“You cannot accept my word?” Valentine demanded.
“I’m afraid not,” Justin said. “I have to report to my superiors that I conducted a search of the premises.” He turned to give the order. “Sergeant Cox, search the bunkhouse. If you don’t find him there, search the barn and the outbuildings. Be thorough.” He glanced at the smirking Sheriff Yeager and added, “And take him with you.”
“Yes, sir,” Cox replied, and led thirteen of his men to the bunkhouse while the other two remained to hold the horses. Both Charley and Hank followed along behind them. Valentine, thoroughly incensed by the intrusion upon his property, promptly turned and went back inside the house, leaving Justin and his two troopers standing in the yard.
Inside, Hope and Rena went in to tell Clint what was going on, and implored him to remain quiet, fearing that he might attempt to defend himself against the soldiers. “You just be still,” Hope told him. “They’ve gone to the bunkhouse to look for you, and when they don’t find you, they’ll go on and leave us alone.” Then she and Rena returned to wait with her father in the kitchen, closing Rena’s door behind them.
The minutes ticked slowly by, and every five or so, Hope would go to the front window to peek at the three soldiers standing, waiting, stamping their feet against the cold. Looking down toward the barn, she could see the soldiers, their weapons ready, surrounding the bunkhouse. Her father sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee from the cup that Rena kept filled. It was an awkward situation for all three, as all were intensely concerned for the man lying wounded just beyond the door to Rena’s room.
More minutes ticked by, and Hope went to the window again. She could not help feeling sorry for Justin, standing there, looking completely miserable. Surely he would have preferred not to have been in this position. As she watched him, he suddenly turned to look toward the barn. She looked beyond him to see what had caught his attention.
“They’re coming back,” she announced to her father and Rena.
Valentine waited until the soldiers were all back in the front yard before he walked out onto the porch again. “Well, Lieutenant?” he questioned Justin.
“Sergeant Cox said they couldn’t find him,” Justin said.
“I told you he wasn’t here,” Valentine said. “That should have been enough for you.”
Knowing he would be held accountable for his actions, Justin said reluctantly, “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re going to have to search the house, too.”
“My hired help doesn’t live in my house,” Valentine replied angrily. “You ought to know that. Clint Cooper has a bunk in the bunkhouse with the rest of my crew. If he wasn’t there, then he isn’t on the property.”
“I’m sorry,” Justin repeated, then turned to Sergeant Cox. “Take three men and look in the house.”
Valentine followed them inside, with Justin trailing him. Through the parlor and the dining room they walked, then back to the kitchen, where Hope and Rena waited anxiously.
“I’m really very sorry for this,” Justin said to Hope. “I hope you understand that I’m only following orders.”
She did not reply, as she was far too nervous to think of anything beyond getting the soldiers out of the house. He continued to look at her with eyes pleading for forgiveness. She could not meet his gaze, knowing that if the soldiers went through that one door, her father would be caught in a monstrous lie. But worse than that, Clint would be hauled off under arrest, and she feared that he was in no condition to be moved.
“The bedrooms are down the hall,” Justin said then. Two of the troopers went down the hall to search.
“Where does that door lead to?” Cox asked, indicating the door to Rena’s room.
Hope started, alarmed, but Rena caught her arm and held her steady. “That’s just my housekeeper’s room,” Valentine said. “Nothing in there.”
Cox did not miss Hope’s sudden reaction. “Go take a look,” he told the one private still in the kitchen. Hope uttered a little gasp, and Rena’s hand tightened on her arm as the soldier turned the doorknob.
Inside the room, Clint could hear most of the conversation through the door. Determined not to be moved from the room, he strained to reach the Winchester that was halfway out of sight under the bed. It took every bit of strength he had to pull the rifle up from the floor, but he managed to lay it across his thighs. Biting his lip to keep from crying out, he pushed himself up to a halfway sitting position with his back against the headboard.
