Cain (Ben Blue Book 5)

by Lou Bradshaw

  I chuckled thinking about that, and Angelina looked up from her stitching. “What amuses you Shad?” I told her that it was just a stray thought from a long time ago. I’d never let anyone call me Shad or Shadrac except my ma, pa, and granny, but when she said it, it sounded right.

  She went back to her sewing for a few minutes, and then lifted her head again and said, “You have no wife or family?”

  I was a bit startled by the question, but was able to keep from cutting my thumb off. I chuckled and told her, “No ma’am, I reckon I’m all there is left of the Cain breed. I ain’t never been married… Didn’t seem likely that any gal would want to hitch her wagon to this old crowbait cayus.”

  “I think there were many who would have liked to call you, husband. You probably never gave them a chance to learn you. You maybe were too tough and strong and didn’t let the senoritas know the gentle hombre that you are.”

  “Well, I never was rough with any lady, but they just sort of shied away from me. I guess my eyes are a little too close together and my nose is a bit too hooked… In fact a saloon gal in Cheyenne once said to me, ‘Cain, you ain’t nothin’ but a hard eyed, hawk faced old predator… I reckon she wasn’t too far off the mark.”

  Her eyes flashed and her face grew flushed. “You would let a… a puta talk to you that way?”

  “Whoa, hold on” I said, “most of those gals ain’t doin’ that kind of work because they want to. Most have lost their families, their husbands, and any kind of support. They’ve been set in a hard country where there’s few jobs for a woman alone. And there are plenty of men to take advantage of them. It seems like an easy way out, to just do what comes natural, but sometimes they have to do it fifteen or twenty times a day, and they can’t pick and choose the customers… they have to take whoever comes through the door. They get cut up, beat up, die from diseases, or just thrown out when no one wants them…. It’s a hard road, and I feel mighty bad for ‘em.”

  She sat there for a few minutes, looking at her sewing without saying a word, and then she brought the fabric to her face and started to cry. I didn’t know what to do for a short spell. I laid my whittling down, and went over and sat beside her. With her material still clutched to her eyes, she leaned over and finished her cry on my chest… I didn’t seem to mind.

  We sat there for a long time sitting against that boulder… long after she finished crying. I thought she had gone to sleep, so I tried to ease her to the ground without waking her.

  “Bless you, Shad Cain.” She said as I tried to move.

  She sat up and leaned against the boulder wiping her eyes. I was kneeling in the sand to the side of her. “If you and Antonio hadn’t taken me in… that would have been my fate… if I had lived long enough to have a fate. I never thought of how those women became what they are… I’ll never think of them again in that way.”

  “Well, that wasn’t your fate, Angelina, and as long as I have cartridges and a sharp blade, it won’t be you fate.”

  Chapter 14

  We traveled for another two days, and on the morning of the fourth day of our journey, Angelina told me we were within a half a day’s travel from her village. I asked her if she could get home from here by herself.

  She looked up at me with an expression of disappointment. “Si,” she said, “but you no want to come to my village? My family will wish to thank you and have a fiesta in your honor.”

  “I appreciate that, Angelina, but it’s a matter of caution. I don’t want to lead those outlaws anywhere near your village. I’ve been real careful not to leave much of a trail, but there’s always that possibility. I want you to take the pack horse and what’s loaded on him. There are some extra rifles and ammunition there. Your family may need an extra gun… they’re yours. Anything else in the pack, you can keep if I don’t come back for it, and I will be back if I have to crawl.”

  I tied the lead rope to her saddle, and she leaned down and took my face in her hands. “Via con Dios, Shad Cain, go with God.” And she rode on down the trail toward home.

  She was a woman who knew the way things were. She knew that arguing or pleading would do no good. She also knew that it was for the best. Those men didn’t even know she existed, except for that gelded son of a bitch, and he wasn’t about to tell anyone. They were looking for me, and I aimed to keep them lookin’, and I was counting on them not to be finding.

