Buck let his head loll to one side. With the fires all burned down, the darkness under the cottonwoods was nearly complete. It was only against the lighter sky that he could make out the shape of a jug in one of Ray’s hands.
Peewee appeared at Buck’s shoulder. “You ever feed medicine to a kid that didn’t want it, Ray?” he asked.
“Nope, can’t say I ever have.”
“With someone Buck’s size,” Peewee said, “one of us’ll have to sit on his chest to keep him down. Then we’ll grab his nose and pinch it shut until he opens his mouth to breath. That’s when we’ll shove a spoonful of whiskey down his throat.”
“Hell, a spoonful ain’t gonna do no good,” said Ray. “I got a feedin’ tube in my kit that I use when I want to worm one of my mules. Poke that down his gullet and we’ll just pour the medicine in.”
“Gimme that damn’ jug,” Buck growled. “I can doctor myself.”
Ray chuckled softly. “Man gets to hurtin’ bad enough, his bull-headedness just flies out the window, don’t it?” He pulled the cork and handed Buck the jug.
Buck winced at the raw odor of trade alcohol but didn’t hesitate. He’d learned a long time ago that when the whiskey was bad, the best approach was a full-on gallop.
“Take a couple of snorts,” Peewee advised. “Then we’ll pull your shirt off and rub some liniment on your shoulders.”
“It’s my leg that’s giving me fits,” Buck said, lowering the jug and letting the words come out on the end of a deep belch.
“Well, you’re gonna have to pull your own britches down,” Ray told him. “There’s limits to how much I’ll do even for a friend.”
Buck smiled and lifted the jug a second time, finding it easier this time to ignore the heady fumes that spilled across his face. “Where’d you get this poison?” he asked, perching the jug on his chest and puffing hard.
“Bought it off Kendrick,” Peewee said. “We figured it might come in handy. We just didn’t know how soon we’d need it.”
“Speakin’ of need.” Ray plucked the clay vessel from Buck’s hands and took a swallow. “Sweet Jesus,” he breathed, coughing hoarsely.
“Well, hell, let me try it,” Peewee said.
Ray laughed and handed him the jug. “It’s the bane of manhood to stick your fingers in a fire just to see if it’s as hot as someone else says it is.”
Peewee blew lustily as he brought the jug away from his lips, spraying Buck with a fine, fiery mist. “Good Lord,” he croaked. “Kendrick ought to pay us to drink this piss, not the other way around.”
Buck sputtered laughter and sat up, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to one side. With just two swallows under his belt, he already felt loose and comfortable. He slid his pants down to his socks, then pulled the leg of his knee-length underwear up high enough to expose the wound in his lower thigh.
Peewee’s good humor faded when he saw the red, swollen flesh above Buck’s knee. He set the jug aside and lit a tin bull’s-eye lantern, adjusting the tiny aperture to focus a narrow beam of light on the wound.
Leaning close, Ray whistled reverently. “That looks mean,” he said to no one in particular.
The surrounding tissue was inflamed, but no worse than it had been that morning when Buck looked at it. “It’s stiff,” he allowed.
“Hot to touch, too,” Peewee said, prodding gently at the puffy flesh. “I don’t think it’s infected, though. That’s good.”
“Looks irritated,” Ray observed.
“It’s my pants,” Buck explained. “The fabric keeps rubbing on the stitches when I’m in the saddle.”
“We’ll put some salve on it after we work some liniment into the muscle around it,” Peewee said. He leaned back, lowering the lantern. “A fresh bandage’ll help, too, but it’s gonna leave a hell of a scar.”
“Man can’t hardly call hisself a muleskinner without a few scars from a bullwhip,” Ray said. “He’s just lucky he don’t have a couple of hoof-shaped dents in his skull, like some I know.”
Peewee brought a slim brown bottle of Centaur Liniment into the lantern’s beam. “This ought to ease the hurt and take down some of the swelling. Ray, dig that salve out of the box, will you?”
“How’d you two get into the medicine chest?” Buck demanded, struggling now just to concentrate. “It’s under lock and key in the office.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” Ray replied, sliding a small, open-topped box around where Buck could see it. “This is mule medicine,” he said. “We considered your personality and decided this was probably the best way to go.”
