“I can’t figure Estrello,” said Bill to Mark as they began the first watch. “You know he doesn’t trust Carl, Lee, Vernon, Todd, Nick, Ed, or either of us out of his sight, yet we’re all on the same watch.”
“You’ll notice the hombres you just named are always watching the horses and mules,” Mark said. “While Estrello doesn’t trust us, he knows we can’t afford to lose even one horse or mule. Us being teamsters, he figures we’ll watch them more carefully than some of the others might.”
“Well, it sure ain’t because we’re in any hurry to reach the Washita,” said Bill. “Betsy spends all her time worrying about what’s going to happen when we get there. First, she’s afraid we’ll all be murdered and scalped by renegade Indians, and second, she has some real doubts that she and Amanda may not be able to find that stolen gold.”
“Well, if we’re all scalped and murdered, we won’t have to worry about Amanda and Betsy bein’able to find the hidden gold,” Mark said.
Bill sighed. “You’re a hell of a lot of comfort. Is that what you’re telling Amanda?”
“I don’t have to tell Amanda what the odds are. She already knows, and we try to talk about other things,” said Mark. “It’s useless to worry about somethin’ you can’t change. It was different when we had some hope of reaching Captain Ferguson at Fort Worth. Now we know that’s out of the question. I’d be interested in any sensible plan you can suggest.”
“If I had any notion as to what we should do, I’d have told you and the others long before now,” Bill said. “I had high hopes Ed would reach Fort Smith.”
“So did all of us, including Ed,” said Mark, “but we can’t blame him. He hit a streak of the same bad luck that might have befallen any of the rest of us. Estrello’s just too damn suspicious, and he’s got too many men.”
“Besides Estrello, there’s three bastards in this outfit I’d like to gut-shoot,” Bill said.
“Suggs, Irvin, and Wilder,” said Mark.
“You got it,” Bill said. “There’s some others I’d like to see gunned down or strung up, but those three are at the head of the list.”
Two shadows materialized out of the darkness. It was Ed and his newly acquired hound. “Is this a private conversation, or can anybody join in?” Ed asked.
“The dog can stay,” said Bill, “but you’ll have to leave.”
Ed laughed. “You’ll hurt his feelings if you keep calling him ‘dog.’ His proper name is Arky.”
“Arky?” Bill said. “Where in hell did you come up with a handle like that?”
“He found us on the Arkansas near Fort Smith,” said Ed. “What would you have named him? Fort Smith?”
Eventually, the rest of their companions joined Bill, Mark, and Ed. They spent the first watch in quiet conversation, frustrated as to what they might do to avoid a disaster that seemed to be coming ever closer.
The following day, while crossing a stream, Nick’s wagon was disabled with a broken wheel. The right rear wheel slipped into a deep hole impossible to see in the creek bed.
“Damn your carelessness,” Estrello roared. “There’s been more trouble this time than we’ve ever had before.”
“It wasn’t carelessness on my part,” Nick said. “The same thing would have happened if you’d been at the reins. Now get off my back.”
“Some of you mule jockeys help him replace that busted wheel,” Estrello said, “and get it done before dark. We’ll spend the night here.”
The teamsters began unharnessing their mules. Todd and Ed freed their teams and waded into the creek to help Nick. With the wagon sagging into several feet of water, it was difficult positioning the wagon jack under the wagon’s rear axle. Estrello seated himself beneath a tree and did nothing. Betsy came up with a request while Bill was unharnessing the mules.
“I’d like to go up this creek a ways and wash myself. I’m sure Amanda would, too.”
“Too dangerous,” said Bill. “There may be Indians about.”
“We wouldn’t be there very long,” Betsy pleaded.
“Not very long where?” Amanda asked, she and Mark having just arrived.
“I want to go upstream and wash myself in this creek,” said Betsy, “and Bill won’t let me because there may be Indians.”
“I’d like to wash, too,” Amanda said. “Bill and Mark can go with us.”
“We’ll have to tell Estrello,” said Bill, “and he’s on the prod because of Nick’s wagon.”
