Cooper (The Landon Saga Book 3)

by Tell Cotten

  The creek weaved back and forth in front of us. We crossed it, and that’s when we heard a rifle shot.

  Chapter thirty

  Everybody started getting restless when Wade and Floyd didn’t show up at the cabin. They played poker until midmorning, and then Choc couldn’t wait any longer.

  There were two other men that rode with Wade. Their names were Jeremiah Wisdom and Brett Riley.

  Jeremiah was in his mid-thirties.

  An educated man, he was cunning and careful. He’d been with Wade a long time, and Wade trusted him with the business side of their operation. He spoke Apache fluently and was also a clever poker player.

  Choc and Floyd secretly despised Jeremiah. Wade always confided in Jeremiah instead of them, and they’d talked often among themselves on how to get rid of Jeremiah.

  As for Brett; he was younger and was a bit erratic at times. But he could shoot good and follow orders, and that was good enough for Wade.

  “Something’s happened,” Choc declared. “Pa and Floyd should have been here by now.”

  “What happened exactly?” Jeremiah asked. “You never told us.”

  “We bushwhacked a feller.”

  “And you’re sure he was alone?” Jeremiah frowned distastefully.

  “He said his brother was nearby, but Pa figured he was lying.”

  “Maybe he wasn’t.”

  “He was a famous lawman,” Choc bragged. “And I’m the one who killed him!”

  “Who was he?”

  “Cooper Landon.”

  Jeremiah was startled. He jumped, and his face turned pale.

  “What’s the matter?” Choc frowned at him.

  “You’re sure you killed him?” Jeremiah sounded anxious.

  “He wasn’t dead when I left, but he was about as close as you could get,” Choc recalled.

  Jeremiah made a small groaning sound and shook his head.

  Choc was confused by his behavior, but he forgot about it as he changed the subject.

  “I reckon we should find Pa,” Choc declared. “Let’s go.”

  They got mounted and backtracked Choc’s tracks, and they finally found them late morning.

  Both were tied to a cactus, and Wade’s chest was scratched and slightly swollen. His back was also a bright red.

  Wade scowled as they rode up. Nobody knew what to say, and everyone glanced uncertainly at each other.

  “What happened, Pa?” Choc finally asked.

  “What does it look like!” Wade blurted angrily.

  Brett snickered, and Choc tried not to smile.

  “Looks like you’re hugging a cactus, Pa,” Choc said.

  “Cut us loose,” Wade glared at Choc. “Now!”

  “Yes, Pa.”

  Choc dismounted, pulled out his knife, and cut the ropes.

  “Water,” Wade mumbled as he and Floyd scooted backwards.

  Two canteens of water were brought forward, and Wade and Floyd drank thirstily.

  “I’ve got stickers all in my chest and arms,” Wade said as he stood gingerly. “Don’t touch me!”

  “We won’t, Pa,” Choc said, and he asked again, “What happened?”

  “Cooper Landon. That’s what happened,” Wade said, and his face was livid with hate.

  “What’d you say?” Jeremiah spoke up, and he looked anxious.

  Speaking abruptly, Wade explained.

  “So he’s still alive,” Jeremiah said, relieved.

  “Don’t look so cheerful about it!” Wade growled.

  “We should all be cheerful. Don’t you know who the Landons are?” Jeremiah asked.

  “I know,” Wade muttered.

  “They ain’t the sort to mess with,” Jeremiah continued. “If Coop had died, Yancy wouldn’t have stopped looking until he’d found us, and that could have only meant trouble.”

  Wade snorted and glanced at Choc.

  “Start trailing him, Choc, but stay back. We’ll get him tonight.”

  Choc nodded and started for his horse, but Jeremiah stopped him.

  “Apaches are waiting on us, Wade,” he said.

  “So?”

  “It took us months to set this up,” Jeremiah explained. “We miss it, and those Apaches might get mad and come after us.”

  Wade frowned, and it was silent as he thought on it.

  “All right,” he finally said in a quiet voice.

  “You’re going to let him go, Pa?” Choc asked, surprised.

