Yester's Ride

by C. K. Crigger

  He bit down on the thoughts. Not now. He had to save Ketta and only think about how to do it.

  Nat, as always sensitive to the reason behind Yester’s reticence, didn’t press the matter. “Yeah, and the only ones we know for sure are ahead of us are Kuo and Ketta. And now this other one. Unless he’s one of Patton’s men on the same trail we are.”

  For a moment, Yester’s heart lifted. Could that be? “That’d be fine, I guess, but don’t count on it.”

  “I’m not.”

  Yester lifted his rifle from the scabbard on his saddle and propped the gun over his shoulder. He made sure of the handful of shells in his pocket then, sucking in a breath, led off. The tracks that had led them here soon petered out on the hard, rock-strewn ground, but he wasn’t worried. It was impossible for the riders to have taken any other way. Striding out strongly, he’d gone only a few yards when a touch on his back brought him around.

  “You make as much noise as a herd of cattle,” Nat said. “Watch where you put your feet. I don’t want to be shot by some yahoo sitting up on the ridge using me for target practice.”

  Yester felt his face getting hot. Here he was supposed to be the leader and instead was acting like he’d never heard of the word stealth. “Sorry.”

  After that he made every effort to walk more softly. Couldn’t help making some noise, though. No matter how hard he tried for silence, his boots on the gravelly ground just plain made more racket than Nat’s moccasins. In ten or so minutes, they reached what Nat decided was about a mile from where they’d left the horses. Relieved, they stopped, puffing a little.

  “You see anything?” Yester asked.

  “No. You want me to go back and bring up the horses?” Nat started to turn, stopping with one foot poised above the ground. “Heh! You hear that?”

  At first Yester heard nothing but his own breathing, the heaviness of which told him they’d been going uphill in a fairly rapid ascent. That and the cry of a bird as it flew overhead, gliding on still wings.

  “No.” But then he did hear something, and he frowned. “What the heck is going on?”

  Nat put his foot down, closed his eyes, and cocked his head. “People shouting.”

  Yester heard them, too. “Are they laughing?”

  Nat listened some more. “I think so.” His eyes were rounded when he opened them. “I heard several different voices. There are more men here than we thought, Yester. What are we going to do?”

  “I dunno.” But he did know. The more raucous and louder those voices became, the more determined he grew. This wasn’t just Ketta and her “father.” He had the hope this Kuo feller was treating her right. But now, with more men in the picture, all of them apparently around the next bend whooping and hollering like a bunch of crazy drunks, well, it put a different complexion on things.

  A sudden vision of his ma, lying on the ground burned, beaten, and broken swam into his sight. Ketta was just a kid. Pretty, though. He had the troubled, worse, the frightening thought of what a group of scoundrels might do to an innocent girl like her provided they got the chance. And Ketta. Hell, she’d never even been away from home before. She’d have no idea what to do against men like this. If there was anything she could do.

  Was that the very thing going on now?

  Fighting sickness away, he looked over at Nat. “What do you want to do?”

  “We have to go on.”

  Yester’s jaw set. “Well, c’mon, then. Let’s see what all the commotion is about.”

  Grim faced, Nat nodded.

  A couple minutes later, taken by surprise when the short canyon ended, they came close to walking right out into the open. Nat, in the lead again, shot out an arm to bar Yester from going any farther.

  They found themselves at the entrance to a narrow meadow. A couple hundred yards farther on—give or take—a small, rough cabin edged up against the hill rising sharply behind it. Off to one side stood a privy and a corral for the horses standing hipshot in the shade of a few spindly aspens.

  The only man stirring himself was unsaddling a weary-appearing spotted horse. Apparently, they, man and horse, had just arrived, not more than a few minutes before Yester and Nat. It’d been a near thing that they’d avoided catching up with whoever he might be. A shootist, Yester thought, or maybe a gunslinger, drawing the term from a dime novel he’d read as he took note of the twin, tied-down holsters low on the man’s hips.

  He nudged Nat, pointing toward the man with the guns.

  “I see him. Crap,” Nat said. “Who is he?”

