“It seems to me Ralston still has secrets. Whoever that woman is, I’ve never seen her. She has to be living somewhere around here. If they’re making their way to a hideout, I’d like to see it. Ralston has had time to steal a powerful lot of stuff in the years since he showed up in Wyoming. Maybe there’s more, maybe we can get some of it back.”
“The trail they’re taking don’t seem like how they’d leave the country, head for California or Oregon.”
Nodding, Cheyenne said, “Instead, they covered their tracks, and now they’re trekking down this meandering trail. Seems to me they plan to get to their hideout, or wherever they’re going, and stay around. Maybe Ralston has other crimes he’s busy committing, and he thinks he can set up in his own hideout and still carry out at least some of his plans. I don’t know what’s going on, but I want to hang back and see if we learn anything.”
“Let’s see around the trail’s next curve, then come back for the horses.”
They followed along at a good distance, careful every time there was a curve in the trail. Falcon settled in, figuring they might be following this pair for days.
During their same careful checking of what lay ahead of another twist in the trail, Cheyenne grabbed the front of Falcon’s shirt, dragging him low, hissing like a rattler.
Four men all on horseback. The woman was also mounted, but she was a few steps back from Ralston, as if she wasn’t in this circle of four, at least not as an equal.
One man Falcon recognized, a tall, skinny, stoop-shouldered RHR hand with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth.
The RHR hand wasn’t the foreman, not in charge at all that Falcon knew. If this group was connected to the men who’d attacked Win and Kevin, then the band had included Ross, the RHR ramrod. This man might’ve just gotten promoted in the gang.
Next to the RHR cowpoke was an older man, a bit of white in his overlong hair dangling beneath a tattered gray Stetson. The oldster had a scowl on his face that showed a missing tooth right up front.
Ralston sat straight across from the RHR hand with the woman near his horse’s flank.
Next was a man wearing a bright red bandanna. He had a long beard. He had his broad-brimmed hat in his hands, and his head was so bald it shone in the sunlight. None of ’em was a youngster, just as Tuttle and Ross had been older. And Falcon remembered the talk he’d heard in town about those two grousing about getting older and being tired of working for someone else.
“We heard at the North Bend Ranch that Wyatt Hunt is dying.” The bald man’s voice echoed with satisfaction in a way that made Falcon want to stand right up and start unloading his pistol. He kept quiet, instead, and seethed.
“Not what they’re saying in the house,” the RHR hand said. “Pulled the bullet out, sewed him up, laid up some but not even a fever. Be back at work in a couple’a days.”
“Did one of you get him?” Ralston asked.
That gave Falcon pause. If the woman had shot Wyatt, wouldn’t Ralston know?
To a man they all shook their heads or said no. Even the woman shook her head, though no one paid her any mind.
Cheyenne’s hand tightened on Falcon’s shirtfront until he started to worry about being strangled.
“Why are we meeting clear and away out here?” Missing Tooth sounded grumpy in a way that made Falcon think he always sounded that way. A complainer, and the others so used to it they paid it little mind. But the cold glint in the man’s eyes told Falcon when there was shooting trouble, this man would be one to watch.
“It’s far out for you, Norm,” Ralston said. “But I had to put space between me and the RHR and the Hawkins place. When the sheriff came to tell Hawkins about Tuttle, I knew I had to run, so I sent riders to you all with the message to meet here at the base of the hoot owl trail.”
Cheyenne’s hand clutched again, just when Falcon was breathing well again. Hoot owl trail must mean something to her.
“I know they’ll notice you’re gone from the HC, Norm, but we have to clear out the rest of the cattle, get ’em sold fast, and quit the country.”
Cheyenne leaned to Falcon’s ear. “Rest of the cattle?”
Their eyes met. They’d removed all the cattle from the valley they’d found. So what other cattle were there?
“We’ve tried to thin the herd at the Hunt place and missed every time. It’s time to take our money and leave,” Ralston insisted.
