by J. T. Edson
‘Thing I don’t like’s how easy those three yahoos took it,’ Mark commented. ‘You’d’ve expected them to act a mite worried at least; but if they were, they sure didn’t show it.’
‘Maybe they’re figuring on somebody helping them,’ Dusty suggested. ‘Did Targue say anything to them?’
‘Only to shut their mouths, not to tell lies and to get into the cells,’ Mark replied. ‘They went in quiet enough after that.’
‘Where’s Targue now?’ Goodnight inquired.
‘Allowed he was going back for his boss,’ Mark answered. ‘The sheriff says he’ll hold those three yahoos until we’ve cut the herd. Then, if the gal wants it that way, she can go in and swear a complaint against them.’
‘I reckon she’ll want to,’ Dusty guessed. ‘She’s pot boiling mad and I can’t say I blame her. Know something, Uncle Charlie, I’m getting real interested to see what we find when we cut that herd.’
‘And me,’ Goodnight admitted. ‘Until you boys cut in, I’ll admit I was just a mite suspicious about her coming here with that story.’
‘How come, Uncle Charlie?’
‘I’m not the only one with my eye on the Army beef contracts, Dustine. There were a couple of Yankee businessmen at Sumner and they looked some down in the mouth when I got the first contract. So I wondered if maybe they could have fixed up this play to make trouble for me.’
‘They didn’t know we were around,’ Dusty said. ‘It’s not likely they’d’ve gone to the trouble of having the girl hide while they drove off the herd.’
‘I know,’ agreed Goodnight. ‘So it looks like she’s telling the truth.’
At that moment the girl returned and brought her bayo-tigre to a halt. Excitement flickered on her face and she pointed towards the cattle.
‘I reckon I’ve seen some of mine,’ she announced. ‘There’s a big golondrino muley I’d know any old place on the other side of the herd.’
Although golondrino—dunnish brown merging into black, with white speckles or blotches on the rump—was not an unusual color, a muley’s hornless head made it noticeable. To a girl like Dawn, raised on a ranch and having worked around it most of her growing life, recognizing cattle came almost naturally. The men reckoned that she knew enough to identify a noticeable animal belonging to her spread.
‘You want for me to go and cut it out, Dusty?’ Mark asked.
‘Best leave it until Chisum gets here,’ the small Texan decided.
‘Which’ll be right soon,’ drawled the Kid. ‘He’s coming right now, and bringing company.’
‘Seven of ’em, not counting John and Pitzer,’ Goodnight went on, studying the approaching party. ‘Got their chuck wagon along, and the remuda’s following.’
Which could be a suspicious point, or harmless. If Chisum was an innocent victim, he would take the opportunity to join up with Goodnight’s herd. Should he be involved in theft of Dawn’s cattle, Chisum knew Goodnight well enough to be aware that their partnership was over.
‘They’re an ornery-looking bunch,’ Dawn remarked.
‘Real ornery,’ Dusty agreed. ‘How about the four fellers with the herd, Uncle Charlie?’
‘They’re my boys,’ the rancher answered.
‘Damned if we don’t near on have ’em out-numbered,’ said the Kid and looked at the butt of the rifle in his saddle boot.
‘Injuns never learn to count, ma’am,’ Mark explained to Dawn who was hurriedly doing mental arithmetic.
‘Looks that way,’ the girl smiled.
‘Leave it, you danged Pehnane slit-eye!’ Dusty hissed as the Kid bent in a casual manner towards the rifle. ‘Mr. Chisum’s Uncle Charlie’s friend.’
‘You got friends like him, you don’t need enemies,’ grinned the Kid and straightened up empty-handed.
‘I’ll tell you whether he’s my friend after we’ve cut the herd,’ Goodnight growled, his face tight-lipped and grim, and waved his hand.
At their boss’s signal, the four cowhands left their places around the herd and converged on him. They were tanned, leathery men with low-hanging guns; but not the surly, hardcase kind hired by Chisum. Asking no questions, the four Swinging G cowhands took positions ideally suited to backing Goodnight in any play he made.
The chuckwagon and remuda came to a halt about a hundred yards from where Goodnight’s party waited. Drawing nearer, Chisum’s hands studied the Swinging G and OD Connected men.
