A Trail Too Far

by Robert Peecher

  "What are you doing?" Rab asked, sitting up. "Your father will have a conniption fit if he catches you here with me."

  Rachel felt her way over to Rab's bedroll, and she sat down on the blanket. She put her arms around his neck and she kissed his face.

  "I had to come and see you," she whispered. "After those men came today, my mother asked me if I intended to stay in Santa Fe with you. Did you say something to my father about it?"

  "I told him how it was with us," Rab said. "If you have not changed your mind."

  "I have not changed my mind," Rachel said.

  "I thought you father should know so that he can make peace with you before we get to Santa Fe."

  "I believe he is having a softening of his opinions," Rachel said. "He said he would like to speak to me tomorrow. And then my mother came and asked me my intentions. I told her I intend to marry you in Santa Fe."

  "And how did your mother take that news?" Rab asked.

  He could tell, not because he could see her so well in the moonlight, but from the sound of her voice, that Rachel was smiling. "She said she did not blame me and she is not surprised. She asked only that we might consider coming to California to be nearer to them."

  "Is that what you would want?" Rab asked. "To go to California?"

  There was a pause. Then she answered, "Not right away, but maybe one day."

  "There is a danger that those men might come back to our camp tonight," Rab said. "It's a real danger. You should not have risked coming over here."

  Rab didn't say it, but he also was concerned that Rachel's brothers were on watch, yet she was able to sneak out of the camp.

  Rachel ignored him.

  "Rabbie, how did you know it was me sneaking over here? How did you know it was not those men?"

  "I heard an old hoot owl," Rab said. "He ain't far, just up yonder there in the cottonwoods. If it had been those men sneaking through there, that owl would have flown away. But when I heard him call, he wasn't moving. That's how I knew it was you and not them. Animals can sense what feelings people put off. If people are planning something bad, the animals can sense that. So they flee. But that old hoot owl, he knew you weren't up to no good. So he just sat his limb and called out. If it had been them ruffians, he'd have screeched and gone darting off through the woods to find a safe place. When you're in the woods at night, if you'll be quiet and listen, you can hear all these things."

  They stayed together for some time, whispering to each other about the things that young lovers will talk about. Mostly they dreamed of how it would be when they were married. Rachel told Rab that she wanted to have six children.

  "I want four boys and two girls," she said. "First I want a son so that he can be the head of the siblings, and he can protect the younger ones. And then two daughters so that they can help when their baby brothers are born. And we must have two girls, because a girl needs a sister."

  "You ain't got a sister," Rab said.

  "That is how I know that a girl needs a sister. I would very much have liked to have had a sister close to my own age while I was growing up. And once we have the two girls, then we can have the other three boys. And they'll have you and their older brother to help raise them into strong men."

  "The older son won't have anybody close," Rab said. "Maybe it ought to be two boys, then two girls, and then two boys."

  "Our oldest son will have you," Rachel said. "He'll go with you everywhere you go and you will teach him all the things. And then when he has little brothers, he can help you teach them. It's how it works best."

  "I will trust you on that," Rab said. "And how can we ensure that we're having boys when we're supposed to have boys and girls when we're supposed to have girls?"

  Rachel giggled at him. "That's all about what the moon is like at the moment of conception. A full moon is sure to be a boy. And a half moon will be a girl."

  "Is that a fact?" Rab asked.

  "I don't know," Rachel said. "But we can enjoy testing it."

  After some time, Rachel said that she should return to the camp.

  "I should go back before they switch out the watch. I told Matthew that I was coming to see you. That's how I got out of the camp so easily, and how I will get back in."

  "You should stay here," Rab said.

  "Oh, Rabbie, I want to, but it will only infuriate my father all over again."

  "I mean it's not wise to go back now. Those men could be making a move on us. I don't want you getting caught out between here and there."

  "I have to go back," Rachel said. "I will be careful."

  "Then I'll go with you," Rab said.

  Rachel laughed. "You're too worried. I will be fine."

