Behind her, her mother stepped out on the porch to see. “Who is it?” Muriel asked.
“Cord Malone,” Eileen replied, taking care not to show any emotion. “Looks like he’s finished that important business he said he had to fix, and he’s got somebody with him.”
“I declare,” Muriel said, “I never thought we’d see him around here again, but thank the Lord he’s back. Stony and Lem need all the help they can get.”
Standing at the corner of the corral, Lem Jenkins peered out toward the gate, having also heard Billy whistle. His eyes not as sharp as Eileen’s, he squinted in an effort to identify their visitors. In another minute, he recognized the rider between the other two, and he made no effort to hide his emotions. His face broke out in a wide grin, happy to see the troubled young man who had left the Triple-T on a trail of bitter vengeance. He did not recognize the two with him, but two more guns would surely be welcome. He walked out a few yards in front of the corral to be sure Cord saw him. Up at the house, Eileen saw the three riders turn toward the corral and Lem, instead of coming directly to the porch where she and her mother stood. Registering slight irritation at that, she turned to her mother and said, “I’m going to the barn. I wanna know if they’ve come to help, or just blowing through like the useless tumbleweeds most of them are.”
“I’m going with you,” Muriel said. “I want to know, too.” She followed Eileen down the steps. The two women arrived at the corral to join Lem at the same time Cord and his friends pulled up at the corral. Billy Atkins joined them a minute or two later.
“Danged if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes,” Lem greeted Cord.
“Heard you were havin’ some trouble,” Cord replied, then immediately shifted his attention toward Muriel and Eileen. “I’m right sorry to hear about Mike. He was a good man.”
“I hope you’ve come back to help,” Muriel said. “Lem and the boys are doing the best they can to keep the Triple-T from being stolen right out from under us, but they’re up against a vicious gang of murderers.”
“I have, ma’am,” Cord said. “I’ve come back to do what I can to help, and I brought Bill Dooley and Birdie Summer with me.” He glanced at Eileen to find her gazing intently at him, only to avert her eyes when they met his.
Lem didn’t allow him time to think about Eileen’s lack of a greeting. “Well, partner, I knew somewhere along the line you’d show up here again, and I’m mighty glad to see you.”
“I had to return your rifle,” Cord said.
“Well, step down,” Lem said. “Did you take care of that thing you left here for?”
“No, but that can wait till we take care of the problem we have here right now.” He and his two friends dismounted. Lem and Billy both stepped forward to shake hands with the new arrivals. “I reckon we’d best unload some of this jerky and supplies we’re haulin’ on our saddles. Dooley and I can go grab a bed in the bunkhouse.” He turned again to Muriel. “I’d be obliged if Birdie could stay in the house with you and Eileen, ma’am.”
His request was met with looks of astonishment from mother and daughter. Eileen responded, “Why can’t he stay in the bunkhouse?”
“It wouldn’t do,” Cord replied. “Birdie’s a girl.”
His simple statement caused all four of the Triple-T to turn in surprise to stare at the now embarrassed young woman. Muriel, as shocked as the others, still managed to quickly respond, “Please excuse our rudeness, Birdie. We were so busy seeing Cord again that none of us took notice of you and your friend. Of course you can stay in the house with us, and welcome.”
Dooley, seeing the awkward moment caused by Birdie’s appearance, was inspired to ease the situation. “Yes, ma’am, and I’m really an old lady. Have I got to stay in the bunkhouse with these jaspers?” The comment served his purpose, and everyone laughed.
One in particular took a much closer look at the blushing young girl. Eileen berated herself for not noticing at once that Birdie was female. At first glance, she, like the others, had thought Birdie was a boy, maybe a little frail, but short hair and a boy’s clothes were all she had noticed. Upon closer inspection, however, she now became aware of the fine, delicate features of her nose and mouth, her smooth face, and the soft blue eyes. Damn! she thought. She’s older than she looks and pretty, too. She looked quickly back at Cord, interested now in his manner with the young girl. Exactly what was their relationship? she wondered. There was no way she could tell by his actions, causing her to complain to herself, The same old blank expression on his face.