“I’ll tell him myself,” Betsy said. “I’m not afraid of him.”
“No,” said Mark. “If you’re bound and determined to go, I’Il tell Estrello.”
Estrello watched Mark approach, and when Mark stood before him, the outlaw leader said nothing.
“Amanda and Betsy want to go upstream to wash themselves,” Mark said. “Bill and me will go with them.”
“Just so you don’t get any ideas,” Estrello said, “don’t take your horses. Go afoot.”
Mark nodded. It was what he had expected.
“We have to go far enough so everybody can’t see us,” said Betsy. “He could have let us ride our horses.”
“He could have, but he didn’t,” Bill said, “and I have the feeling that if we’re jumped by Indians, we’ll be on our own.”
Some of the rest of the outlaws watched as the four of them started upstream. Betsy and Amanda had each taken a blanket to use as a towel.
“Hey,” Wilder shouted, “what are you hombres about to do that needs blankets?”
“Ignore the bastard,” said Mark.
“Damned if I will,” Bill said. “We ain’t aimin’ to sleep on’em, Wilder,” he shouted.
Some of the other outlaws who didn’t especially like Wilder laughed, while the object of their humor went red in the face. Amanda and Betsy laughed, and that made it worse. They rounded a bend in the creek, where a stand of willows afforded them some privacy.
“This will do,” said Betsy. “The water’s shallow enough to see the bottom.”
“You want Mark and me to turn our backs?” Bill asked.
“Why should you?” said Betsy. “The first time you ever saw us, we were both naked, and we haven’t changed any.”
“She’s right about that,” Amanda said, “but that don’t include that bunch downstream. Both of you stay right where you are.”
Quickly, the girls peeled out of boots, shirts, and Levi’s. They stretched out full length in the water, allowing it to flow over them.
“Mark,” said Amanda, “why don’t you and Bill join us? You’re beginning to smell like horse and mule sweat.”
“You’ll just have to stand us a while longer,” Mark said. “I don’t aim to take off my britches as long as we’re surrounded by outlaws on one side and Indians on the other.”
“I’m with Mark,” said Bill.
“They’ re just shy,” Betsy teased. “Why, we’ve seen a hundred naked, drunken Indians. You’re no different from them, are you?”
“We’re totally different from them,” said Mark. “We don’t drink. Now the two of you get your washing done, and let’s be getting back.”
Suddenly, somewhere within the willow thicket, a twig snapped.
“Whoever you are, back off,” Bill said. “You’re not welcome here.”
Irvin and Suggs stepped out of the thicket fifty yards away.
“Turn around and go,” said Mark. “The ladies deserve privacy.”
“Haw, haw,” Suggs cackled. “Privacy, with you two hombres lookin’ on?”
“They were invited,” said Betsy, “and you weren’t. Now go away.”
“Hell,” Irvin said, “what kind of hombre would shoot a man over some shirttail gal’s naked behind?”
“I would,” said Mark. With blinding speed, he drew his Colt and fired. Irvin’s hat went flying, and Mark put two more holes in it before it touched the ground.
Irvin retrieved his hat, and without a word the two men went back the way they had come.
“Amanda, you and Betsy had better get out of that creek,” Mark said. “There may be some of the others coming to see what the shooting was about.”
“It was worth having them show up, just to watch you use that pistol,” said Betsy. “Bill, are you as fast as he is?”
“Faster,” Bill said.
“He just don’t always hit what he’s shootin’ at,” said Mark. “Once, while practicing his draw, the gun sight snagged on his holster, and he shot the toe off one of his boots.”
Amanda and Betsy had dressed except for their boots when Estrello arrived. Ignoring everybody except Mark, he spoke. “Every damn Indian within ten miles could have heard them shots.”
“They didn’t have to hear shots,” Mark said coldly. “Every Indian in the Territory has the word on us by now. I could fire a cannon and not put us in any more danger than we are in already.”
Indian Territory. September 4, 1866.