  “No,” Wade narrowed his eyes. “So help me, Cooper Landon is a dead man. But first, we’ll meet the Apaches.”

  “Let me go after him, Pa,” Choc urged. “This is the first man I’ve ever killed that didn’t stay dead.”

  “No, we’ll all go later,” Wade replied. “I want to be there.”

  “He might get away,” Choc warned.

  “No, he won’t,” Wade replied. “I don’t care if we have to ride all the way to Midway.”

  “I’d let it go,” Jeremiah spoke back up. “He’ll only bring us trouble.”

  “I’ve never seen you act so scared of a man before,” Wade glared at Jeremiah.

  “I’m not scared, I’m just being reasonable,” Jeremiah replied, unmoved by Wade’s harsh comments. “I know the Landons, and they aren’t the sort to mess with.”

  “You know them?” Wade asked, surprised.

  “Sure. We grew up together back east.”

  “Ain’t that cute,” Wade mumbled, and asked, “Where’s the pack mules?”

  “We left them at the cabin, Pa,” Choc replied.

  “Unguarded?”

  “We were worried about you.”

  Wade snorted and said, “Bring me some pliers, and then you and Brett saddle our horses. Soon as I pull these stickers out, we’ll go get the mules.”

  “Yes, Pa,” Choc said.

  “And bring me my shirt.”

  Choc nodded, and he and Brett headed towards camp.

  “Brett?” Wade called out.

  “Yes?” Brett stopped and turned back.

  “You laugh anymore ’bout this, I’ll kill you.”

  Brett started to snicker, but then he realized that Wade was serious.

  “Yes, sir,” Brett replied solemnly.

  “Now hurry up!” Wade snapped.

  Brett nodded and followed after Choc.

  Chapter thirty-one

  My heart jumped when I heard the shot, but then I realized we weren’t the ones being shot at.

  The shot came from up ahead, and we didn’t move as we listened for anything more.

  A few seconds passed, and three more shots were fired in rapid fashion.

  “Somebody’s in trouble,” I announced, and I pulled out my Henry.

  There was a small hill nestled up against the side of the valley in front of us. It was covered in trees, and I gestured at it.

  “Let’s ride up there and have a look.”

  I kept a watchful eye as we trotted up into the trees. The bouncing in the saddle about killed me, but at the moment I had more pressing matters to worry about.

  Before us was a huge meadow, covered in tall grass, and the creek ran through the middle. It was very flat, but the grass offered good cover.

  Beside the creek was a deep buffalo wallow. There was a white man in that wallow, and he wore a bright red shirt.

  His horse was in the middle of the wallow. It was stretched out on its side, dead.

  The man was watching intently in front of him. I followed his gaze, and that’s when I spotted another dead horse. It looked like an Indian pony.

  “Whoever’s down there is an idiot,” I said softly. “You can see that red shirt for miles.”

  Josie nodded but didn’t say anything.

  My eyes searched the waving grass, but I couldn’t find any Indians. I knew they were there, but sometimes if an Indian didn’t want to be seen you just weren’t going to see him.

  Suddenly, Josie sat up straight in the saddle.

  “There,” she pointed.
/>   It took me a bit, but I finally spotted them.

  Between the dead pony and us were three Indians. Their brown bodies blended perfectly with the grass as they circled the buffalo wallow.

  “They’re coming in behind him,” I said.

  Josie nodded, and I sighed my displeasure.

  “He should be watching all sides instead of just staying in one spot.”

  Again, Josie just nodded.

  Suddenly, the man shouldered his rifle and fired twice as two Indians darted up in front of him and ran sideways. As soon as he fired the Indians disappeared, and I could tell by the way the man reacted that he thought he had hit one of them.

  “Those two Injuns are keeping his attention,” I commented.

  “What do we do?” Josie asked.

  “If we don’t help, he’s dead,” I pointed out.

  Josie nodded in agreement, and I sighed again.

  “Think we’ll do this the Injun way,” I announced.

  “Indian way?” Josie shot me a surprised look.

