by Paul Lederer
Trinity saw a horseman try to ride an Owl cowboy down as he lay in his bed, but the Owl rider had teeth. He rolled aside slightly as the man’s horse jumped over and emptied three shots from his pistol into the animal’s belly. The horse folded up and rolled, head first. The rider never got up – his neck was broken in the fall.
Two Owl hands had moved behind a row of milling cattle and they fired from behind the thousands of pounds of bulwark, taking down two men that Trinity saw. Sheltering behind confused cattle was a dangerous maneuver, but it had certainly saved their lives.
The dawn hour was a deadly riot of noise and motion. Trinity had lost count of the number of men he had seen go down before the sights of another man. He only knew that surprisingly the Owl men were standing up well under the attack. Perhaps, he thought, it was because nearly all of them had been on foot when the attack began. Their sights were steadier, their shots truer. Making his way toward the river, Trinity felt a near bullet tug the side of his shirt in its close passing – the same side Willie Meese had tagged him in. He spun, saw the rider bearing down on him and fired. The lead sent spinning from Trinity’s rifle took the man high on the chest and he fell to the grass. Trinity did not think it was a killing shot, but he wasn’t going to waste time checking on his enemy’s wound. Not now. He needed to find.…
The woman’s shrill scream sounded clearly, rising above the clamor of gunfire and running animals. Trinity clamped his teeth together in anger and ran toward the river, moving as quickly as he could through the mass of cattle which had begun to surge northward. Heated bodies brushed past him, and horns as deadly as any weapon came within inches of his flesh. Weaving his way through the threatening herd, he reached the river in time to see Vincent Battles standing over Holly Bates. Holly held a pistol, but she let it dangle from her fingers as if the Colt were too heavy to lift.
Battles was hatless, his dark hair screening his eyes. His gun was leveled at Holly. Trinity heard the man say something, but he did not catch the words. Bracing himself, Trinity shouted out:
‘Battles!’
The man’s face was savagely twisted when he turned it toward Trinity. He shifted his sights to Trinity and pulled the trigger on his pistol. Trinity had not hesitated; he had fired first and his shot took Vincent Battles in the heart as Battles’s own pistol’s shot whined past and thudded into the flank of an unfortunate steer. Simultaneous with his own shot, Trinity had heard the report of still another gun. As he looked toward Holly, he could see that she had fired her own weapon. Smoke still trickled from her revolver’s barrel as she lowered it. So which shot had done the trick? Who had saved whose life? Trinity had no wish to claim bragging rights about killing a man – there had been no choice, that was all – but he had the idea that Holly might find it easier on her conscience later if he were to take the responsibility.
But not now. For now he rushed to her and placed his rifle aside, going to his own knees to hold the trembling girl close to him, as the new sunlight sparkled on the face of the slowly flowing river beside them.
All things considered, the battle had been entered and won. It was not the sort of fight where their attackers would be expected to follow after them and continue to raid the herd, although Earl was aware of that possibility. With their leader dead, the others would likely see no point in continuing with Vincent Battles’s plan. They would scatter and roam and become someone else’s problem. Probably the law’s.
The day broke cool and sunny. The confused herd had strung out along the river. Probably they would tire soon and could be gathered again without a great deal of difficulty. Which was good, for there were a number of wounded men riding herd now. Most of them could still sit their saddles, but one Owl rider had to be transported on a hastily constructed travois. And there were two dead left behind. They did not bother to search for dead or wounded raiders. That might seem cold, but these men had ridden in with cold intentions and ridden off with what they deserved.
Little had changed as the herd slowly gathered and again started north – except that Holly now chose to ride next to Trinity. At times they would talk of nothing; at other times they rode long miles without sharing a word. Still when Trinity glanced at her, he would find those golden eyes fixed on him. It was vaguely comforting to know that she was beside him.
