To Hell and Gone, page 15
“Back door?” Rafer responded. “What are you talking about?”
“We leave the horses right here,” Quincy explained. “We get any closer and the damn-fool horses will start talkin’ to his horses, anyway. We’ll leave ‘em here and cut right straight through them trees to the river on foot. Then, we walk up the river till we get to his horses, and we can crawl right up that bluff to his camp. And he’ll be dead before he knows he’s got company.”
“You sure that’ll work?”
“Sure, I’m sure,” Quincy said. “He ain’t worryin’ about nobody crawlin’ outta the river after him.”
They tied their horses by the road, took their rifles, and walked through the brush and trees until they reached the beginning of the low bluff. Instead of walking up onto the bluff, they walked along the edge of the water until they came to Cody’s two horses. They paused a few moments to give the horses some attention in an effort to keep them quiet.
After listening for sounds of snoring from the direction of the campfire, and hearing no sound at all, Quincy walked up to the lip of the bluff, which was about as high as his neck. Peering over the lip, he could just make out what appeared to be the sleeping figure. He had made his bed on the other side of the fire, close up under the big trees.
Quincy watched for several long moments. When there was still no motion from the sleeping figure, he was sure the man was fast asleep, then turned his head to smile at Rafer. As he had predicted, they had gotten into the camp undetected.
Though neither one voiced it, both were certain they could lead the two horses away without waking the sleeper, but . . . as they had decided beforehand, they wanted whatever the sleeper had on him and in his packs. Aside from that, they always held to the rule that a dead man wasn’t likely to give chase.
“It’s time to wake him up,” Quincy whispered.
After looking the situation over, he propped his rifle against the face of the bluff and drew his handgun, thinking the .45 would be less awkward to handle. Then he moved up onto the bluff and slowly crawled on his hands and knees toward the fire and the sleeper on the other side of it, keeping his .45 in hand, ready to fire. Rafer copied his every move and crawled up behind him, also on all fours.
Advancing as far as the edge of the faint firelight, Quincy stopped when he heard a thud behind him. Rafer grunted painfully.
“Quincy, I’m hit!” Rafer cried out.
Shocked by Rafer’s outcry, Quincy fired two shots into the roll of blankets on the other side of the fire, then turned to find out why Rafer had blurted out.
“What the—?” That was as far as he got before he felt a hard blow and looked down to see the arrow protruding from his chest. He screamed out in pain, looking around him frantically to see where it came from, only to be hit by a second arrow. He screamed out again, dropped the pistol from his hand, and grasped the arrow shaft in an attempt to pull it out. He cried out when his efforts brought only excruciating pain. Behind him, Rafer pushed himself up from his hands and knees to a position on his knees, trying to turn his head around to see the arrow in his back.
Too stunned to realize what was happening, he recoiled with nothing more than a grunt when a second arrow plunged into his stomach. He tried to back away when Cody suddenly dropped lightly to the ground from the large cottonwood above them and picked up the .45 Quincy had dropped. He cocked the pistol and put one shot in Quincy’s head. He cocked it again and put a shot in Rafer’s head as well, for he had no desire to extend their suffering.
He left the bodies where they lay, thinking he would take care of them in the morning when he could see what he was doing. He did go back to the road, however, to look for their horses. He found where they had left them tied to a tree, and led them back to his camp, leaving them with his two horses. Assuming the two would-be assassins had left their packhorses in a decent situation, he would go back for them in the morning, since it was over two miles back to their camp. What little bit of night was left, he would use to sleep.
* * *
Well past first light, Cody woke the next morning to the sounds of ducks on the river. His immediate thought was coffee before he sat up and saw the two bodies lying between the ashes of his campfire and the river bluff. He decided maybe the first thing he should do was saddle Storm and go get the packhorses from his visitors’ camp. He forgot about the coffee and rode back to the camp where he was happy to see the two horses had been hobbled close to the water, so they were all right. Quickly, he went through the packs, keeping everything he could use, and discarding the rest, then he led the horses back to his camp and left them with the other horses by the water.