  “To die bravely in battle is the greatest honor an Injun can get,” I said, and added, “I’m going to honor these Injuns the best way I know how.”

  Josie gave me a questioning look, and I explained.

  “I’ll shoot the closest ones,” I said. “Now, soon as I shoot, we’ll have to make a run for that wallow.”

  “Can you?” Josie beckoned at my hip.

  “Don’t have a choice.”

  “Our pelts?”

  “I don’t like it, but I reckon we’ll have to leave them here,” I said. “We’ll tie Jug-head to a tree and come back and get him after it’s over.”

  Before I could move, Josie dismounted and took Jug-head’s lead rope. She tied him to a tree and remounted.

  “Thanks,” I smiled, and Josie nodded.

  I rode up next to a tree, and I rested the end of my rifle against a tree branch.

  “Stand still, boy,” I told my horse.

  I had shot off him before, and he knew the routine.

  I breathed deep, and I settled my sights in the middle of the closest Indian. I exhaled and squeezed off the shot. My rifle boomed, and an instant later the Indian jerked.

  I swung my rifle sideways and fired again. Then, rushing things because I had no choice, I fired again at the third Indian.

  The first two shots were hits, and both Indians were down to stay. But I missed the third Indian, and he jumped up and ran wildly, obviously very much taken by surprise.

  I slid my rifle into my scabbard. Then, with a yell, Josie and I left the hill in a dead run.

  Josie rode for the wallow, but I veered towards the fleeing Indian.

  The Indian stopped and faced me. His face was twisted in hate as he lifted his rifle, and as my dun bore down upon him he managed to get off a shot.

  I heard the zap of a bullet pass by my head, and then I was on him. He connected hard with my horse’s shoulder, and he went flying backwards.

  I slid my dun to a stop and whirled around with my Colt in hand.

  The Indian bounced back on his feet. He took a running leap towards me, and as he left the ground I fired twice. He jerked back violently, and he was dead before he hit the ground.

  I turned toward the wallow and left out in a dead run.

  Josie had already reached the wallow, and the other Indians were firing at me. But a moving target is hard to hit, and none of their shots came close.

  The man in the red shirt screamed as I rode into the wallow. He had been staring at Josie, but now he spun around and lifted his rifle.

  I dove off my horse and hit the ground rolling. I came up on my feet, and I knocked the rifle from his hands. It was a violent blow, and he went flying backwards.

  “You idiot!” I yelled. “I’m here to help!”

  He got up, and we recognized each other at the same time.

  It was Sergeant Jason Wagons.

  “Cooper!” He cried. “What are you doing here?”

  “We can talk later,” I said harshly.

  I turned away abruptly. Fortunately my dun had stopped, and I grabbed my reins and turned to Josie.

  “Keep a hold of the horses,” I told her.

  Josie nodded as she grabbed the reins.

  In my excitement I had forgotten about my injuries, but the pain came back in a hurry as I limped over and joined Sergeant Wagons.

  “Are you all right?” He watched me.

  “There’s still at least two of them out there,” I said as I ignored his question. “You watch that side; I’ll watch this side.”

  “Yes, sir!” Sergeant Wagons exclaimed, and his face was flushed and excited. “I’ve killed three already!”

  “Only thing you killed was a horse,” I said curtly.

  “What?” Sergeant Wagons looked confused. “But I thought–.”

  “I don’t care what you thought,” I interrupted.

  Sergeant Wagons looked like I had just slapped him. He didn’t reply as we took our positions, and it fell silent as we kept watch. A few minutes passed, and I saw some movement.

  To my relief, the last two Indians had had enough. They were a-horseback, and they were in a brisk trot as they left.

  “They’re leaving,” I announced, and added, “Come have a look.”

  Josie came up beside me while Sergeant Wagons walked over.

  They were riding out the same way we had come in, and I held my breath as they approached the hill. Josie looked concerned too, but we both relaxed as they trotted by.

  I started to say something when a hee-haw suddenly rang out. It was loud and clear, and Josie and I glanced at each other.

