by Paul Bedford
‘They’ll do as I say, not as I do,’ he responded heatedly. ‘Meantime, the girl needs a horse. Her riding double is starting to slow us down.’ The big outlaw drew in a deep breath and roared down the wind to the cabin. ‘Oh, I hear you, old man. But the thing is, we ain’t leaving without a good horse and saddle. Just the one. I’ve kind of set my heart on it. So what’s going to happen is this. We’re going to keep you and your kin pinned down ’til nightfall. Then we’re going to move in fast and pour coal oil all over your walls and burn every one of you sons of bitches to death. Then we’ll take all of your animals and sell them to the army. How’s that sound?’
Despite the tense situation, Bassett just had to chuckle. ‘Coal oil’. That was a good one. As if any of them were carrying buckets of that stuff around.
Johnson’s overblown threat obviously carried weight with the settlers, because after bare moments the grey head reappeared. This time the aggressive tone was much reduced. ‘You’re no better than the god damn Sioux. Send one man down here, unarmed. He picks out the one animal and then you all get off my property, pronto.’
A broad grin spread over Johnson’s face. ‘It’ll be my pleasure, old friend,’ he yelled back. ‘And you have my deepest thanks.’
The old man’s response resonated with bitterness and defeat. ‘You know where you can stick that and I ain’t your friend!’
Shortly after that last exchange, the scavengers extricated themselves from the rocks and took off. Cathy now had her own mount, but if she hoped that that additional freedom would allow her more chance to escape, she was to be disappointed. Her hands were fettered with rawhide and Taw Johnson had her reins looped around his left wrist at all times.
‘You and I need to stick together,’ he remarked softly as they jogged along. ‘That way we can get to know each other better. We’ll be in The Breaks shortly. Lay low there for a spell; just to make sure no one’s on our back trail. We’ve upset a few folks lately and your man might be one of them. I’ve found it pays to be careful.’
In spite of the permanent simmering resentment that she felt at her kidnapping, Cathy’s curiosity was aroused. ‘What on earth is The Breaks?’
He stared at her in genuine amazement. ‘You can’t have lived in Montana for long, little lady.’
‘I’d never been west of the Mississippi until John took me for his wife.’ She hadn’t meant for it to come out quite like that, but Johnson was sharp enough to have spotted it.
‘Sounds to me like yours might not have been a marriage of equals,’ he responded slyly, but when she lowered her head and failed to elaborate, he merely laughed and carried on. ‘The Breaks is a vast stretch of land surrounding the Upper Missouri River. It might look interesting to some surveyor, but to people like us it’s known as badlands. Hills, buttes, rock outcropping and forests make it a great place to hide out and it’s pretty much deserted. Anyone tries coming to conclusions with us in there and they’ll end up dead as a wagon tyre!’
John Clemens had ridden long and hard since leaving New Haven. By the late afternoon he had been able to make out the Bear Paw Mountains in the distance off to his right. He could not know of the various diversions that had delayed his prey, but somehow he sensed that he might be overhauling them. One man alone could always outpace a large group, regardless of interruptions.
As darkness came on, he and his horse were all but done in. Seething anger still consumed him, but the experienced hunter had sense enough to recognize that he needed to stop for the night. It was a long time since he had slept in the open and so it was a pleasant surprise when he suddenly came upon a substantial cabin along with other outbuildings. Lights were burning inside so he decided to chance his hand and test their hospitality. Care was needed, though. A man could end up in a cold hole in the ground, blundering into an unknown settlement in the dark. Dismounting, Clemens kept his hands clear of any weapons and led his horse forward until they were within easy hailing distance.
‘Hello, the cabin,’ he called out hopefully, completely ignorant of just how exactly his greeting replicated that of Taw Johnson’s earlier in the day.
The response was chilling. As heavy boots thundered across bare floorboards, first the lights were doused and then the door was flung open. Clemens hadn’t survived years on the frontier by luck alone. He was already in the dirt when the expected muzzle flash momentarily flared in the night. There was a blast of pressure as a rifle bullet flew over his head. Drawing and cocking his Schofield, he aimed directly at the dark shape in front of the cabin.