Recovering his arrows, he found two of the four had to be broken to get the shafts out of the bodies, but he took the other two to the water’s edge and washed them with sand to remove all the blood. He then searched the bodies for anything of value, finding nothing other than their gun belts and weapons. The rifles would be of value as trade items, especially the Winchester 73 Quincy had carried. Finished with the bodies, he dragged them over to one side of the clearing, so the buzzards would have no trouble locating them.
Then he evaluated his horse stock. The packhorses looked to be average and about six or seven years old. Both of the deceased had been riding good horses with decent saddles. He guessed by the length of the stirrups that the heavy-set man with the full black beard rode the bay, and his slim partner rode the red roan. Cody hoped to sell both at a good price.
He was happy to find that both men had carried a coil of rope, just as he did. He would fare better on that particular road if he trailed the horses. It would be easier than trying to drive them as he had moved the horses after rescuing Amy Boyd.
Realizing he hadn’t thought about Amy Boyd in a while, he chuckled when he wondered who was going to give him a haircut next time. “I reckon I’ll have to cut my own,” he declared.
If he remembered correctly, and he usually did when it came to distances, Fort Ellis was a good day and a half’s ride. Since he was already late starting out for Bozeman, he figured he would wait until the horses needed rest before having that first cup of coffee and something to eat. That would then count as the half day’s ride. When everything was packed up, he took one last look at the two corpses that would have robbed and killed him, hoping there were not two more like them waiting ahead for him.
* * *
The trip to Bozeman was, happily, an uneventful one. He arrived before suppertime of the second day after the ambush at Big Timber Creek. As he’d passed Fort Ellis three miles east of the town, he’d decided to see if he could get rid of some of his string of horses and rode all the way through the thriving little town until coming upon a stable at the end of the main street. He pulled his string of horses up in front of the stable and stepped down from the saddle.
John Tyler, a lanky man with a bald head and a bushy mustache, walked out of the stable door. “Howdy, stranger. Whatcha got there?” he asked, looking at the string of horses, some wearing saddles, some carrying packs. “You lookin’ to board all them horses?”
“No,” Cody answered. “I’m lookin’ to sell all but two of ’em, and I figure you’re in the business of buyin’ and sellin’ horses. Is that a fact?”
Tyler went on the defensive right away. “Well, I do buy some horses from time to time, but I ain’t buyin’ any lately. Money’s kinda tight. Where’d you get them horses, anyway? Couple of ’em look like somebody just stepped down from the saddle to go squat behind a bush.”
“I didn’t steal ’em, if that’s what’s botherin’ you,” Cody said. “The last two fannies that sat in those saddles are feedin’ the buzzards back near Big Timber Creek. They visited my camp in the middle of the night with the intention of slittin’ my throat and stealin’ my two horses, that dun, and that gray.” He pointed his horses out. “Now, I aim to sell the horses they left for me, and I came to you first because I know that’s the business you’re in. You can look them over and you’ll see the two saddle horses are in good shape, and the two sorrels are in fair to good shape. The saddles go with ’em. All I’m askin’ is a fair price for both of us.” He waited while Tyler thought about what he’d said.
When he didn’t respond after a few seconds, Cody added, “If you ain’t interested in ’em, I’m goin’ to auction them off in the middle of the street. I have no use for this many horses.” When Tyler still remained silent, Cody said, “Well, thank you for your time,” and turned back toward his horse.
“Now, hold on a minute!” Tyler exclaimed. “I ain’t even had a chance to look ’em over that good. I ain’t used to dealin’ like this. You tellin’ me there ain’t no lawman, soldier, or private citizen who is gonna come here and say these horses belong to them?”
“If they do, I wouldn’t pay ’em no mind. They’ll most likely be ghosts,” Cody said.
