Waco 7: Hound Dog Man (A Waco Western)

by J. T. Edson

  Looking at Scobie, the girl felt she must give a warning. The coming of the rains had brought about a change in their arrangements for sleeping accommodation. Throughout the day Scobie had intended to observe the proprieties and sleep under the wagon. When it became obvious that more than a gentle shower was coming, the girl insisted that he joined her inside the Rocker ambulance’s waterproof canopy.

  ‘Nothing’s changed, Scobie,’ she told him determinedly, ‘I still won’t be tangled up with a hound dog man.’

  ‘Like I said before, gal,’ Scobie answered, coming to his feet and taking up his gunbelt, ‘it’s your life and choice.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with you—’ she hastened to assure him.

  ‘Except that I’m a foot-loose hound dog man,’ he finished for her. ‘Trouble being, gal, that I’ll never change.’

  ‘I know,’ Pauline admitted. ‘And that’s why I won’t—’

  ‘It’s time we got moving,’ Scobie drawled.

  After strapping on his gunbelt, he lifted the covers and swung on to the wagon box. With the rains ended, everything looked clean, bright and pleasant. The hound pack moved around in the early morning sun, shaking themselves and looking none the worse for a night of rain spent under the wagon. Behind Scobie, the girl swung her legs out of the bed and reached for her clothes. Just as Scobie prepared to jump from the wagon, a thought struck him.

  ‘Stop inside,’ he told the girl.

  ‘What is it?’ she answered, ignoring her naked condition and taking up the carbine from where it lay alongside his Lightning rifle on the firearms chest,

  ‘Just had me an idea, gal.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Pauline snorted.

  ‘Don’t often get one, so it come as a surprise,’ smiled Scobie. ‘The rains have wiped out all your sign back there at the clearing. I’ll swear that nobody come close enough to us yesterday to know you’re along. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?’

  ‘I’ll say one thing, Scobie,’ the girl said, putting down the rifle. ‘When you have an idea, it’s a right smart one.’

  ‘Get dressed,’ he told her, ‘or I’ll be getting another idea right now – and we don’t have time for that right now.’

  Laughing, Pauline obeyed his order. Scobie dropped from the wagon and stood for a time searching the surrounding country for any sign of watching men, but he saw nothing to give a hint that anybody spied on the wagon. Collecting wood from the possum belly, he made a fire and cooked breakfast.

  ‘I never had it so good,’ Pauline smiled as he passed her plate and a cup of coffee into the wagon. ‘What’ll we do now, Scobie?’

  ‘Go on to Desborough, then hunt down that bear. It’s got to be done.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘Won’t be easy though, the rain’s washed out more than just your tracks by this time, gal.’

  ‘How’ll you do it then?’ she asked.

  ‘Wait for word of the next place that old bear kills at.’

  ‘But that might not be for days, or not even in the State.’

  ‘Nope,’ Scobie replied. ‘A grizzly bear takes him a piece of country, stakes a claim to it by making bear-trees to warn off other bears. It’ll be between five and ten miles square and he’ll not roam far out of it.’

  ‘He still might not kill another man,’ Pauline objected.

  ‘Man or cow, gal, it’s likely to be one or another of ’em. A grizzly needs meat to keep it going. Only it’s not able to hunt like a cougar or a pack of buffalo wolves. So when it learns how easy it can kill cattle, it keeps on doing just that. That bear’s going to kill again and soon. Happen somebody finds the kill and don’t disturb the bear, I’ll get word, go there and hunt it down.’

  ‘How about me?’ asked the girl.

  ‘You’re coming along with me, at least until Waco comes for you.’

  ‘How about while you’re in Desborough?’

  ‘You’ll just have to stay hid in the back. Nobody’ll put their face inside to look. I’ll see to that, and as soon as I can, we’ll move away from town.’

  ‘You can’t take Vixen bouncing across country far,’ Pauline warned.

  ‘Nope. I’ll leave her and the pups with Abe Reiger at the general store,’ Scobie replied. ‘Him and his missus’re friends of mine.’

  ‘Pass me the food for Vixen when you’ve finished eating,’ the girl said. ‘I’d best mix it. I never yet saw a man who could make up a meal for a bitch after she whelped.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ grinned Scobie. ‘That old Belle’s due to come into use soon. Happen she gets caught, there’ll be another litter come along.’

