Ansel looked at Spot and grinned, knowing what he was thinking. “Maybe,” he answered Brady. “I ain’t decided yet. Let’s just say I’m visitin’ right now, and while I’m here, I’m bunkin’ in with you and the men, so I can see how you’re runnin’ things. If I take over, I’m gonna want a strong top hand that ain’t afraid to kick a little ass where it’s necessary.” Brady cocked his head back like a wild stallion in response, a response that Ansel found appropriate to a challenge. He decided he might be the man he wanted, if he ever contemplated a takeover of the ranch, which he had never considered until that moment. But in the short time he had been back, he had already seen signs of prosperity around the headquarters, and he passed through a great many cows on his ride from the river. His father and Todd had done a hell of a lot better job of building a cattle ranch than he had expected. He was beginning to think that maybe he had landed in the right spot, even though accidentally. If he was figuring things right, the law was looking for him in Kansas or Missouri, or farther west. Nobody should be looking for him in Texas. “Right now, I just wanna turn my horses out in the corral and get my possibles squared away in the bunkhouse,” he said to Brady.
“I’ll take care of your horses for you,” Brady volunteered. “I can take ’em down by the river with the other horses, if you want.”
“The corral will be all right for now,” Ansel said. “I’ll most likely want to saddle the gray up and take a little look around. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on this range.”
“I’ll help you carry your stuff into the bunkhouse and we’ll get you fixed up with a good bunk,” Spot offered.
When they started toward the bunkhouse, Brady took the reins and led Ansel’s horses to the barn. There were a lot of questions popping up in Brady’s mind as he took care of the horses. Aside from the total surprise of Ansel Beaudry’s appearance, he had to wonder about Ansel’s apparently unnoticed arrival at the ranch house that morning. Sonny Pickens had the job of riding scout on the two-mile trail that led from the Fort Worth road back to the ranch headquarters last night. Sonny never showed up for breakfast this morning, so Brady had sent a couple of the men to look for him.
Ansel had made no mention of having seen Sonny that morning when he rode into the ranch. If Sonny was doing the job he was sent to do, he would have stopped Ansel. He would just have to wait until the men got back. Sonny might have gotten thrown off his horse or something like that. In the meantime, Brady thought it best to take good care of Ansel’s horses and the supplies he had on his packhorse. This Ansel fellow was a hell of a lot different from his brother, Todd, and there just might be a change in the way things were run around here. Even though he still ruled with an iron hand, old man Beaudry wasn’t getting any younger. In spite of the bad blood in the past, it might be time for a change, and Brady wasn’t convinced that Todd was strong enough to handle it.
Chapter 16
Will paused a good while to study the narrow trail that made its way through a gap in a long ridge that paralleled the road to Fort Worth. By the warning sign, he knew it was the entrance to the Hornet’s Nest. Glancing at the hills on each side of the gap, he could imagine it was fairly easy for a lookout to see anyone entering the passage from either side. On the chance there might be a lookout sitting up on the hill now, he decided to backtrack a couple hundred yards, then circle back to climb the ridge short of the trail through the gap. He figured that would give him a better look at the trail beyond the ridge, so he wheeled Buster and started back. I just hope I haven’t picked the side there’s a lookout parked on, he thought.
He rode all the way up the hill to the top, then he dismounted and left Buster and his packhorse while he walked closer to the edge of the gap. As he had suspected, he could see the trail below him from this vantage point, as well as a long straight stretch of it as it led toward the river. He paused to think about what he intended to do and questioned the sensibility of it. It was not his custom to do his job with a sense of vengeance driving him, as it was in this case. His main incentive was to capture the man who had killed Oscar Moon, and he had to admit that he would not hesitate to kill Ansel Beaudry should he resist. Before going forward, he stopped to ask himself if he was letting his personal feelings strangle his common sense. Considering the opposition he was likely to face in an attempt to pluck Beaudry out of the den of wolves that was the Hornet’s Nest, the smart thing to do would be to report to the closest Texas Rangers post. After all, the original purpose of this operation was to capture the gang of bank robbers. It mattered not whether it was a deputy marshal or a ranger who made the arrest. To further simplify the decision, he was out of his jurisdiction, and there was no question that it was up to the Rangers to make the arrest. The final point to consider was the odds he was up against. If he reported it to the Rangers, they could authorize a posse of men to storm the ranch. What he was about to do was just plain stupid, he told himself, and not conducive to living a long life. I’m getting married in a couple of months, he told himself. I need to think about making sure I show up for the ceremony. He started to turn back, but a movement in the trees on the other side of the trail, near the base of the gap, caught his eye.