Tyler sucked air in sharply through his teeth and shook his head. “I ain’t never done business this way before. Lemme look ’em over.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to let ’em visit your water trough. They just got done walkin’ about eighteen miles.”
“They don’t look none the wear for it,” Tyler commented. “Sure, let’s take ’em to water.”
“I expect they’ll appreciate it.” Cody felt he had exaggerated only a little. The horses had gotten water just the other side of Fort Ellis.
After Tyler looked them over thoroughly, he was ready to deal. “So that there ain’t no misunderstandin’, I’m gonna tell you how much I can pay for four horses. And that’s them four right there, the two saddles included. Right?”
“That’s right,” Cody said, “but it don’t include what’s in the packs. The packs ain’t for sale.”
“All right,” Tyler agreed. “Just give me a couple of minutes to work up my figures, and I’ll be right back.” He went inside to his secret place to see how much cash he had on hand and to do his figuring.
Cody waited outside the stable and after about twenty minutes, Tyler returned. He was holding a stack of paper money in his hand. “I figured it as close as I could ’cause I have to turn around and sell ’em to make a profit. The best I can do is give you one-hundred-and-fifty dollars for the four of ’em. That’s figurin’ twenty-five apiece for the two sorrels, which I figure ain’t really worth more than twenty. And I figure fifty apiece for the bay and the roan.”
“One-fifty, huh?” Cody responded. “That’s about the price for one good saddle horse like either one of those other two. That sounds like a good deal for you. All you have to do is sell one and you’ll have all your money back.”
Tyler was a little surprised to find that the buckskin-clad young man knew the price of a good horse. “Well, I know you’da liked to got more, but there ain’t a lot of folks come lookin’ to buy a good horse lately. I figured what I thought—”
“Don’t misunderstand,” Cody interrupted. “I’ll take your offer. I expected a little more than that, but not much more. I would not have had the horses to sell if I had not been attacked by the men who used to own them. We both got a good deal, but I have one counteroffer.”
“Oh? What’s that?” Tyler asked, concerned.
“One-hundred-fifty, plus my other two horses and myself sleep in your stable tonight at no charge. I will be leaving tomorrow.”
Tyler’s face relaxed to form a grin. “You gotta deal.” He counted out the money so Cody could see it was all there then extended his hand. “My name’s John Tyler. It’s a pleasure to do business with you.”
“Cody Hunter,” he said, shaking his hand. He put the money in the pocket sewn inside his buckskin shirt. “I’ll help you take care of your new horses.”
They took the horses inside and removed the saddles and the packs from all four packhorses, which amounted to a load that was easily what one horse could carry, especially a horse like Bloody Axe’s gray. Tyler showed him a stall for his horses and packs and Cody asked what time he closed the stable, so he could be sure he got back in time.
“Nothin’ to worry about,” Tyler said, “unless you’re plannin’ to spend that money in the saloon tonight. I don’t go home till seven o’clock.”
“No saloon,” Cody stated. “But since I can afford it now, I’ll go somewhere to get some supper. Can you recommend a place?”
“The Dinin’ Room,” Tyler said without hesitation.
When Cody reacted as if he’d been japed, Tyler laughed and explained. “That’s the name of the place, The Dinin’ Room. It’s the best food in town, if you want somethin’ that tastes like home cookin’.”
“That sounds like what I’m lookin’ for.” Cody thought he could have told Tyler home cooking to him was more like freshly killed game of some kind with pemmican or corn cakes.
Tyler told him where The Dining Room was and Cody said he would be back in plenty of time. He walked down the main street, which was still fairly busy, even at the supper hour. Reaching the first side street with The Wagon Wheel saloon on the corner, he turned and followed the street a short distance to The Dining Room.
CHAPTER 14
“Good evenin’, young feller,” Clem Hopkins greeted when Cody walked in the door. “This your first time at The Dinin’ Room?”
“Yes, sir. It is,” Cody replied.
“Thought it was. This is a family restaurant, and we like to ask our customers to leave their firearms at home when they eat here.”
