Hard Texas Trail

by Matt Chisholm

  Clay was a little ruffled. He had the feeling that he was being pushed wherever this girl wanted him to go. Before he knew where he was, she would be bossing the outfit.

  ‘We need supplies,’ he told her.

  ‘Can’t we camp at a safe distance?’ she asked. ‘You could go in with the pack-horse and pick up supplies.’

  ‘The boys have been on the trail a long time,’ he said. ‘They deserve a little fun.’

  ‘Like the fun they had back at Parson’s Ferry?’ she said sharply.

  Clay countered: ‘What’re you afraid of, Sarah?’

  ‘You know,’ she said, ‘you know what I’m afraid of.’

  ‘Because you were with the Indians?’ he said. ‘No, that won’t wash no more. There’s more to it than that.’

  She gave him a startled look.

  ‘What makes you think that?’ she demanded. Anger was mixed with her alarm.

  ‘The way you act.’

  She calmed herself, as though it were dangerous to offend him.

  ‘You’re mistaken,’ she said. ‘Very well. If you and the men want to go to the fort and get drunk, I can’t stop you.’

  She’s using me, Clay thought. She’s playing me like I was a fish. Yet he couldn’t be really mad at her for it. She was in trouble. She needed help.

  They went on south and as they rode their heads seemed to clear, their humors to improve. It seemed that Manning Oaks was forgotten. It was as though the girl were reaccepted. She moved back into the circle again, joined in the talk at night around the fire. She mended a shirt here or sewed on a button there. The men treated her with courtesy and consideration and Clay was greatly relieved to find that matters were going better. It seemed only natural to consider her wishes and to make camp at some distance from Griffin and allow the men to ride in. Once he had come to this conclusion, he saw that once more the girl had gotten her own way. Somehow he didn’t mind much.

  The weather stayed fine for that time of the year. The heat was cooling off a little and it made riding pleasant. It was a happy crew that rode on toward the home range.

  Chapter Ten

  Lincoln Hurley woke and for a moment could not tell where he was. He and Lewis had covered so much ground in the last few months that he was finding it increasingly difficult to get his bearings. Ever since the girl had gotten away from them in Quincy, Illinois. She had led them a dance. He never thought that she would have it in her to cover so much country. He smiled coldly to himself. Maybe fear was a powerful impeller. She had somehow found her way west to the new town of Abilene. They had traced her to there, but by the time they had picked up her trail she had gone on further west. She must have been out of her mind to head into such dangerous country.

  He thought about those moments when they had sighted her on the plains. It was hard to tell what truly happened. He knew there had been a couple of men with her. He thought that most likely these had been men she had hired to take her maybe to California. Whether she had sighted him and Lewis, he couldn’t tell. But he was under the impression that when the Indians were sighted, she had run to them as much as they had taken her. The two men with her had fled north and Lincoln had never seen them again. Some of the Indians had headed for Lincoln and Lewis and they had fled.

  It was after that that they had hired Chad Witney in Abilene. He had been propping up the bar and men had pointed him out as being a man who could handle himself. Some had claimed that he was dangerous and that he had killed several men with his gun. They had bought him drinks and offered him a proposition. So much now and so much when they made their pile. He had agreed and at the same time made it pretty clear that, if they didn’t play fair with him, he would settle their hash in no uncertain terms.

  The three of them had set out together to find the Indians who had the girl. None of them liked the idea of facing Indians, least of all Witney who knew the savages. He wasn’t of the general white opinion that they were all cowards. He had seen what they could do on more than one occasion. Their idea of bravery wasn’t the same as a white man’s, but they could sure do some damage to a man just the same. One thing became evident as they went on west - Witney might be as dangerous as men claimed, he might know guns, but he didn’t know the plains too well, nor how to survive on them. They failed to find the Indians and it was only by sheer chance that they picked up the trail of the girl after the cattlemen had rescued her from the tribesmen. It had been on the south fork of the Arkansas that they had met up with the buffalo hunters who told them that they had spoken with a cow-crew who had a girl with them dressed like an Indian. They swore she was white and gave a fair description of her. Lincoln and Lewis had turned south into the Indian Nations.