He froze, waiting to see what or who caused the movement of the bushes below him. He watched as first one man on a horse emerged from the trees beside the trail, then a second rider came behind him. The second man was leading a horse with a body lying across the saddle. They started down the trail toward the ranch, and all thoughts of sensibility disappeared from Will’s mind. The trail into the ranch was apparently watched, but there was probably not a better time to follow someone in, because it was doubtful there was anyone left to guard the entrance at this point. Someone, a trespasser, no doubt, had been killed and both men were taking the body back to the ranch. The chance that there was someone else still sitting atop the ridge on the other side of the gap was not likely, so he decided to see if he could get close enough to the ranch headquarters to see the situation he’d have to deal with.
Weaving his way through the trees, he led his horses down the slope to the foot of the hill. He could still see the two riders in the distance, so he waited to give them more time, just to be sure they didn’t catch sight of him. “I know you’ve already done twenty-five miles,” he said to Buster. “We oughta strike the river before very long, then I’ll let you get some water.” The buckskin snorted and the packhorse answered. Even though he reassured his horses, he wasn’t sure how he could tarry by the river long enough to properly rest them. Nevertheless, he climbed back into the saddle and started out following the trail the two riders had taken. As he had promised Buster, they traveled a short distance before they struck the Brazos again. He crossed over before turning upstream to find a spot to hide while his horses rested.
Following the river, he kept going until he came to a bend where a grove of oak trees had formed a thick screen. The riverbank was high enough at this point to afford him protection in the event he had to defend himself against attack. He hesitated to decide if he should take the risk of unloading his horses. He might have to leave this riverbank on short notice. It was the packhorse that concerned him the most. He could pull Buster’s saddle off very easily and put it back on in a hurry, if he had to. It wasn’t that easy with the packhorse. But he wanted to rest them as best he could, so they’d be ready to run if it was called for. Every once in a while, he reminded himself how stupid he was to take the chance he was taking. Sid Worley’s remark came to mind about the Texas Ranger who rode into Hornet’s Nest and was never seen again. “What the hell,” he finally muttered, and pulled the saddle off Buster, then unloaded the packs from Luther’s horse and pulled its saddle off. If worse came to worst, he figured he could throw Buster’s saddle back on, and if there wasn’t enough time, he’d leave the packhorse behind.
While his horses nibbled grass down near the water, Will walked up to the edge of the trees to keep watch. There were a few cattle grazing nearby in small bunches, b
ut no sizable herd, so he figured the most he would have to worry about would be a single cowhand looking for strays to drive back to the main herd. He looked back at his horses grazing and wished that there had been someplace to leave the packhorse before entering Beaudry land. It would be a whole lot easier if he didn’t have the extra horse. He and Buster could work much better if it was just the two of them. He couldn’t leave the packhorse to graze while he worked in closer to the ranch house—the risk that one of the ranch hands might find him was too great. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that it would be best to wait until dark before trying to get close to the ranch headquarters. On this open, rolling range, he would be too easily spotted in broad daylight, even at a distance. If he waited until dark, his horses would be well rested by then, as well, so the decision was easily made.
* * *
While Will Tanner waited for darkness on the bank of the Brazos River, the two men who had found the body of Sonny Pickens rode into the barnyard at ranch headquarters. An interested spectator peered out a bunkhouse window, watching as one of the men went straight to the ranch house to report. Ansel saw Brady walk out of the barn to meet the man holding Sonny’s horse. In less than a couple of minutes, the other man came back with Mica Beaudry close behind. Ansel smiled to himself and walked out of the bunkhouse to join the small group gathering by the barn. He arrived in time to hear one of them telling his father that they had found Sonny’s body where someone had dragged it back in the trees, and his horse was nearby.
