearing to a small fire burning within a ring of rocks. A blanket lay unrolled near the fire and cooking things lay on another blanket with a sack of food. Yes, a man camping out for the night. But where was the man? He was not sleeping, didn’t work at cooking anything, and he was not sitting looking at his small fire. At the other side of the fire he spotted another blanket, this one with a large bulge under it about man sized. Was it real or supposed to look real? Was it a trap?
Yes. It was set up to lure him into the firelight so he could be gunned down at close range. The Captain was no tenderfoot. If he went to this much trouble to lure a man into a trap, he must have his horse with him or nearby. Sully stood where he was behind a good sized tree and listened. A few might birds and some crickets were all that he heard.
Move.
He took short, soft steps to his right. Where would a watcher be? Most men were right handed. So most men would circle to the right almost without thinking about it. Which meant the best way to find a man lurking nearby with his horse would be to move to the left around the fire at thirty or forty yards out. Sully moved with intense patience and stealth. He would not give away his presence by breaking a stick underfoot or letting a tree branch snap back.
He had moved twenty feet around the circle ringing the fire when he paused to listen. He caught the first sound of a horse snorting evidently before her mouth was clamped shut maybe by the Captain. The sound came from in front of him. He stared into the darkness wishing he had a cat’s dark vision eyes. He could make out only a few trees, brush, and a lot of murky shadows.
Sully remained motionless and waited. A moment later he heard a low cough that was cut off abruptly. A man’s cough. Good. Again the sound came from in front of him. He had no idea how far but guessed it at no more than twenty feet. He could tell that the trees and brush were thinning out in the direction of the sounds. Like maybe the shooter could see through to the fire for a rifle shot.
Short step by short step Sully edged forward. He went around a thick trunk of a tree. In front of him the brush vanished and he could see a man lying on the ground with a rifle resting on a rock in front of him. The rifle was aimed at the fire. Just behind the man was a horse tied to a tree.
When he heard the horse, Sully had cocked his Colt with a round under the hammer ready to fire. What to do next? Gun the man down with all six rounds he had loaded? Call to him to roll away from the rifle with hands in the air. He wasn’t sure the man was Captain Dan. No choice.
“You, bushwhacker laying on the ground. Don’t move or you get six slugs in your back. Roll away from the rifle to your back and raise your hands into the air. Do it now and live.”
“Oh damn,” the man said. He turned on his side then to his back away from the rifle and both hands went high in the air.
Sully darted forward, kicked the rifle away and jerked a six-gun from the man’s holster.
“What’s your name?” Sully barked.
“Don’t have one.”
Sully jolted a round into the ground inches from the man’s head.
“Okay, okay. Name is Tracey.”
“As in Captain Dan Tracery.”
“If you know that then you are the bastard who killed my men, shot up my shoulder, and stole four thousand dollars of my army payroll.”
“Not true. Us southerners don’t like Yankee spies rushing around our land asking questions about our people. We know who you are. We also know we can shoot you dead right here and no one will come looking for your dead body.”
“Lies. You have to be Lieutenant Sully Sampson who is a wanted man for murder and robbing an army payroll.”
“Wishful thinking. You know how many men down here are named Sullivan, or Sully for short? Hundreds. Now get to your feet and move over to that little fire trap you set up. You have a right to know how you are going to die.”
The man got to his feet slowly.
“Hands in the air and feet spread. You must have a hide-out weapon.” Sully patted him down, found a one shot derringer in a vest pocket and slid it into his front pocket.
They walked slowly to the fire.
“Build it up with some of that wood. I want to get a good look at you.” Dreading such a meeting, Sully had started growing a full beard and moustache after the first wanted poster came through. Now his black beard and moustache were a half inch long and changed his appearance a great deal. The fire blazed up and moments later it made enough light that Sully made certain that the man he had under his gun was really Captain Dan Tracey. He snorted.
“Sure as hell never seen you before in my life,” Sully said. “All I got to go on is what the men in town said about you. They tied your visit in with that last wanted poster. Not smart of you to put your name on it. Me, I wasn’t in the big war. Saw how the south was going to lose and I went to California and did some gold mining. Didn’t get rich but made myself some walking around money. Now you show up and try to bushwhack me. Oh, the man you shot is still alive but with a nasty leg wound. I could have you arrested for that alone and you’d get ten years for attempted murder.”
“Samson, you talking like the bastard Rebel you still are. You, been haunting my dreams for almost three months now. Knew I couldn’t arrest you with twelve men around you, so I decided to execute you on the spot and report it to my boss. Yeah, I’m with the U.S. Marshal’s office.”
“You talk a good game, Tracey, but it won’t do you any good. Not this time.” Sully moved forward and bent to pick up two more sticks to put on the fire. He looked away from his prisoner for just a moment. In that time Tracey spun around and fired a second derringer he had strapped to his right ankle and had been holding out of sight.
Sully saw the move out of the corner of his eye, started to lift his six-gun just as the bullet from the .32 caliber derringer ripped into his left shoulder, spun him around, and his six-gun jolted out of his hand to the ground.
Chapter Nineteen
Sully fell to the ground. He clawed around him searching for his weapon. His left shoulder hurt like a branding iron was lodged in it. He at last found the revolver but by that time the Captain had vanished into the woods. Where was he? The derringer had to be a one shot, otherwise Tracey would have used the second round to kill him. He tested his left rm. He could lift it but not move it much. Now what the hell did he do?
He sat up and looked around. The sound came softly and not far away. It was the careful movement of a horse through the brush. Captain Tracey was on the move. Where would he go? Somewhere not far away. His food and blankets were here. That was easy.
Sully struggled to his feet, then oriented himself a moment before he walked slowly toward where he left his horse. He led her back, put the three blankets over her back, and then tied on the small sack of trail food. He had no plans to mount the
horse. He would do well enough leading her down the slope toward his own camp. Tracey without food and blankets would not last long in the country. He would have to head back into Connor’s Corner. Sully stopped the horse and looked in the food sack. It was filled with wadded up paper, a few rocks and some chunks of wood. The camp had been a sham. A trap to lure him in. The man was good. He would have another camp around somewhere not far away with his real sack of food, blankets, everything he needed. The important thing was that the captain was still a threat. A cold sweat prickled Sully’s forehead. He knew now that he should have shot Tracey dead the second he had the chance. How could he be the Devil’s Gunslinger if he couldn’t even kill this man who had caused him so much pain? He would work on that. Right now he had to get back to camp and get his shoulder tended to before he bled to death.
It seemed like a long walk but he knew it was less than a quarter of a mile. He called out before he went into camp so his friends didn’t shoot him.
“About damn time you got back. Herd some gunfire. You find him?” It was Curley full of questions.
“Yes, no and get something to tie up this shoulder. Got a derringer round in it.”
Curley grabbed some bandages, liniment, some kind of alcohol, a lantern, and they went into the deeper woods where Curley made his inspection.
“Hey, not as bad as it could have been. Missed the bone, jolted through about an inch of flesh and muscle, and came out the other side. Get you wrapped up in a jiffy here.”
Sully sorted. “Hell, man, that’s the good news. You realize we can’t function here with that gunner on the loose. No branding tomorrow. We have to settle this tonight. Get everybody up and ready to ride. We’ll do a sweep through every patch of trees within a mile around here. He must have started a fire. We should find him even if now we have to scare him so bad he cuts and runs without getting me.”
The Devils Gunslinger Page 12