  “Dunno.” Yester studied on the fact several men surrounded the newcomer in a welcoming and approving sort of way. He had a hunch were he and Nat to show up, they wouldn’t be treated so politely.

  Nat had more on his mind. “Lookit, Yester. There’s five of them.” He sounded dismayed.

  “I can count.” Yeah, but Yester almost wished he couldn’t.

  “And where’s Ketta? I don’t see her anywhere.”

  The omission worried Yester, too. And then he thought maybe it was a good thing. “She’s probably in the cabin,” he said, taking a guess, and, sure enough, the cabin door opened right then, and his sister’s tousled head poked out in a cautious kind of way. Beside him, Nat drew in a sharp breath.

  “She doesn’t look hurt,” he said.

  “No, she doesn’t.” It was too far to see her features from this distance. All he knew for certain was that she appeared fine when she stepped out and peered over at the men at the corral. Apparently, she had use of her limbs, anyway, unbound and free. Good. She’d be able to run, when the time came.

  Nat must’ve been thinking along the same lines, almost like he’d read Yester’s mind. “Wish she knew we were here. So, maybe she could sneak outta there and meet up with us. Then maybe you wouldn’t have to shoot anybody.”

  “I don’t mind shooting one of them. Any of them. All of them that gets in our way.” Yester’s words came out gruff. And he meant every one.

  “Goes without saying,” Nat replied, then went on to say it. “They deserve a hanging, if you ask me. But if you shoot one, Yester, try for that feller packing two pistols. I wouldn’t mind takin’ one of his guns home with me. A keepsake.”

  Yester nodded. “And I’ll take the leftover. I been wanting a six-shooter. Had a coyote jump out right under Flint’s nose the other day. Could’ve used it then. By the time I got the rifle outta my scabbard he was long gone.”

  Some part of him was thinking, who cares? Why’d he even mention a flea-bitten coyote with this situation under way? He knew, though. Because he didn’t have to put the plan in motion while he talked about something else. Anything else.

  Before too many minutes passed, the newest arrival at the cabin had run a brush over his horse, watered it, and tipped a bait of grain into a wooden trough. With much elbowing and raucous laughter, the men went into the cabin, closing the door behind the last one.

  Yester and Nat exchanged a look.

  “We’d better move up,” Yester said. “Scout the area.” After a moment he added, “In case we have to make a run for it.”

  Nat nodded. “You and me, we can outrun those outlaws any day of the week. Best if we know where we’re running to, though.”

  Yester had to grin. “ ’Specially if they’re shooting at us.”

  “Huh. Had to say that, didn’t you? I’m not sure Ketta can run fast enough.”

  “None of us can outrun a bullet.”

  They were silent a moment before Nat said, “We’ll have to each take her by an arm and scoot her along, if she can’t.” His Adam’s apple moved up and down as if his throat were as dry as Yester’s own.

  Yester found the waiting hard. Minutes ticked past. The horses in the corral, after a little fight that involved head shaking and whinnies over the oats the rider had set out for his pinto, settled down to drowsing in the sun. Birds took up their lackadaisical flight across the meadow, some alighting to peck at the earth. It grew hotter, the boys sweating
as they poised to make a dash across the open.

  “I’ll go first,” Nat said, “towards the corral. Soon as I reach cover, you go the opposite way. We’ll wait until Ketta comes out.” His cheeks turned dusky as he nodded toward the privy, which sat closest to his side. “She’ll have to come out sometime.”

  He didn’t bother to wait for Yester’s agreement. Rising from where he hunkered in the lee of tumbled boulders, he slipped from place to place until settling down behind some brush halfway between the corral and the privy. The thing is, he didn’t run. The horses remained calm, and even the birds appeared to take no notice.

  Yester took a breath when Nat settled in place. The first breath, he figured, since his friend had moved. He gasped for air like he’d been socked in the gut. By a giant.

  His turn now. One last check of the closed cabin door, the quiet horses, the peaceful silence. Taking a hint from Nat, he, too, went slowly, hunched over and willing himself not to run, to be invisible.

  The opening of the door caught him when he was halfway to his selected destination. A man stood in the cabin doorway. He was looking over his shoulder and saying something to those inside.