  She rode away, turning once to wave… I waved back, and then I went to the job of wiping out any sign of her trail. I doubted that the Daveys bunch would ever be able to follow us, even if they still had Barrow to guide them.

  I kicked my horse in the ribs and left a definite trail heading north toward Creede. It was about forty miles and it seemed to be uphill all the way. After a while I took some precautions to hide my trail again. It wouldn’t do no harm to mess around in their heads a little, if they ever got that far. I found it really puts a fella at a disadvantage when he can’t figure out what the other person is doing or why.

  It was late afternoon on the third day, when I rode into Creede. The first thing I did was stop at the shopping store and pick up some things I might be needing, such as another box of .44 cartridges. The proprietor’s misses asked if the things I’d bought the last time had fit. I thanked her for asking and told her that she was a keen judge of sizes. She beamed from top to bottom… all two hundred pounds of her.

  I bought a few more things and moseyed on down to the livery where I put my horse in the corral and gave him a good feed and a rubdown. Then I went back up the street to the saloon for a bite to eat and a couple of beers.

  My friend, Percy was in his usual place, sitting in a cane bottom chair on the boardwalk. I motioned him inside, and he followed me in. After I set us up with drinks and some stew, which was about all they offered, he looked around and said, “Mister, you sure played hell… That bunch came riding into town madder’n Hades, but they didn’t know who to be mad at.”

  “It seems that nobody saw much… to hear tell it, everybody was running fer cover when those boys braced you in the street. And them that seemed to remember a stranger in town couldn’t remember much about him. All they got out of anybody was that the big fella was kilt with a tommyhawk…. Old Frank, hisself, was in a rage.”

  “Well,” I said, “I don’t want anybody getting’ sideways with that bunch over my sake. I’ll take my chances.”

  “Oh, they grumbled and cussed and drank up half the town, but they figgerd it to be a drifter with a bad temper.”

  I thought to myself, they may pass the one off as a drifter, but I suspect they ain’t so sure about that… now. Since they left town they’ve lost three more and one of them is speakin’ with a much higher voice. I don’t want to go hunting them, but I will if they don’t stay out of my way.

  I was just about ready to leave, when a couple of hardcases came in with a real grouch on. Percy nudged me and whispered, “Some of ‘em.”

  Ordering Percy another shot of Old Panther Pee, I settled down to see what they had to say. They told the barkeep to leave the bottle and one of them told him, “Damnedest thing I ever saw, Barney…. Some ranny come into Bud’s camp and killed Bud and Coon, and then he left Sandy bloody and hurtin’ real bad…and ol’ Coon took a hatchet to the head, just like Fargo got it, when him and Cole went down…. With a hatchet… Ain’t that strange now?”

  The other one said, “Yeah, and nobody seen nuthin’ There ain’t no tracks, no signs… just nuthin’…. It’s like we was tryin’ to find a ghost. I ain’t sure I want to find no ghost.”

  “Why don’t you just ride off?” Barney the bartender asked.

  “I reckon, I’d rather deal with a ghost than to deal with Frank Daveys… He sure got a grouch on… he near beat poor Sandy to death for lettin’ Bud git kilt.”

  I’d heard enough, so I paid up and left. After collecting my horse, I rode out of Creede heading south. A few miles out of town I found a place to set up camp, where it would be safe to build a little f
ire for some supper and coffee. I ate and then set back listening to my horse chomping on grass and the drone of the bugs. I sat there whittling on something that looked something like a cougar.

  I must have whittled out a hundred or more of those things, sometimes it was a griz, sometimes it was a buffalo, but my favorite was the horses. I’d used a number of knives through the years, but my favorite was a stout clasp knife with a thick three inch blade. I could get that thing honed down like a razor. I always finished ‘em off with a piece of fine pumice to get ‘em smoothed out. The last thing I do is carve a “C” in the bottom. Somewhere in my pack, there’s about a dozen of the better ones. I’ve given the rest away or just left them here or there.