‘We’re going to cut the herd,’ Goodnight announced and saw the disconcerted way in which Pitzer—a dandy-dressed, younger edition of his brother—and the Chisum cowhands exchanged glances. ‘I want all the D4S cattle you find bringing out here.’
‘You heard Colonel Charlie,’ Chisum called. ‘Let’s get to it.’
‘I’d say it’d be quicker if we work in pairs, Uncle Charlie,’ Dusty put in. ‘You go with Mr. Chisum, I’ll side Targue and Mark’ll help Pitzer.’
‘That’s how we’ll do it,’ Goodnight agreed, grinning inwardly as he caught the purpose of Dusty’s idea. ‘Two men can see a whole heap more than one.’
Giving Chisum no time to organize a protest, Goodnight assigned the Kid, Dawn or one of his men to work with each of the Long Rail hands. The girl found herself paired up with a lantern-jawed hardcase who eyed her in a cold, threatening manner. For a moment she felt just a touch of fear. Once among the cattle it would be easy to arrange for an ‘accident’ to happen. A quick, unseen push to topple her from the bayo-tigre’s back and her chances of escape would be slight. On foot among the cattle, she was certain to be attacked and gored before the men could save her.
Then Dawn saw the Kid rein in his white stallion at her companion’s side.
‘Look after the lady, feller,’ the dark youngster purred in that gentle tone so well known and feared in the lower Rio Grande border country. ‘Just as a lil favor for me. I’ll be close by to thank you.’
Which meant, as Dawn and—from the expression on his face—the hardcase knew, ‘Don’t try anything. If the girl gets hurt in any way, so will you only a whole heap worse.’
‘Sure, Kid,’ the man gulped. ‘I’ll do just that.’
‘We’ll start round the other side,’ Dawn decided and, with the Kid hovering menacingly in the background, the Long Rail hardcase raised no objections.
Circling around the herd, the girl watched until she saw the golondrino muley. Experience had taught her that longhorns tended to be clannish. Even when mixed in a large herd, they would try to stick close to familiar faces among the strangers. That ought to make cutting out her stock a comparatively simple task.
Pointing out the muley to the man, Dawn edged her bayo-tigre into the herd. With the Kid’s threat still echoing in his ears, the hardcase followed. While not a praying man under normal conditions, he came mighty close to doing so and requesting that divine providence kept the girl from harm. If she met with even a genuine accident, the Long Rail hand figured himself to have mighty short life-expectancy. The Ysabel Kid did not hand out a warning unless he fully intended to carry it through all the way.
While Dawn eased the golondrino clear of the herd, the hardcase spotted other cattle bearing her father’s D4S brand. On their way from town, Chisum had told his men what had happened and given certain instructions. Yet the hardcase saw no way in which he might carry them out, not with the girl at his side and watching his every move. So he accepted the inevitable and forced another of the Sutherland longhorns into the open.
Not far from where Dawn was working the Kid and his partner helped to cut out more of the D4S cattle. Considering their experience in such matters, it came as something of a surprise for the girl to see that Dusty, Mark and Goodnight made no attempt to join her where her cattle were concentrated. Instead they seemed more concerned with combing the less productive areas of the herd. Once she noticed Chisum pointing her way and clearly making a suggestion that he and Goodnight should join her, but he was refused. The bearded rancher’s face grew into colder, grimmer lines as th
e work continued.
Instead of being allowed to skim through the herd and produce a few of the D4S cattle, each of the Long Rail men found himself accompanied by a rider who meant to see the work was done correctly. Even without needing to be told, Goodnight’s cowhands guessed what lay behind Dusty’s suggestion of pairing up to cut the herd. So the combing-out process was very thorough. At the end of it something over a hundred steers, all with a large D4S brand burned indelibly on their left flanks, stood clear of the main bunch.
With the work completed, the two parties gathered behind their respective leaders. In view of what she had seen while working among the cattle, Dawn felt sure that a showdown between Goodnight and Chisum was close at hand. For all that, Chisum showed little sign of concern.
‘I’d say that’s all you lost, Miss Sutherland,’ the rancher stated, shoving back his hat and mopping his bald head with a cheap bandana. ‘And I’d like to say that I don’t know how they got mixed in with my herd.’
