by J. T. Edson
Neither prospect was particularly satisfactory, but by the time he had reached the edge of the open ground Dusty had elected to try the latter. Running would make too much noise and was certain to disturb the three horses. By approaching at an apparently leisurely walk, he might hope that Luhmere thought it was one of his companions returning. The horses were less likely to take fright and raise an alarm at the sight of a walking man, even if they did not know him.
Carbine held before him ready for use, Dusty advanced from behind the last of the trees. He was at an angle from the front of the building. Its windows had boards across them, with spaces between which the barrel of a weapon could be lined. However, the builder had done his work well. Search as minutely as he might, Dusty could see no place in the walls where the chinking had fallen from between the logs sufficiently to allow Luhmere to fire on him through the gap.
The horses out front presented the greatest danger, but they stood with their rumps to him. Walking as gently as if crossing over eggshells on top of Ketchum grenades, xx Dusty knew the wind did not carry his scent to the animals and hoped to remain undetected.
Step by step Dusty drew nearer to the cabin. Still Luhmere showed no hint of knowing of his presence. Twenty yards from the building, he wondered if he should continue the walk or stake all in a sudden dash. The matter was taken out of his hands in no uncertain manner.
Faintly he heard the sound of horses’ hooves on the other slope. Looking up, he saw four men riding through the trees and downwards. Although three of them wore range clothes, the fourth was a heavily built dude whom Goodnight would have recognized as one of his rivals for the Army contract. Dusty did not identify the man as such, but figured whom he must be from the shouted conversation heard earlier between Luhmere, Turner and Scroggins. From their reactions, Dusty decided that at least some of newcomers knew him.
Reining in their horses, they stared into the valley and one of the range men yelled, ‘It’s the runt that was with Goodnight!’
‘Runt nothing,’ a second westerner went on, grabbing for his revolver. ‘He’s Dusty Fog.’
‘It’s sure nice to be well known!’ Dusty breathed, starting to swing the carbine to his shoulder.
Although the second speaker drew fast, he was beyond any range at which a revolver could hope to make a hit. Which did not prevent him from trying. Coming out, his Colt cracked. Where its bullet went did not concern Dusty. Cradling the carbine against his shoulder, he began to take aim at his attacker.
‘Get him!’ screeched the dude. ‘Where the hell are you Luhmere?’
A question Dusty could have answered. Before he could line his sights and squeeze the trigger, he saw the cabin’s front door bust open. Revolver in hand, Luhmere lunged into the open. The sound of the shot and voices had alerted him and his eyes raked around to see what had caused them. At the sight of Dusty, Luhmere swung around and tried to throw down on him. Changing his aim, Dusty touched off a shot at the exact moment Luhmere let his Colt’s hammer fall. At twenty yards, the little Winchester had the edge over any revolver in the matter of accuracy. So Luhmere’s bullet missed Dusty by a couple of inches. The small Texan’s struck the other man in the body. Reeling under the impact of the flat-nosed piece of lead, Luhmere disappeared into the cabin.
Down the slope raced the men, firing as they came. So far they were using only their revolvers and were not aided by sitting fast-running horses. Dusty knew that their aim would improve as the range decreased. In fact a couple of bullets came near enough to emphasize the danger. Blurring the carbine’s lever through its reloading cycle, Dusty leapt towards the cabin. Flying lead churned into the wood, throwing splinters just above his head. Then he was hidden from the newcomers by the side of the building. Halting, he raised the carbine and thrust it around the corner to sight at the nearest of the four men.
The horses were snorting and fighting against their reins, but Dusty heard another sound. Turning his head, he saw Luhmere coming from the cabin. Blood was running down the man’s shirt, but he still held his revolver and was clearly well enough to use it.
With the carbine’s barrel extended beyond the end of the building, Dusty knew he could not hope to withdraw and turn it fast enough to save himself. So he did not try. Instead he released it and threw himself backwards with hands fanning across to his Colts. Luhmere’s gun roared, but he was still aiming at where Dusty had been standing and missed. Landing on his back, Dusty cut loose with both his revolvers. Angling up and inwards, the bullets ripped through Luhmere’s left breast barely an inch apart. Slammed backwards, the man once more disappeared into the cabin. This time Dusty did not expect to see him come out.
By that time the riders had reached the far side of the stream and Dusty landed in plain sight of them. Starting to sit up, he felt the hat torn from his head by a bullet. Knowing the deadly gun-skill of the man they faced, the three range-raised riders reined in their horses. Either Wednesbury failed to recognize the danger, or had less control of his mount. Whatever the reason, he plunged into the water waving his revolver and heading across. Suddenly, for no apparent reason it seemed, the dude jolted back and slid sideways from his saddle. As he splashed into the stream, the deep crack of a Spencer carbine sounded on the rim at the side he approached.
More shots blasted from behind Dusty and he could see the consternation that rose among the attacking trio. One of them tumbled from his horse and the last two set their mounts galloping, headed back the way they had come as fast as they could go. They were speeded on their way by the wild ‘Yeeah!’ rebel war yell Dusty knew all too well.
Standing up, Dusty looked to where Red Blaze and Spat were running towards him followed by five more of the Swinging G’s cowhands.
‘Are you all right, Dusty?’ Red asked.
‘Sure,’ the small Texan replied and looked wryly at his bullet-holed new Stetson. ‘But this’s the roughest section on hats I’ve ever seen.’
Chapter Sixteen
They Won’t Have Time to Try Again
‘Wednesbury’s his name,’ Goodnight said as he and the sheriff of Young County looked at the dude’s body. ‘He was one of the pair who had bid against me for the Army beef contract.’
‘And they’ve been trying every damned which ways to stop Uncle Charlie getting enough cattle to fill it,’ Red went on.