“I reckon I shoulda told you right off,” Cord said, feeling somewhat contrite for not pointing out something that he thought would be apparent, forgetting his impression the first time he had seen Birdie. “She’s already showed me that she’s handy with a gun, but it was just Dooley and me that figured on helpin’ out with the trouble with the Roman-Three. Birdie’s just thinkin’ about gettin’ to Ogallala, so she came along with us.”
“I’m not in any particular hurry to get there, though,” Birdie volunteered, “so I’d be glad to help out here any way I can.”
“Good,” Lem said, “Muriel and Eileen can probably use the help, and we’re always happy to welcome pretty young girls.” He hoped his comment would make up some for mistaking her for a boy.
“Here,” Billy spoke up then, his interest having been immediately aroused, “let me take care of your horse for you.” With a huge smile on his face, he stepped up to take the mare’s reins. “You must be kinda tired if you’ve been ridin’ all that way from . . .” He hesitated then, realizing no one had said where they had started out from.
“Rawhide Buttes,” Dooley supplied for him, “and she ain’t complained a whimper on the whole trip. Like Cord said, she sure came in handy with that six-gun she’s wearin’.”
She just sounds like the perfect little angel, Eileen thought, but to Birdie, she said, “I’ll help you carry your things up to the house. You can use my old room. I’ll sleep with Mama.”
When Eileen and her mother left to escort Birdie back to the house, Cord turned to Lem to be brought up to date on the situation with the rustlers. “It’s gotten to be pretty much a cat and mouse game,” Lem told him. “What the bastards are doin’ is splittin’ up and hittin’ the herd at night. Right now most of our cattle are feedin’ along Blue Creek, along the northern boundary of our range. So the rustlers will come down off the Roman-Three and cut into the herd, and we have to drive ’em off. But there ain’t been enough of us, so when we try to chase after ’em, some more of their gang rides in and cuts the tail end of the herd off, and so far we ain’t been able to stop ’em from drivin’ large numbers of our cows back to their range where they’re waitin’ to brand ’em.” He shrugged helplessly then. “We don’t know nothin’ else we can do. We just need a lot more of us to match up with their gang.” He nodded toward Billy. “Me and Billy will ride night herd up at Blue Creek tonight, when Stony and the others come in to get a little sleep.”
“Just the two of you?” Cord asked.
“Like I said before, there ain’t but five of us altogether, so some nights we have to ride shorthanded. With you and Dooley here, we’ll have a couple more to watch the herd—still ain’t as many as we’re facin’, but it’ll help.”
“Yeah, hell yeah,” Dooley replied at once. “We’re ready to go tonight.”
Cord thought Lem’s words over for a few minutes before deciding how best he should be used. When he was satisfied that he could be most effective riding alone, he told Lem and Dooley what he proposed to do. “If it’s all right with you, take Dooley with you and Billy, and I’ll ride alone to see if I can keep the bunch that tries to drive off the drags from the rest of the herd.”
“I ain’t sure that’s the smartest thing to do,” Lem responded. “You’d be in trouble up to your ass if they found out you were workin’ all by yourself.”
“Then I reck
on I’d better be careful,” Cord said.
“I reckon it’s your neck,” Lem said. He liked the sound of one man out there working alone while the rustlers’ concentration was on cutting out part of the herd. He meant it when he told Cord it was a risky thing to do, but he had seen the determined man in action before. He might be successful in thinning out the rustlers, and that would greatly increase the Triple-T’s chances of saving their herd. “Let’s get you and Dooley settled in the bunkhouse. Then we’ll get some supper and head up Blue Creek.”
“That sounds good to me,” Dooley commented, “especially that supper part.” He was looking forward to working cattle on this side of the law, eager to see if he could successfully make the switch.