“Roger Hanson’s an old curly wolf from the high-up hills,” Norm snarled. “I haven’t had a clear chance at him, but if you gave me more time—”
“Nope, for me at the Hawkins place, the time’s up. It wasn’t a bad plan. These four ranches looked to be easy pickin’. No crowd of family to fight for the land. Hanson, a tough man but alone in the world. Hawkins, his daughter don’t care if he lives or dies and doesn’t seem interested in the ranch. Judd’s a mighty dangerous man. Always figured we couldn’t take the North Bend, but we got some cattle. And the Hunts, just the sister and brother, but otherwise no one until that fool Clovis turns up more sons. I thought we could come away with a lot of cattle and maybe two of the ranches. Now we’re done as far as the land grab, and half our cows are gone.”
Falcon saw the woman looking confused and distressed, but she didn’t speak up. Whoever she was to Ralston, she seemed to be no kind of partner in whatever was going on.
“We either need to make a break for it now or get back,” Baldy said. “We’ll be missed.”
“I can’t go back,” the RHR hand said. “Walsh, the foreman, is too sharp-eyed, especially with the boss being shot. When I slipped away today, it was for good.”
Ralston nodded. “Hope your bosses figure you for hittin’ the trail, and that’s that. We’ll get the cattle down the road to Laramie and be there before sunup. We’ll have them sold, divide the money, and hit the trail by first light.”
“This wasn’t the plan.” Norm slapped his hat on his leg hard enough to make his horse dance sideways. “We were supposed to come out of this owning a ranch apiece.”
The woman’s eyes had turned bleak, but she sat silently, lowering her head as if to cover her expression.
Falcon felt Cheyenne’s fingers digging into his wrist until his hand was strangled.
She dragged Falcon back slowly. One look in her eyes told Falcon she knew something and needed to tell him.
And they had a bigger job ahead of them than rounding up Percy Ralston.
THIRTY-ONE
Those men are from the four biggest ranches in the area.” Cheyenne could barely keep from jumping out of cover and telling them all to throw down their guns or draw.
If she’d had Wyatt at her side maybe. And she didn’t doubt Falcon was a tough man, but he didn’t know what she was so foam-at-the-mouth mad about. He’d fight at her side, she had no doubt, but he might hesitate to just open fire. Because she knew a furious Falcon Hunt was a sight to freeze a man in his tracks, she needed him to know what she was asking him to fight for.
“Ralston is from the Hawkins place. Wells, that no-account coyote, is one of ours.”
“I recognize him from the bunkhouse.”
Nodding, Cheyenne said, “I’m sure he was in cahoots with Ross. The white-haired man with the missing tooth is Norm Mathers, he’s a hard man. He works for Roger Hanson, a tough man but getting older with no sons to look out for him. He hired Mathers to enforce his orders.”
“Looks like Mathers has plans to start givin’ his own orders.” Falcon’s eyes were sharp and cold.
“The bald man I don’t know, but Ralston mentioned the North Bend Ranch. It’s along a bend in the North Platte that’s south of Casper. I don’t know the ranch well, but I know the man who owned it died a while back. He does have a son, Judd Black Wolf. He’s a Cheyenne, not full blooded, but he’s got plenty of it in him, like me. I met the old man years back, and remember his son. We were both youngsters. Judd was fierce even as a boy. And I know his reputation now. I’ll promise you they’ll have to kill
him to steal his land. Married with a family, too. If they planned to come out of this with a ranch apiece, they’ve been plotting to kill each and every one of the owners. Oliver wouldn’t be a hard man to get rid of. Hanson, if Norm Mathers turned on him, he’d be gone.”
“It doesn’t sound like Hanson was making it easy.”
Cheyenne smiled to think of that tough old man. “I’d like to hear if any attempts have been made on any of them.”
“Seems to me all these fools are nothing but big-talking failures. They tried to get rid of Kevin and me before we got here. Then they went after Wyatt with notions, according to Ross and Tuttle, of marrying you and Win.”
Cheyenne snorted at the thought. “And all any of them have managed to do is rustle cattle. They must have more cows somewhere. If we follow them, maybe we can get this second herd back, too, and arrest every one of these men.