They spent the next night camped along the river, and by the following noon found themselves on the dry grass plains surrounding Fort Bridger. A troop of soldiers rode out to meet them, and the cattle were driven into the already constructed pens to bawl and mill and await their misfortune.
Trinity rode to report to the commander of the fort. He was relieved to find that Colonel Little – a pink, cheerful man – had returned from his vacation, and that the meeting with the procurement officer, Captain Nunn could be postponed. Earl and Holly arrived before Trinity had a chance to report, eager to conclude their own business with the army. The cattle had been counted and settled in; troopers now stood watch around the pens in case of a breakout while the Owl cowboys rested, slept or scoured the sutler’s store for beer. The wounded were in the hands of the post surgeon.
Colonel Little was polite to Earl, effusively courteous to Holly. Russell, standing by but well away from the colonel’s desk was ignored for the time being. The first sergeant who was also the purser, entered at the colonel’s summons and opened the safe. A glowering, heavy man with suspicious eyes, he counted out the money and countersigned Colonel Little’s signature on the disbursement slips without speaking a word. All of this seemed to be lost on Holly and on Earl Bates who recounted the money and handed it to his sister. Later it would be divided, a share to each of the four heirs with the cowhands payments to be drawn from each. The cattle would not have arrived without the work of the Texas cowhands, and each owed a share to them despite the fact that they were Earl’s picked men.
Holly sensed before Earl did that it was time to leave, that Trinity and Russell had army business to discuss with the colonel. Her concerned eyes focused on Trinity for a while as she got to her feet, flickered to her brother and then fell away as she and Earl went out.
The glare of the afternoon sun was yellow-bright on the window behind the colonel who had lighted a cigar, taken a puff or two of it and now asked Trinity, ‘You have a report for me, I expect.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Trinity said. ‘It is a little lengthy and may prove somewhat distasteful.’ The colonel’s white eyebrows drew together as Trinity continued. ‘A part of this involves your procurement officer, Captain Nunn. Is he to be found?’
‘Nunn?’ Colonel Little repeated, obviously confused. ‘No, he should now be out on the reservation, letting the Indians know that their beef allotment has arrived. Why do you ask about Nunn?’
Trinity leaned forward, arms crossed on his knee and began telling the long story. He finished with, ‘There is no proof, of course, but it is possible that Captain Nunn conspired with Vincent Battles to have the army purchase the infected herd. It was clearly inedible, and would have proven to be a great insult to the Indians were it given to them.’
‘Nunn?’ the colonel said, looking at Trinity blankly. ‘I won’t believe it!’
‘As I have said, there is no proof of it, Battles now being dead, but I ask you to consider that Nunn refused to grant Russell Bates compassionate leave, even knowing that his father was dying. Why? When he knew that the Owl was to be the provider of the army beef and that Russell could be usefully employed to bring the herd to Bridger, there only being his two sisters to manage the drive in his absence. Compassion and expedience both would have favored letting Bates return to his father’s ranch.’
‘He refused you?’ the colonel said, looking directly at Russell for the first time. The pink-faced officer was scowling now. ‘I’ll have to inquire into that, look at his records.’
‘If any,’ Trinity said a little sharply, forgetting his rank and position briefly.
‘Your point has been made, Lieutenant,’ Litde said gruffly. ‘I sa
id I shall look into the matter.’ Flicking ash from his cigar, he again fixed his pale gaze on Russell Bates. ‘None of this absolves you from culpability,’ he told Russell. ‘The army can’t let its soldiers make these decisions on their own. What kind of army would we be, then? You will have to stand some punishment.’
‘Understood, sir,’ Russell said, his face expressing disappointment and shame at once.
Trinity took a few moments to gather his thoughts, then said: ‘Colonel, it is my understanding that Bates’s term of enlistment is to end in a matter of months – six, I think. After he has served his punishment, could he not be considered for a hardship discharge? There still remains no one else to manage the Owl ranch. His brother is bound for Texas once more. And the Owl, to again mention compassion and expedience, is the largest ranch nearby and certainly a source of future beef supplies – if … cordial relations are established and maintained.’