Upton and Trevino followed the wagon road cautiously. They found one place where an Indian attack had taken place, for there were several arrows still imbedded in trees. There were no graves, evidence of the strength of Estrello’s gang.
“They’ve had their problems, I reckon,” said Upton, “but they’re still makin’ good time. What’s botherin’ me is that we may knock ourselves out findin’ a location for an ambush, and then have Bowdre and the rest of the bunch not get here in time to spring it.”
“I’ve thought of that, too,” Trevino said. “The whole lot of us should have rode out together. Then a couple of us could have scouted ahead of Estrello’s bunch, and we’d have had the men right here, ready for the ambush. Now we got to get maybe fifty miles ahead of Estrello to give our bunch time to get here and set up the ambush. There’s something about this that gives me the willies, like it ain’t gonna work out the way Bowdre has it all planned.”
They rode on, finding the remains of a smashed wagon wheel beside a creek.
“They can’t be more than a day or two ahead of us,” said Upton. “Then comes the hard part. Suppose we choose a place for an ambush, and they shy away from it? You reckon Bowdre ain’t gonna blame it on us?”
“He said follow the old wagon trail,” Trevino said. “That’s all we got to guide us, and if they go some other way, it ain’t our fault. It’s gettin’ to be more and more temptin’ to tell Bowdre it’s his damn outfit and his responsibility to set up these attacks. If something goes wrong and this falls through, he’ll be finished.”
After dark a cool wind out of the west brought the smell of wood smoke to Trevino and Upton.
“We ought to track them down tonight and find out just how far away they are,” said Upton. “Then we can ride far enough to north or south to get around and ahead of them. The Indian situation being what it is, they may be watching their back trail, and in the daytime a little dust could give us away.”
“We’d better leave our horses here, then, and go on afoot,” Trevino said.
The men on the first watch for Estrello’s outfit were speaking softly. Bill, Mark, and their six companions had taken their usual positions, watching the horses and mules. Arky, Ed’s dog, got up, and facing their back trail, growled.
“Somebody’s out there,” said Ed.
“Likely a varmint of some kind,” Carl said.
“Maybe not,” Ed said, drawing and cocking his Colt. “Come on, Arky.”
There was no moon, and by the stars Ed could see nothing. After they had gone a hundred yards, Arky broke into full voice, running on ahead. Ed tried to follow, but caught his foot in some vines and fell headlong. By the time he had regained his feet, the dog had ceased barking. There was nothing to do but return to camp, and there he found Estrello waiting for him.
“I want you to keep that damn dog quiet,” said Estrello. “Besides keepin’ us awake, he can be heard by any Indians within ten miles.”
“He had cause to bark,” Ed said. “There was somebody spying on us, and he got away in the dark.”
Estrello laughed. “You and the dog are hearing things.”
“Go with me at first light,” said Ed. “The ground’s soft enough, and there’ll be tracks. Somebody was out there.”
“All right,” Estrello agreed, “we’ll have a look in the daylight.”
Ed made his way back to his companions, expecting to find Arky there waiting for him. But the dog had not returned.
“Somebody was out there,” said Ed, “and I have a feeling Arky’s trailing him.”
The dog was following Upton and Trevino, who had returned to their horses with all possible haste. “We’d better saddle up and get the hell out of here,” Upton said. “We didn’t count on a dog. The varmint may lead ’em right to us.”
Upton and Trevino mounted their horses and rode south far enough to bypass the Estrello camp without being seen. Eventually, they turned back toward the west, paralleling the trail they expected Estrello’s wagons to take. At that point, aware that Ed was no longer following him, Arky gave up the chase and returned to camp. Like a silent shadow, he emerged from the brush.
“I don’t care a damn what Estrello thinks,” Ed said. “There was somebody lookin’ in on our camp, and come daylight, I’ll prove it.”
“I’m with you,” said Mark. “I’ve got more confidence in Arky than I have in Estrello.”
Ed was up before first light, awaiting Estrello.
“Damn it, can’t you wait until after breakfast?” Estrello growled.
