The Yates wagon had stopped, apparently to rest the mules. Connie and Kate leaned against the wagon’s tailgate, while Roscoe Yates remained on the wagon box. McCaleb had no intention of speaking, but Yates spoke first.
“Looked like you was goin’ to be a while roundin’ up all that livestock, so I reckoned we might as well move along.”
“We’ll manage,” said McCaleb shortly. “Just go on about your business.”
“My stars,” one of the Yates girls said, her eyes on Rebecca, “it’s Monte’s mama. Tell him we’ll be waiting for him in Deadwood.”
Rebecca kept her silence, biting her lips until they bled. Only when the Yates wagon was far behind did she speak.
“As sorry as they are, and as free as they are with their favors, there are times when I think the only solution is to shoot Monte right between the eyes. For a while, I thought Penelope might have some good influence on him, but Penelope’s found her man. He’s all that Monte will never be.”
“I’m proud for her,” said Lorna. “Quanah Taylor’s Texan to the bone, and as Cal says, as a man, he’s nine feet tall and a yard wide.”
17
DEADWOOD, DAKOTA TERRITORY.
JULY 6, 1876
THE TOWN OF DEADWOOD was strung out along a gulch, with one muddy street stretching the length of it. There were barren mountains on both sides, and the only trails meandered between them.
“Dear God,” said Rebecca, “what a dirty, dismal, isolated place. All I see are saloons.”
“When men have gold fever, they won’t have much time for anything else,” McCaleb said. “There’ll be some eatin’ places, and maybe a couple of boarding houses, but they’ll be priced out of our reach.”
“We know there’s a telegraph instrument somewhere in town,” Cal said. “Suppose we go lookin’ for that. We might learn where Reems hangs out.”
“There’s a military outpost up yonder at the end of the street,” a miner told them. “It’s their telegraph, but they’ll likely let you use it.”
The outpost was a crudely built cabin with two bunks, a fireplace and a table and four chairs. Two men stood up when McCaleb and his companions entered.
“I’m Sergeant Carpenter, and this is Corporal Barnett. What can we do for you?”
Quickly, McCaleb told them of the deal for the cattle that Milo Reems had confirmed by telegraph, and of their need to locate Reems.
“Reems lived at Lassiter’s Boardinghouse while he was here,” Sergeant Carpenter said.
“While he was here!” McCaleb shouted. “You mean he’s not here now?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Sergeant Carpenter, “although he’s expected to return shortly. He made deals all over town for those cows you fellows are driving in. His wife’s still here.”
“Hell’s fire,” Cal said, “he’s in no position to make deals with anybody. He hasn’t laid out a plugged peso toward payment for our herds.”
“It’s all the more important that you find him, then,” Sergeant Carpenter said. “Last I heard, he’d sold eighty-eight hundred cows at sixty dollars a head. He bought a wagon, hired a dozen armed guards and took the gold to the bank in Cheyenne. He aims to line up some more cattle to be driven in. He could have sold another two or three thousand head.”
“Like hell he could,” McCaleb bawled. “They’re not his to sell. How long has he been gone?”
“Three days, as I recall,” said Sergeant Carpenter. “Everybody’s anxious for his return. Every miner in these hills has bought a cow or two, while the Gulch Cafe bought fifty. Now I reckon we’ll have to wait for him so you can close the deal.”
“Sergeant,” McCaleb said, “I have a favor to ask of you and the corporal. Say nothing about us, or our purpose for being here, until we can track down Milo Reems and settle this whole thing. If these miners have paid for beef on the hoof, they may decide to take it with a gun.”
“My God, you’re right,” said Carpenter, “and there’s no. law in town except Corporal Barnett and me. Reems left his wife here. Are you doubting he intends to return and settle with you?”
“I’m doubting that Reems intends to return for any reason,” McCaleb said. “I believe the people in this town have been left holding the sack—an empty sack—for more than half a million dollars, and they stand to lose it all unless we can track down Milo Reems, and get our money.”
“But you have the promised beef,” said Sergeant Carpenter.