  She stood up and Rab started to stand with her. But Rachel put a hand on his shoulder to push him back down.

  "You stay here," she said. "You have to keep a watch on the animals. I am only walking from here back to the camp, just through those trees. I can see the camp the whole way."

  Rab twitched his lips. He thought it was a mistake to let her go back by herself.

  "You should stay with me," he said.

  "I'll be fine," Rachel said, and her voice was more than a whisper. "Besides, I still have the knife you gave me."

  She touched the handle of the knife to show him that she had it on her belt.

  And now Rab relented. "Go quickly, and quietly. If you hear something or see something, shout to me. Use that knife if you have to."

  Rachel kissed him on the top of his head and then turned and walked back toward the camp. She went just as softly as she had come.

  Rab leaned back on one of his elbows and, as far as he could see it, he watched her shadow among the cottonwoods. He felt very tired, but he knew he could not get a decent sleep. He could doze off, but if he felt himself falling asleep he would have to get up and walk around. Protecting the animals was crucial.

  Rab thought the whole thing through carefully before he picked his bed. If it was him

  Rachel picked her way slowly. The lights from the campsite gave her a clear view of her destination, but among the trees it was hard to see anything that was near. She had to place her feet carefully so that she did not turn an ankle on a loose branch or step into a hole.

  As she got closer to the campsite she saw Matthew. He was not much more than a silhouette against the lanterns hung around the camp, and she could not see him clearly. But she recognized the way he walked. She thought how independent Matthew had become on this trip – taking charge of the animals, acting as the guide on the Trail when Rab Sinclair rode ahead to check for water crossings or dangers or rode behind to check the back trail. Matthew, even more than Jeremiah, had grown up these last few weeks. He even carried himself differently – bigger, stronger looking, more sure of himself.

  She stopped and watched for a moment, admiring her brother. If she suggested it, she thought he might stay with them in Santa Fe. She smiled as she thought of how her father would respond if she made the recommendation. Her father would object, but it would be so good for Matthew. And Rabbie liked Matthew. Rab treated him like a little brother.

  When she saw the other shadow, the movement in the lantern light, Rachel thought it was Jeremiah, also keeping watch with Matthew. She knew their watch would end soon and she needed to get back to the camp before anyone else was awake. It would be a humiliation if someone else – Stuart or Graham, who had the next watch – fired a rifle to waken everyone just because they heard her coming in the darkness.

  Rachel realized, though, that she did not recognize the movement of the man. He was taller, lankier than Jeremiah. She tried to make the silhouette fit the frame of her Uncle Stuart, thinking maybe he was awake and ready to relieve Matthew on watch. But it was also not Uncle Stuart. Nor was it Graham Devalt.

  The gleam of the knife was what gave her to know that the second silhouette she saw was danger.

  The reflected light on the blade of the knife came up from behind Matthew in a flash, just as a hand g
rabbed him from behind, covering his mouth. The knife slid in sickening violence across her brother's throat, and Matthew dropped to his knees.

  Rachel felt herself go weak. Her voice caught in her throat as she dropped to her knees.

  There was a man inside the campsite, and he had just cut Matthew's throat.

  She found her voice and called out, "Rabbie!" But the sound was insufficient. Fear, a terrible terror, left her paralyzed. She couldn't make her voice louder.

  She watched the silhouette move away from Matthew, searching out Jeremiah. Where was he? And then she saw him, struggling, fighting with another man. Jeremiah's rifle exploded, a flash and a boom.

  Rachel found her voice and her legs all at one time. "Rab!" she screamed, and the scream cut through the cottonwoods.

  She turned back toward the animals and shouted again, "Rabbie Sinclair! They are in the camp!"

  Then Rachel remembered the knife on her belt. She drew it from the scabbard and started to run through the cottonwoods.

  She could see up ahead that there was chaos. The rifle shot had awakened the rest of the camp.

  People were screaming. Voices that Rachel recognized were shouting. A gunshot exploded, and then another, enormous sounds that made Rachel flinch even as she ran to them. She did not know if Rab Sinclair was coming behind her, but she trusted that he would be.