‘Maybe Pitzer can tell us,’ Goodnight suggested coldly.
‘Sure I can,’ the younger Chisum brother agreed. ‘Them three fellers drove ’em in just’s we was bedding down for the night. Targue and me was on the other side of the herd and Keck just shoved ’em straight in with our’n. Allowed they was a bunch of mavericks when I asked.’
To anybody who knew Pitzer’s character, the answer was feasible. He had a disinclination to work and would be unlikely to investigate the trio’s story too closely if doing so required effort on his part. Unfortunately the combing of the herd had been very thorough and brought out a major discrepancy in young Chisum’s glib tale.
‘Did the same thing happen with all those Bench P steers I saw?’ Mark asked. ‘And to those Rocking N and Double Two stock you’ve got along?’
‘Or to the Flying H ’n’ Lazy F stuff that’s there?’ the Kid went on.
‘I saw some mavericks,’ Dusty continued. ‘Even a few maps of Mexico. xv Fact being, Mr. Chisum, the only brand I didn’t see any place in that herd was the Long Rail.’
Silence, broken only by the slight restless moving of the horses, dropped ominously after Dusty’s blunt statement and the two sides eyed each other warily. Every man present, and the girl, knew the implications behind the small Texan’s words. So the hired hands waited and watched to see how their respective employers wanted the situation to develop.
Slouching in his saddle, Chisum slowly thrust away his bandana. He sensed danger and knew that he must pick his words very carefully if he hoped to steer clear of being held responsible for his brother’s actions. Avoiding trouble unless he held the whip hand had always been Chisum’s way. Making a quick assessment of the situation, he knew that he did not hold it at that moment. Backed by the three OD Connected riders and his own cowhands, Goodnight had a fighting force to be reckoned with. The four Swinging G cowhands could be counted on to stand by their boss from soda to hock no matter how tough the going. Chisum had no such faith in his hired hardcases, especially those who came with Targue. So the bald rancher decided to make use of his wily charm and try to ease out of the difficulty peaceably.
‘You said that you needed the eleven hundred head in a real hurry, Charlie,’ Chisum pointed out in his most unctuous and placating manner. ‘So brother Pitzer allowed it’d be quicker to round up some strays instead of going right back to the Long Rail and gathering our stuff.’
A neat way out, in Chisum’s opinion, laying all the blame on his younger brother’s incompetent shoulders. Pitzer scowled at the words, but he had grown accustomed to being used as a whipping boy and kept quiet.
‘Most of those “strays” have brands on them, Mr. Chisum,’ Dusty reminded.
On the open range, a bull, cow, calf or steer belonged to whoever’s brand it carried, no matter where it might be found. Left to forage for themselves all year round, Texas longhorns were great travelers. So the code of ownership by brand rather than location gave protection to the ranchers.
‘Likely the boys were a mite over-eager,’ Chisum answered blandly. ‘Them wanting to help Colonel Charlie out of a tight spot and all.’
‘Helping out’s not what I’d call it,’ Dusty stated and the men behind Goodnight tensed ready to meet the explosion if it came.
‘Or me!’ Goodnight growled, giving complete backing to his nephew’s words. ‘What was the idea, Chisum, mix them in with my shipping herd and hope that I didn’t notice the brands?’
‘Do you reckon I’d do a meanness like that, Charlie?’ Chisum asked in tones of pained disappointment. ‘After all the time we’ve knowed each other.’
‘You didn’t have them brought here because they need the exercise,’ Goodnight answered.
‘Charlie, Charlie!’ Chisum sighed. ‘We’re been doing business together for a fair time now—.’
‘And in all that time I’ve never taken anything but straight-branded cattle from you,’ Goodnight reminded him. ‘I’m not starting to buy stolen cattle now.’
‘Can’t say’s how I like what you just said, Charlie. But I’m not fixing to fight a real good friend over a lil misunderstanding.’
‘That’s not the name I’d put to what you’ve done today,’ Goodnight grunted, nodding towards the herd.
‘I’m not arguing with you, Charlie,’ Chisum insisted. ‘If you don’t want these-here cattle—’
‘I don’t!’
‘Then that’s all there is to it. Nobody can say that John Chisum tried to force his will on other folks. I’ll just take the rest of them back where they come from and turn ’em loose again. Only I don’t figure on raising sweat gathering and bringing you anymore.’
