From Hide and Horn (A Floating Outfit Book Number 5)

by J. T. Edson

  An agony-filled belch broke from the tuivitsi’s lips as the knee arrived. Having withdrawn his left hand from the X-block position when the right gripped Apache’s Scalp’s wrist, Dusty knotted it into a fist which he drove with all his power just below the other’s rib-cage. Dropping the axe, the tuivitsi blundered by Dusty on being released and fell to his knees.

  Dusty followed his victim grimly. Although they watched with considerable interest and commented excitedly among themselves, none of the Yamparikuh braves offered to intervene. Going against another man’s declared medicine power, Apache’s Scalp must stand or fall alone. Despite their lack of interference, Dusty knew he must end the fight quickly.

  Raising his right arm, Dusty kept the hand open, its fingers extended and thumb bent across the palm. Down it whipped and he slashed the heel of the hand into the side of the tuivitsi’s neck above the vagus nerve. Apache’s Scalp stiffened as the blow landed, then collapsed limply forward. Rolling him on to his back, Dusty bent and took the knife from its scalp-decorated sheath. Amazement showed on the Yamparikuh faces as the small Texan walked towards them. Springing from their horses, two of the tuivitsi ran by him in the direction of their motionless companion.

  ‘Is that one dead?’ asked Pinedapoi as Dusty offered him the knife hilt-first.

  ‘No. He will wake soon,’ the small Texan answered. ‘Does any other want to take the buffalo-wohaw?’

  Although he could not understand the majority of grunted answers, Dusty concluded that they expressed a complete disinterest in gaining possession of his medicine animal. Discovering that Dusty had spoken the truth about Apache’s Scalp’s condition, Pinedapoi stated his complete satisfaction. Nor did Apache’s Scalp show any inclination to resume his demands, having received what he regarded as convincing proof of the medicine’s capabilities. So, with a further exchange of compliments, the Yamparikuh departed taking their ‘good heart’ gifts.

  ‘They’ll not trouble us anymore,’ the Kid stated. ‘Especially with you giving Pinedapoi that extra hoss and three head.’

  The bonus had been handed over by Goodnight as a compliment to a wise and brave Nemenuh chief. It was the kind of gesture Indians liked and would increase Pinedapoi’s determination to keep his promise of peaceful passage for the herd.

  Not until the herd had been started moving did the Kid realize that he had failed to satisfy his curiosity on a certain point.

  ‘Say, Colonel. Who’s the dude and that fancy gal back with the wagons?’

  Chapter Ten – You Could Lose the Whole Damned Herd

  ‘And if she takes to Mark, which I reckon she might, we shouldn’t have any trouble over her,’ Goodnight concluded after explaining to his segundo and scout about the de Martins’ presence.

  ‘Could be,’ Dusty agreed. ‘The only fellers big enough to make fuss for him are Swede, Sherm Sherman or Tod Ames and they’re old enough ’n’ steady enough not to try it.’

  ‘It all depends on the gal, though,’ warned the Kid. ‘Women’re mighty peculiar critters.’

  During the next three days, Barbe de Martin seemed determined to prove false the Kid’s views on female peculiarity. While the younger hands swarmed about her on the first morning, trying to attract her attention with displays of roping or riding skill, they kept their distance once Mark made his intentions plain. No mean hand at the flirting game, and possessed of the attributes most likely to attract women—handsome face, magnificent physique and wealth—he found little difficulty in drawing Barbe to him.

  The situation lasted only three days. On the evening of the third, Mark and Barbe were walking in a small valley clear of the camp. He had already found her to be a lot freer with her favors than expected and had wondered if maybe the man back East was the one doing the forcing. However, instead of flying into his arms at the first opportunity, she acted hesitant. A low gasp broke from her as he slipped an arm around her waist.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked as she drew away from him and clapped a hand to her side, face showing pain.

  ‘I—I fell and banged myself in the wagon this afternoon,’ Barbe replied.

  ‘Is it hurting bad?’

  ‘No. But you pressed it and it stung. Mark—’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Nothing can come of our friendship, can it?’

  ‘How do you mean, nothing?’ Mark asked warily.

  ‘I mean when we get to Fort Sumner, you’ll go your way and I’ll go mine,’ Barbe explained.

