With the decision made, there were the outlaws’ horses to round up and drive back to the Triple-G.
“There’s also a wagon back yonder somewhere on the other side of the ridge,” he said. “I reckon you saw the cows they shot down. I didn’t get a count, but that one fellow musta shot at least half a dozen before I stopped him.”
With a word of warning for everyone to keep a sharp eye just in case Clementine decided to try something foolish, Rubin sent Ralph and Sonny to search for the wagon, while he and John went with Perley to drag the two bodies out of the stream. Perley told his brothers who the large man was. The other was a stranger to him, but had appeared to be the boss. They stripped them of their weapons and ammunition, but found little else of value on them.
“This one’s got his pockets full of dried apples,” John said as he searched Junior’s body.
They recovered the horses and once the wagon was found, they hitched the horses up and took it back across the river, where the butchering of a couple of the dead cows was in progress.
“Might as well save a little bit of the meat,” Rubin decided. “With the weather as cool as it is, it’ll keep if we throw some of it in that wagon and take it back to headquarters.” Thinking it best to leave two men to watch the herd, Rubin told Ralph and Sonny to stay and he would send two other men to relieve them. Ralph volunteered to butcher one of the other carcasses and smoke it. All done then, the three Gates brothers rode back to the ranch, with John driving the wagon.
CHAPTER 16
Clementine’s horses were bearing the brunt of her fury at having once again been beaten by Perley Gates. She drove them relentlessly along Boggy Creek. Finally, she realized she was going to have to rest them before they foundered, so she reluctantly reined them to a halt. With rifle in hand, she stood watching her back trail, not knowing if the riders she had seen were coming after her, or not.
After a while, with no sign of anyone in pursuit, she began to have hope that they had elected not to follow her. A little while longer and she felt sure they were not after her. Maybe they didn’t follow because she was in Indian Territory, she speculated as she shifted her mind toward more mundane thoughts.
The first that struck her was a feeling of hunger. Although it was still early, she was hungry, now that she was no longer consumed by the feeling of being chased. She thought it not too risky to take the time to eat, but the trouble was she had no food to cook and no pan to cook it in. All her supplies and cookware had been left behind in the wagon. That thought caused her anger to flare again. The nearest town was possibly Durant, but she dared not go there since she and Junior had robbed the store on their way to Texas. Cursing her luck, she climbed into the saddle again and continued to follow the path beside the creek.
She felt the loss of her brothers and her nephew, but not because of her affection for them. Her regret was in having lost members of her gang who’d enabled her to rob and murder at will. But most of all, she regretted her failure to settle with Perley Gates. She was alone now. She even missed Junior, maybe more than Coleman and Beau, for Junior obeyed blindly. Her brothers always thought they should be running the show.
“Well, where the hell are you now?” she roared. Finding it ironic and kind of funny, she chuckled to herself. “I’m the one still breathin’.”
A few miles farther, when approaching the fork that divided into Muddy Boggy Creek and Clear Boggy Creek, she caught the smell of smoke drifting along the creek. She pulled her horses to a stop while she sniffed the air, deciding at once that she also thought she detected the aroma of roasting meat. Starting again, she continued along the path until she caught a glimpse of a campfire through the trees.
Close enough to see the camp, she realized that her luck was holding as she heard a horse whinny. Hers answered, causing the two men seated by the fire to quickly reach for their rifles.
“No need for alarm,” Clementine called out and continued at a slow walk until the men could see her clearly. “It’s just me and I can’t do you no harm.”
Jed Hackett got up, his rifle ready to fire, while he craned to look beyond the single rider. “Keep your eye on ’em, Wormy. They might be up to somethin’.” To Clementine, he called out, “Where’s your partners? I see you’re leadin’ two horses, but there ain’t no fannies in the saddles.”
“These horses belonged to my two brothers,” she said in as pitiful a tone as she could create. “We were attacked by outlaws on our way to Durant. My brothers tried to hold ’em off, but they were shot down. They died so I could get away.”