  That was just something I did for relaxation. I’d get that piece of wood in my hand and I would just get comfortable. Of course I couldn’t afford to get too comfortable in this time and place. It could cause a man to get real comfortable… to the point where he wouldn’t even be doing any breathing.

  I was at my cabin by noon the following morning. The first thing I did was have a good look around, to make sure no one had been here while I was gone. There were no signs of anything being out of place or any track that shouldn’t have been there. So I stowed my gear and put my horse up.

  Although, I was happy to be home, it seemed almighty empty and quiet. I’d have to start making some furniture, and building a smokehouse. I hated to have meat go bad because I couldn’t eat it fast enough… it was just a waste. I could always make jerky on racks, but a smokehouse was much more efficient. I had things to do.

  I worked around there for near on to two weeks, splitting and shaping pine logs into planks and slabs. Working with an adze, I was able to get some of those planks fairly smooth if you don’t count splinters. It was the kind of work that my pa had been good at. He showed me how way back then, but of course, I didn’t listen real good, and I’d forgot all the fine points. But I’ve seen worse.

  I was just pounding wooden wedges into a table leg, so that it would fit tight, when I heard a noise down below on the slope. My rifle was never more than a few feet from my hand, so I picked it up and walked to the window. Staying back and mostly out of sight, I watched the pathway leading up the shoulder of that mountain.

  There were voices fussing back and forth… I’d reckon it was two men by what I heard. Of course, that doesn’t mean there couldn’t be more, I only heard two. I had a live cartridge in the chamber, and I wasn’t too cheap to use it…. I had plenty more.

  I could hear them coming closer, but there were still only two voices and it sounded like only two horses making their way up the slope. I waited, and I watched.

  At last, a hat showed followed by the rest of the man and his horse… a good looking gray. A second rider was right behind the first. The second horse wasn’t nearly as good as the first, but it was no plug either. They were about a hundred and fifty yards out when they first came into view out of the boulders and pines.

  They spotted the cabin almost immediately and drew up. They both moved to take the thongs off their belt guns and loosened their rifles in their scabbards. I had clear shots at both, and I could hardly imagine missing at that range, especially since they were just sitting there. I was sorely tempted to send one of them back down the slope alone, but that was a little too cold blooded… even for me. I’ve earned a good many scalps, though I’ve not kept any, I’ll admit to taking a few… but I’m no sniper.

  They started moving forward and jogged up to within fifty yards, and stopped. The first one cupped his hands and called out between them, “Halooo, the cabin.”

  I stepped into the open window and called to them to come ahead. They jogged the rest of the way to the door yard, and I stepped outside. When they got to within tomahawk distance, I told them, “Light and sit, gents… if you can find something to sit on… I got some coffee on the coals. It wouldn’t do fer no town boy, but it’ll do for the likes of me.”

  Purposely, I’d made an effort to give them the impression that I was just what I was… a simple down home mountain man. I figured if they didn’t take me as a threat, chances were good that I wouldn’t have to kill anybody.

  They said that was a best offer they’d had yet today and went to get cups from their saddle bags. I didn’t invite them inside, that was a privilege they’d have to earn with blood. Pouring their coffee I stated, “You boys give me the idear that you might be lookin’ for somethin’… I can guarantee, it ain’t here, and if you go any higher up, you ain’t gonna find nothin’ but a big ol chunk of marble rock.”

  “Waal, we kinda was lookin’ fer a feller, but we cain’t tell you much about him.” The second one said.

  “That so?” I asked

  “Yeah.” Said the first one. “There been any strangers coming by your place in the last couple weeks? Probably kind of a ornery sort, he would be.”

  I thought for a few seconds and said, “No… I reckon there ain’t been no body through this spring. There was a couple of Injuns came by last winter, and they mighta been ornery, but not while they was here. They must have already ruled me out, thinkin’ I was just what I wanted them to think… harmless.

  “What ya want with that feller?” I asked. “He shoot somebody or run off with the bosses woman?”