“True,” McCaleb said, “but we’re not honoring Reems’s promise until we’re paid for our herds. I must ask you again to keep all this to yourself. If these miners go after our cows based on what they’ve paid Reems, our outfits will lay some misery on them that’ll make everybody forget Custer’s bad day with the Sioux.”
McCaleb and his group left the two soldiers with worried looks on their faces.
“They’ll have told somebody—maybe everybody—before dark,” Cal predicted.
“I suspect you’re right,” said McCaleb. “In fact, I believe the sergeant and the corporal may have bought a couple of our cows for themselves. Now they know Reems has cut and run with the money, paying us nothing. We’d better saddle up and head for Cheyenne before word gets around. This place may erupt like a lighted keg of black powder.”
“Let’s try Lassiter’s Boardinghouse first,” said Rebecca. “Surely he plans to return, if he left his wife here.”
“Not necessarily,” McCaleb said grimly. “Not if he wanted to get out of town with a fortune in gold without arousing suspicion.”
“If he’s done that,” said Cal, “this world’s not big enough for both of us. Our share of that herd cost Lorna and me ten hard years. Let’s find that woman of his and see if this is as god-awful bad as it looks.”
Lassiter’s was so new, the green lumber hadn’t yet begun to warp. It was all on one level, with a series of rooms strung along each side of a hall. A whiskered man with a Colt stuck beneath his waistband got up, and when he spoke, it was with no friendliness.
“We’re full up.”
“No concern of ours,” said McCaleb. “We’re here to see Milo Reems’s wife.”
“Reems ain’t in town, and I ain’t wantin’ no trouble here.”
“We know Reems is not here,” McCaleb said, “and we aim to talk to this woman, if we have to bust down every door in this place. Now, where is she?”
“Last door on the right at the end of the hall.”
McCaleb pounded on the door, and there was no response. He pounded a second time, and it shook the very wall.
“Go away,” shouted a shrill voice from inside.
“I have some questions to ask you,” said McCaleb, “and I’m not leaving without getting some answers.”
There was no response, and McCaleb slammed his shoulder against the door. A flimsy bar snapped, and the door was flung back against the wall. A startled bearded man flung all the covers off the bed. He was attired in only his socks, while the furious female beside him wore considerably less. A gunbelt hung from a bedpost, and the man on the bed went for his Colt. McCaleb carried his Colt butt-forward on his right hip, and he drew with the swiftness of a lightning bolt. His slug struck the butt of the holstered Colt, sending it and the gunbelt tumbling down behind the bed.
“Now,” said McCaleb, “you have just enough time to grab your britches and boots and get the hell out of here.”
The frightened stranger wasted no time. He leaped out of the bed and, forgetting his hat and gunbelt, grabbed his boots and rumpled clothes as he headed for the door. There was considerable commotion in the hall, and since the four of them were already in the small room, Cal closed the door. The naked woman came off the bed with a shriek, but it was a move Lorna and Rebecca had been expecting. Each of them caught one arm and, not too gently, flung her on her back, on the bed. She bounded up again, and Rebecca caught her on the chin with a fisted right hand. Lorna was already gathering some of the woman’s scattered clothing, and using that, they quickly bound her
ankles and wrists. Somebody was pounding on the door. Cal opened it and there were three men outside. His Colt was cocked and steady in his hand, and with it, he motioned down the hall. The three quickly got the message and retreated. Cal closed the door. The furious woman had regained her senses and was cursing them with every breath. Before McCaleb or Cal could respond to the tirade, Lorna rose to the occasion.
“All we’re here for is to ask you some questions. Now, you stop that swearing and pay attention to me. If you don’t tell us what we want to know, my friend and me are going to drag you outside stark naked and, before God and everybody, just purely beat the hell out of you with a doubled lariat.”
As serious as the occasion was, McCaleb and Cal were trying mightily not to grin at one another. The woman spread-eagled on the bed had ceased swearing, and when she did speak again, her voice trembled.
“What do you want to know?”
“First,” said McCaleb, “are you the wife of a varmint name of Milo Reems?”