“I swear, that’s sorry news,” Jed replied. “Left you all alone.”
More concerned about a gang of outlaws, Wormy asked, “How many outlaws was there, and which way was they headed?”
“I reckon you don’t have to worry about them outlaws,” Clementine said. “They was headed to Arkansas.” That seemed to relieve the sudden tension that had arisen at the mention of outlaws. “I wonder if I might have a little bite of that meat on the fire?” she asked meekly. “I haven’t et in a long time.”
Only then realizing that their surprise guest was a woman, Jed exclaimed, “Why, of course you can, miss. Come on in and let me help you step down. Set yourself down by the fire and I’ll get you some coffee. We kilt a nice doe this mornin’—I’m the one that shot it—so we’ve got real fresh meat a-cookin’. Ain’t that right, Wormy?”
“Yes, sir. Jed shot it. I didn’t have no clear shot.” He dumped his coffee on the ground and filled his cup for her. “That’s real sorry news about your brothers. You just make yourself comfortable.”
Troubled by the fact that both of them hung on to their rifles, she sat down by the fire and took the plate Jed offered her. Like his partner, he dumped the half-eaten piece of venison on the ground and pulled another chunk off the fire for her. Then both men sat across the fire from her, their rifles resting across their thighs, staring at her in fascination while she devoured several pieces of meat.
“You’ve got a fair-sized appetite for a woman,” Jed remarked. “I like a big woman, myself. Always been partial to ’em.”
“Why, thank you, sir,” Clementine replied in an effort to be ladylike. “I owe you gentlemen for your kindness. I feel ashamed to say I have no way to repay you.”
“Ain’t no need to worry ’bout payin’ us,” Wormy was quick to respond.
Jed’s mind was working on a different possibility. Judging by the way the woman was dressed, wearing britches and a heavy coat, her hair pulled up under a Montana Peak hat, she was a rough-looking woman—but she was a woman. And he had an idea that she was not as refined as she tried to sound, so he thought it was worth a try.
If he was wrong, he didn’t have anything to lose, so he took a shot. “No, ma’am, Wormy’s right. Ain’t no need to worry ’bout givin’ us no money. ’Course, if you feel like you owe us for feedin’ you, there’s other ways to pay for food. I mean, you bein’ a woman and all.” He winked at Wormy and waited for her response.
She didn’t respond immediately as she looked from one grinning face to the other. She took her hat off and shook her hair out to hang about her shoulders. “I think I know what you’re talkin’ about, but I don’t know . . .” She hesitated, her head bowed modestly.
“We’d be willin’ to do a lot more to help you,” Jed quickly assured her. “We’d even take you to Durant, wouldn’t we, Wormy?”
“Yes, sir,” Wormy said, “all the way to Durant.”
Trying to be as coy as possible, Clementine fiddled with her hands, her head still bowed as if making a decision. Finally, she spoke. “I reckon as long as nobody else would know about it, and it’s the only way I have to pay you . . .”
“Hot damn!” Jed crowed. “No, ma’am, won’t nobody but us know about it. I reckon I’ll be first, since it was my idea.”
“You mean right now?” Clementine asked, still faking shyness.
“Good a time as any,” Jed replied and started to unbuckle his belt.
“All right,” she said, “but put those rifles away. It don’t seem right to have us makin’ love with a rifle layin’ by your side.” To show her sincerity, she unbuckled the gun belt she wore and laid it carefully beside her, then she started unbuttoning her coat.
“You’re right.” Jed responded, eager to get on with it before she changed her mind. “That ain’t no problem.” He handed his rifle to Wormy and dropped his trousers. “Lay this over there by my saddle.”
Grinning in anticipation of his turn with the woman, Wormy took the rifle and laid it by Jed’s saddle along with his own. He turned in time to take a .44 slug in his chest that dropped him to the ground. When the horrible realization that they had been duped struck Jed, he panicked. Clementine calmly cocked her pistol while he tried to run for his rifle. With his pants down around his ankles, however, he could only shuffle his feet back and forth. He was halfway there when the bullet struck him in the back. He staggered several steps farther before going down flat on his face. She got up and put her gun belt back on before she walked over to see if they were still breathing. Standing over Jed, she saw that he was still alive, but barely, so she cocked her pistol and put another bullet in him, this one in his head.
