by Paul Lederer
‘You’re a good old boy,’ Trinity said. ‘Willie Meese never deserved you.’
He led the horse across the flat ground for a way, looking for a way down – if one there was. Trinity found himself standing on what seemed to be the end of the earth, the sky dark and tumbling overhead, the land below hidden by scudding gray clouds. Lightning flared up, far to the north followed by the shallow rumbling of distant thunder.
Walking on, moving slowly and with extreme caution, he saw what seemed to be a path running along the very edge of the bluff where he had marooned himself. Pencil thin, it meandered along the rugged rim of the bluff. It seemed to be broken away in places, nearly invisible in others where encroaching brush had overgrown it.
He knew what he was looking at. It was an ancient Indian trail, its former path narrowed by weather and the passage of time. A few hundred years ago – eons ago, one could be sure – this trail had led up and across the plateau to some camp, ceremonial site or hunting place. Then, it had been well-traveled and safe to follow. Now it was neither; it lay crumbling away on the uncertain edge of the plateau. Still, Trinity was somewhat buoyed by this discovery.
The trail had been used for a purpose – to reach the high country, perhaps to find safety when the Indians felt threatened on the valley below. He could no longer follow this remnant of a path, but by riding parallel to it, he was certain he could find his way down the Dos Picas. The trail ended somewhere; it had begun somewhere.
Feeling a little relieved, he swung on to the cold section of the rain-slick saddle and turned the weary roan’s head northward.
By keeping the ancient trail in sight at all times, he could follow its course and also use it as a warning should he ride perilously close to the edge of the bluff. The wind continued to howl from the north, the driven rain stinging his eyes. Committed now, Trinity rode doggedly on. The land dipped a little and rose a little, but it remained relatively flat as he wove his way across.
Abruptly the slope of the land increased, and he held the horse up and tried again to search through the uncertain weather for his course. Down, the path was going down toward its presumed terminus on the valley floor below. He rode with more confidence now although the going was no easier. The horse labored beneath him, but traveled gamely on.
There was a brief clearing of the skies and sunlight shafted down, allowing Trinity to see the valley where the Owl herd stood. Steam rose from their dark, huddled bodies.
At the end of another miserably cold hour, his clothing wet through, sticking to him like paste despite the torn slicker he was wearing, he found himself riding free and easy across the long valley of the Owl Ranch.
Tonio looked up from his work with wide, startled eyes as the horseman in dark silhouette rode in through the stable doors. Beyond the lone rider, lightning carved the long skies into tumult and the rain continued to fall – now thinly, but colder than ever.
Tonio recognized the horse, of course – he was familiar with them all. The red roan was Willie Meese’s mount, and just now it was rain-streaked and weary looking. It staggered on a bit as it entered its warm, welcome home.
‘Hello, Tonio,’ Trinity said, stepping down from the saddle. He, too, staggered a little as he walked toward the nearby partition and clung to it, his head spinning.
‘Hello, Lieutenant!’ Tonio said excitedly. Trinity frowned.
‘How’d you find out about me?’ he asked.
‘It was when your horse came back. He’s fine, right over there,’ Tonio said, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the piebald. ‘Some of the men saw it come in riderless and they came over here. That man named Plimford – you know him?’
‘We’ve met,’ Trinity answered. His legs were unsteady under him, trembling with the cold and with blood loss.
‘Him and a man he called Rush came in and asked me what happened. Of course, I didn’t know – what could I say? They went and got your saddlebags off the piebald and opened them up. They found some sort of papers that had your name and rank.’
‘Have you told anyone else, Tonio?’ Trinity wanted to know.
‘No, sir. I didn’t know what I should do. Plimford and Rush, they didn’t want to tell anyone either. Plimford he says, “Well it looks like the boys took care of him. I guess it doesn’t matter now.” Rush, he says, “It might make more trouble with the army for us. Best we forget the whole thing.” Then they stuffed the papers back in your saddle-bags and left.’
‘I don’t suppose it makes much difference now,’ Trinity said. His side was still burning with pain and he was weak in the knees. Tonio noticed it.