  They both got a big laugh out of that, and that was my whole idea. They told me that the man they were looking for had drygulched a couple of their boys a few of weeks ago and that the boss wanted him caught.

  “You reckon you’ll find him in all these mountains?” I asked.

  “Oh, we’ll git him alright.” The first one answered. “And when we do, he’ll be a real sorry son of a bitch, he will… Then we’ll see how much pain he can take.”

  “We better git goin’, Bates.” The second fella said. “Frank’ll be wonderin’ where the hell we got to.”

  They mounted up, and as they turned to go back down the slope I called out to them, “Say… I kinda disremembered somethin’…. Maybe a week or less, I run into that ol’ trapper, Barrel, down there below… he was scoutin’ a trail… That help any?”

  The stopped, and gave me there full attention. Baits asked, “You mean Barrow, the ol’ mountain man…which way was he headed?”

  “That’s the feller… He must have found somethin’ cause he took off like his hoss’s tail was ablaze… he was headin’ east last I saw of him.”

  They both wheeled and scrambled down the slope without saying, “Thankee, good bye, kiss my horse’s butt,” or nothing. They were most in considerate that way, but I had to chuckle.

  I figured that would buy me a couple more days while they looked for Barrel, and then it would take a couple more to get news back to Daveys. By the time they figured out that they might want to visit me again, it would be at least a week. I had a corral to finish.

  * * *

  Unbeknownst to me, this was what was happening back at the Daveys’ stronghold while I was busy working on my corral.

  Frank Daveys was berating Baits and Hardwick after they had brought in the news of finding Barrel’s rotting body still tied to the saddle, but there was no sign of his horse. “You idiots… both of you! That fella you described is just like the man Cole said smashed his foot and beat the hell out of him in Creede. I’m surrounded by morons! Do I have to do everything myself?”

  “Get the boys together… We’re gonna fetch that boy and make him pay!”

  * * *

  It wouldn’t have mattered much if I’d known about that meeting because that was pretty much the way I figured it would go. There were too many people who saw me kill those boys in Creede, and sooner or later, that bunch would be on to me. Even old Percy would tumble if the right bottle of whiskey was put in front of him. Any man who thinks a drunk can keep a secret is a fool. I was many things, but I weren’t no fool.

  I got the corral shored up good enough to be usable until this was all over, and then I went back into the cave. I had a good store of supplies stashed in that l
ittle cut back area where folk had been years before, so I took two torches and a candle back deeper into the cave. I’d been in and out enough by that time; I figured I was able to find my way out in the dark if need be.

  After a bit of following the wall to my left, I felt a breath of air on my cheeks. Standing still for a few seconds, I wiped my face and turned away, when I turned back, I felt it again, and it was coming from straight ahead. After a few dozen steps, the torch started to flicker. I set the torch in a crack to get the light away from my eyes, and I walked out into the darkness. And then I saw it.

  It was only a speck of light far ahead. It was hard to tell how far it was because I didn’t know how big it was. So I retrieved the torch and went on carefully. The floor of the cave was uneven and damp. It wouldn’t do to break a leg down here. Every now and then, I’d pick up a rock and toss it off to my right. What I figured was a thirty foot toss would get me a couple of bounces and a silence before a splash. So the pit was still there, and I could tell by the curve of the walls I was circling around it. The light grew closer, and I could see that I was getting close. I could see the edges and make out rough stones and even a little green near the bottom.

  The only problem was, it was high up. I estimated it to be a good twenty feet above my head, and I was real close to it. Holding the torch up high, I searched for hand holds and foot holds. The walls were smooth from centuries of water gushing and dripping.

  Out of habit, I picked up a stone and tossed it out to my right, there was no bounce. There was only that silence and then a splash. The pit had gotten wider here. If water had been coming through that hole, it figured that it had taken some of the cave floor with it. Holding the torch close to the ground, I saw that the floor had indeed washed out to the point that, it had ended completely. I had only a few feet before I went into the pit.