  ‘It’s likely,’ Mark admitted.

  ‘It’s certain,’ she smiled. ‘I’ve seen you with your friends. You wouldn’t leave them to come East and live. And I couldn’t stay in this wild land. So nothing can come of our friendship, can it?’

  ‘Likely not. But it’s real pleasant.’

  ‘It’s too pleasant,’ Barbe said, darting a glance around her. ‘Mark, you wouldn’t marry me. Would you?’

  ‘I reckon you’re going just a touch too fast,’ Mark answered. ‘We’ve not known each other—’

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ Barbe sniffed. ‘So I think that it is better we end this now. You would be too easy to fall in love with, Mark. Neither of us want that, do we?’

  ‘Maybe not.’

  ‘I could too easily find myself deeply involved, Mark. So we must stop doing this. We must.’

  A slight sound reached Mark’s ears, coming from some bushes about thirty yards away. Gently thrusting the girl from him, the blond giant faced them and his right hand Colt flowed from its holster in the effortless-seeming, yet lightning fast way which separated the expert from the average in the pistolero arts.

  ‘Don’t shoot, Mark!’ called de Martin’s voice and he walked into view with a shotgun tucked under his arm. ‘I was walking and heard voices, so I came over to see who it was.’

  ‘Edmond!’ Barbe said, sounding startled. ‘I—I was just talking with Mark about the matter we discussed this evening.’

  ‘And does he agree?’

  ‘We understand each other. Don’t we, Mark?’

  ‘I reckon so,’ Mark replied, holstering his Colt.

  ‘If I thought it would work and Barbe be happy, I would be the first to say “Go ahead”, Mark,’ de Martin stated. ‘But, as her elder brother, I was naturally concerned. I’ve nothing against you personally, and feel that you would have been a suitable choice. But Barbe is a city-girl. She could not settle in this land and I doubt if you would like living in the East. Come, Barbe. We’ll go back to the camp.’

  Watching the brother and sister fade off into the darkness, Mark felt as if a cold hand had touched him. The way things sounded, he had been under consideration as a matrimonial prospect and had only narrowly avoided acceptance in that light.

  ‘Whooee!’ the blond giant breathed, mopping his brow with a bandana. ‘Mark boy, you’ve got to stop being a loyal hand making sacrifices happen you get asked to handle another chore like that.’

  ‘They do say the first sign’s when they start talking to themselves,’ drawled the Kid’s voice.

  Spinning around with hands driving to his guns, Mark halted the draw uncompleted and glared indignantly at the dark youngster who materialized from the darkness. Familiarity did not lessen the surprise the Kid could hand out when he made one of his silent appearances.

  ‘Blast you, you danged Pehnane!’ Mark spat out, letting the revolvers return to leather. ‘I near on killed you, jumpy as I am over that narrow escape I’ve just had.’

  ‘It was narrower than you think,’ the Kid replied. ‘Her brother was hid up behind that bush, listening to every word you said.’

  ‘The hell you say!’ Mark growled.

  ‘Left camp just after you did, toting his shotgun. I thought he might be fixing to do some hunting and tagged along. When I saw his game, I waited unknown to him. Figured maybe you’d like to have a witness on hand.’

  ‘Thanks, Lon. I reckon they’d fixed together to have Barbe break off with me and Edmond come along in case I’d got notions to the c
ontrary. Let’s get back to camp and tell Dusty what’s happened.’

  On hearing of the incident, Dusty agreed with Mark’s ideas about de Martin’s motives and that there would be no point in the blond giant continuing his efforts. If he attempted to carry the matter further, the other hands might consider that he was trying to force unwanted attentions on the girl. Figuring that and wanting to raise his standing in Barbe’s eyes, one of the impressionable young men might intervene. Which would spark off just what Goodnight was seeking to avoid.

  So, although Barbe threw yearning or even inviting glances his way, Mark made no further attempt to resume their close acquaintance. Seeing his attitude, the younger hands swarmed in like hounds around a coon on a tree-stump. In the main, the competition was shared between Vern Sutherland, Austin Hoffman and Burle Willock, with Jacko Lefors trailing along out of deference for the latter. By careful manipulation of their duties, Dusty made sure that the trio only rarely found themselves in camp at the same time. Barbe also showed interest in Red Blaze, but achieved nothing. Being aware of Mark’s narrow escape, Red figured the girl might consider him a matrimonial prospect. There were two things scared Red: being left afoot and the risk of being tricked into marriage. So he steered clear of Barbe.