‘Did you get hurt, Trinity?’
‘I got nudged a little by some lead.’
‘Shot? Where?’ Tonio asked with concern.
‘Just creased my side, but I need to have it tended to.’
‘Sure,’ the kid replied. ‘You go talk to my mother. She acts gruff, mostly because she’s tired all the time, but she’ll take care of you.’
Trinity frowned. ‘Who else is in the house, Tonio?’
‘Just her – and Miss Millicent. She don’t hardly ever go anywhere.’
Trinity’s puzzlement deepened. ‘But where are the others? Russell Bates and Earl. Holly?’
‘They rode out,’ Tonio said. ‘With all of the Texans. I heard Earl Bates say the hell with Vincent Battles. Said he had time to bunch the trail herd, then when the rain lets up, they would start the drive right now – not when Battles got ready to.’
It would take some work sorting the herd in this rain, but Earl was right – by the time the rain let up, which looked to be in early afternoon, he would be able to start his drive. But where was Battles? All of his men? He asked Tonio.
‘I don’t know. Battles rode out even before they did. It looked like he had most of his crew with him. Look around, Trinity, there ain’t but half a dozen horses left here.’
He was right. Besides the piebald, Meese’s red roan and the army bay Russell Bates had ridden in on, there were only a handful of other horses in the barn. He thought he knew where Battles had gone. Having learned of Earl Bates’s decision to start the Owl herd on its way, he had ridden off toward the counterfeit herd to try to get an earlier start. That was as far as his thinking went before a swirling confusion swept through his mind. He had to get his wound attended to and now, or else he was going to be no further help to himself or anyone else. Tonio, his face drawn with concern, encouraged Trinity:
‘Go see my mother. She will know what to do, and it seems most of her work must be finished for the day with everyone gone.’
‘You’re right, Tonio. Thanks, I’ll see her.’
If he could make it that far. The rain was drifting down lightly; the gusting wind continued to twist it into sheer veils. There was water standing in the muddy yard between barn and house – and the house seemed miles away.
He stumbled out into the rain, holding his side, keeping his eyes turned down away from the force of the wind-blown rain. His boots slipped on the muddy earth and he stepped twice into ankledeep puddles of cold water. He took one step at a time, drawn along by the feeble glow of light ahead which promised warmth and care.
Using the handrail, he pulled himself up the wooden steps on to the back porch and slipped into the incredible warmth of the kitchen. Alicia was at the sink, paring knife in her hand. She turned, her eyes startled and annoyed with the interruption. She immediately took in Trinity’s condition, put her knife aside, muttered madre de Dios, and came to where Trinity stood, weaving and shuddering, wiping her hands on her apron.
‘Don’t stand there – sit down,’ Alicia said, ‘are you a crazy man?’
Thankfully, Trinity sagged on to one of the wooden kitchen chairs. Alicia, muttering under her breath, helped him tug off his slicker and sodden jacket. Trinity winced as her fingers pulled up his shirt to find the muddy, bloody makeshift bandage beneath it.
She tried to work tenderly, but separating the filthy bandage from the scabbed wound dr
ove a searing spike of pain through Trinity. He thought for a moment he would pass out from it. Perhaps he did – for a moment later he could hear the tea kettle whistling and found himself shirtless as Alicia, her breath exhaling in tiny puffs, worked on the bullet wound with a pan of hot water and a cloth. She then applied some kind of poultice to the bullet hole, back and front. Whatever it was smelled like mustard and burned like it. But after only a few seconds the heat disappeared and Alicia began wrapping a clean bandage around him as he stood bare-chested before her.
‘I can’t do much for the other scrapes and bruises,’ she told him, ‘but they will heal on their own.’
‘I thank you for what you’ve done,’ Trinity said.
The inner door opened behind Trinity, and he flinched and reached for his holstered gun. A somehow familiar scent reached him and he turned to see the graceful cat that was Millicent Bates in the doorway. She held a teacup and saucer and wore an amused smile.
