Under the Sweetwater Rim (1971)

by L'amour, Louis

  Whoever it was would wait, as he had considered doing.

  They might remain where they were throughout the night. Yet soon the horses must be moved, and when dark came, they must be watered.

  He studied the situation. The gray's picket stake was thirty-five or forty feet from the shelter of the trees. Mary's horse was no further away, but the other two were picketed out in the meadow a good sixty yards from shelter. He could let Mary or Belle go for the horses, for there was small chance they would be fired on. Rather, it might lead the unknown watcher into a trap, as he might believe there was no man here with them. But the thought of exposing one of the women to even a slight chance of danger went against the grain. There had to be some other solution.

  Another idea occurred to him. The horses out yonder had not whinnied as they would have done to another horse, and therefore the unknown in the trees across the meadow either had no horse or had left it some distance away. If he had no horse he would be wanting one desperately. So what would happen? He-or they-would come during the night when a horse might be stolen with less risk. And it was at night that Brian himself must go after the horses.

  He settled down to wait and to watch, and the horses, too, seemed to have settled down. Either the unknown in the trees had gone, or he had relaxed enough to make the horses less wary.

  Slowly, time slipped away. It was warm and pleasant in the small grove. Jason moaned a little in his sleep, something he would never have done awake. Several times Ten Brian caught himself dozing. He needed sleep, but not so bad as did the others. Despite the rugged conditions, he had recovered somewhat. His headache was almost gone, and his lean, powerful body was asserting itself. Finally he went down and awakened Mary. "Can you watch? I need some sleep before night."

  She rose quickly, and leading her away from the others he explained the situation and advised her to watch the horses, and to be alert for any movement by the unknown watcher.

  Taking his rifle, she moved up to where she could watch, and Brian lay down on the pine needles in a small hollow under a tree. He held his pistol in his hand.

  It was dusk when she awakened him. "Ten, I thought something moved over there."

  He got up quickly. The others were already awake.

  He had slept only about an hour, but even that small rest had refreshed him. The horses were still at their picket ropes, but the gray was as close to the trees as it could get. Near a pile of rocks, several marmots were playing, evidence enough that nothing was moving over there. "Mary," he whispered, "I'm going to try to get my gray horse. You cover me with the rifle. If anybody comes out from the trees over there . . . shoot." He worked his way along the ridge, keeping under cover of the scattered trees and brush until he was close to the gray.

  He knew the horse would be expecting him, for it would be wanting water.

  He spoke softly and the gray lifted its head and looked at him. A bullet whapped against the rock within inches of his head and scattered him with stinging fragments. Almost with the same report, Mary fired.

  The double report echoed, the sound drifted away, and all was still. Nothing moved except the horses, nervous at the firing. Mary, Brian decided, had fired at the flash of the rifle over yonder, but it was unlikely she had hit anything.

  But the shot had told him something. The man over there-and Brian was sure it was only one manwanted a horse the worst way. At the first indication that someone might be approaching he had fired, risking everything to warn them away from the horses. It would be too dark to see in a matter of minutes, and he needed to know where the horses were, where their picket pins were located.

  The trees and brush across the meadow were now a wall of blackness, and the area in between was vague and indistinct. If someone started to crawl toward the horses he would scarcely be able to see them . .. nor could anyone see him.

  Brian went down the slight bank, and pistol in hand, wormed his way slowly across the grass. He crawled past the gray, pulled the picket pin, and then, whispering to the big horse, he swung to the saddle. Lying low along its neck he urged the horse toward those horses farthest out, keeping his gray at a slow walk, occasionally stopping it to simulate a horse cropping grass.

  He moved closer, caught another picket rope, andwitha sharp tug, loosened the pin. Then he walked his horse on toward the next one. He was near it when suddenly a dark figure rose from the ground. He caught a glimpse of movement an instant before the man lunged, and he kicked the gray with his heel.