  "Go to Matthew," Rachel shouted, hoping that if she could get someone to him that he would not die.

  She ran hard, blind to everything around her except the light of the camp. Even as it came nearer, she could not see anything other than movement – lots of movement – and she realized that the camp was no clearer to her because her eyes were full of tears.

  "Someone please go to Matthew," she yelled again.

  Another shot from a gun, and then another. And then a loud explosion, another gunshot but so much louder than the others. And more screaming filled her ears.

  The whole camp was movement and violence. People were shouting and crying out.

  Rachel ran into a low branch, and it hit her in the face like a club. She staggered backwards, stunned from running into the branch, and she dropped the knife Rab had given to her.

  She started to bend over to pick it up, and then decided to abandon it. She had to get to her family and try to help.

  Rachel broke into the clearing, now just ten yards from the nearest wagon. She was in the light. She stopped running and wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to focus on what was happening in front of her.

  A man was mounted on a horse. He had a revolver in his hand and was holding a woman sprawled over the back of the horse. He fired a shot into a crowd of people – people Rachel recognized – and then the man galloped away, following the clear trail between the trees that they had used to bring the wagons in close to the spring.

  There were still two strangers inside the camp.

  Jeremiah was swinging his rifle like a club, trying to bash one of the men, but he was crouched in a fighting stance, dodging the swinging rifle. The other man was trying to get his horse under control to mount up and get away.

  Rachel started toward the man fighting with Jeremiah, but a heavy push from behind knocked her to the ground.

  She struggled to get to her feet and realized it was Rab Sinclair. He had knocked her down to keep her from getting closer.

  As she watched, the man worked a foot into the stirrup of the startled horse, and he wheeled the horse and rode hard through the campsite, kicking over a camp table as he charged past it.

  Rab Sinclair leapt through the air and smashed hard into the man Jeremiah was fighting. The man, Chester Bowman, never saw Rab coming at him.

  The two men went down to the ground, and Jeremiah stumbled back. That's when Rachel saw for the first time that Jeremiah's white shirt was stained red and a knife was protruding from his side.

  "Jeremiah," she exclaimed, and she pushed herself from the ground and ran to her brother.

  Rab was on his feet now, and the other man, too.

  "Your friends have gone," Rab said. "Rode out and left you. You'd be wise to run now."

  "You killed Dick when you smashed him in the face," Chess Bowman snarled. "I ain't come here to leave. I come here to kill you."

  Chess Bowman had no weapon. His knife was in Jeremiah Cummings' side and his six-shooter was lost in the scuffle. Rab Sinclair had both knife and six-shooter.

  "You ain't going to do that," Rab said. "Best thing for you would be to get up on that hawss over there and ride on out of here."

  Chester Bowman answered by charging at the young guide, closing the distance between the two of them and swinging a heavy fist at Rab's face. The fist caught Rab on the jaw and staggered him. He stumbled backwards and for a moment he was stunned, a deafening ringing in his ears and a senseless in his mind.

  Rab stumbled a bit, and Chess saw an opportunity. He swung again, this time catching Rab in the nose. The punch landed light, not much more than a glancing blow, but it started Rab's nose bleeding furiously.

  At the sight of the blood, Chess believed he had landed a heavy blow and he now looked for a weapon. All he found was a broken leg from the camp table knocked over by Mickey Hogg's horse when he made his escape. Chester leapt for the broken table leg and swooped it up in his hand, turning quickly so that he would be prepared to parry an attack.

  Now Rab's senses were coming back to him. He wiped some of the blood away from his mouth, and seeing his hand covered in his own blood Rab assumed he must have been hit harder than he realized. Now Chess Bowman was coming at him again, the table leg reared back to use as a club. Rab slipped his knife from its scabbard and used it to block the club when Chess swung.

  Rab stabbed at Chester and missed, and then he felt the table leg smash into his shoulder. The blow knocked him to the ground and he dropped the knife.