He saw the doorknob turning, and then the door opened. The two men locked eyes for a brief moment. The soldier was startled to see the wounded man, with the rifle across his legs, staring back at him. Nothing was said as the moment turned into eternity. Then the soldier slowly withdrew, backing out the door and carefully closing it behind him.
“Nobody in there,” he reported.
“All right, Goldstein,” Sergeant Cox said. “You and the other men can go on outside. We’re through in here.” He turned to Justin then. “We’ve looked in every nook and cranny on this ranch, Lieutenant. The man just ain’t here.”
He didn’t say so, but he was glad they couldn’t find him. He would have liked to remind the lieutenant that they shared a great debt to the man with the Winchester rifle.
Justin was still determined to discharge his responsibility as commander of the patrol, and he was already thinking about what would be in his report to Major Kinsey. So he suggested to Valentine that it would be the honorable thing to do to reveal Cooper’s whereabouts if he knew.
“You have my word, Lieutenant,” Valentine said. “If he’s not here, then I have no idea where he would be.”
There was little more Justin and his patrol could do. Clint could be holed up anywhere in the rugged cuts and draws between the Tongue and Powder rivers. Or possibly he could have even crossed over the Yellowstone and disappeared into the hills to the north of that river. Without a trail to follow, he couldn’t know which way to start looking.
“I expect he’ll show up somewhere, maybe looking for a doctor,” Justin said.
Valentine seized upon his remark. “You say he’s wounded? Well, how’d he get wounded, if he sneaked up on the deputy and shot him? That sounds more to me like there was a gunfight in the middle of the street, and the sheriff’s brother came in second.”
It caused Justin to think for a moment, and then he remembered what he had been told. “According to the reports we received, Cooper was shot by one of the sheriff’s posse men when he was escaping.”
“According to the reports,” Valentine repeated, “reports from who, Simon Yeager?”
“I don’t recall,” Justin lied, for there were none from anyone but Yeager. Major Kinsey had taken the sheriff’s word as fact, and no one thought to question it. Anxious to get mounted and leave the property, he said, “There will be wanted notices up and down the Yellowstone, I suppose, but I doubt the army will follow up unless he’s spotted somewhere.” He made his apologies once again to Valentine, and ordered his troop to mount up for the return ride to Fort Keogh. “I sincerely hope you will understand that I came here strictly because I was ordered to,” he said in parting. “I would appreciate it if you would tell Hope that.”
“I’ll tell her, Lieutenant,” Valentine replied coolly, then turned and went back inside the house.
As the column rode out of the yard, Hank asked Charley what had just happened inside the house. “How come they didn’t find Clint?” he wondered.
“Beats the hell outta me,” Charley replied. “He’s laid up in the bed, helpless as a baby. I reckon they musta figured there weren’t no use to look in Rena’s room.”
The same topic of discussion was under way inside the kitchen between Hope and her father. “How could that soldier not see him?” Hope asked, still finding it hard to believe.
“I don’t know,” her father said. “But that soldier looked like h
e’d seen a ghost when he came out of that room. Whatever happened in there, we’d best thank our lucky stars, because I’m afraid we would have been in for a real mess. I can’t see Clint surrendering peacefully.”
Equally astonished, Clint was not sure what had just happened. Contrary to what Valentine had told Hope, Clint knew that he probably would have had second thoughts and surrendered, for the simple reason that he could not have put Hope, her father, and Rena in danger. He was in no condition to take on fifteen soldiers when he had barely enough strength to lift his rifle. And had he tried to do so, there could be no guarantee that the house would suffer no damage. He was prepared for the door to be opened again, and he was expecting half a dozen soldiers the second time. But when it finally happened, it was Hope who entered the room, with her father and Rena right behind her.
“What happened?” Hope exclaimed. “What did you say to that soldier?”
“I expected to find you under the bed,” her father said, shaking his head in wonder to see Clint still propped up against the headboard.
Rena went to the bedside and placed her hand on his forehead. Satisfied that she felt no fever, she stepped back while he answered their questions.
