The First Day of Eternity, page 14
Cody looked frantically around him, trying to spot a better location to fire from. But unfortunately, there was no spot as good as the one he was already in. He evaluated his choices. He had a clear shot at one of the three men’s boots, a couple of shots at a hand or elbow, if the target reached for a canteen. He even had a chance at a head shot if one of them raised his head up high enough to see over the edge of the bank. Unfortunately, all three had the good sense to dig out a trench to lay their rifles in, so they wouldn’t have to raise their heads above the edge. Maybe, he thought, when Morgan and Holt get to that open meadow, he could throw enough lead in that hole to distract Kincaid and his two men. Nothing to do but wait.
“Emmett,” Slick began to moan pitifully. “Emmett, I’m hurt bad. I think I’m dyin’.”
“Just hold still,” Emmett called out. He was not willing to risk leaving the cover of their dirt fortress. He was pretty sure that Slick was done for, anyway, so why bother? “You’ll be all right if you just lay quiet.”
That settled the dying man again, but this time for only a few minutes before his painful voice came again. “Leo,” Slick pleaded this time. “I’m so thirsty. Give me some water, Leo. Please, Leo.”
“He’s dyin’,” Emmett said. “Put him outta his misery, Leo.”
Leo cocked his .44 and raised up to receive a shot in the side of his head. Bo and Emmett threw desperate shots in the direction the kill shot had come with enough rapidity to pin Cody down until they both scrambled out of the hole and ran down the bank where their horses were tied. Cody considered a chase but decided the mission was accomplished with the routing of Emmett Kincaid and his one surviving man. It was time for him to go, as well. Morgan and Holt were getting closer to the creek now. And with the stray bullets flying around from the Triple-H brigade, it might not be a safe area to be in. He didn’t care to end this battle as the only casualty shot by the Triple-H. There was one thing he thought he should do before leaving, however. So he scrambled down the slope to the creek bank, drew his six-gun, and ended Slick Wilson’s misery. Then he started back along the ridge at a trot to the thicket where he had left Storm. He climbed on his back and started out following the same trail Emmett and Bo had fled on. It had turned out to be a pretty good morning. The most important part being the survival of both his brothers. And without some revision of brother Morgan’s plan, that outcome had been far from a certainty. The return of the Double-K’s cattle to their home range was accomplished, as Morgan had vowed, and the land Kincaid had invaded had been reclaimed. It would all be satisfactory if the Kincaids had been taught a lasting lesson. However, since there were two Kincaids left standing, Cody figured it was just a matter of time before another assault upon the Triple-H’s land or cattle. It would be necessary to keep an eye on their activities. But for now, he was hungry and he needed sleep, so he cut back toward the west and his camp in the mountains.
* * *
“What in the hell happened here?” Morgan wondered aloud as he and Holt looked at the hole that had been dug out of the bank of the creek to serve as Emmett Kincaid’s fort. There was a body lying on the ground outside the hole, and another body lying partway out of the hole. “I recognize that one,” Morgan said, pointing to Slick Wilson’s body. “He’s the one who shot at me when I told them we were gonna move the cattle. Who shot him, anyway?”
“Nobody’s claimin’ it,” Holt said. “Musta been a stray shot from somewhere.”
“It would have been a helluva shot from that distance if it was one of us,” Morgan said, “’cause at that point I was quite a ways out in front of you men.”
“Hey, Boss,” Shorty Blake called out from down near a patch of berry bushes. “There’s another dead one down here, but he looks like he’s been dead for a while.”
Morgan looked at Holt and shook his head. “There’s a lot of this killin’ that doesn’t make sense, especially this,” he said and pointed to the bodies of Slick and Leo. “And not one of our men claims he knows for sure he hit anybody. We know for sure that Kincaid was in this hole, but him and another man took off before anybody fired the first shot from this damn fort they dug in the bank.”
Holt shrugged and they stared at each other for a long moment. “Cody.” They both uttered at the same time.
“Nah,” Holt said immediately after. “He took off, headed west.”
“It sure looks like there had to be somebody else raising all that hell on this creek while we were wanderin’ around in that herd of cows,” Morgan said.
“Maybe it was the Indian,” Holt said and grinned.