“I reckon that explains why nobody tried to stop me when I rode in this mornin’,” Ansel remarked as he walked up to join them. “I thought it was mighty damn easy for anybody to ride on our range.”
His comment caused the two men who had found the body to pause to take an inquisitive look at the stranger. It also caused Mica to cock a critical eye in Ansel’s direction. “Most folks around here know not to ride on my range,” he said, making a point of emphasizing my.
“But he is the lookout, right?” Ansel asked, knowing full well he was the lookout who had made the mistake of trying to stop him that morning. “What’s his name?”
“Sonny Ackens,” Brady quickly answered.
Before he could say more, Ansel said, “So there’s somebody trespassin’ on Beaudry range right now,” unaware that his statement was, in fact, absolutely true. “Might be a good idea to check on the cattle,” he said, looking at Brady. He shifted his gaze to the two cowhands who had brought Sonny’s body back. There was a look of total confusion on both faces. “I’m Ansel Beaudry,” he said, “Boss’s eldest son. I’ll be around for a while.”
“Maybe you will and maybe you won’t,” Todd said as he just then joined the gathering.
Ansel grinned and winked at Brady. “That’s right, little brother, you never know about me, do ya?”
“How come nobody stopped you from ridin’ in here this mornin’?” Todd demanded. “Maybe that’s how Sonny got shot.”
“That’s a good question,” Ansel replied at once. “Only anybody with a grain of sense would know, if I’da been stopped, I’da told him who I was, and he’ da most likely rode back to headquarters with me to make sure I was who I said I was. I wouldn’t have shot him, I didn’t have no reason to.” He looked at Brady and shook his head as if impatient with his brother. It had been unnecessary to kill Sonny, but he had not hesitated to shoot him for the simple reason he wanted to arrive at his father’s house unannounced.
Already getting a strong feeling that there might be changes coming as far as who was going to be running the Hornet’s Nest, Brady stepped in to introduce the two cowhands to Ansel. “This is Dan Riley and Junior Hutto, Ansel. They’re both permanent hands here, have been for over three years.”
Ansel nodded to each one, then commented to Junior, “You look like you got kicked by a mule.”
Everyone but Mica and Todd laughed at that, and Brady japed, “That’s what he said, but I think him and Rufus got into a little tussle at Worley’s store.”
“He was lucky he caught me when I warn’t lookin’,” Junior said, a slight flush now showing on his badly swollen nose.
“Maybe that’s the same jasper that shot Sonny,” Dan suggested, joking. “Maybe he’s lookin’ for you, Junior, lookin’ to finish the work he started rearran-gin’ that ugly mug of yours.” His comment spurred another wave of chuckles at Junior’s expense.
“I don’t reckon Sonny Pickens thinks his murder is as funny as some of you do,” Mica reminded them. Up to that point, he had been thinking about Todd’s suggestion that Sonny might have been shot by Ansel. Ansel was capable of cold-blooded murder, but Mica suspected that Ansel was thinking about taking control of Hornet’s Nest. So it didn’t make sense that he would kill one of the men he would need to run the ranch. He was disappointed that Todd didn’t think of that. Even more, he was disgusted that Todd didn’t stand up to Ansel on the matter. “Somebody came on my range and killed one of my men, and that ain’t funny to me,” Mica finally declared. “Brady, get everybody mounted up and find him.” The laughter stopped immediately.
“You’re right, Papa,” Ansel commented at once. “Instead of standin’ around here jawin’, we need to find that jasper fast and see what he’s up to. I’ll go with the men. Maybe Todd can take care of poor ol’ Sonny and watch things here at the house.” He turned at once and started toward the corral. Brady and Dan followed right behind him. Junior dropped the reins of the dead man’s horse at Todd’s feet and hurried after them.
“What the hell . . . ?” Todd growled, not sure what he should do. His father told him.
“Pick ’em up,” he ordered, referring to the reins. As he watched Todd bend over to do so, he was unable to resist. He gave his son a firm kick in the butt, causing Todd to take several steps forward to keep from falling on his face.