The colonel pushed his lower lip in and out, considering. He knew that Trinity had a point, but he was determined not to appear weak, it seemed. ‘It is something to be considered,’ he commented in the end. ‘For now, Trooper Bates, I must ask you to surrender your weapons and allow yourself to be escorted to the stockade.’
It was the best, the only outcome they could have expected.
Holly was outside on the parade ground when the two burly soldiers, one on each elbow, escorted Russell to the stockade. Russell glanced at her once, shrugged, and let himself be taken away.
‘How long will he be there, locked up, I mean?’ she asked Trinity as he met her there in the dusty hard-packed yard.
‘I don’t know. It’s up to the colonel. It might not be a bad idea if you were to pay him a visit tomorrow to tell him how much you need Russell on the Owl now.’
‘Womanly wiles?’ Holly snorted. Her eyes were still troubled.
‘The concern of an orphaned sister,’ he replied.
‘I suppose it’s the least I can do,’ Holly said as he escorted her toward the visitors’ quarters, where both she and Earl had been assigned rooms for the night. She stopped abruptly before they reached the awning-shaded porch of the building. Four cavalrymen were walking their horses past and lavished Holly with appreciative glances. She was apparently unaware of them.
‘What about you, Trinity? What are you going to do?’
‘Do?’ Trinity frowned, not understanding. ‘Why I’m going to put on a blue suit and return to division headquarters for my next assignment.’
‘Why?’ Holly asked, stepping nearer, her body only inches from his.
‘What do you mean, “why”. I have a lot of time in the army, a pension waiting for me when I’m through, free meals, free medical care – all of the fringe benefits.’
‘Not all of them,’ Holly said, her eyes and voice more coquettish than ever before.
‘What are you talking about?’ Trinity asked, already knowing what she meant.
‘You could come back to the Owl with us, take over the foreman’s job – we have none now. Trinity, it’s my understanding that an officer can resign his commission. Am I wrong?’
‘No,’ he said honestly. ‘But it takes more than just announcing it, straddling a pony and riding off. If I did something like that, I’d be in as much trouble as Russell has gotten into – more.’
‘How long would it take … if you decided to do something like that?’ Holly asked, and those golden eyes of hers were on his now, her fingers toying with the buttons on his shirt front.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, taking a step away from her. ‘I’ve never considered it.’
‘You could find out,’ she persisted.
‘I could – just so I’d know if it ever comes up someday,’ Trinity said. The sun felt intolerably hot; the humming in his head was as if he had a swarm of bees in his hat. ‘For now I have to get over to the base officers’ quarters to make sure I have a bed for the night.’
He spoke in a rush like a confused schoolboy. Spinning away, he strode across the parade ground, nearly walking in front of a trio of mounted soldiers. With his cheeks glowing red, he turned for one last look at Holly and saw her standing in the doorway watching. Beside her stood Earl Bates with a knowing smile on his broad face. It struck Trinity as a pleased, yet somehow pitying look.
ELEVEN
There were formalities to be taken care of. On that evening, Captain Nunn returned from the tribal lands and was immediately summoned to the colonel’s office. Nunn professed his innocence strongly, protesting that anyone who would suggest he would accept a bribe for purchasing unhealthy cattle was a damned liar. In the morning, they found him gone. A patrol was sent in pursuit, but he had a good lead, and in that rough country it was doubtful that they would ever find the man.
‘Nunn must have thought that Vincent Battles was still alive and willing to testify against him,’ Trinity commented as he met Holly at the sutler’s store. It was early in the day and the soldiers, out on duty, had left the place virtually deserted. ‘I’m given to understand that that was the tactic Colonel Little used.’