‘I heard the kettle singing,’ she told Alicia, ‘and it reminded me that I would like another cup of tea.’
‘In one minute,’ Alicia said with controlled anger. To Trinity, Millicent said:
‘They shot you again, did they? If I were you I wouldn’t go out riding if every time I went someone tried to kill me.’ She bent low, her dark feline eyes narrowing. ‘Who was it this time?’
‘I couldn’t tell you which one of them it was. Meese, probably.’
‘Well, you made it back again, didn’t you. This time,’ Millicent said. Now her purr of a voice sounded more like a soft growl. She accepted a cup of tea from Alicia and swept out of the room, the hem of her dark dress whispering against the floorboards.
‘Is she the only one home?’ Trinity asked.
‘Yes, the only one.’ Alicia’s mouth tightened as she said it.
Trinity was standing, his fresh bandage already showing a spot of crimson blood. He picked his dirty shirt up from the chair where it had been thrown. Alicia’s eyes narrowed.
‘Where you going?’
‘After the herd – I have to catch up with it.’
‘In the shape you are in? You are a crazy man,’ she said, wagging her head. ‘Wait, and I’ll find you a new shirt, maybe a dry coat. Dalton Remy, he left some of his clothes in the closet, if they still are there.’
Trinity waited, watching the light rain fall beyond the kitchen window. His side continued to ache; he still felt a little light-headed, but he had to catch up with the Owl herd because he knew what Vincent Battles was going to do.
Alicia returned with a heavy blue flannel shirt and a cracked leather jacket. She helped him to dress. The clothes fitted reasonably well. At least they were dry.
‘There wasn’t a hat, I don’t suppose,’ he asked.
‘There was, but I didn’t think … wait, I’ll get it,’ she said, bustling away into the interior of the house. The hat was a little large for him, but it was better than none at all. Thanking Alicia profusely, he went back out into the gray of the day, her dark eyes following him doubtfully.
Tonio was still in the barn, fussing with the red roan when Trinity walked in. ‘You riding out again?’ Tonio asked, his own doubt showing in his eyes.
‘Have to, Tonio. Would you fit that bay horse with my gear?’ Trinity had the feeling that hoisting his own saddle would probably tear the wound in his side open.
‘Sure, I’ll do it. The army bay, not the piebald?’
‘No, the bay will do. My horse has had a rough morning. I need a fresh animal under me.’
‘That horse hasn’t been ridden since Mister Russell came in on him.’
‘He should be ready to go then,’ Trinity said. Tonio remained dubious. ‘It’s all right, Tonio. The bay and I are both property of the US Army.’
The sun was sporadic but bright as it shined through the clouds hovering over the long grass meadow where only a small remnant of the Owl herd remained. Glancing at the sky, Trinity figured that Earl Bates had guessed right about the storm breaking up. Earl had lived most of his life in this part of the country and probably knew the weather patterns better than most.
The catde left behind in the valley raised languid eyes to him, perhaps wondering what was going to happen to them now that the other cattle had been driven off the meadow. Probably not unlike horses, Trinity had never met a cow that exhibited much more intelligence than it took to stand in the rain and mow grass.
He hit the trail. It was simple to follow after the herd. A hundred and fifty steers leave a broad path in their passing. Where they had not trodden, the long grass sparkled where the sun struck as with chips of diamond, ruby and topaz. The skies continued to clear. Only occasionally would a light spate of rain fall – the storm’s parting, contemptuous gesture.
Riding unencumbered, Trinity had no doubt he would quickly catch up with the trail herd. He only hoped it would be soon enough. There was a lot at stake and a lot of men’s lives hung in the balance.
NINE
Earl Bates didn’t seem too pleased to see Trinity when he found the man riding drag, following the Owl herd northward. Bates eyed the horse with the US brand on its flank and then growled a welcome.
‘I see you made it, Lieutenant.’
‘How’d you find out?’ Trinity asked, slowing his horse a little to keep pace with the tall blue roan Bates straddled.