‘If you or any other son of a bitch triggers a piece, you’ll get to dying. You have my oath on that.’ His warning was greeted with silence rather than more gunfire, which in itself was encouraging, so he continued with, ‘You ain’t right neighbourly. Why would that be?’
The solitary figure with the rifle retorted harshly, ‘We ain’t got any neighbours that we know of. Only robbing varmints that threaten to torch what’s ours.’
Everything suddenly became clear in Clemens’s mind. ‘Well, I own a spread north of here a piece and those same varmints hit my place sometime yesterday. Took my wife, without even a “by your leave”. I aim to get her back . . . unless you figure on stopping me just for the hell of it,’ he added sarcastically.
There was a sharp intake of breath as his words sank in and when his assailant next spoke it was with obvious embarrassment. ‘Hell, mister. We thought you was one of them scum sucking outlaws come back to try their luck again. James, get those damn lamps lit. I almost made a terrible mistake here.’
Flickering light reappeared in the cabin and then a young man emerged, carrying a kerosene lamp. Its bright glow illuminated the scene and both father and son twitched with alarm at the sight of the revolver aimed directly at them. Clemens intentionally delayed a few seconds before holstering it and getting to his feet. With the full bandoliers draped around his torso, he was wholly aware of the effect his appearance might have on them.
‘Hell’s bells, mister,’ remarked the young man. ‘You’re loaded for bear and no mistake.’
The unexpected visitor favoured him with a chill smile. ‘This ain’t no picnic I’m on. When I catch up with them fellas, there’ll be some killing and I’ll be the one doing it!’
The father gazed intently at him for a moment and then gestured towards the door. ‘Please, you must come in and get warm. It’s the least I can do after nearly shooting you and besides . . . I believe we may have things to impart that will help you. Liam, get some food and drink on the table.’
Clemens shook his head brusquely and his response was uncompromising. ‘Not until I’ve seen to my horse’s needs. I’ve pushed her hard today and doubtless will again. If you want a parley, follow me to the barn.’ With that, he led the tired animal over towards that structure without inviting permission or even offering a backward glance.
His host was taken aback, but accepted the situation with good grace and a short while later he and his two sons joined Clemens in the barn. They had brought some beer, bread and cheese with them, which their guest began to dispatch with relish. Between mouthfuls he told them a little about himself.
‘Obliged for the vittles, folks. My name’s Clemens. John Clemens. My . . . our spread is up near Chinook.’
Even though preoccupied, he didn’t miss the father’s sharp intake of breath that greeted the disclosure of his name. That individual glanced meaningfully at his sons whilst considering a response. While he did so, Clemens took the time to examine each of them properly. All three were stocky, ruddy-faced fellows of average height. Liam, at roughly thirty years of age, was obviously the older brother to James. He possessed straw-coloured hair and fresh features. Observing the newcomer with wary interest, he was the first to speak.
‘I reckon those are Sharps cartridges in your bandoliers,’ he remarked. ‘Would you be the John Clemens, buffalo hunter?’
Clemens momentarily stopped chewing. ‘Sure don’t know of another one with that name
, although it’s a while since I took a shot at one of those beasts. I pretty much worked myself out of a job.’
‘So if you do catch up with those outlaws you could maybe pick them off at long range,’ Liam persisted.
His father didn’t like the way the conversation was going. ‘Buffalo don’t shoot back, son,’ he added pointedly.
‘But the redskins did,’ Clemens chipped in sharply. ‘And they didn’t take kindly to their food source being slaughtered. Looking back on it all, I can kind of see their point of view, but it’s too late now. The big shaggies are all gone and I consider that a shame.’
There was a brief silence, as the hunter seemed taken up by his recollection. Then Liam, who also seemed to have something on his mind, broke in on the reverie. ‘When they left here, those fellas were heading towards the Missouri Breaks. Folks on the dodge usually hole up there for a while. If you’re set on going in there after them, you’ll need a guide. That’d be me!’