• • •
Halfway up Blue Creek, they met Stony, Blackie, and Link on their way back to the ranch. “Put you to work already,” Blackie called out when they reined up to talk.
“Lem don’t let new hires lie around the bunkhouse,” Cord answered.
“That’s a fact,” Lem said with a chuckle. “Gotta make sure they earn their bacon.”
They talked for a few minutes, Stony passing on any information of sightings of the raiding Striker gang. “Maybe you’ll have a peaceful night,” he said. “That sky don’t look too good, like we might get some rain, or a little more snow. Maybe Striker’s men won’t take a chance on the weather turning bad. The only folks we saw today were three coyotes snoopin’ around the old burnt-out line shack, and we pinned them down in the creek for a while before we let ’em go.” He laughed then when Lem didn’t get the joke at once, as evidenced by his frown of concern. In another second, Lem chuckled as well. “Like I said, maybe you’ll have a peaceful night,” Stony went on. “Ol’ Striker mighta gave his boys a night off to go into town.”
“I doubt that,” Lem said. “We’ll see you boys in the mornin’.” He gave his horse a little nudge with his heels and started out again.
Riding up the western side of Blue Creek, they came to a wide valley, bordered on one side by a low mesa and a low line of hills on the other. This was where they found most of the cattle. “It’ll be gettin’ dark before much longer,” Lem speculated. “Might as well build us a fire near the head of this valley. It’s as good a place as any. Then we’ll start takin’ turns ridin’ night herd. That’s the way we usually do it.”
When Billy and Dooley left to look for firewood on the bank of the creek, Cord told Lem what he planned to do. “I know it’d be good to have four of us to watch for rustlers, but I’m thinkin’ I’ll do more good if I ride on off alone. I’ll find a place across the valley in that line of scrubby hills where I can hide my horse and see what happens. Maybe I can catch some of ’em when they ain’t lookin’.”
“You be careful, Cord,” Lem warned. “These boys are playin’ for keeps.”
“So am I,” Cord replied as he turned the bay’s head toward the already darkening border of trees along Blue Creek. He asked the bay for a gentle lope after he crossed over the creek and began to search the rugged hills beyond for a spot that suited him. The place he picked was a narrow ravine that sloped up to the top of a ridge. The light snow that had fallen the night before was still evident in the shadow of the ravine, having been shaded from the day’s sun. It caused Cord to apologize to the horse for not building him a fire. “We’re both gonna have to stay outta sight for a while.” Leaving the horse tied to a clump of sage, he climbed up the ravine to the top of the shallow ridge, where he had a pretty good view of the valley in both directions. He expected the unwelcome visitors to come from the north since that was the direction of the Roman-3. Nothing to do now but wait, he thought as he pulled the collar of his heavy coat up around his neck. Shortly after darkness set in, the rain started, a cold, miserable rain that prompted him to break out his rain slicker and pull his hat down low over his forehead. Stony’s comment came to mind then, and he wondered if there was really much chance of the rustlers showing up on this night. On the other hand, he considered, it might be the perfect night to steal someone’s herd.
• • •
“Same place they was this afternoon,” Lou Suggs reported when he rode to the back side of the first of a chain of three buttes on the western side of Blue Creek and dismounted.
“I figured they would be,” Mace replied. “How many men?”
“Three,” Lou answered, “just like always. They’ve got ’em a fire built, and right now they’re just settin’ around tryin’ to stay dry, and most likely tryin’ to decide which one of ’em has to risk his neck ridin’ night herd.” His remark brought a few chuckles from the eleven men standing around Mace.
“Three,” Mace repeated. “Reckon it was that scar-face son of a bitch—the same three that shot Sykes and Bo?” He was still smarting a bit from having reported to Harlan Striker that he had not found the three that afternoon.
“Hell,” Lou said, “I couldn’t tell who it was. Couldn’t see that good in the dark and the rain and whatnot.”