  Hurley raised his head and looked around the small sparsely-furnished room. He shuddered. He hated the primitive living of the frontier and every part of him ached to be back in civilization.

  He looked across at Lewis Blessed and saw him sitting on the edge of his bed, lighting his first stogie of the day. How a man could smoke such a vile thing so early in the day was beyond Hurley. He sighed.

  ‘See that fellow, Oaks, ‘ Hurley said.

  ‘Surely,’ Lewis replied. He stood up and started pulling on his clothes. When he had buckled on his gun western style he went out of the room. In the large room of the store, he found the trader, Parsons, and asked him if he had seen Oaks.

  Parsons looked up from his books and said: ‘Rode out at first light, Mr. Blessed. ‘

  The stocky man cursed out loud. For a moment he was flustered. They had relied on Oaks. He hurried back to Hurley.

  ‘He’s gone,’ he said.

  Hurley stopped in the process of dressing.

  ‘Godammit,’ he exclaimed. For a moment, his aloof calm was ruffled. ‘Tell Witney to have the horses ready. We’ll breakfast and get on the road.’

  Blessed hurried away. They ate a hasty breakfast, paid Parsons and went out to the horses that Witney was holding in front of the place. They went away down the trail at a fair pace. They rode till noon and in all that time, they didn’t see a living soul. They began to think that Oaks had left the trail and that they had lost him. They rested the horses, ate a light lunch and pushed on. During the afternoon they saw a rider ahead of them and quickened their pace. As they came closer they saw that he was driving a few loose horses ahead of him.

  It was Manning Oaks. He made no attempt to get away from them, but he didn’t seem too pleased to see them either.

  The three of them drew rein, Oaks halted and cocked a negligent leg over his saddle horn.

  ‘You’re an elusive man, Mr. Oaks,’ Lewis Blessed said. He was smiling.

  ‘You wanted me for somethin’?’ Manning asked gently. He didn’t miss the fact that Chad Witney had moved softly across to his left so that he was boxed.

  ‘I think you are aware of what we want,’ Blessed said.

  ‘Let’s hear you say it,’ Oaks said.

  ‘We want to find the girl.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Does it matter why?’

  Manning pushed back his hat with a thumb.

  ‘Reckon not. What’s in it for me?’

  ‘Lead us to her and you get twenty dollars,’ Blessed said.

  Oaks smiled.

  ‘You want her more’n twenty dollars worth,’ he said.

  Hurley made an impatient sound.

  ‘If you don’t lead us to her,’ he said, ‘I want to know her destination.’

  Oaks looked from one to the other of them. Witney was the obviously most dangerous of them, but he wasn’t going to be fooled by the dude appearance of the other two. Witney’s hand was near the butt on his gun. Oaks reasoned that he didn’t owe either Clay Storm nor the girl anything. The other way around, in fact. But he didn’t like being pushed. Least of all by two Goddam Yankees. Witney had an eager look in his eyes, like a dog smelling the rabbit.

  He nodded.

  ‘It won’t take me out of my way none. Where she’s goin’, I’m g
oin’. I’ll oblige you, gentlemen.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Blessed cried, suddenly in high spirits. ‘Let’s get on.’

  Oaks’ right foot found his stirrup-iron and he called to his horses. They headed south in a light powdering of dust.

  Hurley was pleased. At last he felt optimistic. It wasn’t going to be easy, he knew. She was with Texans and they might defend her. Just the same, she couldn’t be too far ahead and he and Lewis knew how to look after themselves. And what violence couldn’t attain, guile could. These Texans were only hicks after all.

  Chapter Eleven

  Charlie Quintin who was riding ahead, halted and pointed.

  ‘There she is,’ he cried.

  They all joined him on the low ridge and stared south. They could see the outlines of the fort and its cluster of buildings. Not far off, they could also make out an untidy jumble of buildings that would be the settlement that so often grew up near such a military establishment. There, no doubt, the boys would find their fun.