‘Can you prove that?’ Sheriff Kater inquired.
‘Not in a way we could put before a judge and jury,’ Dusty replied before his impulsive cousin could speak.
It was noon on the day after the fight and the sheriff had been fetched out from Graham to learn of it. After examining the sign at the scene of Dusty’s capture and around the cabin, Kater was inspecting the bodies and asking his questions. Red went on to tell how one of the cowhands had discovered tracks that proved that somebody had been watching them working. Further investigation disclosed that the surveillance had been going on for at least four days. So Goodnight had sent Red and five men to track down and if possible capture the snooper. On the way, they had met Spat who led them to their goal. Nearing the camp, Red displayed the cool capability so few people suspected. He ordered the men to leave their horses and make the rest of the journey on foot. Drawing near to the valley, they had heard the shooting and arrived just in time to give Dusty a badly needed hand.
‘Only one of ’em was alive,’ Red finished. ‘There wasn’t time for real fancy shooting.’
‘Turner talked when he come around and found himself at the Swinging G house,’ Dusty went on. ‘Not that he knew much. Luhmere was the big augur for the three, he was the only one real close to the bosses and never told the other two more than he needed. As far as I can tell, the idea was formed when their bosses learned about Pitzer losing the herd. They knew what kind of man Chisum was and figured he’d turn on Uncle Charlie if he was paid well enough—’
‘I’d like to think Chisum didn’t know about the rest of the game,’ Goodnight put in, ‘and allowed all they wanted was to stop me g
etting enough cattle together to fill the contract.’
‘Maybe that’s all he knew,’ Dusty drawled. ‘He went along, anyways. Only we heard how he got the herd earlier than they figured, thanks to Dawn. So the cattle weren’t mixed with your stuff when Luhmere brought Wardle and the other ranchers. I’ll bet that none of Chisum’s crew’d’ve come out from Graham if all had gone as it was supposed to, so’s they’d not be around when the shooting started. Turner says that he, Scroggins and Luhmere sat clear of the others ready to pull out pronto when Wardle got the powder burning. Only Wardle didn’t, so Luhmere made a crack at starting it himself.’
‘Only you stopped him,’ Kater commented.
‘Not well enough,’ Dusty answered. ‘Turner allows that they found this camp and Luhmere left him here with Scroggins to watch how we got on, then went to meet up with their bosses, but doesn’t know where. When Luhmere got back, he said they wouldn’t get paid unless they did a better job at scattering the herd. The two of them were coming to see if they could figure on a way of doing it when Luhmere got word the boss was coming. Feller who told him went back to fetch Wednesbury along and Luhmere collected his pards. Scroggins either saw or heard me following and they caught me. Only I spoiled their game.’
‘You near on got spoiled yourself,’ Red pointed out.
‘Sure,’ admitted Dusty. ‘You boys came just right when I needed you most.’
‘Does Turner know who helped those three fellers bust out of my jail?’ asked the sheriff.
‘No,’ Dusty replied. ‘I reckon it was Targue, when he pretended to go for Chisum, but I can’t prove it. Fact being, I can’t prove anything except that Wednesbury tried to get me killed yesterday.’
‘Do you want me to do anything, Charlie?’ Kater inquired.
‘Not unless you want to. And it’d likely be a waste of time trying. Wednesbury’s partner’d deny all knowledge and we can’t prove he had any.’
‘Those two fellers who run out kept going,’ Red remarked. ‘Even if they tell Wednesbury’s pard what’s happened, they won’t have time to try again.’
‘We’ll be moving out in two days, Wade,’ Goodnight explained. ‘I’ve got my herd gathered and word came in afore we left the spread this morning that the Mineral Wells men and cattle’ll be here today. Given a touch of luck, I’ll be waiting at Fort Sumner when Wednesbury’s partner arrives. We’ll settle things any way he wants when he gets there.’
‘It’s your play, Charlie,’ Kater stated. ‘I’ll tend to things at this end. On my way back, I’ll collect Turner and take him to jail. I reckon you’ve got things to do.’
‘I have,’ Goodnight agreed. ‘Dustine, Charles, come with me. You boys stay and help the sheriff.’
By the time they reached the vicinity of the lake, they saw the Mineral Wells stock being driven towards the shipping herd. A faint smile played on Goodnight’s face at the sight. The means to make his dream come true were at hand. Then the smile faded. Wednesbury was dead, but his partner remained alive and active. There might be other attempts to prevent Goodnight from delivering the herd to Fort Sumner.
The story of the trail drive and how Goodnight’s dream developed is to be told in
FROM HIDE AND HORN
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More on J. T. EDSON
i Ride-plenty: Indians’ name for Texas cowboys.
ii Bayo-cebrunos: a dun colour shading into smoky gray.
iii Nemenuh: ‘The People’, the Comanches’ name for their nation.
iv A description of how a friction primer works is given in The Hooded Riders.
v For a description of a Rocker Ambulance, read Hound Dog Man.
vi Grulla: mousey brown colour like the plumage of a sandhill crane.
vii A trail count is described fully in Trail Boss.
viii Told in The Colt and the Sabre.
ix Told in The Rebel Spy.
x Told in The Devil Gun.
xi Told in The Ysabel Kid.
xii Told in Comanche.
xiii Told in The Fastest Gun in Texas.
xiv Told in .44 Calibre Man.
xv Map of Mexico: large, complicated brand used by Mexican ranchers.
xvi Sea lions: cattle reared in the coastal districts of Texas.
xvii It would be many years before oil became a factor in the Texas economy.
xviii Told in From Hide and Horn.
xix Described in Trail Boss.
xx For description of a Ketchum Hand Grenade, read Cold Deck, Hot Lead.