“No,” she replied. “My name is Viola, and I met Reems in Cheyenne. He offered to pay me five hundred dollars a month if I’d pose as his wife for as long as he needed me. He’s paid for this room for the rest of the month, and you have no right to break in on me.”
“You got no idea why he wanted you to pose as his wife?” Cal asked.
“No,” said Viola. “He didn’t tell me nothin’. He just took me around town a few times, introducing me as his missus.”
“But you knew he was up to no good, didn’t you?” McCaleb said.
“Honest to God, I didn’t know what his game was,” said Viola. “I just wanted him to do . . . whatever he had planned, and leave me alone.”
“We’re going to turn you loose,” McCaleb said, “and you’re not to tell anybody you’re not Milo Reems’s wife. Understand?”
Viola laughed. “You bet I understand. You busted in here and slapped me around, and there was nothing I could do except take it. Now somethin’ tells me that I can set all your tails on fire just by telling what I know about Reems.”
“I don’t think you’ll be able, when I’m through with you,” said Rebecca. “Lorna, if you will help me, we’ll rearrange this whore so much, she won’t be able to find work swamping out saloons.”
“No,” McCaleb said. “As much as Cal and me would like to observe your creativity, we can’t do that. Sooner or later, the town’s going to learn what Reems has done, that they—and us—are suckers of the first water. The best we can do is silence her until we’re out of here. Bind her wrists and ankles to the bedposts and stuff something in her mouth.”
Viola began cursing them again, and they endured it until her wrists and ankles were secured to the head and foot of the bed.
“I want the pleasure of gagging her,” Lorna said.
Lorna stuffed something in Viola’s mouth, and she began thrashing violently around.
“Damn,” said Cal, “what did you gag her with?”
“Looked like the dirty drawers of that man that left here in such a hurry,” Lorna said. “I thought that was only fitting, since she has such a dirty mouth.”
“It won’t buy us much time,” said McCaleb. “The minute the town finds out she’s only a hired whore, they’ll know Reems has gone for good. We have to get back to our outfits and warn them, and then some of us will have to light a shuck to Cheyenne after Reems.”
“Dear God,” Rebecca said, “suppose you’re too late. He could board a Union Pacific train for California, Omaha or just about any point east or west.”
“We’re not even going to think about that possibility,” said McCaleb, “because it just can’t happen. We’ll all be ruined.”
“That’s literally the God’s truth,” Cal agreed.
“But we all had telegrams from Reems confirming the sale,” said Lorna. “How could we have known it would end . . . like this?”
“Our ignorance is no excuse,” McCaleb said. “He used the confirming telegrams he got from us to convince these beef-hungry people the herds were on the way.”
“They fell for a fool scheme, lost their money and now they’ll take it out on us,” said Rebecca bitterly. “It’s not fair.”
“Lots of things in life are not fair,” Cal said. “This is just the latest kick in the behind that we should have expected. This whole damn thing was just too good to be true.”
“Not necessarily,” said McCaleb. “We made our mistake by ever making contact with Reems. We wouldn’t be in this mess over our heads if we’d just headed for Deadwood and showed up cold, with cattle for sale.”
“There’s nobody in the hall right now,” Cal said. “We’d better slip out the back way, if we can. There’s still enough daylight for them to organize a gun-totin’ posse.”
Quickly they slipped into the hall and McCaleb closed the door behind them. Even then they could hear Viola grunting and thrashing around on the bed. Escape through the back door was simple enough, but their horses were tied to the hitch rail at the front of the crude boarding house. Before they could mount their horses, men surrounded them, shouting questions.
“What was the shootin’ about?” somebody shouted.
“Somebody cleaning his pistol and it went off,” Cal shouted back.
But there was a scarcity of women in the crude town, and eager hands began reaching for Lorna and Rebecca. Cloth ripped, and the sight of bare flesh drove the dirty, bearded miners into a frenzy. McCaleb and Cal were felling men left and right, but for every one that went down, two more took his place. Rebecca’s fast thinking saved them. She was the only one of the quartet close enough to seize a Winchester, and she grabbed McCaleb’s from his saddle boot. A blast from the weapon froze every man in his tracks. Rebecca, her back to McCaleb’s horse, stood there with the Winchester steady in her hands. Her shirt was in tatters and blood dripped from her nose. When she spoke, her words were brittle as ice.