  ‘All right,’ Clay said, ‘we’ll go ahead, south and east and camp.’

  The crew looked a little disappointed. Sarah gave Clay a grateful glance and they headed on. They passed the fort and the settlement at too great a distance to make out any detail and found some timber and water. Here on sun-dried grass they camped. Sarah started to prepare a meal. It was getting late and Clay would have preferred that the crew went to the fort on the following day, but they were all impatient to savor the delights of the settlement, whatever they might be. Clay had a fair idea. He knew that the place would contain soldiers, buffalo hunters from the plains, cattlemen and the general riffraff of gamblers, swindlers and thieves that such places always attracted.

  He decided it would be madness to risk his whole crew in one go. Besides his remuda was valuable and he wanted sufficient protection for it. He said that Jody, Juan Mora and Charlie Quintin could saddle up after supper and go into town. They were to be back by midnight. Juan and Charlie were pretty steady and they might be able to halt Jody in any craziness he got himself into. They just might.

  After supper and when dark had fallen, the three boys saddled and rode off with delight and some joyous yells, much to the envy of the men who stayed behind.

  Sarah cleaned her pans in the creek, then came to sew for a while by the light of the fire. The rest of them played cards on a blanket. It was a peaceful domestic scene. Clay felt strangely content, though he felt a little anxiety with Jody in town.

  After an hour or so of play and a little talk, they started to feel sleepy. They had been in the saddle since dawn and they were ready for their beds. The girl was putting her sewing away.

  ‘Hello, the camp.’

  Every man stared off into the darkness and could see nothing. Clay glanced at the girl and saw the fear on her face.

  He called back: ‘Who is this?’

  ‘Name’s James Hinton.’

  The girl was shaking her head. She seemed incapable of any other movement.

  ‘How many are there of you?’

  ‘Two.’

  In a soft voice, Clay said: ‘George, git a rifle. Under cover.’

  The boy didn’t need a second bidding. He reached for his carbine and slipped away into the shadows.

  The girl was still shaking her head, stiff with fear.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘no.’

  Clay said: ‘Go with George.’ He raised his voice and called out: ‘Come ahead. Slow.’

  They heard the sound of men coming toward them on foot. Clay’s mind raced. He knew the girl had recognized that voice. At last, he thought, he was going to find out the reason for her fear, he was going to know what she was running away from.

  A man walked into the firelight. The ruddy glow struck the red-gold of his beard. He was smiling, affability itself. A friend to all the world. The eyes were cast in deep shadow. He was built like a rock and planted his feet on the ground in a definite way, yet he moved as lightly as a dancer.

  The man behind him was tall and slender with an impressive breadth of shoulder, clean-shaven, cold-faced. Nobody there had to be told that they didn’t belong to this country.

  The bearded man said: ‘We lost our horses.’ He laughed. ‘Greenhorns, gentlemen.’

  He came near the fire, but the other man stopped on the edge of the circle of light. Clay’s eyes searched them for weapons. Only the bearded man carried one openly.

  He looked around to make certain that Sarah had gone. She was nowhere in sight.

  The bearded man was saying: ‘I never found the sight of a fire more welcome.’ He slapped his hands together, they felt his presence, he beamed around at all of them, including them in his warmth. T pray we’re welcome here. I pray also that we are welcome to a cup of that delicious smelling coffee.’

  They had only just arrived, but Clay was already thinking of how to get rid of them. If they stayed the night in camp, George and the girl couldn’t spend the whole time out there in the dark.

  ‘You’re welcome to coffee,’ he said, ‘before you move on.’

  ‘Move on,’ cried Hinton. ‘On foot? Heavens, sir, I was hoping to borrow or hire some horses from you.’

  Clay said: ‘Your horses are near enough, I think.’

  The bearded man looked at him out of wide eyes.

  ‘Near? What do you mean?’ For a moment, he was almost jerked out of his play-acting. Some of his surprise was genuine.

  Clay said: ‘You said you was a greenhorn, mister, an’ you was about right. There’s horses back on the trail yonder. They ain’t more’n a few hundred paces off.’