Wormy, lying faceup, was trying desperately to breathe. When her shadow fell across his face, he strained to focus on her. “You’ve kilt us, you ugly bitch,” he gasped.
“I sure as hell have,” she replied and pumped another round into his chest. Finished, she took a look at both bodies and uttered in contempt, “Men.” She sat down again to finish her breakfast before she took an inventory of their possessions. Although still in somewhat of a state of shock and disbelief over the destruction of the men in her family, habits of an outlaw were ingrained in her. So she was interested to see what the murder of the two men had profited her. In her mind, the acquisition of food supplies and cooking utensils was enough to justify the killings, but there was very little else of value aside from two horses of questionable worth and two cheap saddles.
By the time she had finished all her business at the deer hunters’ camp, and was ready to move on, it occurred to her that there was no question now as to whether or not the Triple-G riders were chasing her. She was no longer in a hurry. She had the rest of her life to extract payment from Perley Gates, even though every day he still walked on this earth was like a sharp thorn in her side.
She climbed on the flea-bitten gray Coleman had ridden. “I reckon I’m the big dog in the Cobb family now,” she announced to the two bodies lying there, and left the campsite at the fork of the creek, leading her horse and three others behind her. If possible, she would prefer to sell the extra horses, since they would be a bother to her with what she had in mind.
Her plan was to circle back down into Texas to finish the job she had started out to do. Once again, her primary target was Perley Gates, since she had little hope of destroying the Triple-G family by herself. First, she had to rid herself of the horses. She didn’t even want to bother with a packhorse, and since Durant was out of the question, she decided to try in Denison. When she and Junior had stopped at the Last Call Saloon on their way to Texas, she remembered seeing a stable of sorts. Maybe they might be in the market for horses.
* * *
Roy Wallace looked up to see a single rider leading four horses head straight toward his shop, He put aside the wagon wheel he had been in the process of repairing, and waited.
“Howdy,” he greeted the rider when she pulled up to the corral between the forge and the stable. He was taken a bit by surprise when Clementine stepped down and he discovered the rider was a woman. In those parts, it was unusual to see a woman riding alone, even one as rugged-looking as this one. “Somethin’ I can help you with?”
“Howdy,” Clementine returned. “Maybe there is and maybe there ain’t. I’ve got a couple of horses for sale, includin’ the saddles, and some guns, too. The last time I passed through here, I was talkin’ to Tommy Thompson and he said that you were sometimes in the market for horses and tack. I was on my way down to Fort Worth to sell ’em, but I’ve been away from my home near Tyler for a long time, and I just decided I’d sell ’em cheap if I found a buyer, and then go on home. What about it? You interested?”
Roy couldn’t help being curious. First off, they were brought in by a woman alone, and all four horses she was leading were saddled. He wondered what had happened to the riders. “Well, I don’t know. How’d you come by these horses?”
“I came by ’em in a sorrowful way,” she answered. “These horses was all owned by members of my family that was killed in a church fire up in Oklahoma City. I reckon you ain’t heard about it down here in Texas. I don’t know how many folks died in that fire. You sure you ain’t heard nothin’ about it?”
Roy shook his head slowly.
She continued. “Anyway, there wasn’t nobody left in my family but me to go up and get their horses and belongin’s. It was just a terrible thing to see.” She paused for effect. “I ain’t out to make a profit on their things. I just would like to get a fair price.” She hoped that he would interpret that to mean he might be able to steal them from a grieving family member.
She was accurate in guessing his reaction to her story, for he couldn’t help thinking this might be a chance to drive a hell of a bargain for himself. He didn’t regard himself as a man to take advantage of another person’s hardship, but business was business. “Well,” he said, “I ain’t really in a position to buy horses right now. I do a little business with the folks movin’ in around here, but it don’t amount to a whole lot. Wouldn’t hurt to look at what you’ve got, though. Why don’t you step down and rest a while? I can offer you a drink of water, that’s about all. The dipper’s in that bucket yonder.”