  Yester collapsed to the ground behind a scrawny clump of fireweed and froze, his face pressed into the earth.

  KETTA

  Kuo’s question of whether Milt was expecting company had a quick answer. Slurping a final glug of whiskey, Milt left the half-empty bottle on the table and, followed by Beaver and Dunce, swarmed out the door. Abandoned cards fluttered to the floor.

  “Is it him?” Dunce was saying. “Is it Heller?”

  Heller. What kind of name is that? Ketta wondered. It sounded like a dog. And she didn’t mean a little lap dog, like Mama had told her about. Something called a poodle.

  Kuo got up more slowly and went to stand in the open doorway. Expression frozen, he watched the reunion taking place outside. After a moment, he touched Ketta’s shoulder as she tried to look around him. “Stay inside, child. Don’t speak. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.”

  “Who is it?”

  “The devil.”

  Ketta glanced up at him. He meant it, she saw. He really did think the newcomer was the devil. And if he seemed a devil to Kuo, the man must be fearsome indeed. Her chest felt tight, as if she might explode.

  “Has he come for me?” she whispered.

  Kuo shook himself, sort of like Barney shaking off rain or worry, and smiled down at her. But it wasn’t a real smile. She knew that. It looked like the ones her mother bestowed upon her about the time Big Joe was due home from his monthly toot.

  “Nah,” Kuo said. “I reckon he’s just meeting up with Milt and came here ’cause it’s out of the way. They probably have a job in mind.”

  “A job?” Ketta had a hard time thinking anybody in this world would want to hire Milt for anything. Beaver or Dunce, either, for that matter. Her father was lying. She knew it.

  “Probably not the kind of job you’re thinking of.” Kuo’s reply confounded her further as he prepared to join the men. Preparations that included strapping on a gunbelt and a holster with the butt end of a large revolver sticking out of it. “Wait here.” He glanced around. “Sit over by the stove. Try to avoid anybody taking notice of you. Don’t get in anybody’s way. And don’t talk to any of them.”

  “Should I go in the other room?” There was a small room behind the main one, which Ketta’s exploration had found to contain, along with a filthy, dirty bed, bits and pieces of mining equipment, the hides of animals evidently trapped during the winter, and a few supplies.

  Kuo shook his head at her question. “No. One of them is apt to think that’s an invitation.”

  “Invitation?” she asked, but he was already explaining.

  “There’s no way out. At least, no easy way out. At least if you—” He shut it off. “Don’t worry. They’ll soon be gone. All of them.”

  She nodded but wasn’t sure she believed him. He didn’t believe it himself. She could tell.

  Her father jumped from the porch and went to join the others, acting as if the newcomer was indeed an honored guest. Ketta couldn’t resist poking her head around the corner and stepping out to take a long look.

  After a bit, she retreated and took up the sheltered space behind the stove. Sweat sprouted on her forehead and down her back, but she hardly felt it. There were more important things to worry about.

  “Where’s the girl?” Heller peered around the cabin, the interior dark to anyone coming from outside as Dunce, the last one in, closed the door.

  Kuo froze, blocking the two young men behind him.

  “Light the lamp, Dunce,” Milt ordered his son. “Heller’s of a mind to see what he’s buying.”

  But Dunce, in shoving past Kuo, fell over the stool as he lunged ahead to do his father’s bidding. Inadvertently, he bumped into Heller.

  “Idiot,” Heller said, pushing the clumsy kid out of the way. “Just open the damn door.” He made an impatient gesture, and Beaver hastened to reopen it, sending a shaft of sunlight across the rough plank floor.

  Ketta went as still as a chipmunk under a hawk’s eye. Even so, it wasn’t long before Milt spied her in the corner, doing her best to make herself small. He pointed at her.

  “Come out of there,” the stranger, Heller, rumbled.

  Ketta looked at her father.

  His jaw tightened, and he gave a short nod. “Get some food on the table, child,” he said. “It’s coming on for suppertime.”

  It lacked an hour or so, but who was counting? Doubting she had any choice, Ketta rose and went to the stove. “The wood-box is empty.” Her voice came out breathless and . . . scared. “I’ll go get some.”