  The horse leaped forward, and the attacker missed his lunge, but turned sharply as Brian did. In his hand there was a gleam from a knife blade. "Is that you, Reub?" Brian asked.

  "It is: His "Then get out of here while you've got a chance."

  "I need a horse, boy-I need one bad. In fact, I need two horses." "Get them from the Sioux. There's Indians all over the place."

  "I'll take a couple of these," Kelsey replied easily. "I hate to do it, Ten." And then he added quietly, "I've got a gun on you, Ten. I can blast you out of the saddle."

  "And I have one on you." It was Mary, speaking from the darkness. "I have you right against the sky."

  Kelsey chuckled. "Now wouldn't you know it?

  It's always a woman who ruins a man. Ma'am, I think you're bluffin'. Show me you got a gun."

  Mary was cool. "I have one all right."

  "I have one too, Reub," Brian said, "laid right on you. It's an Army Colt, if you want to know, caliber .44, and I always could shoot, so you just back up.

  "We haven't a horse for you, or I'd take you in a prisoner, and I'd take your gun, but I'd not want to leave any man afoot and unarmed in Indian country. You just back off, and figure yourself lucky. "Mary, you get up on one of those horses. Gather the others and we'll start back."

  Mary hesitated. "But you'll only have one gun on him, Ten. He might take a chance."

  "Not if I know Kelsey. He likes a sure thing. Anyway, he can take his chance if he feels lucky."

  Kelsey's chuckle was genuine. "You're right, Ten. I play the sure thing. You were a good shot, so I'll not chance it. We'll have to get together some other time. I'm holstering my gun, Ten, and backing off."

  "You'll forgive me if I don't holster mine, I'm sure. Good-bye, Reub . .. and good luck. You're going to need it."

  His eyes were accustomed to the darkness now and he saw Reuben Kelsey slip his gun back into its holster.

  "Ten, they tell me you been all over. Paris, Rome, China ... all them places. What're they like, Ten? I always figured someday I'd see them." "They're worth seeing, Reub, really worth it. But don't try to talk me off guard. It won't work."

  "It ain't that. I just wished I could have gone along. We should have stuck together, you and me."

  Tenadore Brian believed that Kelsey was at least half sincere. He also knew the volatile nature of the man, who could change from sentiment to killing within a moment. He backed his horse away a few steps. Was Kelsey really alone? There was no way of telling, and with Kelsey one must be ready for trickery at all times. Brian wanted to be away and riding . . . there could be no thought of spending the night here now. Somehow they would have to get away quickly.

  Alert for any movement, he turned his horse slightly, still watching Kelsey.

  "Ten, leave me a horse. I got to have one."

  "We've just enough, Reub, so you'll have to get one from the Indians. So long, Reub."

  He swung his horse in the opposite direction and rode a zigzag course toward the trees.

  When he reached their shelter he looked back.

  He thought he could see Kelsey still standing there.

  What would the man do? Without a horse, in that country, even a man like Kelsey was not going to last very long. And he could get nowhere with the gold, if he had it.

  He could not even leave the mountains. As long as he remained here, in the Wind Rivers, he had water, he could rustle for food, and he could survive. But there was nowhere he could go from the mountains without a horse. To go e
ast into the Big Horns would simply put him in a worse situation, for the Sioux were there in numbers. West and south was open country, much of it without water, all of it exposed to view.

  So what would he do? He would come after them, of course. He had no other choice.

  He would follow them, steal a horse before they came to South Pass if that was possible; and if not, steal one at the settlement. He was not the kind of a man to give up. He would have been a good man for this country if he had not chosen the wrong side of the law. But he had made his choice, and it led down a one-way road.

  Jason was on his feet, but he looked bad.

  He was in no shape to ride, but there was no safety for them here. Their only chance was to make the settlement at South Pass and get whatever medical treatment the place would offer.

  Mary was still in the saddle, Belle was gathering the few things scattered about.

