by J. T. Edson
Two miles out of town Murat brought his horse to a halt and pointed to a clump of scrub oak trees close by it. ‘This’s where it happened. They hid up in the trees and rode out peaceable like. Then they took him off towards the river.’
Following the direction Murat indicated, Mark saw the tracks left by Sailor Sam’s killers. While he did not put himself in the same category as the Ysabel Kid when it came to reading sign, Mark could tell that the men had ridden from their cover at a leisurely pace. Most likely Sailor Sam took them for a bunch of cowhands heading into Austin and looking to pass the time of day with him. By the time he realized the danger, it was too late to escape. So he behaved sensibly, going along with the gun-backed orders while watching for a chance to turn the tables on his captors. At the other side of the trail he saw where the wagon left escorted by the cook’s killers. Starting his horse moving, Mark followed the tracks.
None of the party spoke as they rode through the wooded country in the direction of the Colorado River. Then at the foot of the slope, well-hidden from the trail, they came into sight of the wagon. Apart from unhitching the team and taking the cook’s body along, nothing had been moved. Boxes and barrels lay on the ground, their tops opened and a few contents scattered.
At Murat’s suggestion they left the horses well clear of the wagon and went forward on foot. Tejas Tom took the lead and as he drew near the foot of the slope began to describe the men who made the different sign.
‘One was big feller, plenty hefty, ride bay mare. Two of ’em tall, lean, got dun and blue roan. ’Nother middle height, heavy with it, ride bay man-hoss. Other two maybe five foot ten, one lean, other heavy, got a black and iron gray hoss.’
Having seen the Ysabel Kid in action, Mark knew just how accurate a well-trained visual tracker could be. He did not doubt that when they finally caught up to the gang, the descriptions would prove correct. Going on, Tejas told how Sailor Sam fought and finally went down, shot by the tallest of the slim men. The Indian took Mark and Bragg to where a small rock rose from the springy grass. There they saw the marks made by a man falling down hard, but the Indian showed them something more important.
‘See um?’ he asked, pointing to a black mark on the side of the rock. ‘Him shoot from ground after him knocked down.’
Igniting black powder threw out an awesome muzzle-blast as Mark well knew, but only in a forward direction. Which meant that the man must have held his gun barely out of the holster to shoot. Then Mark remembered the Wycliffe clan. The men he met in the Bigfoot Saloon fitted the description of part of the gang. More than that, Billy Wycliffe carried his gun in a swivel holster and did not need to draw the weapon to shoot. Fired from the leather, his Colt’s barrel would have been low and close enough to leave the powder burns on the rock.
At which point the Indian dropped another bombshell. ‘Was girl with wagon.’
For a moment the words did not sink into Mark’s furiously-thinking head. Then he stared from Tejas to Bragg and said, ‘A girl?’
‘Not from the herd, that’s for sure,’ Bragg stated.
‘Sign show she jump off box and run. Feller go after her and drag her back. They take her with ’em when they go.’
‘Sam must’ve picked her up on the way in,’ Murat guessed. ‘Maybe from one of them nester spreads down that ways.’
‘I reckon I know who killed Sam,’ Mark said quietly.
‘Who?’ asked the sheriff.
‘Billy Wycliffe.’
‘Why him?’
‘We had a run-in with ’em last night,’ Mark explained. ‘Billy was wearing his gun in a half-breed holster.’
Having seen the powder blackening on the rock, Murat knew what Mark meant. However he did not take the other’s suggestion at blind face value.
‘And you figure they jumped Sam to get even?’ he asked.
‘No,’ admitted Mark. ‘I don’t reckon they’d go a round-about way like that to get even with anybody.’
‘Weren’t but four of ’em we saw,’ Bragg reminded Mark.
‘Way the fellers at the Bigfoot talked, there’re plenty more,’ Mark replied.
‘That’s for sure,’ Murat agreed. ‘Only you can’t be sure it was them, Mark.’
‘Everything points that way,’ Mark replied, his big hands working in the unspoken, deadly rage which filled him. ‘We’ll know for sure when we find them.’
‘Likely,’ answered the sheriff.