‘Everyone knows by now. One man tells another, and soon it’s common knowledge. I suppose I should have guessed it earlier – everyone knew you were more than you pretended to be.’ Bates paused to use his coiled lariat to hie a lagging steer toward the herd. When he returned, his scowl was still in place.
‘What’s so urgent that you felt the need to catch up with us, Lieutenant, even wounded as you are?’
‘Does it show?’ Trinity asked with a weak grin.
‘Man, you should see the way you’re sitting on your saddle – yes, it shows. Now what’s the emergency?’
Trinity told Bates as briefly as he could what Vincent Battles and his men had been up to, how he had found the CC herd. Bates listened, his scowl deepening. ‘I knew Battles was up to no good from the first,’ Earl Bates muttered.
‘This valley where I found his herd of sick cattle … does it have a name?’
‘We call it Bear Valley. My father once thought of buying it, but I talked him out of it. The Dos Picos breaks up the property too much to manage properly although there’s good grass and water over there.’
‘Well,’ Trinity continued, ‘Bear Valley then – is there a trail out of there?’
‘Sure,’ Earl said. ‘South Pass. That’s the way they must have brought the cattle in. But leaving that way, it’s a much longer route to get to Fort Bridger – if you’re suggesting that’s still their intention.’
‘No, I’m not,’ Trinity said. ‘I just mean, if there’s not a more direct way to get to Bridger than the one we’re traveling, that’s the reason Battles kept trying to argue you out of starting the drive early.’
‘He kept saying it was the weather he was worried about,’ Earl Bates agreed, ‘but I knew it wasn’t. You’re saying that now he won’t bother to start his herd north?’
‘He can’t,’ Trinity said. ‘Not if you’re at Bridger first with a healthy herd.’ Trinity paused ‘That’s the reason I came after you, Bates; there’s only one thing that Vincent Battles can do now to save the game: he’s going to have to take your herd from you.’
‘He’ll play hell doing that!’ Bates exploded.
‘Will he? How many riders do you have?’
‘Seven – you know that. Barely enough to handle a herd this size.’
‘That’s what I mean. Battles has twice the number of men you have, and there’s no need for him to leave any of them behind to tend the infected herd. He’s given up on them. He’ll try to catch up with you and set an ambush along the trail, knowing your men have their hands full already.’
‘He’ll never take this herd, not without killing me first,’ Earl said.
‘I think that’s what he has in mind,’ Trinity said quietly. ‘He can’t let you live, can he? Not you, Russell, nor.…’ He broke off, for now he could see Holly, riding her little paint pony, drifting back along the flank of the herd. She had spotted them speaking together and must have wondered what was up. Bates lifted his eyes at her approach.
‘Her, too,’ Earl said somberly. ‘Yes, I believe he would.’
‘You’ve got to send outriders out to watch for him,’ Trinity said.
‘We’ve already discussed that, Lieutenant. This isn’t the army out riding patrol. I’ve barely got enough men to handle the herd. These cattle are hardly trail-broken yet, you know. I’m giving them a short day today, starting as late as we did, but they’re still in a balky mood, wanting to break out of the herd and head back toward home range.’
‘I know that,’ Trinity answered with something like despair, ‘but something must be done.’
‘If you think so,’ Earl Bates responded loudly, ‘get out there yourself and look around – you’re sure not doing any good here.’
The last part of that sentence, bellowed in his adopted Texas drawl, was the only portion of her brother’s words that Holly heard. Bates winked at Trinity and said in a near-whisper, ‘Do your best, Lieutenant. We could use any help you’ve got to offer right now.’
Holly watched in surprise as Trinity wheeled the bay horse at her approach and headed for the timber lining the valley. He did not wave to her or say a word, he simply obeyed Earl. Angrily, Holly rode up beside her brother.
‘Why did you do that, Earl? Run him off?’ she asked, watching Trinity go.
‘It just seemed like the thing to do,’ Earl grumbled not wanting to frighten his sister. Because if what Trinity had told him was true – and it must be – Vincent Battles had also marked Holly for death. Holly stared at her brother without comprehension, then just shook her head and rode stiffly back toward the point of the slow-moving herd.