  "Ten, what do we do?" she asked.

  He glanced at Mary. Her face was scarcely to be made out in the deeper darkness under the trees.

  "Ride," he said. "All we can do is ride."

  Jason stood where a little light from the stars fell upon his face. "Can you make it, Jason?" Brian asked.

  "I'll make it."

  Belle mounted her horse and Ten Brian led the way. Hesitating at the edge of the clearing on the far side from where he had left Kelsey, he then rode quickly out, gun in hand.

  He pointed to a square shoulder of rock against the sky. "Point for that. We'll pass a mite to the east of it."

  They rode across the meadow at a fast gallop, then slowed where the way led up among the rocks.

  Brian held back, letting Mary take the lead, for the danger would, he believed, come from behind.

  He saw the others go past, then waited a minute to listen for following hoof-beats, but none came. There was no sound but the wind. Turning, he followed the others.

  Again he drew rein. He had an eerie sense of being watched, of being followed, but he knew his reactions were not normal ones, and it worried him.

  He listened, but heard no sound in the night.

  Rock Creek should be not very far ahead. Beyond that they should come to Willow Creek and be able to follow it down to the settlement. But he had never followed Willow Creek, and had no idea what obstacles there might be. A blow-down in the forest, for instance, might force them to circle around it. He caught up with the others, and they wove their uncertain way through the scattered forest. Occasionally he glimpsed the square shoulder of rock he used as a guide, but often it was out of sight, hidden behind trees. Once he almost dozed in the saddle, but was startled awake by a sudden cessation of movement.

  He saw all the horses bunched, and Mary had turned back to him. "Ten, there's somebody or something up ahead. I don't know what it is." He peered into the trees. Was it a fire he saw? A dying fire, perhaps? He listened, and heard no sound.

  "I'll scout ahead," he whispered. "If there's any trouble, don't wait, don't think of me, just get out, fast."

  He was wide awake now. How far had they come?

  Three or four miles? Scarcely that, for their course had been erratic with no regular trail to follow. He looked for the rock and saw it looming above, just a little ahead. He took his rifle and went on, making no sound. He was wary, but his senses were dulled by weariness. The days of struggle, scarce food, and little sleep had taken their toll.

  A voice came out of the darkness. "All right, sodger boy, you just stand. You just hold it right there where you are."

  He stopped, swaying a little. He could not see the speaker, but his voice located him among the trees ahead, a dark patch that revealed nothing in the way of detail.

  Behind him another voice spoke. "It's the women, Jess, and Jase with "em!" "Bring 'em in," Jess replied, "an" Jase, too. Do me good to see him again . . . although it ain't going to do him much good."

  Tenadore Brian swore softly. Trapped!

  With help only a few miles away, they had walked right into the hands of their enemies. He could see nothing at which to shoot, but he had an idea he himself was skylined, making him the perfect target.

  Somebody else spoke up. "Throw some wood on the fire, an' let's see what we ketched."

  Ten Brian slumped in the saddle and suddenly through the fog of exhaustion there came an idea.

  Carefully he withdrew his feet from the stirrups.

  Brush was thick all about him with patches of grass between the clumps. As wood was thrown on the fire and it flared up, he let himself go and toppled from the saddle into the brush.

  A shout went up, but he was already scrambling away among the brush. At least for the moment he was free.

  "tube! Get him! Get that damned lieutenant and kill him where you find him! Get him, man!"

  Brian could hear a dozen men crashing into the brush. He had had no idea there were so many.

  All of a sudden there was a shot, far away to the left, a shot and a gulping cry. There was silence.

  The women and Jason still sat their horses. The renegades had suddenly disappeared. Somebody had been shot, and by an unknown . . . who? For a long time there was stillness and then Jess spoke matter of factly. "There's only one of him, whoever he is.

  Bring the women in, boys, and dismount them. Whoever it is, we'll take him in and salt him down."