  If his sister mingled with the younger hands, although ignoring Dawn, de Martin gained the confidence and friendship of the older, staider members of the travelling community. He had knowledge, was willing to listen and learn, so got on well with the senior trail hands. As the drive continued, he used his photographic equipment to gather material for Vindfallet’s book and his own use. Various members of the crew posed self-consciously before the camera, including a blushing Dawn, and he took long-range pictures of the herd. Goodnight vetoed a suggestion that de Martin should go closer to the cattle as he did not want them disturbed by the blazing flare of magnesium which supplied the necessary light to process the photographic plate.

  On went the drive, gathering unbranded—therefore ownerless—cattle which came their way to replace those given to the Yamparikuh, used for food, or lost in traveling. Goodnight wanted to keep the size of the herd at around three thousand five hundred head. That would leave him a margin of safety against the crossing of the Staked Plains.

  With each passing day, the rancher grew increasingly aware that he must soon tell the crew of his plans. He had noticed that Ahlen, Sherman and Ames in particular had begun to spend time studying the stars at night, or paying extra attention to the route they followed in the daytime. Soon they would start suspecting the continued western course. So he wished to explain his motives before they discovered for themselves which way they were to go.

  Black clouds filled the sky as Goodnight left Dusty to handle the bedding-down of the herd. He wanted to make a large circle and check if there was any danger from the approaching storm. On his return to camp, he intended to break the news to the crew.

  Satisfied that even a heavy rainfall would cause him no inconvenience, the rancher left his horse with the remuda and walked towards the camp. Immediately he knew something was wrong. Normally the crew, less the herd’s guard and night hawk, would be gathered about the fire, eating, making insulting comments about the food or discussing the events of the day. Instead they appeared to be split into three groups. The Swinging G hands and men from the OD Connected’s contingent were around Dusty. To the rear of the others, the de Martins and Heenan stood together. With the exception of the D4S trio who had the night herd with Billy Jack, all the Minerals Wells men formed the third party.

  ‘I doubled the night watch, Uncle Charlie,’ Dusty remarked as the rancher approached him.

  Before any more could be said, Ahlen strode over. ‘What’s all this about us taking the herd across the Staked Plains, Colonel?’ the big man demanded.

  ‘I’m sorry, Colonel,’ de Martin called. ‘I thought that you had told your men the way you intended to go, or I wouldn’t have drawn their attention to it on my map.’

  ‘Now lookee here, Colonel Charlie,’ Sherman went on, joining Ahlen. ‘We’ve got our bosses’ stock to think about and we don’t figure to see them killed off.’

  ‘Your bosses don’t have any stock in this herd,’ Goodnight said quietly.

  A low rumble followed, from the Mineral Wells men, in echo to the rancher’s surprising comments. Ahlen and Sherman exchanged glances, then gave their full attention to Goodnight. Behind them, the rest of their party awaited the next developments. To Dusty’s rear, the OD Connected and Swinging G hands stood alert, watchful but in no way openly threatening. It was an explosive situation, calling for the most delicate handling.

  ‘Would you mind making that a mite clearer, Colonel?’ Sherman asked, politely enough yet clearly determined to receive an explanation.

  ‘It’s simple,’ Goodnight answered. ‘Before we left, your bosses signed all their cattle over to me so that I could claim the legal right to sell them at Fort Sumner.’

  ‘And you figure we can reach it, Colonel,’ Ahlen said, ‘going across the Staked Plains?’

  ‘It’s our only hope of reaching it in time,’ Goodnight told him. ‘Chisum is headed there, going by the trail Oliver Loving and I blazed. He’s got almost a week’s start on us and we’ll never lick him going on his heels. Our only hope is to cross the Staked Plains.’

  ‘You could lose the whole damned herd!’ Sherman warned.

  ‘It’s a chance I’m willing to take,’ Goodnight assured him.

  ‘You’ve known about this from the start?’ asked Ahlen.

  ‘Since the night the Kid rode in.’