“I know that soldier,” he said. “He was in a grave-diggin’ detail that got ambushed by a handful of that Sioux raidin’ party. I reckon he figured he owed me because of that, but I sure am surprised he took a chance and lied about seein’ me.”
It occurred to him that Private Goldstein could also be blamed for stirring up Mace Yeager’s dislike for him with that performance he put on when coming down the stairs from Darcy’s room at Ernie’s.
“I think you’d better lie back down,” Hope told him. “We’ll have something for you to eat in a little while.”
Clint let her help him lie flat again, and when he was settled, she knelt to brush a wisp of his dark hair from his forehead.
“Don’t think ill of Justin,” she said. “I’m sure he didn’t want to lead that group of soldiers out here.” She rose to her feet again. “We’ll get busy and fix you some dinner.”
“I’m not hungry,” he said. “Don’t bother yourself.”
Rena stepped up beside the bed again to fix him with a stern gaze. “I cook,” she said. “You eat. You need plenty meat to build blood.”
He couldn’t help smiling. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “You cook; I eat.”
* * *
It was suppertime when Ben and the rest of the men came in from rounding up strays and driving them back to the main herd near the river. Before going to the bunkhouse, he went up to the house to check on Clint. Hope met him at the door and told him about the visit from the U.S. Army that morning. He was immediately appalled to hear that the purpose of the army’s mission had been to escort Simon Yeager to the ranch to arrest Clint for murder.
“Why, that low-down, son of a . . .” He caught himself before finishing. “That murderin’ snake,” he continued. “How did he get the soldiers to swallow a story like that? If it was murder, how did Clint get a bullet in his side? Did anybody ask your little lieutenant that?”
“Yes, Papa did,” Hope replied, rankled somewhat by Ben’s reference to Justin as her little lieutenant. “He said he was told that one of the sheriff’s men had shot Clint on his way out of town.” She softened her tone slightly. “Justin only did what he was ordered to do. Don’t blame him for this.”
Ben snuffed, thoroughly annoyed by the farce perpetrated by the crooked sheriff. “The lieutenant oughta know Clint better’n that.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Hope said. “Are you going in to see Clint? We’re fixing him some supper.”
“Yes, ma’am. I didn’t mean no disrespect to your lieutenant,” Ben answered meekly.
“Damn it, Ben, stop calling Justin my lieutenant. He’s not my lieutenant.”
He couldn’t help snickering at the tone of her voice. “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a wide grin, and followed her through the kitchen into Rena’s room.
“How you makin’ out?” Ben asked when Clint opened his eyes to discover his old partner standing over his bed.
“I’m afraid I’m gonna live,” Clint said, and gave him a smile. “Thanks to Rena. I believe that woman oughta hang up a shingle and go to doctorin’ for a livin’.”
Clint was interested to know if there had been any serious loss of cattle, since the winter cold seemed to be getting harder. He was told that there were no unusual losses, and that Ben was keeping the boys busy. There was little more talk about the cattle, because Ben was more interested to discuss another subject.
“Partner, we need to get you offa this ranch as soon as you can ride. That bastard, Yeager, has got you marked. He’s out to get you any way he can.” He snuffed, disgusted. “Goin’ to the army with that tale, and the damn dumb soldiers believin’ it. All they had to do was look at the man and know he was a liar.”
“Hell,” Clint said, “let him come. I’ll be happy to do the town a favor, once I get on my feet again.”
“Yeah, that’ud be just grand,” Ben scoffed. “Only that ain’t his style. More’n likely you’d get one in the back when you were out ridin’ nighthawk or chasin’ strays. And what if the army shows up out here again one day when you ain’t hidin’ here in Rena’s room? Them fools bought Yeager’s story. They think you’re a murderer. This might not be the end of your trouble with them. You’re liable to have Yeager and his two killers and the army, too, tryin’ to hunt you down.”