Chapter Eight
It’s Not As Easy As All That
Being aware of the importance of his cattle to Goodnight’s plans, Chisum might have hoped his ultimatum would force a change of heart. If so, he was doomed to be disappointed. Goodnight was a scrupulously honest man and unwilling to sacrifice his principles at any cost.
Although Chisum had, up to that point, been completely honest in his dealing with Goodnight, the same did not apply to his treatment of other people. In the past Goodnight had tolerated Chisum despite the other’s faults, knowing something of the reason why he had turned into a unscrupulous miser. All that altered when Chisum attempted such a blatant piece of dishonesty as delivering a herd which consisted almost entirely of stolen animals.
‘That suits me fine,’ Goodnight answered calmly. ‘I only want to buy honest stock.’
‘Do you reckon that you can do without me and my cattle, Charlie?’ Chisum asked, switching his tactics when mentions of old friendship and the danger to Goodnight’s dream failed to bring results.
Alert for trouble, Dusty watched the other men rather than the two ranchers. He noticed Targue squirming uneasily as the conversation continued and wondered why.
‘I’ll damned well make a stab at it!’ Goodnight stated, although he knew the disastrous effect the words might have on his scheme.
‘All these boys I brought along to help with your drive’ll pull out if I go,’ Chisum went on and Dusty saw Targue’s uneasiness increasing.
‘That’s something I’m going to have to chance,’ Goodnight replied. ‘Just get those cattle off my range as fast as you can.’
‘Have it your way, Charlie,’ Chisum sighed, although Targue showed some relief. ‘Get them moved out, Pitzer.’
‘How about your three men in Graham jail, Mr. Chisum?’ Dusty asked.
‘They stole the cattle deliberate from the young lady, Cap’n Fog,’ the bald rancher answered. ‘I’m going to let the legal law hand them their needings.’
With that, Chisum turned his horse and rode after his departing men. Dropping back, Targue ranged his mount alongside the rancher’s. Quickly the segundo glanced over his shoulder to make sure that his words would not carry to the ears of Goodnight’s party. Apart from sending two men to handle Dawn’s cattle while the herd moved off, the bearded rancher showed no signs of movement and
displayed no interest in Chisum’s crew.
‘I thought you’d spoil it all,’ Targue commented. ‘Going on like you did to Goodnight.’
‘Did, huh?’ Chisum replied mildly.
‘Sure. Way you kept reminding him what he stood to lose, I figured he’d take the herd after all.’
‘You don’t know Charlie Goodnight like I do. More I’d’ve argued, the more set he’d’ve got at doing the right thing way he sees it. So I kept stirring him up and done what whoever’s paying you wanted doing.’
‘How’s that?’ Targue grunted.
‘Charlie’s shy this eleven hundred head on what he’s contracted to deliver. Unless he’s on the trail in ten days at most, he’ll not reach Fort Sumner by the end of June. That means he’s got to raise a thousand head or more before he starts. And he can’t move ’em without my men helping him. Which all amounts to one thing.’
‘What?’ asked Targue.
‘That I’ve done what’s wanted.’
‘Yeah,’ admitted the segundo. ‘I reckon you have. So I’ll give you the money as soon as we’re clear of Graham.’
A faint grin twisted Chisum’s lips and his face took on its expression of benevolent innocence that only came when he was about to spring the trap on a shady deal.
‘It’s not as easy as all that,’ the rancher warned.
‘How do you mean?’ Targue growled.
‘I stood to make a fair heap of money with Charlie. More than your bosses’ve paid me—’
‘Only you’d spoiled that chance when Pitzer lost the herd.’
‘We could’ve likely come through,’ Chisum insisted. ‘Only you made me an easier offer. I took it and done my share. But I’ve been thinking a mite about it.’
‘Such as?’ Targue muttered suspiciously.
By that time the herd, chuckwagon and remuda were on the move. Riding back in the way from which the cattle had been brought that day, Chisum waved a languid hand towards the trail crew.
‘There’s money behind you, Wally. More’n I can make working with Charlie, he’s got too many notions of what’s wrong and right for other folks to suit me. Now I don’t reckon that’d apply to your bosses. Likely we’ll get along.’
