A Horse Called Mogollon (Floating Outfit Book 3)

by J. T. Edson

  ‘Wait, M’sieur Farquharson!’ de Brioude said, cutting through his wife’s thought train as the Scot started to turn away. ‘I beg you to reconsider—’

  ‘There’s nothing to reconsider,’ Colin cut in coldly, then relented a little. ‘If you come to our camp on Wolf Creek, we can offer you a couple of young stallions sired by him.’

  ‘I want that horse!’ Beatrice spat out. ‘No other will do.’

  ‘Like I said, ma’am,’ Colin answered. ‘He’s not for sale. Adios.’

  ‘Can’t you make him sell it to me, Charles?’ Beatrice demanded, swinging to face the officer as Colin rode away.

  ‘I’ve no authority to make him sell,’ Lebel replied, looking uncomfortable.

  Since leaving Fort Sawyer, the lieutenant had learned that Beatrice hated to be refused anything. Giving Lebel a glare that carried a knife-like cutting edge, she spun towards her husband.

  ‘I want that horse, Arnaud!’

  ‘Of course you do, Cherie,’ de Brioude said soothingly, flickering a glance at Lebel and making a small signaling motion with his head.

  ‘Charles,’ Beatrice purred, knowing what her husband meant. ‘I dropped my carbine when the horse bolted. Be a darling and fetch it for me.’

  ‘Sure, Beatrice,’ Lebel agreed, only too pleased to get away.

  ‘I’m determined to have that horse,’ Beatrice stated, after the officer had ridden out of hearing. ‘I don’t care how you do it, Arnaud, but I will have it.’

  ‘And I intend to see that you get it, Cherie,’ de Brioude promised.

  ‘Is this eagerness just to please me?’ Beatrice asked suspiciously.

  ‘I always try to please you.’

  ‘Especially when there’s something in it for you. What is it this time?’

  ‘I saw how fast that horse can run. It caught up to your bay as if you’d been standing still. There’s much money to be made, racing and betting on such a horse, cherie.’

  ‘You’ll have to get it first,’ Beatrice warned.

  ‘I intend to do that,’ de Brioude assured her and looked at Peet as he returned leading the bay. ‘Do you know that mustanger, Abe?’

  ‘I’ve heard tell of him,’ the hunter replied. ‘Way he’s dressed, I’d say he’s the one who works for Libby Schell ’n’ took out the Flores boys—’

  ‘I want that horse he is riding, Abe,’ Beatrice interrupted in her most winning manner. ‘Arnaud tried to buy it, but he wouldn’t sell.’

  ‘Maybe you didn’t offer him enough money, Arnaud,’ Peet suggested.

  ‘Beatrice told him he could name his own price,’ de Brioude stated. ‘He still refused to sell.’

  ‘Did, huh?’ grunted the hunter, guessing at the way the conversation headed. ‘That looks like the end of it then.’

  ‘People sometimes change their minds,’ de Brioude pointed out. ‘Especially if they—shall we say—have help to make them change.’

  ‘Happen you’re figuring on doing the making, the blue-belly there won’t stand for it,’ warned Peet, nodding in Lebel’s direction.

  ‘He doesn’t have to know,’ Beatrice pointed out, laying a hand on Peet’s thigh. ‘Abe, I’ll be so grateful to the man who gets me that horse.’

  ‘You minding how it’s got?’ the hunter inquired, leaning forward to tap the butt of his long-barreled Sharps rifle.

  ‘We don’t care,’ Beatrice declared.

  ‘Just make sure that you don’t bring the police around us,’ de Brioude went on. ‘Can you do it?’

  ‘Easy,’ Peet grinned. ‘I’ll cover my tracks so nobody can follow ’em and hide the hoss someplace until it’s safe to bring him to you.’

  ‘Can we do anything to help?’ asked de Brioude.

  ‘Call off the hunting for today ’n’ take Lebel back to camp with you,’ Peet advised. ‘I’ll make out I’m going to scout for another buffler herd so’s I don’t need to come along.’

  Although the de Brioudes did as their hunter requested, Peet failed to achieve anything. By the time he had come into rifle range of Colin, two mesteneros had joined the Scot. So Peet called off his attempt to obtain the stallion by the simple means of shooting its rider. Having come to know his employers pretty well, however, he doubted if they would be content to let the matter rest there.