  Which was the nearest he had come so far to making an offer, Pauline concluded. She ducked in a deep breath and set her lips grimly, refusing to comment one way or the other but steeling herself to refuse as gently as possible if he took the matter further. However, he did not and so she finished her breakfast, fixed up Vixen’s meal and tidied the inside of the wagon while Scobie made ready to leave.

  Soon after noon, Schuster and a party of men approached the site of Scobie’s previous night’s camp. Halting the others, Schuster ordered Joey Stinks forward to read sign. With the rain of the previous night, a perfect opportunity to learn of Pauline Pitt’s presence presented itself and Schuster did not intend to miss it.

  A further six men had joined him in Braddock and one of them slowed down the pace of the pursuit. Jervis Thorpe was not a skilled horseman and unused to making long, fast rides over rough hill trails. However, Schuster felt that having the politician along out-balanced the other slowing down the party.

  Tall, slim, with a gaunt hook-nosed face, Thorpe looked miserable. Like most of his kind, he felt himself above the ordinary run of people and hated to be in their presence except when making a speech to build up his popularity. Thorpe possessed the rare quality of being able to keep the poorer folks believing he thought only of their welfare, yet persuade the small businessmen and others of that class to give him their backing. However, he knew that he would still be an obscure tub-thumper back East if it had not been for Schuster. So he could not refuse when the other insisted he came along after the girl.

  Although he doubted if Thorpe would be of any use, Schuster demanded his presence. The whole trouble came about through the politician’s stupidity and Schuster felt it proper that Thorpe took his share in putting things right. Much money came Thorpe’s way for his production of information of use to criminals; and with little danger or risk of detection as long as he used his head. Unfortunately, his ideas of doing so did not show good sense. The head teller of the Cattlemen’s Trust found certain significance in deposits of large sums of money made by Thorpe. Observing that the deposits always followed on the heels of a big hold-up or robbery, the teller arranged a private meeting with Thorpe. If the politician had kept his head, the whole affair could have been handled simply and easily. Instead of confiding with Schuster, Thorpe went to the meeting sure that his superior brilliance and charm would smooth things out.

  Things did not smooth out. With increasing fury, Thorpe learned that the teller demanded a fair sum of money as a price for his silence. Not knowing that a witness watched, Thorpe slid free the blade of the sword-stick he carried and plunged it into the offending teller’s back. Having done so, he returned to his home and told Schuster; leaving the clearing up his stupidity made necessary to the other man. Schuster wasted no time in futile recriminations, but hurried to the scene of the killing. On the way an idea formed, to be put into operation. Using the teller’s keys, he opened bank and safe. By taking a large sum of money and negotiable bonds, Schuster gave the impression that the teller had been murdered for his keys. While checking that nothing remained on the scene of the murder to lead the law to Thorpe, Schuster found Pauline’s vanity bag. The girl’s flight told him that she must have seen the killing and he started to search for her. If she told her story in the right quarter, it would cause an investigation.

  Never under estimating the
enemy, Schuster knew others could learn what the teller discovered and so he did not mean to allow any hint to slip out.

  On learning of Pauline’s arrival in Braddock, Schuster sent along his most reliable man and, when Skerrit failed, took up the business himself. However, he decided the time had come when Thorpe became fully incriminated in the business which made them both rich. So Schuster demanded that Thorpe accompanied him on the hunt and killing of the girl. Thorpe was too terrified of his ‘employee’ to refuse and rode with the main body on the trail of the faster-traveling advance party.

  After making a thorough examination of the camp-site, Joey Stinks returned and looked up at Schuster.

  ‘Feller and dogs here,’ he said.

  ‘And the girl?’ Thorpe asked.

  ‘Not see-um any sign. If her here, she not leave-um tracks.’

  ‘Then she’s not with Dale after all,’ Thorpe sniffed.

  ‘Or he wants it to look that way,’ Schuster replied. ‘Scobie Dale’s no fool. At least there’s no sense in assuming he is.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Thorpe inquired.

  ‘Dale’s a hunter, can read tracks,’ Schuster explained patiently. ‘So he’d know the ground would show them to anybody following. He may still have the girl with him.’

  ‘So what do we do?’