‘Now just a god damn minute, Liam,’ his father blurted out. ‘I didn’t raise you just to get shot to pieces by a bunch of saddle tramps.’
Liam smiled fondly at him, but there was no mistaking the determination on his face. ‘It was my horse that they stole, Pa. And I’m of age an’ then some, so you don’t have any say in the matter.’
‘But I do,’ Clemens declared bluntly. ‘Why should I want to hook up with someone I don’t have the measure of?’
‘Do you know your way around the Breaks?’ the other man demanded.
‘No. No, I don’t,’ Clemens admitted. ‘But do you?’
‘I know more about that part of the country than a jack rabbit knows about running,’ Liam asserted confidently. ‘Now in turn, you might know all there is to know about hunting men and critters, but if you go in there alone you’ll surely end up as buzzard bait. The Breaks is not always as empty as you might think. It can attract some strange and dangerous people.’
Clemens stared at the younger man long and hard as he mulled over his options. In the course of his life on the frontier, self-reliance had generally seen him through, but he was pragmatic enough to know that there were times when that just wasn’t enough. This was one of them.
‘OK, I can work with that. But, you’re after a horse and I’m after a wife, so I give the orders. Understand?’
Liam’s eyes narrowed and he nodded grudgingly.
‘So say it!’ Clemens demanded harshly.
The young man twitched with surprise and glanced at his kinfolk. He obviously wasn’t used to being spoken to in such a way, especially in his own barn, but then again he hadn’t encountered the like of John Clemens before either. Finally and very reluctantly, he did as ordered.
‘I understand.’
Chapter Four
Lying flat out on top of the butte with the low sun off to his side meant that he could observe the new arrivals without any possibility of them spotting him. They rode along as though they owned the place, which made him smile a little because he had always considered the Breaks to be his domain. Then his craggy, bearded features froze with shock and he did a double take through the drawtube spyglass. Tobacco juice trickled unnoticed over his matted chin, as his cycloptic vision crawled voyeuristically over every inch of the woman on horseback.
‘Sweet Jesus, but she’s a bonny lass,’ he muttered in a still recognizable Scottish accent. For legal reasons relating to his notoriously vicious temperament, he had been gone from his isolated Highland haunts for upwards of twenty years, but his behaviour had not moderated in the slightest. After emigrating to America, he had quite naturally gravitated to another equally desolate spot, but he still retained his mother tongue.
He came to a decision there and then. Normally he would have kept clear of such a sizeable band of malefactors, but the presence of such a desirable female had changed everything. He couldn’t exactly recall the last time that he had had a woman, but he did remember sourly that he’d had to pay for her. It had probably been around the time that he’d had his last hot bath down in Billings, but this time it was going to be different. This time there wouldn’t be any money changing hands!
‘I’m thinking you’ll not be taking her away with you,’ he confidently announced to the unsuspecting riders ahead of him, before crawling back to begin his precarious descent. From then on he would be their deadly shadow, unseen but perhaps not entirely undetected. Because for too long, he had preyed on unwary travellers and unimpeded success can make a man careless!
The scavengers had threaded their way through a varied selection of rock outcroppings until finally, just as the light began to drain out of the sky, they arrived at a small sheltered meadow on the northern bank of the Missouri River. Cottonwood trees lined the riverbank and it was an undeniably pleasant spot. At some point they would need to find a place to cross, but that could wait for another day.
‘Get a fire going,’ commanded Taw Johnson. ‘And make it a big one. It’s going to be a cold night.’
‘For some more than others,’ muttered Kenny Packard, as he sourly glanced over at Cathy. His left leg had finally healed up and he now had other things on his mind.
As was so often the case, Clay Bassett came up behind him unexpectedly. ‘If he hears talk like that,’ he murmured softly, ‘he’ll slit you from throat to crotch. And that might not be the only thing you have to worry about.’
Packard twisted around in alarm. ‘Say what?’
Bassett groaned inwardly at the man’s bovine expression. Good help really was hard to find.