  Chapter Ten

  Holding their mounts to a leisurely walk, Dusty Fog and Colin Farquharson passed through an area of woodland and came into sight of Kerrville about a mile to the south.

  ‘Not a mustang, much less a manada or mestena down this way,’ Colin remarked, stroking Mogollon’s neck. ‘Libby won’t be pleased when she hears about it.’

  ‘Likely,’ Dusty admitted. ‘Only we don’t know that it’s those French folk’s hunting that’s scared them away. This section’s a mite too close to the town for mustangs to use it.’

  A point with which Colin agreed. He hoped that Libby would be of the same opinion. There had been an explosive scene at their camp when Libby Schell had heard about Colin’s meeting with the Vicomtesse de Brioude. Learning that Beatrice was a member of the hunting party, Libby had blamed it for the shortage of manadas on that section of the range. Only by exercising considerable tact had Dusty and Colin dissuaded the blonde from gathering her mesteneros and attempting to carry out her threat of chasing the French couple into the sea at Brownsville.

  That had been three days ago. Despite knowing that the area down towards Kerrville rarely held mustangs, Libby had insisted that it be thoroughly scouted for them. After helping with the gelding of the captured stock and other work, the two young men had agreed to make a final check of the area. By that time Libby’s temper had cooled down somewhat and the situation at the camp was returning to normal. Colin hoped that nothing would happen to change the cooling-down process.

  ‘Why don’t we ride in and see Cousin Tam?’ the Scot suggested.

  ‘We might as well,’ Dusty agreed, guiding his bayo-cebrunos gelding in the required direction. ‘Happen he’ll ride out to supper with us, Libby might forget the de Brioudes.’

  By the time they had covered half of the distance to the town, Dusty and Colin had become aware of its deserted appearance. Three men crossed the main street and entered one of its largest buildings, but apart from them there was little or no sign of human life. Going closer, the two riders noticed some activity around the combined church and meeting house on the far side of town.

  ‘Could be trouble,’ Dusty said when Colin commented on the town’s deserted aspect. ‘Everything looks to be closed up for the day.’

  ‘If it is trouble, Cousin Tam might need help’, the Scot answered. ‘I wonder where we’ll find him?’

  ‘At the jailhouse, likely,’ Dusty guessed. ‘If he’s not, the owner of the livery barn might know where he’s at.’

  Entering town, they found the jailhouse devoid of life. So they made their way towards the open main doors of the livery barn. Approaching the building into which the three men had disappeared, Dusty noticed that it was the Logan Hotel.

  ‘We could go in and ask about Tam,’ the small Texan said.

  ‘I’d rather leave Mogollon in a stall than on a hitching rail,’ Colin replied. ‘He’s not used to being in a town.’

  On reaching the livery barn, they dismounted and led the horses inside. All but two of the stalls had occupants, but the owner and his assistants were conspicuous by their absence.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Colin asked.

  ‘Put up the horses,’ Dusty answered. ‘Then we’ll go find out what’s happening around here.’

  Taking their mounts into the empty stalls, Dusty and Colin prepared to settle them in. Footsteps drew their attention to the rear entrance. A tall, heavily built genial-featured man came in. Bare-footed, he wore jeans and an undershirt. Although Colin had not previously visited the town, the man showed only momentary surprise at being confronted by a kilted Scot.

  ‘Howdy, gents,’ the newcomer greeted. ‘You’ll be Tam Breda’s kinsman, I
reckon. I’ve heard tell about them fancy duds you wear. Say, if you’re looking for Tam, he’s took a posse down south after a bunch of bandidos.’

  ‘So that’s where all the men-folk’ve gone,’ Dusty put in.

  ‘Some of ’em’re with Tam,’ admitted the owner. ‘I reckon the rest’re like me.’

  ‘How’d that be?’ Dusty inquired.

  ‘Getting ready for this here fancy ree-ception the mayor ’n’ city fathers’re throwing for the French count and countess who’ve bought the old Renfrew place to start up ranching.’

  Colin threw a startled glance Dusty’s way. It seemed that the de Brioudes were going out of their way to antagonize Libby Schell. Agreeing with Colin’s views on the decrease of mustanging prospects in the future, Libby had suggested that, on the completion of the Army remount contract, they should purchase the Renfrew property as their horse ranch. Deserted during the War by its owners, it would have been well suited to the Schell family’s needs.