“What did you do that for?” Todd whined.
“Never mind,” Mica said. “Go find Spot and tell him to dig a grave for Sonny.” Without another word, he turned and started back toward the house, lacking the patience at that moment to tell Todd of the disgust he felt for him. He was convinced that Ansel was already making moves to take over the operation of his ranch, and Todd was too weak to oppose him. Ansel’s got another think coming, if he thinks I’ll roll over for him, he thought. If Ansel planned a showdown for possession of Hornet’s Nest, Mica would be more than ready for it, but for right now, there was a more important issue to face. There was a trespasser on his range for some purpose, and it was serious enough to have caused him to kill one of his men. It was important enough to find that man, or men, who did it. Once that was settled, the issue of his son’s ambition would be squashed before it could go any further.
In a matter of minutes, all of the search party were saddled up and mounted. Brady pulled up even with Ansel and waited to see if he was going to give any orders. “How many men have we got?” Ansel asked.
“We’ve got three men that are roundin’ up strays down as far as Coyote Creek,” Brady replied. “That’s the southern boundary of Beaudry range. They’ll work it in three sections and cover our range all the way from east to west.”
“So you’re sayin’ the rest of us need to split up to cover the part north of here, all the way across the river to the road to Fort Worth,” Ansel said.
“Yes, sir,” Brady replied. “If it was me, I’d send Dan east to Duck Wallow Creek, and Junior west to Possum Run Creek. They can work north from there till they strike the river and work back toward the center. Me and you could ride right up the trail till we hit the river, then split up and work that small section between the river and the road. We oughta all meet up again at the trail back to the house, this side of the river.”
“That sounds like the thing to do,” Ansel said. “Let’s get started.” They split up and began a search of the Beaudry range with Ansel the only one thinking there was no trespasser. He was the killer they thought they were looking for, so he found the whole endeavor
highly amusing. As he rode beside Brady, he thought he could feel the foreman’s total switching of loyalties from Mica and Todd to him. Strange, he thought, that I hadn’t even considered taking over control of Hornet’s Nest until I came back here. And now, he felt it was what he was meant to do all along. His father was too old to fight him, and his brother was too weak. He would permit both of them to stay on—he was not an unreasonable man—but if Todd became too much trouble, he wouldn’t hesitate to make Mae a widow.
* * *
Will tried to pass some of the afternoon by checking and cleaning his weapons, but the time was creeping by as he waited for darkness to descend over the river. It would be some time yet, for the afternoon sun showed no signs of being in a hurry. He took a closer look at the stock of his Winchester and rubbed his finger along the fine crack that ran the length of it. He was going to have to fix that when he got to a carpenter’s shop, or cabinetmaker’s. He didn’t realize at the time that he had struck the oversized bully called Junior hard enough to split his rifle stock. If I ever see him again, he said to himself, maybe I’ll tell him he owes me money to fix my rifle. He held the rifle up to take a final look at the stock before getting to his feet to walk up to the edge of the trees again to make sure he wasn’t going to have company.
Almost to the edge of the grove of oaks, he suddenly stepped back and flattened himself against a large tree trunk, not sure if he had been seen or not. Holding the Winchester in front of him, pressed tightly against his body, he slowly eased around the trunk until he could see the lone rider approaching from the west. He immediately thought of his horses back down at the edge of the river and Buster’s habit of alerting him whenever other horses were near. The rider was steadily approaching, riding parallel to the line of trees, and showed no signs of riding through them to scout the riverbanks. If he continued along that line, just maybe he would never know the horses were there, but that was hoping for a hell of a lot of luck. Then as the rider came almost opposite the tree Will was hiding behind, Will recognized him. It was Junior! He could see the dull-witted expression, even with the bruised and swollen nose. This was too much of a coincidence. This man was pure bad luck. On the other hand, maybe not, for anyone but Junior would most likely be searching beyond the trees, more inclined to look for a stray cow down by the water. Now, damn it, Buster, he thought, don’t you give us away. He waited, his rifle ready to fire, but there was no signal from Buster, and Junior rode steadily on, along the tree line, until eventually disappearing from sight.
Dig Your Own Grave Page 21