“Oh.” Cody looked puzzled. He had left his Henry rifle in the stable with his saddle. “Oh, the six-gun. I forgot I was wearin’ it. I’m sorry.”
He must have seemed sincere, for when he started to leave, Clem said, “You don’t have to leave. If you’ll just let me take that pistol, I’ll stick it right here under this counter, and you can pick it up when you leave. All right?”
“Thank you, sir.” Cody drew the pistol from his holster and handed it to Clem, handle first. “The man at the stable, John Tyler, told me this was the place to eat. I’m glad I don’t have to go back and tell him you wouldn’t let me in.”
Clem laughed. “No, sir. We wouldn’t want that. You walk right in and pick out any table you like and one of the girls will take care of you.”
Cody walked into a large square room with one long table that seated about a dozen people. Only four people were seated and eating, and they weren’t sitting together. He decided on one of the small tables lined up against the walls. With no experience eating in nice restaurants, he preferred not to be in an obvious spot. It was but a few seconds before a young lady came to his table and introduced herself as Amanda.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he responded, not certain it was the proper thing to do. “My name’s Cody Hunter.”
Her facial expression told him she hadn’t expected his response, and he told himself he was going to have to learn how to behave as a white man.
She smiled at him and said, “Well, I’m pleased to meet you, too. What are you drinking?”
“Ma’am?” he replied, confused.
“What would you like to drink with your supper?”
“Oh. Can I get a cup of coffee?”
“You surely can,” she answered cheerfully. “Do you take anything with it?”
Again, he looked confused. “Supper was what I was thinkin’.”
His reply confused her as well for a moment, then she said, “I meant, do you put any sugar or milk in your coffee?”
“Oh. No, ma’am. I drink it just like it comes outta the pot,” he said.
“Good,” she said, totally convinced the young man must have come from another planet. “I’ll go get you a cup of coffee, and when I get back I’ll help you order your supper. You have your choice of two things tonight”—she pointed to a chalkboard on the wall—“and you can decide which you want. I’ll read you your choices when I get back with the coffee.”
He watched her disappear into the kitchen and was tempted to get up and walk out before she returned, knowing he had come off as a half-wit. It was only his second restaurant visit as a white man, and he had expected this experience to be much like his visit to the first place. Tuggle’s in Coulson hadn’t been a great deal different from eating in the army mess hall. You sat down at a big table and Tuggle’s wife came around with a pot and spooned food on your plate. He looked at the chalkboard she had pointed to and realized then what it was for. He was still looking at it when she came back with his coffee.
She placed it before him and said, “Now, let’s see which you want for your supper.”
He surprised her when he said, “I think I’ll take the pork chop and mashed potato. I don’t get much chance to eat either one of those.”
“You read the board?” She said it before she caught herself then tried to recover. “What I mean is that board is hard for some people to read from the tables on this side of the room. You must have really good eyesight.”
He smiled. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”
“I’ll be right back with your supper,” she said and returned to the kitchen.
“That was quick,” Ethel Reilly said when Amanda came back in the kitchen and went to the stove to fill a plate. “From the way you talked about him, I thought you’d be a while before he decided what he wanted.”
“He read the chalkboard while I was getting his coffee,” Amanda said. “I’da bet five dollars he couldn’t read. I promise you, Ethel, that is the most innocent man I’ve ever seen in here. He acts like he’s never been in a public eating place before.”
“Maybe he hasn’t,” Ethel replied with a chuckle. “He had to kill a deer to make a shirt to wear. You reckon he knows how to use a knife and fork?”
“I can’t wait to see,” Amanda answered. “I just hope I don’t have to clean him up after he finishes.”
“Let me know if you do,” Ethel said. “I’ll be glad to give you a hand. He ain’t that bad looking in sort of a mountain-lion-looking way.”
“Ethel Reilly, bite your tongue,” Amanda scolded as she started toward the door with Cody’s supper. “I might have to tell Clem you’re having impure thoughts about our customers.”