‘Call it a sixth sense or a gut feeling,’ he elaborated, controlling his impatience. ‘But I think we’ve had company ever since we entered the Breaks. Whoever it is is pretty damn good, but not up to some of the Indian trackers I’ve come across. If Taw didn’t have other things on his mind, I reckon he too would have an itch he couldn’t scratch.’
Packard’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Do tell! So what do you want me to do?’
‘Whoever’s out there is most likely after the girl. I know I would be, if only to use her in trade. So tell the others to keep well clear of her, but otherwise to just act natural. That way she might draw them in. Once it gets full dark, I’ll slip away from the fire to get my night vision and wait for something to occur.’
Packard nodded sagely, as though the whole idea had been his all along. ‘You know what, Clay? You and I work real well together!’
Bassett’s eyes glazed over slightly. ‘I really can’t recall what I ever did to deserve you.’
Taw Johnson spooned out a big helping of piping hot beans on to the bread on his tin plate. The freshly baked staple had come from New Haven and was a welcome addition. His guts rumbled with hunger, but unusually for him he also had someone else’s welfare in mind. And so, after repeating the action, he lumbered over to join Cathy, a plate in either hand. The young woman looked up at him sourly, but made no comment as he settled himself next to her. Her hands were still bound.
‘I’m going to take that rawhide off you,’ he said gruffly. ‘Don’t even think about running, ’cause there’s nothing out there for miles except rough ground and wild animals. So even if the wolves didn’t get you, you’d like as not break your neck in the dark.’
He unpicked the knots and she involuntarily groaned as the circulation was gradually restored to her hands. He chuckled and then began shovelling the beans into his mouth. Initially she tried to remain aloof, but the tempting aroma was just too much to bear. Her stomach was crying out for food and she was soon easily matching his crude eating habits. It wasn’t until Cathy had wolfed it all down that she realized he was beaming broadly at her.
With a full belly, it felt natural to respond to his infectious grin, but just in time she recollected how she came to be there and so instead merely favoured him with a grimace. Taw shook his head in mock amazement and then snuggled a little bit closer.
‘No point in looking so sour, little lady. Some of them vittles came from your cabin.’ He belched loudl
y, before restlessly shifting position in the grass. ‘I had thought to steal a kiss from you and I think I still will, but first I’ve got business to attend to. Stay put!’
So saying, the outlaw leader clambered to his feet. Then, despite his pre-occupation, it suddenly occurred to him that something was amiss. He and the young woman were completely isolated on their side of the large fire. Since his men had no concept whatsoever of tact, there had to be another reason why they were all keeping clear. Then he began to feel another, stronger movement in his bowels and all suspicions were temporarily displaced by more base needs. Grunting, he swiftly moved off towards the river.
Clay Bassett lay flat out in the damp grass, some distance behind Cathy and well clear of the firelight. He was chilled to the bone and fighting back the desperate urge to move . . . something, anything just to generate some warmth. The smell of food and the crackling of firewood were like torture to him, but some inner determination kept him in place. That son of a bitch Taw hadn’t even noticed that his sidekick was absent, but Clay just knew that something was amiss.
He watched as the outlaw boss got to his feet and after a brief hesitation moved purposefully over towards the river. It was obvious what he was about and his departure meant that the girl was now completely isolated. If anything was going to happen, then it was likely to be soon. Bassett expectantly clutched his revolver, ready for the pounding of hoofs that would signify a lightning raid on the camp. And yet, as minutes passed, the only sounds came from his cronies as they stuffed their faces and basked in the warmth of the fire. Could it be that for once his sixth sense had entirely failed him?
His heart jolted with shock as a shadowy figure rose from the ground directly behind the girl. Surely no one could have got past him undetected? Numbed by the cold, Bassett could only watch as the wraith leapt forward and closed a foul-smelling hand over Cathy’s mouth. Unable to cry out, she found herself dragged back, away from the welcoming ambit of the fire. The scavengers had not even noticed her sudden absence.