  ‘Damned if the women-folk ain’t buzzing around like a humming-bird with six tails,’ the owner continued. ‘They’re all a-hunting up fancy dresses and running us husbands ragged duding up for it. Which’s why I wasn’t here where I should be. The missus’s had me a-shining boots and’s making me take an all-over bath. Not’s I mind. The Count’s a real swell gent, and they do say his wife’s a real looker. Tam Breda’s grateful to the Count, I’ll bet.’

  ‘How come?’ Dusty asked.

  ‘Like I said, word come in about this here bandido gang rampaging down south. Tam’s not got hisself settled in and hired enough men to handle it. Anyways, him, the marshal ’n’ some of us was fixing to ride when damned if the count don’t come in and offer to lend Tam his whole Army escort.’

  ‘That was good of him,’ Colin said sincerely.

  ‘We thought so,’ the owner replied. ‘Anyways, the mayor ’n’ city fathers figured we should make him and his missus welcome. So we asked ’em to come in today for what Annie Logan calls a ree-ception’ A faint grin creased his face and he went on, ‘Looks like Annie don’t write French’s good’s she allows. The count and his missus’ve come in early. That sort of put the committee fixing the shin-dig in a mite of a fix.’

  ‘Henry!’ screeched an irate female voice from somewhere behind the barn. ‘You get back here!’

  ‘Look, gents,’ the owner said apologetically. ‘Everything you need’s on hand. If you’ll tend to things yourself, I’ll be right obliged. Was you married, you’d—’

  ‘Henry!’ yelled the voice.

  ‘We’ll make out,’ Dusty assured the man.

  ‘Thanks, fellers,’ Henry said and departed the way from which he had come.

  ‘Now that’s what you’re letting yourself in for when you marry Jeanie,’ Dusty warned the Scot.

  ‘I’ll change—’ Colin began.

  The arrival of a man through the front doors brought Colin’s words to a halt. Turning his head, the Scot recognized the hunter who had been with the de Brioudes. Throwing a look at Dusty and clearly dismissing him as of no importance, Peet slouched across to the gate of Mogollon’s stall.

  ‘Howdy, friend,’ greeted the hunter. ‘Don’t know if you ’member me or not. I was with that French countess you saved when her hoss bolted.’

  ‘I remember,’ Colin admitted.

  ‘She’s up to the hotel with her husband,’ Peet continued. ‘They done sent me to ask you to come and see ’em.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They’ve been thinking, ’n’ allow, seeing’s you don’t aim to sell Mogollon there, they might’s well buy some of his young ’n’s.’

  For a moment Colin did not reply. Taking everything into consideration, he wondered if Libby would agree to selling horses to the de Brioudes. A glance showed the Scot that Dusty was going on tending to the bayo-cebruno’s needs. Not that Colin intended to ask for help with his decision. To do so would lessen his standing in the big, efficient, self-reliant Texan’s eyes.

  ‘I’ll be along as soon as I’ve seen to my horse,’ Colin promised, deciding that he would lose nothing by hearing what the Vicomte had to say.

  ‘The count’s got him a meeting with the local folks in half an hour or so,’ Peet remarked. ‘Until then he’s down to the hotel. Folks’re all staying clear, so you can talk private like.’

  ‘Tell him I’ll come as soon as I can,’ Colin suggested.

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Peet grunted and walked from the building.

  Watching the hunter go, Dusty decided that he had been one of the three who had entered the hotel. That figured, seeing how he worked for the de Brioudes. Going by their dress, the other two had been cowhands. Either they were hired by the Vicomte, or soliciting employment. Before Dusty could comment on the matter, Colin swung in his direction.

  ‘Did I do the right thing, Dusty?’

  ‘How’d you mean?’

  ‘By agreeing to go and see de Brioude. Libby might not want to do business with him.’

  ‘If he wants the horses, he’ll likely be willing to pay higher than us or the Army for them,’ Dusty stated. ‘From what Mark said, he’s rich and you’ll get cash-money for them. And I’d bet Libby’s too good a businesswoman to turn down a fair offer because she doesn’t like the wife of the feller making it.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ Colin admitted and changed the subject. ‘Why do you think the local people are staying away from the de Brioudes? I’d have expected them to be gathering around.’