Buck leaned back and closed his eyes. “You’re likely right,” he agreed.
“Hey, don’t go noddin’ off on us,” Ray scolded, but Peewee made a shushing sound and said: “Let him sleep if he can.”
“You just splash some liniment on that leg,” Buck ordered the two men distantly, letting the whiskey pull him farther away from the warm flush of his fever. He heard Ray guffaw and Pee-wee say—“Don’t!”—then a spark ignited a bonfire on top of his leg and any thought of sleep vanished like smoke in the wind.
“Lord, God!” Buck hissed through clenched teeth, jackknifing upright to grab his thigh.
“Dammit, Ray,” Peewee said, but he was laughing, too. “I
reckon we forgot to mention it might burn a little,” he added to Buck.
“I ought to box your ears,” Buck snapped. He plucked the liniment from Ray’s hand and set it on the ground next to the salve. “I appreciate your help, but it’s time you two got back to your blankets. Morning’ll come early.”
Ray leaned back on the balls of his feet, his smile gone.
“Go on,” Buck said, shoving the whiskey jug toward Peewee. “Take this with you and hide it where I won’t find it, because, if I see it again, I’ll bust the damn’ thing on a rock.”
Pushing to his feet, Ray said: “Damn if he ain’t turnin’ into the same kind of son-of-a-bitch his old pard was.”
Buck looked up, his expression hardening. “Easy, Ray, if you’re talking about Mase.”
“I don’t tread easy for no man,” Ray said.
Peewee quickly stood. “Come on, Ray. No whiskey on the train is Jock’s rule, not Buck’s. Besides, Buck’s feelin’ poorly. This ain’t the time.…”
“I’m not feeling that poorly,” Buck said, climbing to his feet and pulling up his trousers. “Say what’s on your mind, Ray.”
“Ray,” Peewee warned.
“Aw, I ain’t gonna bust the pup’s bubble,” Ray growled, “but I ain’t gonna turn my back on him no more, either.” He grabbed the jug from Peewee’s hand and stalked off.
When he was gone, Peewee said: “He just riles easy. Buck. You know Ray.”
Buck sighed and thumbed the suspender straps over his bare shoulders. He felt cold again, and his leg was throbbing as sharply as it ever had. “What the hell’s everyone got against Mase?” he asked, but Peewee just shook his head. “Well?” Buck demanded.
“Let it go, Buck,” Peewee said gently. “Just let it go. You, Ray, everyone, just let it go.”
Nate was frying potatoes in a big skillet when Buck came to the breakfast fire the next morning. “Lordy,” the black man said, making a face. “I hope you just rubbed that fire on, and didn’t drink any.”
Buck hesitated, unable to tell if Nate knew about the jug or if he was just making fun of the odor of liniment that fogged the air around him like the stench of a dead skunk. Physically Buck was feeling better, but he was aggravated with himself. He’d been strict in his enforcement of Jock’s rules against liquor on a train—most wagon masters were—and it bothered him that he’d ignored them last night, when he was the one needing a drink.
“If I wanted booze,” he responded stiffly, “I would have bought a drink at Fort Hall.”
There was a derisive snort from behind Peewee’s trail wagon and Ray came into view, coiling a length of cotton rope. The look on his face told Buck he’d overhead.
/> “A little bug juice is what you and Kroll both need,” Nate continued, stirring the potatoes with a long-handled fork. “I was watchin’ Mitch climb onto his nigh-wheeler yesterday, gruntin’ like an old man.” He chuckled at the memory.
“Better stove-up than to break one of Jock’s precious rules, ain’t that right, Bucky?” Ray said.
“Touch of bug juice never hurt no one,” Nate countered, still oblivious to the tension between the two men. “Even my Sarah’ll take a sip of lightning from time to time. Mix it with honey and lemon, and it works mighty fine on a winter’s cough.”
“I don’t think it’s a cough botherin’ Buck. Might be his principles, though.”
“Back off, Ray,” Buck said softly, turning to face the glowering muleskinner.
“Here now!” Nate exclaimed, startled. “What’s got into you two all of a sudden?”
“I’d say a promotion and the promise of the boss’ daughter,” Ray sneered.