“Maybe so,” Morgan replied. “Let’s move those cows a little farther down this valley, so they’ll really feel at home. Then let’s get the hell outta here.”
* * *
“I thought you knew what you were doin’,” Ralph Kincaid yelled at Emmett. “How the hell can you come runnin’ back here with your tail between your legs and expect me to believe that bunch of cowboys and sodbusters ran you off? Emmett, you lost three good men. What about those cows we drove up there? What happened to them? You didn’t stick around to see. We’re probably gonna have to steal ’em back now.”
Emmett sat there and let him rave until he got it out of his system. And when he finally paused to catch a breath, he said, “Are you through pitchin’ your little fit now? Because we need to talk some sense about what happened on that creek this mornin’ while you was settin’ at the kitchen table havin’ your coffee.” He let that barb sting for a moment before continuing. “While that little ragtag bunch of cowhands were still tryin’ to get our cows to move, they already had snipers set up on both sides of that place we fixed up to fight ’em from. In the first place, I left Leon there to keep an eye on things, and we found him dead when we got there this mornin’.” He went on to relate the deaths of Slick and Leo, and his and Bo’s narrow escape. “We had no choice,” he concluded, “they had gotten men in positions all around us. And I hate it if it spoiled your mornin’, but me and Bo were damn lucky to make it outta there alive.”
“All right,” Ralph said, “you’re right, you made your point, I weren’t there. It’s just hard for me to imagine that crew workin’ for Triple-H gittin’ up enough salt to come after our cattle.” Arguments like this between the two brothers were not uncommon, since it was Emmett’s role to lead their men in the actual work that had to be done. Ralph’s part, on the other hand, was in the planning of the job, especially after they decided to go into the cattle business. It was not always this way, for in their early years they made a living from stagecoach and train robberies to bank holdups. They shared the work and the danger until a shotgun blast at close range tore part of Ralph’s right shoulder and most of the muscles of his right arm apart. Emmett beat the stagecoach guard to death with the barrel of his rifle. After a long battle to save the arm and a longer period of recovery, Ralph was left with a withered right arm, useless for most purposes.
“That’s the mistake I made,” Emmett said. “I didn’t think they had enough salt to come back at us, either. They had to have come back there and killed Leon right after we left yesterday, else they couldn’ta got their men in positions on both sides of our camp.”
“I know Hunter told you that Injun was gone, but I can’t help thinkin’ that mighta been something the Injun coulda done,” Ralph said.
“I gave that a thought, myself,” Emmett said. “Because that bunch with Morgan Hunter was still ridin’ around on the backside of that herd, tryin’ to get ’em started toward us. Oh, they was doin’ some shootin’ in our direction, and Hunter rode up close enough to tell us they had come to move the cattle. But they weren’t close enough to do anything. That’s when Slick stood up and took a shot at him. Hunter was too far away, so Slick missed him. And right then, somebody shot Slick from the side, and at close range. That’s when we dived in that hole for cover. A little while later, when Slick started moanin’, Leo stuck his head up and somebody shot him from the other side. Hunter’s crew wasn’t nowhere near us when that happened.” He paused then and waited for Ralph’s reaction.
Ralph didn’t respond at once as if reluctant to say it. “It sounds like it coulda been the work of that damn Injun. Reckon Hunter was lyin’ about him being gone?”
“If he really ain’t workin’ for the Triple-H, then what’s he comin’ after our men for?” Emmett forced a laugh. “Hell, I ain’t shot an Injun since we was workin’ Oklahoma Territory.”
Sadie Springer walked into the study. “You gonna eat with us?”
“It is about that time, ain’t it?” Emmett replied. “Yeah, I’ll eat with you, if you’ve fixed enough. If you ain’t, I can go eat with the men. Tater usually cooks plenty.”
“I cooked plenty,” Sadie said. “It’ll be ready in about five minutes.” She did an about-face and left the room.
“After I get somethin’ to eat, I’ll take some of the boys and ride back up to the boundary creek and see where our cattle are,” Emmett said. “Whaddaya think we oughta do now? Drive ’em back up on their range again, or leave ’em be for a while?”