  ‘It figures in a way,’ Dusty replied. ‘The de Brioudes settling close by’ll be a big help to Kerr County. They’ll be needing supplies, fittings for the house, plenty of things and Kerrville’s the closest place to get them.’

  ‘So I’d expect the local businessmen to be swarming around—’

  ‘Likely the folks fixing up this reception figured the same way. But when the de Brioudes arrived early, they aimed to make sure that nobody gets a head start on the others with them. So they asked them to wait down to the hotel and all agreed to leave meeting ’em until the reception.’

  ‘You could be right,’ Colin grinned.

  Suffering from the depression brought about by the War, the citizens of Kerrville would see the arrival of the de Brioudes as a blessing. So the leading members of the community had recognized the advisability of preventing a premature scramble to make their acquaintance. The danger of friction and unpleasantness had been removed by the practical means of everybody keeping away from the guests-of-honor until the actual ceremony commenced.

  After completing the watering and feeding of their mounts, Dusty and Colin left the stalls. Fastening the gates, they took and hung their saddles on the inverted-V shaped wooden burro erected along one wall for that purpose.

  ‘It was real good of de Brioude to loan his escort to Tam,’ Colin commented as he and Dusty left the barn.

  ‘Or a right smart move,’ the small Texan replied. ‘Doing it set him up real good with the folks in town. Taken with the money he’s likely to bring into Kerr County, it’ll put them on his side happen anybody tries to make fuss for him.’

  ‘You mean they’d not take kindly to Libby doing anything that might chase the de Brioudes away?’ Colin guessed.

  ‘That’s just what I mean,’ Dusty confirmed. ‘I know you were hoping to get that Renfrew place, but you’d best forget it if de Brioude’s moved in.’

  ‘Libby won’t like it,’ Colin said. ‘But she’s too smart to do anything rash or foolish.’

  ‘I reckon she is,’ Dusty drawled.

  On their arrival at the hotel, Dusty and Colin found Peet waiting in the hall with the de Brioudes. Smiling a welcome, the Vicomte advanced with his right hand held out towards the Scot. Dusty thought that the smile looked a little forced, then became aware of a change come over the Frenchman’s face. What started out as a flickered look his way turned into a longer, closer scrutiny. It almost seemed that de Brioude saw beyond Dusty’s small, insignificant outer shell and suspected something of
the real man underneath.

  ‘Ha! M’sieur Farquharson,’ the Vicomte said, jerking his eyes from Dusty and shaking hands with Colin. ‘I am so pleased that you could come to see me. If your friend doesn’t mind, we’ll go into the dining-room and talk.’

  ‘I’m at your service, sir,’ Colin answered. ‘May I present—’

  ‘Good afternoon, young man,’ Beatrice put in, advancing with her most sensual glide and addressing Dusty. ‘My husband and I wish to speak privately with M’sieur Farquharson. I am sure you won’t mind waiting in the barroom?’

  Studying the Vicomtesse, Dusty decided that Mark had not exaggerated when describing her physical attractions, Nor, in Dusty’s opinion, did Libby go far out in her uncomplimentary assessment of Beatrice’s character. There was an underlying hardness about the woman which hinted at a harsh, intolerant disregard for others, determination to have all things her own way and latent snobbery. No matter how her husband felt about the small Texan, she clearly dismissed him as an unimportant, inconsiderable nobody unfit to be in her company.

  ‘But this—!’ Colin spluttered, annoyed by the Vicomtesse’s treatment of a friend.

  ‘It’s all right, Colin,’ Dusty interrupted cheerfully. ‘I know how it is. You go talk your business. I’ll have a beer while I’m waiting.’

  ‘You may tell the—how do you say—bartender to charge your drinks to my husband,’ Beatrice purred, in a way calculated to charm a naive country boy and make him subservient to her will.

  ‘Of course you may,’ de Brioude confirmed, still darting puzzled and worried looks from Colin to Dusty.

  ‘Come, m’sieur? Beatrice said, laying a hand on Colin’s sleeve. ‘Let us see what kind of a horse trade—don’t you call it?—we can make.’