“If that’s some varmints with ambush on their minds, we need to know it,” said Ed. “Let’s go look.”
The rest of the outfit looked on with interest as Stackler and Estrello headed in the direction the dog had gone the night before. Carefully avoiding Estrello, whom he did not like, Arky followed Stackler. There were thickets carpeted with fallen dead leaves from years past, with no open ground where they might find tracks. But Arky got into the spirit of the search. He paused, barking. Stackler kicked away some dead leaves, and there was the clearly defined heel print of a boot. Brushing aside leaves, Stackler found another print. He continued uncovering them until there was no denying the evidence. Arky ran on ahead, barking.
“He knows we’re on a trail,” Stackler said. “We’ll follow him.”
Arky got ahead and waited for them. There they found the recent hoofprints of two horses.
“Shod,” said Estrello. “They wasn’t Indians.”
“No,” Stackler agreed, “and Indians don’t wear boots. This looks like an ambush in the making. Let’s follow the horse tracks a ways. If it’s what I’m expecting, they’ll ride south for a mile or two and then circle wide to the west, getting ahead of us.”
“This could be a hell of a walk,” said Estrello. “Let’s get our horses.”
“Not yet,” Stackler said. “We’d leave tracks over theirs, and if they ride back this way, they’d know we’re on to them. Why don’t we leave the wagons where they are for a day? If there’s an ambush being planned, we need to know where it is. These two varmints can’t pull it off, but they can find a likely place where enough men with Winchesters can.”
Stackler and Estrello continued walking, following the trail, until Stackler’s prediction proved accurate. The tracks of the two horses turned west.
“By God, Stackler, you called that one,” said Estrello. “We’ll leave the wagons where they are, and some of us will trail that pair of coyotes.”
When Stackler and Estrello returned to camp, Estrello explained what they had found.
“Thank God for Ed’s dog,” Amanda said. “He almost got Ed killed at first, and now he seems to be trying to redeem himself.”
After breakfast Estrello called the outfit together.
“We’re layin’ over here today,” said Estrello, “and some of us are goin’ to follow these two varmints that was lookin’ in on us last night. For a certainty, I want Stackler and his dog to go. Stackler, who do you want to ride with you?”
“Todd Keithley,” Stackler said.
/> “Then saddle up and ride,” said Estrello. “Avoid lettin’ these varmints see you if you can, and don’t follow right on their heels. They’ll be ridin’ back to report to somebody, and we don’t want your tracks followin’ theirs. Let them think they’ve got us where they want us.”
“Damn him,” Todd said when he and Ed had ridden away, “he thinks we can’t follow a trail. A gent that’s tracked Comanches can trail anybody.”
“Let him think what he likes,” said Ed. “We’re not doin’ this to save his bacon, but to save our own. A well-laid ambush in Indian Territory could get us all killed. We’ll make it on to the Washita, and that’s what’s botherin’ me.”
Occasionally they dismounted and walked the mile or so back to the westbound trail, satisfying themselves their prey were still ahead of them.
“Looks like the rest of their bunch may be three or four days behind,” Ed said. “They’ve got to ride far enough ahead of the wagons for the rest of their outfit to catch up and get ahead of us.”
Well ahead of Stackler and Keithley, Upton and Trevino had ridden more than thirty miles before finding what they sought. An upthrust of rock—a stone shelf—stretching north and south and wagon ruts were evidence enough that the wagons had always circled the rough, rocky pinnacles to the south.
“By God, that’s what we’re lookin’ for,” said Trevino. “The wagon road comes straight on, not cuttin’ away to the south until the wagons and riders are in Winchester range. All we got to do is hole up behind them rocks and shoot like hell wouldn’t have it. The only way they could bust up that ambush is for their outriders to ride north and south, comin’ around the rocks and flankin’ us in a crossfire.”
“If we don’t cut down enough of ’em with the first volley,” Upton said, “they’ll do exactly that. We’d better get back to Bowdre and get our bunch headed this way.”
Ralph Compton Whiskey River Page 24