‘It’s a heap more than likely!’ Mark snapped. ‘Sam fought back. That means all of them are carrying marks he gave them.’
‘Let’s go get ’em!’ growled Bragg.
‘We haven’t more than a couple of hours afore dark,’ objected Murat.
‘We’ll have a start for morning,’ Mark put in. ‘Maybe you’d best leave it to Tule and me, Jules.’
‘To run them down and nail their hides to the wall?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Is that the way Hondo and Dusty Fog taught you to handle the law?’
‘Damn it to hell, Jules!’ Mark snapped. ‘You knew Sailor Sam. He was a good-hearted cuss who never did harm to anybody who wasn’t asking for it. He worked for pappy near as long as Tule here ’
‘Which shouldn’t stop you thinking and acting right,’ Murat said quietly. ‘Sailor Sam was your friend, Mark. Only if you start thinking on that instead of on proving who killed him, you could make a mistake.’
‘Maybe,’ Mark replied.
‘There’s no maybe about it and you know it!’ Murat snapped. ‘Sure everything points to the Wycliffe bunch. Only that’s a mighty small description Tejas gave us and it could fit plenty of men. I can tell you three fellers in Austin alone who use a half-breed holster, two of them would fit the description of the one who shot Sam if it comes to that.’
‘You figure one of them two did it?’ growled Bragg.
‘Nope. One of ’em’s a Wells Fargo messenger and the other works for me as a deputy. I just mentioned them to show you that it could be somebody else,’ Murat replied. ‘Not that I reckon the Wycliffes wouldn’t pull something like this But they’d want a reason for doing it.’
‘Maybe figured to rob Sam,’ Bragg guessed. ‘Figured he’d have money to pay for whatever supplies he bought in town.’
‘Not if it’s the Wycliffes,’ Murat answered. ‘I wouldn’t put robbing a blind man’s begging-cup past the young ’uns, but Churn’s not that cheap. So if he was along, they came after more than the chance of picking up a few hundred dollars. And I went through Sam’s pockets; whoever killed him hadn’t.’
Which ruled out robbery as the motive for the killing. In such a secluded spot, a well-armed gang meaning to steal would not be deterred by having murdered their victim. With robbery apparently ruled out, the question of motive rose once more. It seemed unlikely that the Wycliffes would take their revenge on Sailor Sam, or even that they knew his connection with Mark and Bragg.
‘Who’s on the trail behind you, Tule?’ Mark asked.
‘Nobody that we know of.’
Occasionally the trail crew following another herd would take steps to slow down and pass it so as to reach the railhead market first. So every trail boss kept a wary eye on his rear, ready to counter such moves. While killing the cook would have at least nuisance value, Mark doubted if that had been the reason for Sam’s murder. Yet it was a possibility, slim maybe, but Mark knew one could not afford to overlook the most slender chance. Murder, very sensibly, carried the death penalty, so a man like Mark Counter knew better than make the mistake of picking the wrong suspect when hunting for a killer.
Murat’s warning had worked. With the first flush of his anger worn off, Mark remembered the training he received in peace officer work from two of the most enlightened lawmen in Texas. Although grief nagged at him, the blond giant forced himself to face the issue with an open mind. While almost certain that the Wycliffe clan were behind Sailor Sam’s death, he was prepared to search for other possibilities.
‘Let’s make a start,’ he said. ‘We’ll see which direction they’re headed if nothing more.’
Satisfied that they could learn no more at the scene of the crime, Murat gave his agreement to Mark’s suggestion and told Tejas to cut for sign. Quickly the Indian collected his horse and led the way along the tracks left by the departing killers. From the leisurely way the tracks had been made, fear of discovery did not cause them to leave before looting their victim. Nor did they go far. Swinging off through the trees, the tracks halted in cover near the trail. Once again the horses had been left tied to trees or bushes—it had been hair rubbed from their coats along with traces of urine which told the Indian each horse’s color and the fact that one was a mare—while their riders went on foot to watch the trail.
‘Stopped here for a spell,’ Tejas told the others. ‘Maybe hour.’
‘Looks like they were fixing to grab off and rob anybody who come along,’ Bragg growled.