“Hey!” Nate cried, standing. “What kind of talk is that? Ray, with everything we’re facin’, everything Buck’s facin’, what do you want to push him for? This is Buck, dang it, not some drifter lookin’ for a hand-out.”
“Stay out of it, Nate,” Buck said.
“The devil I will!” Nate looked at Ray. “You go on and help Rossy bring in them mules. Ain’t nobody needin’ your kind of hazin’ this morning.”
“Since when did you start giving orders?” Ray asked.
“Since right this here minute, is when.” Buck started to speak, but Nate silenced him with a raised hand. “Go on,” he said to Ray. “Help Rossy.”
“Aw, the hell with both of you,” Ray snapped, throwing the coiled line into the dirt at Nate’s feet. He stalked off, grumbling about looking for a new job as soon as he got back to Corinne.
Nate grinned and looked at Buck. “That ol’ Ray,” he said. “Ain’t hardly a trip north he don’t promise to quit soon as he gets back.” He poked Buck amiably in the ribs. “Ain’t that right, boss-man?”
“I reckon. It just ain’t setting so well this morning.”
“That’s ’cause you got so much other stuff on your mind, but you got to look at it this way, we’re danged near halfway there and still rollin’. Another ten, twelve days’ll see us into Virginia City. After that, it becomes someone else’s worry.”
Buck exhaled slowly. “I guess Ray caught me off guard,” he admitted. “I’ve seen him turn on others like that … you, Pee-wee, even Mase, but it’s the first time he’s ever turned on me.”
“Ray is Ray, Buck. He’s been sittin’ on fight ever since his wife left him, and that was a good many years ago. Sometimes you got to let him blow off a little steam.”
They got off in good order, with Buck taking his usual position about a hundred yards ahead of Peewee’s leaders. On his left, the Snake River was flowing powerfully, nearly out of its banks with spring run-off, its wind-ruffled surface littered with débris. The low, rolling hills to his right were green with new grass, and wildflowers bloomed on the south-facing slopes. But the country’s beauty was lost on Buck. His thoughts were dominated by darker images—lean, slope-shouldered men, always in shadow, always dangerous.
They came to the Eagle Rock bridge late that afternoon, where the Snake narrowed tumultuously through black stone channels. Buck rode ahead to settle the toll, and by the time Peewee got there the receipt was signed, the gate raised. Buck reined out of the way to watch the long hitches swing into the turn and rattle briskly across the thick ash planks to the north shore.
Milo rode up as Ray was hawing his leaders onto the bridge, his expression flinty. When Buck glanced behind him, his own jaw tightened.
“I already talked to him,” Milo said. “I can’t put a rope around his neck to make him keep up.”
“If you can’t handle the job, maybe I ought to put Dulce in charge of it.”
Milo grinned in spite of Buck’s anger. “She’d probably like that. Gwen, too. They’re both afraid of him.”
“You rode with him the other day. What did you find out?”
“Nothing. It was like riding beside a keg of gunpowder. He sits up there like he doesn’t have a care in the world, but you know he’s packed tight enough to blow. That boy’s nursing a grudge against somebody or something, but when I tried to talk to him about it, he acted like I wasn’t fit to piss on.”
“Did he admit to knowing Kroll?”
“He didn’t admit to anything. Didn’t say more than a dozen words the whole day. I finally started talking to the hind end of his off-wheel mule. I got the same response and didn’t have to twist my head so much.”
“Dammit,” Buck said irritably. “Go tell him to catch up. I’ll chew him out later.”
There wasn’t much of a community at Eagle Rock, but there was a saloon. Not wanting a repeat of what had happened at Fort Hall, Buck kept the train rolling for another hour before he ordered a camp made on a treeless flat along the river. While the rest of the outfit set about their evening chores, Buck jogged to the rear of the train to wait for O’Rourke. By the time the dark-skinned Irishman came in, Buck’s anger had reached a boil.
Buck reined into O’Rourke’s paths forcing the jehu to haul back on his lines.
“Something is wrong?” O’Rourke asked, black eyes narrowing.
“Milo’s told you more than once to keep up. I came back to find out why you haven’t been doing it.”
“I’m here. There is a problem?”
“You’re too far back, in case of trouble.”