  Both the strangers glanced around unbelievingly.

  The tall man said: ‘Tell them the truth. Tell them why we’re here. There’s no point in deceiving them. We have nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to hide.’

  Hinton declared roundly: ‘Charles, you’re right. I was merely trying to be delicate. I was thinking of the lady’s reputation. These are Texas men and they are known to be mighty sensitive of a lady’s reputation.’

  ‘Get on,’ said the tall man. ‘Tell them why we’re here.’

  The bearded man nodded and said: ‘Very well. You’re right. But first I must taste that coffee. By heavens, the smell of it is driving me quite out of my head.’

  ‘Help yourself,’ Clay said.

  Hinton went forward and bent over the fire. Clay didn’t miss the fact that his sharp eyes were everywhere. As he came into the full light of the flames, Clay had a chance to see those eyes. He saw that they were merciless. He had never seen more terrible eyes in his life. He couldn’t help himself shuddering.

  Hinton straightened up, pouring himself coffee and putting the pot back on the stones of the fire. He sipped and sighed with satisfaction, taking his time, beaming around at them all. The men watched him in silence. Clay found himself getting nervous, wanting that anything that was going to happen to happen. For one thing he was sure of, by the time this little episode was through, he would never be the same again. He could feel Sarah out there in the darkness, he could sense her fear. And now he had seen these two men, he could fully believe in that fear.

  The bearded man finally put down his cup and turned to him.

  ‘I’ll come out with it,’ he said. ‘You’ll be Clay Storm. Right?’ His tone was brisk now.

  ‘Right,’ said Clay who had the uneasy feeling that this man had command of the situation. His comfort was that while this man could command it with his tongue, if it developed to the physical level, George was back there with a rifle pointed at this fellow’s brisket. There was nothing so decisive in an argument than a bullet.

  ‘I have reason to believe,’ Hinton went on, ‘that you took into your company a young woman. My information that this was in Kansas. She had lately been in the hands of the Indians.’

  Clay didn’t say anything. Hinton cocked his head at the others to see if they had anything to say, but they stared back at him woodenly.

  ‘I have also reason to believe,�
�� he continued, ‘that she is in the vicinity of this camp right now Am I right?’

  ‘State your business,’ Clay said.

  ‘Certainly. Nothing simpler. We are here to take her home.’ Hinton stared hard at Clay. The smile had gone. There was a kind of fierceness in his gaze.

  ‘Where is home?’ Clay asked.

  ‘That is neither here nor there,’ said the other.

  ‘If she wanted to be home,’ Clay asked, ‘how come she ain’t there now?’

  ‘I did not say,’ said Hinton, ‘that she wanted to be home. It is merely best that that is where she is.’

  ‘Best for who?’

  ‘For herself.’

  ‘But she ain’t there. You sayin’ she don’t know what’s best for herself?’

  That’s what I’m sayin’, sir,’ said Hinton. ‘I also suggest that it is no concern of yours.’

  Clay said slowly: ‘I don’t have no proof it’s any concern of yourn.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Hinton said, ‘you’ll change your mind about that when I tell you that this lady is my wife.’

  If Clay had been struck in the face by the man’s fist, he could not have been more taken aback. It struck him into complete silence.

  He heard a sudden rush of movement behind him. Something flashed past him and the girl stood there. He thought that he had never seen such fury before.

  ‘It’s a lie,’ she screamed. ‘A damned lie. Everything he says is lies. His name isn’t Hinton. It’s Lewis Blessed. That man back there letting him do all the talking as usual is my cousin, Lincoln Hurley.’

  Blessed cried out: ‘There you are, my dear -’

  At the sight of her, the man Hurley showed an overpowering agitation.

  Blessed was saying: ‘Pay no attention to her, Mr. Storm. If you knew the whole story ... alas, it is a tragic one. I assure you, that it is best that she come with us. This isn’t the first time this kind of thing has happened. It is distressing in the extreme, but something that one has to bear with...’

  The girl turned a haggard face to Clay. There was not a trace of beauty to it now. Every line of it showed stark fear.