“I ain’t sure what’s best right now after what happened this mornin’,” Ralph answered. “I’d like to find out for sure if we’re in a war with Triple-H or in a war with that Injun. If he don’t work for Triple-H, then what is his war with us about?”
“That fifty-dollar price we put on his head didn’t help a helluva lot, did it?” Emmett cracked. “And we lost another man in the process. Maybe we oughta back off the Triple-H a little while and go huntin’ for that damn Injun, but nobody by hisself. Everybody take a partner, and when you find that sneakin’ Injun, you both get a fifty-dollar bonus.”
“That sounds like a good idea to me,” Ralph said. “Let’s talk to the men after we eat.”
“Ya comin’?” Sadie yelled from the kitchen at that moment.
Ralph looked at his brother and grunted. “Hard to resist when a woman sweet-talks you like that, ain’t it?”
“It is a little better than when she yells Sooowheee pigs!” Emmett remarked.
CHAPTER 13
Cody returned to the camp he had made before. It was high up a mountain by a stream that gushed through a split in the rocky face of a cliff before winding its way down to the river below. He had not quite reached the small clearing that held his camp when he heard the greeting from his packhorse. Storm returned it and they found the sorrel horse, his front legs hobbled, coming to meet them. It was a relief to Cody to see the packhorse, for he was a problem on occasions like today. He knew he was going to have to move often and fast when he left to go to the boundary creek the night before. He expected to hide Storm when he made his way on foot to move to closer lookout spots. Having his packhorse along would have been far too much trouble to deal with. Knowing he would be gone for a long time, however, he could not leave the sorrel tied to a tree with no way to escape should a bear or a mountain lion approach. He couldn’t leave the horse free to gallop because it would wander away from his camp, or worse, follow him. So he chose to hobble the horse. He could move if he had to, but he would not be inclined to wander far. He needed his packhorse and that was why he was relieved to see him safe and sound and happy that a bear or mountain lion had not found him hobbled. There was nothing he could think of to protect the horse in that event. It would take too much time to teach the horse to use a gun.
As a precaution, he scouted around the little clearing to see if there was any sign that his camp had been visited—by man or animal. This he did in spite of the fact that none of his cooking utensils or supplies had been disturbed. He unsaddled Storm then and gathered some wood for a fire. Before long he had his coffeepot working up some coffee to go with his jerky and hardtack. That was enough to take the edge off his hunger, so he could go to sleep. Maybe he would hunt for some small game with his bow for supper. Even though it was in the middle of the afternoon, the cloak of tree branches covering his camp gave him a sense of darkness. So he fell asleep immediately and slept for what he estimated to be about two hours. When he woke, he walked over to a fallen tree where he could see the sky through the hole left in the branches and saw that the sun was still high in the sky. Good, he thought, because he wanted to see the aftermath of the morning’s activities.
When he rode out again, he decided to first find out what happened to the cattle that Morgan drove off Triple-H range. That question was answered for him when he came upon the herd of cows quite some distance down the Double-K range. He was glad to see that Morgan hadn’t stopped at the boundary creek. There were no Double-K hands watching the cows, so he decided to cut back toward the river and return to the spot where he had watched their headquarters before. Keeping a sharp eye out to avoid any Double-K riders, he rode to the same spot on the river, about one hundred and twenty-five yards from the ranch house. Like the last time he watched from here, there seemed to be no frantic activity taking place. If they were planning a counterattack, there was no sign of it. He remained there for quite some time, until suppertime, he realized, and still there was no sign anybody was planning to go anywhere. He decided that nothing was going to happen for the rest of this day, evidently, so he might as well retreat to his camp again. He felt the need to find something more substantial to eat than what he had for his dinner. Maybe I’ll scare up a rabbit or a squirrel, he thought, as he turned Storm’s head away from the river. “I’ll be back to keep an eye on you boys tomorrow,” he said in parting. It would have been of profound interest to him if he had known that he was the subject of a special meeting at the Double-K shortly after he rode away.
* * *
Ralph and Emmett called the men together in the bunkhouse after supper to let them know what their thinking was after the ill-fated encounter at the boundary creek. “Sounds to me like you mighta took them cowboys a little too lightly, Boss,” Earl Mathers, one of the older hands, said. He and another of the older men in the gang, Smoke Davis, had commented that Emmett would have been wise to take a few more of the men to meet the Triple-H cowhands.