  Brian fired at the sound of the voice, holding low and shooting quickly, two shots, inches apart. Even as he triggered the last one he was rolling over swiftly, and came up to a crouch. Fear had exploded his weariness. He was tense with excitement, not the best of moods to be in at the moment, but he was ready. Several shots smashed into the brush where he had been. "Good work, Ten!" The voice was forty or fifty yards off, by the sound of it . . . Reuben Kelsey's voice! "You an' me again. We can take'em!" "Kel!" somebody shouted. "What're you shootin' at us for? What's gone wrong?"

  Kelsey's voice rumbled, a strange tone as though he were speaking against a rock wall and it was echoing back.

  "Now, boys, you know I always liked a good fight, but I like to win, an' you boys are buckin' a stacked deck with Brian here. He ain't the kind to lose. An' those girls ain't for the likes of you.

  Me, maybe, but not you." They were silent, and Brian could imagine what they were saying. They were caught in a cross fire if they moved, and although there were more of them-how many he had no idea-they were wondering if there were enough. He moved, crouching, through the brush, working nearer to them. Jason still sat his horse, but Mary and Belle were on the ground. Both had taken their chance and slipped from their saddles. If Jason was even conscious it was remarkable. The silence continued. Nobody moved, each one waiting for some indication of what would happen next. Brian lay pressed against the earth . . . a bug crawled across his hand . . . he felt the breeze touch his cheek, ever so lightly.

  The outlaws were not liking it very much, for they knew the kind of trouble Kelsey could bring them. At the same time they resented his interfering.

  "Where's the gold, Reub? You got it with you?" one man asked presently. Kelsey laughed . .

  . only that, but it seemed to enrage them. Half a dozen shots flashed, pointed toward the sound.

  Kelsey laughed again.

  Ten Brian, flat against the grass, inched his way along, working closer to where they waited. Where were Mary and Belle? They had dropped from their horses, but by now the renegades might have moved out to them. He paused to listen, then inched onward.

  Where they came from he never knew, but suddenly several men lunged up from the brush and rushed at him.

  Rolling over on his back, he got off one shot with his rifle, then swung at the legs of the charging men.

  He caught the nearest one across the shins and he screamed and fell forward, almost on top of Brian, who rolled over and came up fast, holding his rifle in both hands. He caught the nearest man with a butt stroke across the face, and then drove the barrel into the ribs of another. The attackers closed in around him, but that was the sort of fighting he li
ked, and for which he had been trained. In the Foreign Legion they expect their enemies to close, and at close quarters there is no more effective weapon than a rifle butt in the hands of a man trained to use it. As the first man lunged to get close, Brian delivered a short butt stroke that dropped him in his tracks. Reversing the movement, he smashed the barrel into the stomach of the next man, then drove the butt against the chin of a third.

  They had expected nothing like it, and had met no such attack before. Wild with fury and desperation, Brian waded in, smashing short blows to the head and body. Fearful of injuring each other, none of them fired. He got his chance suddenly and squeezed off a shot at a six-inch range. The man was driven back on his haunches, and a kick flattened him out. Suddenly the brutal fight was over. One terrified man was scrambling away through the brush, another lay groaning on the grass. Two lay silent, merely dark shapes of what had been men.

  He squatted quickly, fearful of being outlined against the sky, and crouched there, his breath tearing at his lungs in ragged gasps. He put the butt of his Henry against the ground and balanced himself with it, then went forward on his knees. The nearest man lay within arm's reach and Brian could see a faint gleam from his pistol butt. Reaching over, he drew the gun.

  Mary was here, somewhere near him. Odd about that, he had known so many women, and beautiful women, but none he really wanted until he met Mary, and then all of a sudden he knew he had gone far enough.

  He knew how Major Devereaux felt and could not find it in himself to blame him. After all, he had come out of nowhere with no future that anybody could see, not even in the army, which would suffer from too many officers looking for places once the war was over.