  Chester flung the table leg at Rab, who was now sprawled on the ground. He darted for the knife, and scooping it up believed he had won. He turned to come at Rab with the knife, but the young guide slid the Colt Dragoon from its holster. Without hesitation, he raised it up, drawing back the hammer with his thumb, and shot into Chester Bowman's stomach as the border ruffian came at him with the knife.

  The bullet smashed a hole into Chess's gut, but his momentum carried him onward, and Rab saw the knife aimed at him as Chester fell forward.

  Rab rolled out of the way, and when Chester hit the ground, Rab rolled back, smashing his elbow into Chester's back.

  The young guide got to his knees and straddled Chester, pinning him to the ground. Rab pushed his knees into Chester's arms, holding him there so that the knife was useless. Rab punched Chester hard in the back of the neck, and when the wounded man turned loose of the big Bowie knife, Rab picked it up and plunged it into Chester's right shoulder, twisting the knife to cut the shoulder and disable it. The right arm under Rab's knee went limp. Rab stabbed Chester in the other shoulder.

  Chester screamed out both times, and the realization that he was dead overtook him. With foul oaths, he cursed Rab Sinclair and swore that Pawnee Bill would get revenge.

  Rab Sinclair stood up, dizzy from the punches but victorious in the fight. He found a canteen and poured water on his face to try to clear his mind, and then he addressed the violence before him.

  29

  The light from the lanterns exposed the ghastly pageant of murder that had taken place in the campsite.

  Matthew was dead, his throat cut in vicious fashion. His body was grotesque, crumpled to the ground and covered in his own blood. The sight of his son sent Amos Cummings into a fit of agony. The father who had come west to save his sons from war now had lost one of them, and he was inconsolable, on his knees beside Matthew's body, sobbing out a prayer and blaming himself for his son's death.

  Graham Devalt's body was sprawled at the foot of one of the wagon wheels. Mickey Hogg blasted a barrel from the scattergun into Graham's back as Graham attempted to flee the carnage. The shotgun blast peppe
red him from the shoulders to the small of his back, and the damage to his body was significant. If he survived the initial blast, it was only for a few moments.

  Stuart Bancroft attempted to make a stand to save his sister when Pawnee Bill snatched her by the arm and started dragging her toward his horse. Bill clubbed Stuart with the barrel of his Colt Dragoon, opening up a gash in his forehead that was still bleeding freely. Stuart was conscious but dazed. He was holding himself up against one of the wagons.

  "Sit down, Mr. Bancroft," Rab said, taking him by the arm and helping him to the ground. Rab looked quickly for Rebekah Bancroft, but she had run for safety with the children. So Rab took his bandanna and pressed it against Stuart's bleeding head. "Hold this here now. There are others more hurt than you, and I've got to see to them."

  Rab guided Stuart's hand to the bandanna. The man's eyes were matted with blood and it was running down his face.

  "Lay back on the ground and hold that bandanna there," Rab said, hoping the stunned man could understand him.

  Rab turned next to Jeremiah who was on the ground. Rachel was kneeling beside him, holding his head in her lap. Jeremiah was hurt, but Rab thought he would probably live.

  Once, when he and his father were living among the Cheyenne, there was a fearsome battle with another tribe. Many warriors were scalped and others suffered terrible wounds from spears and knives. Rab had helped to nurse those who were wounded.

  Rachel was sobbing and stroking her brother's hair. Jeremiah struggled to only take shallow breaths, the pain in his side was intense with every breath.

  The knife was stuck in Jeremiah's side, but it was not so deep.

  Rab used his Bowie knife to hack a small block of wood off the table leg. He hurried over to Rachel and Jeremiah with it.

  "Bite down on this," Rab said.

  Jeremiah shook his head slightly. "I've been stabbed," he muttered. "So much pain in my side."

  "I know," Rab said. "I need you to bite down on this piece of wood."

  Rab pushed the wood into Jeremiah's mouth, forcing it between his teeth.

  Looking at Rachel he said, "Hold his head."