“I know,” Emmett replied, “it mighta looked that way. But we had enough with the four of us to handle the Triple-H crew. What we didn’t know was that Injun that was supposed to be long gone was still here. He’s the one that cost us the men we lost. So the reason for this meetin’ is to let you know it’s time to send that Injun to the ‘Happy Huntin’ Grounds’ for sure this time. Ralph and I will still pay fifty dollars for his scalp, but we want you to partner up, so there are two of you to watch each other’s back. If you nail the Injun, you and your partner both get fifty dollars. Don’t matter who pulls the trigger.”
“I ain’t sure I know what you’re tellin’ us to do,” Ben Clark interrupted. “When we go out in the mornin’, are we gonna go tend the cows like we do every day? Or are we just gonna ride the outer limits of our range on the lookout for that Injun, and never mind the lost strays and the calves?”
“No,” Emmett was quick to reply. “What we’re sayin, Ben, is that if you see fresh hoofprints from a horse, where there ain’t supposed to be any, that’s what you and your partner take care of first. We want you to keep your mind on what you’re doin’ out there. Anything don’t look right, find out what don’t make it look right. We’ve got us a weasel slippin’ around our henhouse, and we’re gonna have to catch him before we can get back to the job of takin’ over the cattle business in the Bitterroot Valley.” He let that sink in for a few moments before he continued. “Now, is there anybody who don’t feel right about knockin’ a stranger outta the saddle, just because he’s wearin’ buckskins? Then I’ll tell you to think about Reese and Blackie, and Slick and Leon, and Albert and Leo. What I’m tellin’ you is that was all the dirty work of one damn sneakin’ Injun. After we nail this Injun, then we’re gonna go to war on the outfit that’ll hire somebody like that. So pick a partner you wanna hunt with and good huntin’!”
There was no cheering or clapping of hands after his inspirational message, but both Kincaid brothers were satisfied to see the serious expressions on the simple faces and the nodding to acknowledge important points in Emmett’s talk. Afterward, when they returned to the ranch house and a cup of decent coffee from Sadie’s coffeepot, they discussed it. “I swear, Emmett, I think you made a helluva speech down there,” Ralph declared. “Bo Dawson looked like we was gittin’ ready to go fight the Holy Wars. And they almost looked shocked when you said that stuff about not feelin’ bad for shootin’ a man just because he’s wearin’ buckskins.” He paused to chuckle. “Especially since every man we hired is ridin’ with us because he’d put a bullet in the back of the preacher’s head for a price.”
Listening to their assessment of the motivational talk Emmett gave the men, Sadie commented as was her habit. “That sorry bunch of loafers is liable to forget what you was talking about by the time they wake up in the mornin’. Whaddaya gonna do if don’t none of ’em ever find that Injun?”
“I don’t know, Sadie,” Ralph answered her. “Reckon we’ll just have to send you out there to find him. But I’ll swear, that don’t hardly seem fair to the Injun, does it, Emmett?”
* * *
Unaware that he was now the focus of all the men who rode for the Double-K, the “Injun” returned to his camp high up on the mountain. He had no notion regarding when or what Emmett Kincaid’s next move would be. He planned to keep on the lookout for any apparent aggressive moves on the part of the Double-K. But that would be tomorrow. For tonight, he felt a need for some fresh meat. For the purpose, he took his bow and several small game arrows and went for a walk along the stream. He didn’t really care what kind of critter he killed, rabbit, muskrat, raccoon. He wasn’t looking for a deer because he did not want to skin it, butcher it, and smoke most of it tonight. He just wanted a meal. It turned out to be raccoon. He used up most of his flour to form cakes to fry in the grease from the raccoon and washed it all down with coffee. It satisfied him. He looked around him and decided he had picked a good camp. Anyone stumbling on this camp will probably be looking for me, he thought, because it wasn’t on a trail going east to west, or north to south. He decided he would scout some of the Double-K range in the morning just to make sure they weren’t mounting up another foray into Triple-H territory. Then he would ride along the fringes of Triple-H, just to see if everything looked peaceful there. That settled, he decided it had been a full day; he crawled into his blanket and went to sleep.