  “What was that?” Sergeant Wagons asked.

  I didn’t reply as we watched the Indians.

  They pulled up abruptly, and one of them turned and loped up the hill. He reappeared a few seconds later, leading Jug-head.

  “Our pelts!” Josie gripped my arm.

  “Too far to shoot,” I frowned.

  The Indian trotted down the hill and joined his companion. Then, they disappeared into the valley, taking our beloved pelts with them.

  I was almost blind with fury.

  I started for my horse, but in my haste I tripped. I tried to regain my balance, but my body had taken enough punishment and wouldn’t cooperate. I hit the ground hard, and suddenly I was light-headed and dizzy.

  Chapter thirty-two

  There were hundreds of small, hair-sized stickers in Wade’s chest. Some couldn’t be seen, just felt, and that made it impossible to get them all.

  Wade scowled in pain when he finally put his shirt on. The sunburn and pricking in his chest made him irritable as they mounted up.

  Wade had brought three mules packed with rifles and ammunition. Each mule carried two crates, and Wade also brought along a few jugs of whiskey. From experience, he knew that drunk Indians made better bargains than sober Indians.

  Wade preferred to trade with knives and whiskey. But No Worries, the Apache war chief, had made it clear that he only wanted rifles and ammunition.

  They rode back to the cabin.

  It was a small cabin, nestled in among several trees. There was also a small corral made of logs and a lean-to where saddles could be kept.

  “What’s that?” Wade pointed between two trees that were close by.

  “It’s a grave,” Choc explained. “It’s fresh too.”

  Wade grunted thoughtfully and looked at his youngest son.

  “Floyd, pack one of those mules with two crates. Make sure and bring some whiskey.”

  “Yes, Pa,” Floyd dismounted.

  “Brett, you stay here and keep an eye on the rest of these rifles.”

  “What for?” Brett asked, not liking the idea.

  “Only a fool would ride into their camp with all the loot,” Wade explained.

  Brett frowned, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he dismounted and led his horse over to the lean-to.

  Wade rode over to the grave while Floyd pa
cked the mule. He studied the fresh mound and frowned thoughtfully.

  “Whoever buried this feller might still be around,” Wade told Brett. “You stay watchful now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Floyd finished packing the mule. He mounted up, grabbed the lead rope, and looked at Wade and nodded.

  Wade kicked up his horse, and everyone else fell in behind.

  Brett scowled as he watched them. As soon as they were gone, he unsaddled his horse. Then, he went inside the cabin and built a fire.

  Chapter thirty-three

  I stayed down for a while, and pain and misery passed through my body as I tried to catch my breath.

  Soon as I could move, Josie helped me over to the side of the wallow. I sat and leaned back.

  I’d just lost my pelts again, and I wasn’t in the best of moods as I studied Sergeant Wagons. He just stood there, looking at me blankly.

  “Yancy left you in charge of Midway,” I said.

  “He did.”

  “So why are you here?”

  Sergeant Wagons squirmed as he thought on that, and he finally said, “I’m hunting an escaped prisoner.”

  “What escaped prisoner?” I narrowed my eyes.

  “I’d rather discuss that with Yancy.”

  “You’ll discuss it with me,” I said sternly. “And now.”

  “You’re not my superior officer,” Sergeant Wagons fired back.

  Soon as he said that the feeling came all over me, and I felt a rage down deep. Without realizing it I narrowed my eyes and clinched my fists.

  I must have looked mighty fierce, because even Josie looked at me with a startled look.

  “Been through a lot these past few days,” I said in a low, clear voice. “Next words that come out of your mouth, better be good.”

  Sergeant Wagons stared at me through wide eyes. He licked his lips and nodded.

  “I’m after Stew Baine,” he said.

  It was silent as I thought on that. A lot of things didn’t add up, and I was confused.

  “Explain that,” I said.

  “Yancy left Stew in my care at Midway,” Sergeant Wagons said. “Then, he and Rondo left, looking for you. Stew escaped the next day.”

  “Yancy and Rondo are up here?”

  “They should be.”