“Thank you, sir,” Clementine said graciously while Roy inspected the horses.
He looked them over thoroughly, then inspected the weapons. “You sellin’ the gray you’re ridin’?”
When she said she wasn’t, he asked, “What kinda price are you askin’ for the other four?”
“Whatever you think they’re worth. I don’t really know what horses are worth.”
That was what he was hoping to hear. “Well, to tell you the truth, horses in this shape generally sell for twenty dollars apiece. I reckon I could come up with that much—eighty dollars for the four.”
When she replied that that didn’t sound like much money for four horses, he upped his bid. “’Course, if you throw in the saddles and the rifles in the saddle slings, that’d make ’em worth a little more. Say thirty-five dollars apiece.”
She wavered again, but when she left they had settled on a deal for the horses, saddles, and weapons for two hundred even, which was a bargain for Roy and enough to satisfy Clementine. She was free of the care for the extra horses and could concentrate on the mission most important in her life. If I’d known he kept that much money on hand, she thought as she rode away, I’d have just shot the son of a bitch and took every bit he had.
Then she remembered then that her main objective had been to rid herself of the extra horses. And left the horses to the undertaker.
* * *
An uneasy air swirled about the Triple-G ranch for the next couple of days, but after no sign of any more trouble, things got pretty much back to normal. As it often did that time of the year, the weather seemed to have difficulty making up its mind, and suddenly, it decided to head into winter. Work on the Triple-G turned to preparations for winter range.
Perley was helping Charlie Ramey stock up supplies for the line shack. Charlie had spent the prior winter in the shack near the river, found that he’d enjoyed the lonely task, and had volunteered to do it again. Short on some of the supplies he would need right away, they decided to go in to town to get them. Perley was about to step up into the wagon and sit beside Charlie when he heard someone behind him. He turned to find Link Drew running to catch him.
“Miss Lou Ann said for you to pick up a sack of ba
kin’ soda for her,” the boy said.
“We’ll do that,” Perley said, then paused when Link remained standing there as if there was something else on his mind. “Was there something else she needed?”
Link shook his head, but continued staring as if pleading.
“What is it, boy? Something botherin’ you?”
“What if that woman is in town again?” Link asked. “Do you think she’ll be back in town?”
“Is that what’s on your mind?” Perley replied. “I don’t think she’ll be back around here again, so don’t trouble yourself worrying about that.” He thought the youngster would have forgotten about Clementine, but it was beginning to appear that he was never going to let it go. Perley thought about the terrifying image the nine-year-old must be carrying in his brain. It would take a long time to get that image out of his head. “Don’t worry. If she shows up in town again, we’ll have Paul McQueen throw her in jail.” He gave Link a great big smile and climbed up beside Charlie.
Charlie gave the horses a slap with the reins across their rumps, and they pulled out of the yard with Link watching them. “I believe that boy’s tryin’ to adopt you as his daddy.”
“You think so?” Perley asked. “I reckon it’s just because I’m the one who found him and brought him here.” He thought about it then, and had to admit that Link always came to him when he wasn’t sure what to do about something. “He gets along all right with the rest of the young’uns, doesn’t he?”
“As far as I’ve seen,” Charlie said. “He’s always in the middle of the bunch when they’re playin’ around the barn. Seems like the only time he ain’t playin’ with ’em, he’s tendin’ to that paint you gave him.”
Perley looked back behind them, but Link was no longer standing in front of the barn. Good, he thought. He really didn’t want the boy to become too attached to him. Perley really didn’t expect to be at the ranch all the time. It seemed that things almost always worked out for him to have to go somewhere, like the trip he made that summer to Deadwood. He had really hoped that John and Martha would adopt Link, since they seemed to be having trouble having a boy, or a baby of any kind for that matter, ever since Martha had had Betsy.
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