“All right,” Mace directed. “It’s time to do a little cattle drivin’. Bart, take five men and go on down along that line to the last hill yonder. You know what to do. Get in behind the cattle and start the whole damn herd runnin’ toward the head of the valley. The rest of us will take care of those three settin’ by the fire.” He was tired of picking away at small portions of Willard Murphy’s cattle. It was time to go to war now, since they had brought in that hired gun, and time to kill the drovers and finish the Triple-T for good. In spite of Striker’s concerns about attracting the attention of the law, Mace was of the opinion that nobody really knew or cared if there was a range war going on in the empty prairie north of Ogallala.
In the saddle then, seven of the thirteen men started out along the base of the hills, circling around to come up from behind the three seated around the campfire. When within one hundred yards of the herd, Mace started the shooting, aiming his rifle at one of the three men around the fire. Because of the difficulty of aiming accurately while riding a galloping horse, he missed all three, but his aim was good enough to kick up a double handful of burning branches in the fire, sending the three men scrambling. There followed an explosion of gunshots as every one of the outlaws fired their weapons, starting an instant stampede.
Diving into the gully to take cover, Lem and his partners strained to see from whence the shooting came. In the chaos of the initial moments of the stampede, with the air filled with thunderous gunfire, it was difficult to determine the point of attack as all three tried to hold on to their frightened horses. But soon they saw the line of riders cutting into the terrified cattle, and they began to return fire. “They’re pushin’ ’em up the valley!” Billy cried out.
“Get after ’em,” Lem yelled, “or we’ll lose the whole damn herd!” But the rifle fire kicking up dirt around the gully made it suicide to even think about climbing in the saddle. The best they could do was to take what shots that were presented by the rustlers darting back and forth as they pinned the drovers down.
“By God, they ain’t just after the cattle. They’re out to kill us,” Dooley shouted. “If you’re gonna steal the whole herd, you ain’t gonna want no witnesses left to talk about it!” Unnoticed behind them, a line of six riders moved up from the rear of the frantic cattle—unnoticed except for one lone man.
Scrambling down the ravine to get to his horse, Cord thought the same as Dooley. He could see that the Roman-3 gang had split in two, with half driving the cattle, and the other half intent upon murdering the drovers. The thought hit him hard at that moment, one that had not occurred to him before. Although he had not known either for any length of time, two of those pinned down in that gully were the closest friends he had, Lem Jenkins and Bill Dooley. In the saddle then, he raced after the riders circling the gully, formulating his plan as he rode. In the chaos of dust kicked up by the startled cattle mixing with the now steadily falling rain, combined with t
he dark, it was difficult for one rider to identify another, so he would use that to his advantage. Selecting his first target, Cord pulled the bay up beside Lou Suggs.
“Keep throwin’ lead at that gully!” Lou shouted to him. “Don’t give ’em a chance to aim!”
“Right,” Cord answered and, with his rifle leveled at Lou’s gut, pulled the trigger, knocking the rustler out of the saddle. He kicked his horse hard then to catch up with another of the riders.
Bart Smith pulled up short when he saw a riderless horse gallop past him. He looked around him from left to right to see if he saw anyone on foot. “Who’s on the ground?” he called out to the rider catching up to him in the swirling cloud of mixed dust and snow.
“I don’t know,” Cord answered as he closed the distance between them.
“It’s damn hard to tell who’s who in this mess,” Bart complained. “You couldn’t recognize the devil himself if he was to ride right up to ya.” A few seconds later, as Cord drew up close to him, Bart was suddenly startled. “Who the hell are you?”
“The devil,” Cord replied as he pulled the trigger with his rifle leveled at him. He turned the bay’s head then and cut through the swirling mass of cows to the other side of the herd. He worked his way clear of the stampeding herd just as the leading cows reached Blue Creek. Circling back the way he had come, he almost ran into another rider, who was firing his pistol into the air in an effort to prevent the cows from veering away from the water. The rider yelled at him for help in steering the wild mass of beef into the shallow creek. It was the last sound he made on this side of the divide between the living and the dead.
Mark of the Hunter Page 16