'Or they waited for somebody special,’ Mark went on. ‘Maybe they weren’t after Sam at all.’
‘Whoever it was, they didn’t find him,’ Murat stated. ‘They fetched their horses and rode off.’
‘Go up that way,’ Tejas said, pointing.
‘There’s a nester’s place maybe two mile along the trail,’ Murat commented. ‘Let’s go ask if he’s seen anybody go by.’
‘He should notice six men and a gal passing,’ Mark said as they started to ride in the direction indicated by Tejas Tom. ‘If they’ve still got the gal along.’
‘They took her,’ the Indian replied. ‘Leave her fastened to a tree while wait at side of trail. Then come back for her and hosses.’
While riding along, Tejas Tom had the others help him keep watch for sign of the other party leaving the trail. However there were several places at which Sailor Sam’s killers could have swung off without leaving any tracks, due to the nature of the ground. Certainly they did not take their horses off at any point where sign would show.
The nester showed some surprise at seeing the sheriff’s party ride up to his cabin. However Murat possessed a reputation for fair dealing and was made welcome. Accepting the offer of a cup of coffee, the men dismounted and entered the small cabin. Mark and the others sat around the table while several children hovered in the background and stared wide-eyed at them. When asked if he had seen Sailor Sam’s wagon go by, the nester nodded.
‘Sure did. He stopped here and had a cup of java, seemed a right friendly sort of a jasper and talked real pleasant.’
‘Not anymore,’ Bragg put in bluntly. ‘He’s dead.’
‘The hell you say! And the gal that was with him?’
‘They took the gal along with them,’ Mark told the man.
‘I’m not at all surprised!’ snorted the woman of the house. ‘She looked—’
‘Hush now, Martha!’ the nester said.
‘You knew her, ma’am?’ asked Murat.
‘No. She’s not from these parts, I’d swear. Looked like some fancy woman, headed for Austin to work in a saloon.’
‘She didn’t dress like one,’ objected the nester.
‘Or like a decent woman, in her shirt and pants, or with all that paint and powder on her face!’ his wife answered.
‘She didn’t come back this way with maybe six fellers on horses then?’ Murat inquired.
‘Nope. I’ve been outside here working all afternoon and nobody come by,’ the nester replied.
Studying the man, Mark felt sure that he spoke the truth and had not been paid by Sam’s killers to remain silent. Which meant that the gang must have left the trail at one of the points where their tracks did not show. Only an extensive search, or some luck, would find the tracks where they left the hard ground. Mark knew that making it at such a late hour of the day would be futile.
‘Do you get many wagons coming by here?’ he asked, thinking of the gang’s actions after leaving Sam’s body.
‘Some, mostly neighbors or cooks from trail herds going through,’ the nester replied.
‘Don’t forget that trader who comes through maybe once a month,’ his wife put in. ‘It’s near on time he was coming by.’
‘Trader, ma’am?’ Mark repeated.
‘Hell yes!’ ejaculated the nester. ‘Him. Why sure. Say, he’s a feller with a beard and used a four hoss wagon just like that the cook this morning drove.’
Seven – More Visitors for Mr. Counter
The nester’s comment brought Mark and Murat’s eyes to him, then they looked at each other. Both saw the implications of the man’s words. An entirely new field of conjecture opened for them.
‘Do you know him, this trader, Jules?’
‘I can’t say I do, Mark. They come and go. Unless they break the law, or I had dealings with them before I took on this sheriff’s chore, I wouldn’t likely get to know any trader.’
‘But he looked something like Sam,’ Mark said. ‘Maybe not much alike, but enough for those jaspers to’ve made a mistake.
‘They stopped Sam and made him drive off the trail Why’d they do that?’
‘So’s they could rob him without being seen,’ Bragg suggested. ‘Most folks in Texas take a mighty poor view of robbing going on in plain daylight.’
‘Then why take him down there and start searching?’ asked Mark. ‘Why didn’t they just up and drive off with the whole wagon-load.’
‘Could be they wanted to know something from the feller they thought Sam to be,’ guessed Murat. ‘Took him down by the river to start asking. Only Sam jumped them and got hisself shot before they had chance to start.’