  She’d run. The moment she got outside, she’d flee, horse or no horse. Maybe no horse was better. They’d have a terrible time tracking her on foot once she was away from the cabin, if only she could stay hidden until dark. Plans rushed through her head like water down the river in springtime. She’d—

  Milt’s fist came down on the table, rattling the dice and whiskey bottle still standing there. “Dunce, you go get the wood.”

  Heller reached for the bottle, but his eyes were on Ketta, studying her as if he, for sure, was the hawk and she the chipmunk. “Fetch me a clean glass, girl,” he said.

  Ketta looked at Kuo again.

  “I told her to stay out of the way,” her father said. “Didn’t want her causing any trouble between the boys.”

  Heller’s gaze hadn’t shifted. “I can see where she might. She ain’t all yellow and slanty-eyed like most of these Chink girls. Looks almost white.”

  “Told you so,” Milt said. “Purdy as a pitcher. Gotta sassy mouth on her, though. Might take a beatin’ or two to straighten her out and make her behave.”

  Something inside Ketta’s chest fluttered and wouldn’t go away. Why didn’t Kuo say something? Why didn’t he tell those men to skeddadle? To leave her alone. Defend himself, while he was at it, although maybe it was all right for a man to be a “Chink,” but not for a girl.

  Or was he scared, too?

  Yes.

  The realization shook her to the core.

  Heller snapped his fingers, reminding Ketta of the way Big Joe called Barney to him. “You, girl,” he said to her. “I said fetch me a glass. Now.”

  Once again Ketta looked to Kuo, at which he gave a small nod. Feet dragging, she went over to a shelf her father had affixed to the logs at some time or another and took down one of the jars from which the men had taken to drinking their hootch.

  Heller watched her all the way, so that she thought sure he physically touched her, and she shivered. Setting the glass in front of him, she backed away, twisting aside when he tried to nab her wrist.

  “You better get her trained,” Heller snarled, staring at Kuo with eerie intensity. “I ain’t shelling out good money for a sassy-mouthed brat who doesn’t mind.”

  Ketta gasped. “I am a human being,” she shouted. “I am not
a slave. I am not for sale.”

  Heller lunged out of his chair, one hand grasping her hair and jerking her face up toward him. His other hand slammed down, catching her cheekbone a solid blow.

  The pain overwhelmed. Ketta let out a short shriek before the world and everything in it went black. She was unaware until Kuo told her later, when she complained about her scalp hurting, that she’d hung suspended by her hair for a long five seconds. Until, in fact, Kuo snatched his revolver from its holster and pointed it at Heller, who finally laughed and let her drop.

  Head buzzing, she came out of the blackness to hear Kuo shouting at the men. All of them, not just Heller. “Enough. She’s right, she isn’t for sale. Any deal you made with Milt is off. Damaging my property is not part of the agreement.”

  “Say, Milt,” Heller drawled, “I thought you said the sale was all arranged. Don’t look like it to me. I rode all the way out here to take delivery, not get held up by a misbegotten Chinaman. I don’t take kindly to it, neither.”

  “Kuo . . .” Milt said, drawing out his name as if in warning.

  Somewhere above her head, Ketta heard hissing, like an angry cat arguing with a snarling dog.

  Presently, the hissing turned into words. “Get out.” Kuo’s whisper held double menace. “All of you. Saddle up and go. This is your only warning.”

  Heller chuckled. “You sure you’re calling the shots, Kuo? Look around. I see four men lined up against you. You and the girl.”

  “But my gun is out and cocked, Heller. Even you can’t beat a bullet aimed right at you. And you, you’re the one in my sights.”

  Ketta opened one eye, the only eye, she discovered, she could see out of, to find Kuo standing, legs spraddled, above her. The barrel of his pistol was directly overhead, his fist around the grip, his finger on the trigger.

  “Well then,” Heller said, slow and easy. He raised his hands halfway into the air. “Looks like you’ve got me.”

  “Sonuvabitch!” Milt said. “Heller, don’t blame me. I didn’t know he’d renege on the deal.”

  “I made no such deal.” Kuo looked as fierce as a snarling cougar, his lips drawn back over gnashing teeth.