Holly wore a pink dress with a tiny red ribbon on the bodice. It had been purchased the evening before in the store. She saw Trinity studying it. ‘I got it at a bargain,’ she protested although he was not going to comment on the price – it was not his business, after all. ‘The wife of one of the officers ordered it months ago, but when it got here she decided that the color wasn’t right for her.’
‘Fine,’ was all Trinity said. ‘So I guess Nunn has paid, or will pay for his involvement with Vincent Battles. The business is finished.’
‘Hmm,’ Holly said as if only marginally interested. ‘Have you considered the other matters we still have to deal with?’ She lowered herself on to a wooden bench beside the sutler’s door, fanning her skirts out.
‘Such as…?’
‘The infected herd, of course,’ Holly said almost accusingly. ‘We can’t continue to have them using our grass. And there’s always the worry that one of our roaming steers along the Dos Picos might mingle with them and bring the fever back to the Owl.’
‘Yes. They have to be gotten rid of,’ Trinity agreed.
‘How, Trinity? We can’t sell them off to some unsuspecting party. We can’t let them go free on the range.’
‘No, you can’t,’ he said, carefully ignoring the use of the plural pronoun Holly had employed.
‘You know, Holly,’ Trinity said, settling on the bench beside her. ‘Years ago, before there were railheads and cattle towns like Wichita and Abilene, there was no market for the thousands of cattle in the Texas lands. Men were spoken of as being cattle rich and cash poor. During the years of the Civil War, when most of the men were off to war, the cattle, unmanaged, had multiplied wildly.’
‘I don’t need a history lesson,’ Holly said a little tartly.
‘I know – you’re only worried about your own problem,’ Trinity said patiently. ‘Listen to me a minute, will you? What was done in those times to try to eke out a living on the land was to use the cattle for hides and tallow alone. These were transported to seaports like Galveston and sold there.’
‘Trinity.…’ Holly said with some exasperation. Across the way a troop of cavalrymen was performing a mounted drill.
‘I’m trying to tell you, Holly, that the tainted cattle herd might be used for tallow and hides. We need to only find some fellows who are broke and hard up for work and hand over the herd. There’s no profit in it for you, of course, but then they weren’t yours to begin with. It would keep the fever from spreading accidentally, and keep those poor creatures from living for nothing and of dying one by one of the sickness.’
‘Can it be done?’ she asked, suddenly interested.
‘I’m sure it can – in the old days they had no trouble finding men to go out on the plains to work as buffalo skinners. I’ll ask the colonel and some of the other men – someone will know of local people who need the money badly enough to take on the job.’
‘Well,
if it can be done – that seems to be the way to go about it. Otherwise, we just have a sickly herd dying over on the Bear Valley range with nothing anyone can do for them or with them. It’s the best of the lot of poor options, I suppose.’
‘I think so.’
‘Trinity?’ She turned those golden eyes on him. ‘What about the rest of the business we still have to take care of?’
It was ten days before they opened the heavy door to the cell where Russell Bates had been spending his days of punishment. His jailers led him to the front door of the squat, heavy-walled building and let him go out into the sunshine which was so brilliant after ten days of near-darkness that it hurt his eyes and sent a shock through his brain. He slitted his eyelids and remained for a while in the scant shade of the awning. He felt disoriented. It was as if he had never before been on the army post. Where was he to go now? He had been given no instructions.
Blinking into the sun glare he saw two familiar but unlikely appearing figures striding across the hard-packed earth of the parade ground to meet him. The woman, dressed in a pink dress wearing a white straw hat looked like – had to be – Holly, but she looked so unlike her regular self that he could not at first be sure.
The tall man beside her wore dark trousers, a white shirt and pearl-gray Stetson. Their arms, Russell noticed, were linked.
‘Hi, Russ!’ Holly called out. Her voice was familiar, yet somehow different, softer.
‘You waited for me?’ Russell asked in wonder.
‘Sure – it was only ten days, after all.’
‘But someone should be taking care of the Owl,’ Russell protested.