“Back off, all of you. I’ll kill the first man who makes a foolish move.”
Every man was armed with knife or revolver, but they raised their hands and hastily backed away. Lorna was more ragged than Rebecca, and she had the Winchester from her own saddle boot. Cal and McCaleb had taken a considerable beating, but when the attacking horde backed away, both men drew their Colts.
“Rebecca, Lorna, mount up and ride,” McCaleb ordered.
In an instant, Rebecca and Lorna were mounted, galloping down the town’s narrow and rutted street. McCaleb and Cal mounted, even as clutching hands tore at them, and kicked their horses into a fast gallop. The angry miners began shouting at each other, seeking an answer to what these four strangers had been doing in town. Finally, the bolder ones went down the hall to the room where all the hell-raising had begun. While there was a chuckle or two at the naked Viola spread-eagled on the bed, their curiosity quickly got the best of them. Freeing Viola, they listened in admiration as she introduced them to volatile language such as they had seldom heard.
“What’n hell did them four want?” one of the miners finally thought to ask.
“They’re lookin’ for Milo Reems,” Viola said. “They thought I was his missus.”
“You mean you ain’t?” a startled miner asked.
“Hell, no,” Viola shouted. “He paid me to live with him. Now he’s gone, and I’m glad.”
There was a collective groan among the miners as they grasped the meaning of what the girl had said. They quickly forgot Viola and went storming down the hall, to form a noisy, cursing group outside on the boardwalk.
“Dear God,” said Rebecca, as they slowed their horses, “they would have killed us.”
“I reckon the worst is yet to come,” McCaleb said. “Yonder comes part of it now.”
Seeing them coming, Roscoe Yates had reined up his mules. He and his two supposed daughters looked upon McCaleb, Rebecca, Cal and Lorna with obvious amusement.
“I say, McCaleb,” Yates said, “you gentlemen don’t dress your womenfolk very well, do you? I’ve never seen so muc
h naked flesh out here on the great frontier.”
There was the sudden roar of a Colt, and Yates’s old hat leaped off his head.
“You old buzzard,” said Lorna, the smoking weapon in her hand, “say just one more word and and I’ll shoot you right between the eyes.”
Without even bothering to retrieve his hat, Yates slapped the mules with the reins and continued toward Deadwood. The wagon’s rear pucker was opened enough for Connie and Kate to see outside, but they spoke not a word.
“Damn it,” said Cal, “that shot was heard in town, and there’ll be questions. Roscoe and his women won’t waste any time telling the miners where our herds are.”
“Sorry,” Lorna said, “but that old fool wasn’t about to get away with such vile talk, as long as I can get my hands on a gun.”
“I had the same idea,” said Rebecca, “but you outdrew me. When I’m half naked, for whatever reason, I don’t want a dirty old coyote like him anywhere close.”
“For the sake of you both, I regret this hell-raising in town,” McCaleb said. “Now we have to do two things, and quickly. First we must return to our outfits and warn them of the possibility those miners may show up two or three hundred strong, demanding the beef they’ve paid for. Second, some of us must ride day and night to reach Cheyenne before Reems can disappear with our money.”
“If those miners show up to take the herds,” said Cal, “we’re going to need everybody there who can shoot. This is a poor time for any of us to have to ride to Cheyenne.”
“As trail bosses for the outfits, that ride will be up to us,” McCaleb said. “Is there a second-in-command to take over for you?”
“Yes,” said Cal. “Almost any man in the outfit could, but I’m partial to Tom Allen.”
“I feel the same way about Brazos Gifford or Will Elliot,” McCaleb said.
LITTLE MISSOURI RIVER, DAKOTA TERRITORY.
JULY 8, 1876
“We have within a few head of what we started with,” Brazos said, following a tally.
The Deadwood Trail Page 26