  ‘We go down to Easter Corner.’

  ‘Easter Corner?’ Kid Tonopah put in. ‘Dale’s not headed there.’

  ‘He will be,’ Schuster stated firmly. ‘Let’s see some movement out of these horses. We’ve a lot of miles to cover.’

  Despite having the rear covers drawn down and fastened, Pauline managed to make enough of a gap in the middle for her to watch their back trail. While traveling, she made frequent studies of the rear, but saw no sign of anyone following them.

  While Schuster’s party had already turned off towards Easter Corner, Norah Loxton and her three men followed a trail some three miles to the north and which met the one on which Scobie’s wagon rolled a short way from Desborough. In addition Norah’s group made poor time due to the storm. After spending a miserable night in a small line shack, the young woman and her trio of male companions pushed on at as good a pace as they could manage towards Desborough. Nor did the trail over which they traveled offer much opportunity to move at an equivalent speed to the hound dog man’s wagon.

  Night had fallen when Scobie Dale brought his wagon to a halt behind the Desborough livery barn.

  ‘Mind you stay in back and out of sight, gal,’ he ordered. ‘Have you got the carbine handy?’

  ‘Sure,’ the girl answered. ‘What’re you going to do?’

  ‘Act just like I would if I was alone.’

  ‘That you, Scobie?’ called a voice from the barn?

  ‘Why sure. Come on out and lend a hand with my team.’

  ‘You keep them fool dogs back first, I don’t want my leg chewing off.’

  The livery barn’s owner walked forward, keeping a wary eye on Scobie’s pack and grinning a welcome. Clearly he had no idea that the girl hid in the wagon and Pauline sat silent in the darkness.

  ‘Any more bear trouble?’ Scobie asked.

  ‘Not since it killed Copson,’ the owner answered. ‘But you know how folks are when a grizzly takes to man-eating.’

  ‘Get a mite jumpy,’ Scobie admitted. ‘Where’s Tex Rudbeck?’

  ‘Down to the saloon. You can leave your pack in the shack there. I’ll help you unhitch the horses, but you handle them mean hound dogs without me.’

  Working quickly, the two men unhitched and tended to the horses, leading all three to stalls within the building. During the journey Pauline had made up feeds for the dogs and .all Scobie needed to do was collect the bowls. Luckily the barn’s owner did not wonder at how Scobie managed to make up the feeds while also driving the wagon.

  With the dogs fed and all but Strike housed in the shack, Scobie returned to the wagon.

  ‘I’ll bring some food and coffee back for you,’ he said. ‘Stay put and keep inside no matter what happens.’

  ‘Vixen’ll look after me,’ smiled the girl. ‘And I’ll catch up on some of the sleep I missed last night.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Scobie answered with a grin. ‘You do just that.’ Leaving the girl safely hidden inside the Rocker ambulance, Scobie made his way towards the saloon. As usual Strike walked at the hound dog man’s side, for Scobie knew he could rely on the Rottweiler to behave. On reaching the saloon, he stopped outside and looked over the batwing doors before entering. Much the usual kind of crowd greeted his eyes; townsmen, cowhands from the area, a couple of men who might be drummers; but nobody bearing the mark of the hired killer. Before the bar, tall, whang-leather tough, Marshall Tex Rudbeck stood among a bunch of his cronies and indulged in one of his favorite pastimes.

  ‘And this’s the truth, boys,’ declared the marshal so solemnly that everybody who knew him waited expectantly. ‘I had me this dog back home to Texas. Smartest critter I ever had. I tell you, if I took out a shotgun, that dog’d scare up quail like he was some fancy Eastern setting-hound. Happen I took out my old carbine, he’d go find me a nice, fat young whitetail deer. Should I tote along my Sharps, he’d hunt buffalo and nothing else. When I strapped on my gunbelt and gathered a posse, that old dog’s follow a man’s tracks like he was a bloodhound. He got that smart he started taking airs and I fixed to stop him.’

  ‘How’d you do it, Tex?’ asked Reese, always a member of the marshal’s party whether invited or not.

  ‘Left all the guns in the house and took out my fishing pole.’

  ‘What happened, Tex?’ asked the bartender.

  ‘Dog-my-cats if that old dog didn’t start digging up worms for bait.’