A thin, mirthless smile wiggled across O’Rourke’s face. “I don’t have no trouble.”
“I ain’t gonna argue with you, and I ain’t gonna tell you again. Keep up or I’ll start docking your pay.”
Paddy’s smile disappeared. “The lady is who hires me. She will not dock my pay.”
“She’ll dock it if I tell her to.”
O’Rourke’s eyes glittered dangerously. “I think that would not be so smart a thing to do, boss-man.”
“Don’t threaten me, O’Rourke. You were hired to drive Miss Haywood’s coach. Whatever else your problem is, you keep that wagon with the rest of the train.”
“Sure,” Paddy replied after a lengthy pause. “Sure, after today, Ray Jones is gonna wonder what it is in his hip pocket all the time, and it’s gonna be my lead team, you’ll see.” But there was a look in the Irishman’s eyes that chilled Buck’s blood. “Now that the order comes from the big man, I know for sure it is for me to do. You see how it works?”
“Just stay close, O’Rourke. This’ll be the last time I warn you.”
He turned Zeke toward the front of the train, but hauled back when he heard Dulce calling him. She was standing next to one of Joe Perry’s wagons, looking worried, and he rode over. “Everything all right?”
“Yes. I saw you talking to O’Rourke.”
“I was encouraging him to keep up.”
“Why does he do that? His should be the fastest outfit in the train.”
“I reckon he’s mad about something.”
“Gwen?”
That surprised him. “You think so?”
“He resents her horribly, Buck. I see it every time he looks at her. He resents us, too … you and I. I can almost feel his hatred whenever he’s near.”
“Do you think he’s a threat to you or Gwen?”
“I don’t know. I just know he’s angry, but then”—her expression softened—“so are you.”
“Hey, how’d I get pulled into this?”
“It’s true.”
“I’m not angry, I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
“Do you realize you hardly ever smile like you mean it any more? And that fight between you and Mitchell Kroll.” She looked away, blinking rapidly. “You don’t come to see me, and that frightens me most of all. Peewee says I should give you room to captain, but.…”
He swung down and took her in his arms. “Maybe it was a bad idea, your coming,” he said. “It’s be
en a hard trip.”
“I thought it would be an adventure, something we could share.” She stepped back but wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It was silly, I suppose, but I also thought this journey would be a test of our compatibility.”
“It’s hardly been a fair test,” he pointed out.
“No, it hasn’t, and it was wrong of me to think you would have time to dine with me every evening, or that we might slip off occasionally to be alone. I was so naïve I even brought along a picnic basket, thinking we might lag behind one day, just the two of us.”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting some time together,” Buck said.
“No, it was wrong. I grew up in a freighting family and I thought I knew what was involved in captaining a wagon train. Obviously I didn’t. This trip has opened my eyes in so many ways. But I wonder if you can see that you don’t have to do this alone. You have men you can depend on. Peewee, Joe, Nate. Even Ray, although I know he’s upset with you now. And I hope, I really hope, that you know you can depend on me, as well.”
“I’ve never doubted your loyalty, Dulce.”
That brought a sob from her throat and she turned away. “I’ve made mistakes, Buck, but I do want our relationship to survive, for us to have a life together. That is, if that’s what you want.”
He reached for her but she stepped back. “Buck?” she said softly.
“I want us to survive, too, but we’ve got a long way to go yet, and I’ve got a bad feeling that what’s happened so far has been just the beginning. We can’t lower our guard. I can’t lower my guard. Not even a little.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Do you want the same things I do?”
Now it was Buck’s turn to look away. “Right now all I want is to get this train safely to Virginia City, without anyone being killed or maimed. That’s all I can think about, Dulce. All I have time to think about.”
“Now, ain’t that a beautiful sight,” Milo said late the next day, after he and Buck had reined their mounts off the road. They were watching the caravan wind its way up through the low hills north of the river. From here, the Snake was mostly hidden behind a wall of leafed-out cottonwoods.
But it wasn’t the green valley they were leaving or the new land they were entering that Milo was commenting on. It was Paddy O’Rourke, bouncing along atop the coach, his leaders less than a dozen yards behind the mess wagon’s tailgate.
The Long Hitch Page 19