Clint considered what Ben was trying to tell him. It seemed absurd to him, since he was guilty only of having a gunfight with Mace, which shouldn’t have involved the army at all. And since he had settled with Mace for killing Pick, that should end it, as far as he was concerned—an eye for an eye. But he knew Ben was making sense. Simon Yeager was not likely to let it go at that, and he was not alone. Maybe Clint should listen to Ben. “What you’re sayin’ is you think I oughta go on the run. Is that right? It don’t seem to me like I’ve got any reason to run.”
“How ’bout to keep from gettin’ your ass shot off?” Ben replied. “I’m sayin’ we oughta get the hell outta here as soon as you can sit on a horse. Reason ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. You ain’t dealin’ with a reasonable man. We need to go somewhere and lay low for a while till your side heals up and maybe this business with the army dies down. I’ll go with you. The boss will get along all right without us till spring. There ain’t that much to do in the winter, anyway. Charlie and Bobby Dees can handle the men till we get back in the spring. Hell, by then, maybe those folks over in Miles City will get together and do somethin’ about Yeager and his two coyotes, instead of just talkin’ about it.”
It was a hard decision to make. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know,” Clint said. “Maybe I oughta take my trouble away from the Double-V-Bar. If it wasn’t for me there wouldn’t be any trouble with Yeager. We’ll talk to Mr. Valentine.”
Their discussion was interrupted then when Rena came into the room with a plate of food for her patient. Clint couldn’t generate much interest for food at the moment. “Like I said, Rena, I ’preciate it, but I ain’t really hungry.”
She fixed him with her stern look and said, “You eat food.” It was not a suggestion.
Ben laughed. “You better do what she tells you. I’ll be back to see you later. I’m goin’ to the bunkhouse before the rest of them grub-hounds eat it all up.”
Chapter 9
The ride back to the fort had not been a pleasant one for Simon Yeager, since it was absent the satisfaction he had anticipated. He found it hard to accept the premise that Clint Cooper was not hiding someplace on that ranch, and they had just been unsuccessful in finding his hiding place. He was there; he had to be. The man was wounded—how badly, he wasn’t sure—but he would need help from someone.
Maybe that whore at Ernie Thigpen’s saloon near the fort, he thought. He
might have gone there instead of back to the ranch. He remembered Mace saying that the whore seemed to treat Cooper like something special. When I get shed of these damn soldiers, I think I’ll pay her a little visit.
There was also the possibility that Clint was holed up at the line camp on the northeast edge of the Double-V-Bar range. He decided he would send Curly and Blankenship out there to check on it. Bringing the army in on the search for Clint had been a good idea, but it was especially frustrating to Yeager when it produced nothing. Maybe the wanted notices that he was going to wire might make it difficult for Cooper to go to any of the settlements along the Yellowstone Valley to hide. Assuming that he would be trying to hide.
He’d damn sure better be, he thought, because I’ll be coming for him. There was also one more on his list as well—Randolph Valentine needed to pay for his remarks.
When the column had come in sight of Fort Keogh, Yeager pulled up beside Justin. “All right, Lieutenant, I reckon I’ll be cuttin’ out here.”
Justin was somewhat surprised, for he had assumed that Yeager would ride in with the column and report to the major. “Don’t you want to talk to Major Kinsey?” Justin asked.
“There ain’t nothin’ to talk about,” Yeager said. “We searched the damn ranch and didn’t find a damn thing. That about covers it, don’t it?”
Justin couldn’t argue with that. It was concise, to say the least. “I guess it does,” he answered. “But don’t you want to see if the major plans any further action on this?”
“Nope, I’ll handle it myself from now on,” Yeager said as he wheeled his horse to the side and loped away from the column.
A waste of the army’s resources, Justin thought, and a damn cold ride for no purpose.
The patrol had resulted in consequences that Justin had not anticipated as well. Thanks to the search of Randolph Valentine’s house, he had created an unwanted amount of friction between himself and Hope’s father. As far as the fugitive, Clint Cooper, was concerned, Justin didn’t care about him one way or the other. He admitted that he was surprised when he first heard what Clint had done, but he later reminded himself of the caliber of men like Clint Cooper, who were barely civilized at best.
Trial at Fort Keogh Page 14