‘That fits,’ Mark agreed. ‘When he’d been shot, they searched the wagon and must’ve guessed they’d picked the wrong man. So they went back to the trail and waited again.’
‘Then maybe saw my posse in the distance and lit out,’ Murat finished. ‘We came on to the trail between where they watched the first and second times, so we missed finding the place where they waited for the feller they wanted.’
‘As soon as the burying’s done tomorrow, we’ll start looking,’ Mark said.
‘I’ll have Tejas out at dawn to see what he can find,’ Murat promised.
‘How about Banker Snodgrass?’ asked Mark.
‘How about him?’ countered the sheriff.
‘He’ll expect you to be hunting for whoever robbed him.’
‘Likely. Only I rate murder and the abduction of a girl a whole heap more pressing and serious than the theft of money. Besides, he’s got all that high-priced Pinkerton help to do his hunting.’
'You couldn't be a mite jealous, now could you, Jules?’ Mark grinned.
‘Nope,’ Murat answered with a smile twisting at his lips. ‘But I figure any man who hires private law shouldn't expect the local peace officers to bust a gut helping him when he gets robbed. Say, I hear that you had a mishap with one of the Pink-eyes, Mark.’
‘It was all their fool fault!’ Bragg snorted.
‘So I heard,’ Murat said complacently. ‘Only, was I you, I’d watch them, Mark. They won’t forget what you did to their man.’
‘I’ll watch,’ Mark promised. ‘Let’s get moving, shall we?’
‘Sure,’ agreed Murat. ‘Thanks for the java, ma’am.’
While riding back in the direction of Austin, Mark turned to the sheriff. ‘I wonder if they’ve still got the gal with them, Jules?’
‘Likely. They’ll not kill her unless they have to.’
‘That’s for sure,’ Mark admitted.
Killing a woman, even one not regarded as socially-acceptable, ranked among the most heinous crimes out West. Any man who did so could expect to be hunted down without mercy. Every hand would be against him, even other outlaws declined to accept a woman-killer in their midst. So Sailor Sam’s killers would keep the girl alive as long as possible.
‘If she is a saloon gal, they might talk her round to forgetting what she’s seen,’ Murat remarked.
‘And she'll make a dandy hostage should the law
start crowding them, or get them pinned down someplace,’ Mark went on. ‘Should we catch up to them, we’ll have to handle things careful to keep her alive.’
‘What happens if we can’t find their tracks?’ Bragg demanded.
‘I’ll telegraph every town and stage relay station in the area, ask them to watch for half-a-dozen riders and a girl, some of the fellers looking like they’ve been in a fist-fight,’ Murat replied.
‘And if nothing comes of it?’ insisted the foreman.
‘I’ll get word to Dusty and the Kid,’ Mark stated. ‘Then we’ll drift up San Saba way and look in on the Wycliffes.’
‘You’re still set on it being them, Mark?’ asked the sheriff.
‘Sure enough, Jules,’ Mark answered. ‘Only I figure there’s more chance of me learning something happen I take a couple of friends along to watch my back when I start asking.’
On their return to town, Mark and Bragg put up their horses at the livery barn. Its owner, an old and trusted friend, complained with salty bitterness at their lack of success and heaped curses on the heads of Sam’s killers. Then he offered to hold the two men’s rifles with the saddles that night ready for use in the morning. After attending to their mounts and locking the rifles away, the owner pointed to a bunch of lathered horses which his help cleaned up after hard use.
‘Damned Pink-eye sneaks!’ he grunted with all the contempt of a Texan for men who neglected their horses. ‘They’ve been out all day trying to find whoever robbed Snodgrass and come back in all pot-boiling mad ’cause they couldn’t pick up a track.’
‘It won’t do them city jaspers any harm to get out and breath good Texas air,’ Bragg grinned.
‘Sure won’t,’ agreed the owner. ‘Only this bunch aren’t appreciating it.’
‘They can allus go back where they come from,’ the foreman commented.
‘Say, Mark,’ the owner said. ‘You killed a bounty hunter called Framant last year, didn’t you?’
‘I figured it was the best thing to do at the time,’ Mark answered, ‘seeing how he was fixing to shoot me.’