  ‘And you didn’t mention it to us?’

  ‘I wanted you boys to learn about trail herding first. To let you see what could be done. Well, you’ve seen and you’ve learned. If I hadn’t faith in you, I’d’ve turned north after the first week and said to hell with the contract. But I’ve got faith in you and I say that you boys can take the herd across the Staked Plains if it can be done.’

  ‘Does Miss Sutherland know of the route you intended to take?’ de Martin asked without leaving his sister’s side.

  ‘I told her the first night,’ Goodnight replied. ‘Just her. Not her brother, or my hands. She said she wouldn’t turn back and I don’t reckon she will.’

  ‘We’re going on, anyways!’ Dusty put in and the men at his back mumbled their agreement. ‘The OD Connected and Swinging G don’t want it sticking in our craw that Chisum got the better of us.’

  Dusty spoke deliberately and in a definite challenge, implying that the drive would continue no matter who deserted. No cowhand with loyalty to his brand could mildly allow another outfit to make good on such a boast. Guessing what his cousin had in mind, Red took up the stirring process and continued it.

  ‘I sure wouldn’t want it!’

  ‘Maybe it don’t mean anything to some folks that Chisum getting there’ll be selling their bosses’ cattle,’ Mark carried on from Red’s statement.

  ‘Damn it, yes!’ Ames growled, slouching forward. ‘Chisum’ll maybe have our cattle along.’

  ‘Ain’t no “maybe” about it,’ drawled the Kid. ‘He’s got ’em.’

  ‘In that case, I’m for licking the bald-headed son-of-a-bitch there and taking ’em back when he arrives!’ Ahlen growled.

  ‘And me!’ Sherman went on, slapping a hand on his thigh. ‘Whooee! Won’t it be a pistol to see his face when he comes and finds us-all waiting.’

  Once started, agreement to Goodnight’s plans came fast and the dangerous tension ebbed away. No cowhand cared to let a rival spread out-do him. Added to that, the idea of beating Chisum to Fort Sumner and retrieving their employers’ cattle appealed to their sense of humor or justice.

  ‘There’s one thing you gentlemen are forgetting,’ de Martin announced, walking forward. He brought Barbe with him, an arm draped protectively across her shoulders. ‘My sister and I are with you. I don’t mind the hardships and dangers for myself. But is it fair to risk the life of a beautiful woman?’


  Slowly Barbe turned her eyes around the circle of men. On her face was an expression of pleading which begged all the big, strong men to protect her. Although Dusty and Goodnight retained attitudes of stony indifference, they knew that de Martin would gain support.

  ‘Damn it! That wouldn’t be right!’ Willock declared and was favored by a weak smile of gratitude from Barbe.

  ‘It for sure wouldn’t!’ Austin went on, not wishing to let a rival gain so much of an advantage over him.

  ‘I warned you that the trip would be dangerous,’ Goodnight told de Martin.

  ‘But not that you meant to cross the Staked Plains,’ the photographer replied. ‘I’m afraid that I can’t risk Barbe’s life on such a crossing. We will turn north until we find the Army’s trail to Fort Sumner.’

  ‘Not alone you won’t!’ Willock declared and the rumble of agreement included members of both the original parties. ‘Some of us’ll come with you.’

  ‘What about the herd?’ demanded the practical Ahlen.

  ‘Hell! We can easy enough catch up with you after we’ve seen these folks safe,’ Willock answered, still basking in Barbe’s admiring gaze. ‘Me ’n’ Jacko—’

  ‘I’m going along!’ stated Austin grimly.

  ‘What for, to help take pictures of the Comanches killing you off?’ interrupted the Kid, for de Martin had been instructing Austin on the use of the camera in order to be photographed with his sister and various members of the crew. ‘Because, feller, that’s what’ll happen if you go north from here, or even back east.’

  ‘Them Yap-Eaters let us through this far, Kid!’ Austin protested, seeing his chances of a pleasant trip slipping away.

  ‘Only ’cause they didn’t have enough men along to do different,’ the Kid pointed out. ‘That won’t be the way if you pull out. You don’t have a chance in a thousand of getting through.’

  ‘You reckon so, Kid?’ gulped Jacko, impressed by the dark youngster’s vehemence and respecting his knowledge of matters Comanche.