  A yell of laughter rose from the small group, then they saw Scobie coming in through the doors.

  ‘Hey, Scobie,’ called Reiger, the storekeeper. ‘Did you ever have a dog that smart.’

  ‘Can’t rightly say I did,’ Scobie answered. ‘Had one as stubborn as Tex’s critter was smart though.’

  ‘How was that?’ Reese inquired.

  ‘I’ve never seen a dog like him,’ Scobie told the men soberly. ‘That dog just wouldn’t hunt a little cougar. Fact being, he would only hunt one when he found it bigger than the last he chased.’

  ‘What happened to him, Scobie?’ asked the bartender, knowing his place in the affair was to feed the punch-lines to whoever told the story.

  ‘I took him with me when I went after a cougar on that English duke’s ranch up the Little Powder. The duke’s done some hunting and got him a whole slew of fancy trophies around the house. Well, sir, on the floor of his living room, he’s got the hide of a real, genuine African lion. It spreads near on across the room. That old hound comes up and looks it over for a spell. I could see him getting more dejected all the time and he looked kinda low as he walks out of the room. I’ve never seen him since.’

  ‘Why not?’ Reese wanted to know.

  ‘Like I told you, that hound always wanted to hunt a bigger cougar than his last,’ Scobie answered, poker-faced. ‘So I reckon he’s off looking for one that’s bigger’n than lion skin.’ Again the men laughed and Scobie joined them at the bar, Strike lying at his feet and watching the surrounding men with alert eyes.

  ‘You fixing to hunt down that grizzly, Scobie?’ asked Reese.

  ‘That’s what I come for,’ Scobie answered. ‘What happened, Tex?’

  ‘The bear come down from the high country and killed a cow. Old Wilkie found the carcass and come in for help. Only afore he could get it, Copson, you mind him—?’

  ‘The butcher?’

  ‘That’s him. He took after the bear with Reese’s red-bone and his Vic dog.’

  ‘Saw that dog a few times,’ Scobie drawled. ‘One of them English Pit Bull Terrier. Copson wanted me to match Strike there again’ it in a fight.’

  ‘That’d’ve been worth seeing,’ put in Reese, loyal to the memory of his departed acquaintance but also wishing to
ingratiate himself with the hound dog man.

  ‘Would it?’ growled Scobie. ‘I’ve only seen one pit dog fight, don’t reckon much on it as a sport. Know some fellers who do a lot of it though, and one thing they always told me was that a man who knows sic ‘em about fighting dogs won’t match them as much as a pound different in weight.’

  They didn’t come any gamer than old Vic,’ objected Reese. ‘Why I bet he went straight in at that bear—’

  ‘And died afore he readied it,’ interrupted Scobie. ‘Which same, Strike here’s run down between ten and fifteen grizzlies and he’s still alive.’

  There was a telegraph message came in for you this afternoon, Scobie,’ the marshal put in before any other discussion could develop. Taking a buff-colored sheet of paper from his pocket, he offered it to the hound dog man, ‘Paxton at the depot figured you’d come to see me first off.’

  Taking the paper, Scobie opened and read it. Before he could make any comments on the contents, he saw the Wells Fargo depot agent enter the saloon. Crossing to where Scobie stood, the agent held out an identical sheet of paper.

  ‘This just come in, Scobie, and I reckon Tex might as well keep it for you. You’re getting mighty popular.’

  ‘I always knowed I would,’ Scobie replied and read the second message. ‘Feller up Easter Corner way got chased by a grizzly this morning. Could be the same one as killed Copson. I’d best go over and look around. Say, Abe, can I leave my Vixen bitch with you? She just whelped and I don’t want her disturbing.’

  ‘Feel free, as long as I get to buy a pup from you,’ Reiger replied.

  ‘You can take second pick,’ promised Scobie. ‘I want to keep a dog and bitch pup and you can take what you want from the rest.’

  ‘Fetch her round when you feel like it,’ Reiger offered. Thanks,’ Scobie said. ‘I’ll grab a meal now and then catch some sleep. I want to start for Easter Corner at dawn.’

  On reaching the wagon, Scobie climbed in, lowered the covering at the front and lit the lamp. Pauline stirred on the bed, looking up and reaching for the carbine, Then she relaxed and smiled up at Scobie.