“I think Ralston’s been at the rustling alone for a while,” she continued. “I know Mathers hasn’t been here all that long. I’ll bet Ralston’s been cheating Hawkins for years, pretending he’s had a badly broken leg that never healed. He met some complainers in the saloon in Bear Claw Pass. They realized they came from all the big ranches in the area. Ralston knows most ranchers are on their own. The sheriff doesn’t come out in the country much, unless someone can show him a crime and point a finger at who committed it. They cooked up this plot. If they’d been at it, all four, very long, they’d’ve done some killing by now.”
“What are we going to do?”
Cheyenne smiled. She saw Falcon’s eyes narrow.
She knew she had a mean smile, but it didn’t seem to scare him none.
“I’ve got a plan.”
“You’re lettin’ them do all the work?” Falcon hadn’t known he admired a woman with a twisted way of thinking, but he was finding he did.
They settled in along a trail the others followed into a canyon on another high mountainside. She and Falcon had scouted a bit, and it appeared to be a box canyon. No other way out showed itself, and Falcon could see the whole of it well enough. Not many trees and the edges of the canyon were plain to see.
Another herd of cattle and a tidy little cabin sat in this valley. From the curtains on the window and the flowers planted in the front, Falcon had a feeling they’d found where the woman lived.
The men battled to get the cattle to go where they wanted ’em to go. It was hard to watch, and Falcon was no hand at driving the critters.
He had to admit Cheyenne’s plan was better than anything he could think up.
“I am letting them do the work, even though watching them be such bunglers is painful. None of them are very likely hands. I knew Wells wasn’t all that good, but I took him for a raw cowhand, or not a cowhand at all, just a man down on his luck huntin’ work. I decided he could have his chance, figured we’d teach him. He was too old to be working cattle, but he was hungry and willing. Now I know he was also a traitor.”
Falcon smiled at her, wishing she’d give him that mean smile again. This time he’d taste it. They had nothing much to do while those fools tried to gather the cattle. They didn’t even have to be overly quiet, as the men had gone down a long, narrow-necked passage to fetch the cattle.
“Do you know how to skin a possum?” he asked.
Her brow wrinkled as she gave him a confused frown. “No. Can’t recall ever having cause to do such. Are you fond of eating possum, or does it have a nice pelt?”
“Good eatin’ on one, but mostly they were just plentiful where I lived back east.”
“I can bring down an elk, butcher it, and haul it home to feed the whole ranch for a week. Then I can skin and tan its hide, and make a coat or a pair of chaps out of it. Is that as good as possum skinning?”
“That’s good.” He patted her hand. “Mighty good.”
Falcon gave Cheyenne plenty of time to study the setup and satisfy herself there wasn’t a trail out of the back of the canyon, then they retreated.
And he liked her plan.
Divide and conquer.
The cattle had to string out along the narrow trail to exit the canyon, and the men would come through one at a time. A good chance they’d be spread out far enough on the winding trail that they wouldn’t be able to see each other.
That’s when they’d get them.
It was a long wait, and the day was fading. If they hadn’t seen the men doing such poor work, Falcon might’ve thought they left the driving until dusk by choice.
Finally, the steady thud of approaching hooves sounded beyond the canyon opening. There were a couple of hundred head in this holding. Mainly longhorns crossed with Angus in Cheyenne’s judgment. Falcon tried to remember all the names Cheyenne mentioned. The HC had Angus, she’d said. And the North Bend Ranch ran longhorns. This canyon had been a gather of rustled cattle held from the two ranches just like the valley on Mount Gilbert had been for cattle from the Hawkins Ranch and the RHR.
A patter of horse hooves sounded as they picked up speed.
“Pay close attention, Falcon. No reason for a horse leading cattle to be galloping. Whoever it is should be plodding along, to keep the cattle on his tail. We need to take this one quietly, but something strange might be going on.”
Falcon shifted as close to the trail as he could get and still stay hidden, as did Cheyenne.
Out front, before any cattle came into sight, the woman galloped, bent low over her horse. She came alongside, and Falcon launched himself out, grabbed her, and yanked her to the ground. The horse rushed on, faster now, startled by the sudden attack.
Struggling, she cried out. It was instantly cut off when Falcon clamped a hand over the woman’s mouth. She looked wide-eyed at him, then turned her eyes to Cheyenne, who grabbed her kicking legs.
The fight went out of the woman, and she let them carry her into the woods without anything close to a protest.
They laid her on the ground, and Falcon, judging her calm look, cautiously eased off holding her mouth shut.
“Thank God someone’s come. Thank the good Lord God in heaven.” Her voice broke as Falcon let her go. Cheyenne released her legs. They both stayed close in case it was the trickery of a fast-thinking prisoner.
She grabbed Cheyenne’s arm. “Hide me. You’ve got to help me get away from them!” The woman threw her arms around Cheyenne’s neck. “You’re Cheyenne from the RHR, right?”
“Yes, and you are—” Cheyenne’s eyes narrowed as she looked up at Falcon. Then she took the woman by the shoulders and held her away. “I know who you are. You’re the housekeeper from the Hawkins Ranch.”
“Yes, I’m Amelia Bishop.”
Falcon was inhaling when she said it, and he almost choked.
The woman buried her face in her hands and broke into noisy sobs.
Falcon looked up the trail. Still no one comin’. They had to quiet this woman down right quick.
“I have been looking for a chance to escape from him since we’ve been on the run.”
Falcon’s mind was tipped near upside down, and looking at Cheyenne, he thought he had a partner in his confusion.
“Amelia Bishop?” Falcon wasn’t apt to trust this woman, but Cheyenne said she’d seen her before.
Was she tellin’ the truth, or had the outlaws spotted Falcon and Cheyenne watching them and sent Amelia to distract them?
Falcon again looked up the trail, but it remained empty.
“What are you doing with these men?” Cheyenne asked.
“I-I’m ashamed to admit I-I am m-married to Percy Ralston.”
Cheyenne’s eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped. “Married? When did that happen?”
“When I took off. We didn’t tell anyone. I came into this canyon to hide from Mr. Hawkins. He frightened me, and I was looking for a chance to get away from him. Percy was in the house with me and Mr. Hawkins, so we’d gotten to know each other. I finally confided my fears to Percy. He told me he’d built a cabin in a hidden canyon. He offered to take me t
here and protect me from Mr. Hawkins.
“I ran off with Percy, and he brought me to the cabin in there.” She pointed frantically up the trail. “I lived in it while Percy stayed to work. The first chance he got to be away a few days, we rode to Laramie and got married. He’d rescued me, and he was hiding me from Mr. Hawkins. Percy told me Mr. Hawkins was hunting far and wide. I didn’t dare go out of the canyon. I didn’t know Percy was an outlaw then.” The woman’s voice rose, and she started in crying again.
“Amelia, there’s a Pinkerton agent living in disguise at Oliver Hawkins’s ranch. A woman. She’s been there for months. And longer than that, she’s been searching for you, or, more honestly, searching for your body and proof that you were killed.”
“Pa.” The woman’s tears came faster. “I hoped he’d come, prayed that he’d somehow find me. But we went to gr-great lengths to hide. How could anyone find me?” Then her shoulders squared, and the fire of hope burned in her eyes. “But he’s been searching for me. Pa.” Then her voice broke, and she went back to crying.
Cheyenne looked across Amelia’s bowed head and met Falcon’s eyes. He shrugged. He had no idea how to handle a crying female outlaw. Cheyenne was welcome to try.
“We need to quiet her down,” he said.
Cheyenne nodded. “Yep, your pa, the state senator, has been looking for a long time. The Pinkerton followed your trail to Bear Claw Pass and to the Hawkins Ranch, but there was no evidence you were here and none that you’d gone farther. Your brother, the general, has been in on the search.”
Falcon narrowed his eyes. “Which side did your brother fight for?”
“He was a Union general.”
Falcon didn’t like it but decided not to cut up about it. “Let me round up your horse. We plan to take out your outlaw band as each man passes.”
The sound of the cattle plodding toward them grew closer.
Cheyenne tugged Amelia by the arm to crouch down while Falcon hid her horse with theirs.
When he got back and hunkered down beside Cheyenne, he looked across her to Amelia. “We’re planning to take these coyotes prisoner and haul them all back to the law. Maybe you can help us catch them.”
A Man with a Past Page 20