Chancy’s thoughts drifted to Missy Burke. He yearned to see her again, but that was out of the question. He couldn’t go near Prosperity without being shot. He imagined she’d be safe, since the ladies weren’t part of the gang. But he worried for her anyway, and fell into a sulk.
The hands not on herd duty had heard the shots and were saddling horses to come to their aid. Ben Rigenaw, in fact, was about to climb on a big bay when they rode in. Several asked questions all at once but fell silent when Lucas Stout held up his hand.
“Save those for later. Right now I want Ben to collect everyone on herd. Every last hand. There’s things I have to say, and we have to do it quick. We can’t leave the cattle unprotected.”
Without so much as a word, Rigenaw rode off.
Ollie lent Chancy a hand in easing Finger Howard off and helped bear him to the chuck wagon. Old Charlie wasn’t just the cook; he was their nurse, and he spread out a blanket for Finger, then shooed them away.
Chancy went to the fire and filled his tin cup from the pot Old Charlie never let run empty, and squatted.
Ollie imitated him. “We’re in for it now, aren’t we?”
“Those owl-hoots will be out for blood,” Chancy predicted.
“Whoever heard of a town of bad men?” Ollie said. “A whole town! And them being so sneaky about it.”
“What else would they do? Put out a signing saying ‘Bring your cattle and we’ll steal them’?”
Ollie laughed. “That would be plumb dumb, and they’re not that. My ma used to say that outlaws are like foxes after chickens. They have to be smart about it or they’ll never get into the coop.”
“Your ma is smart herself.”
“That she is,” Ollie said fondly. “I can’t wait to see her again. Her and Pa and my brothers and sisters. I miss them fierce some days.”
“To see them you have to stay alive,” Chancy said. “So you be extra careful from here on out, you hear me?”
“What else would I be?”
“I know you. You’re too easygoing. Too trusting.”
“Shucks, pard. I’m not a dimwit,” Ollie said, sounding hurt. “That time a bear was after me, I knew to run away. And I stomped a rattlesnake to death once. It was a little one, but it still took a lot of stomping.”
“Now we have owl-hoots to stomp.”
Lucas Stout made the same point when the rest of the hands got there. They sat in pairs: Chancy with Ollie, Rigenaw with Lester Smith, Addy with Mays, Drew Case next to Long Tom, Parker and Webb, Lafferty by Collins. Jelly sat alone because Finger was over at the chuck wagon with Old Charlie.
Lucas Stout got right to it with “I called all of you together because you have a decision to make. You know about the outlaws. They won’t let us leave. They want our cattle and they’ll kill every man Jack here to get them.”
“Let them try!” Jelly Varnes said.
“We’ll blow them to hell,” Drew Case snarled.
Stout continued. “None of you signed up for something like this. You signed up to drive cattle, not swap lead with a pack of killers.”
“They picked the wrong outfit to tangle with,” Long Tom said.
“They get our cows over our dead bodies,” young Mays called out.
Lucas Stout coughed. “I’m the trail boss. The herd is my responsibility. I’ll die protecting it if I have to. But I won’t force you to do the same. Each of you has to ask himself if you’re willing to die for the brand as well. Because that’s what it will come down to. It will be them or us. And don’t expect them to come at us straight up. These are vicious man-killers. They’ll shoot us from ambush. Try any trick they can think of. You might not even hear the shot that kills you.”
“I’ll hear it,” Ollie said. “I have real good ears.”
More than a few mouths crinkled in grins and smiles.
“My point,” Stout said, “is that each of you must make up your own mind whether to stay and fight, or go. I won’t hold it against you if you leave.”
“How can you say such a thing?” Rigenaw asked, sounding offended.
“Do you reckon we’re paper-backed?” Addy said.
“There’s not a man here I’m not proud to work with,” Lucas Stout said. “But I won’t force you to take part in what comes next. It’s do or die, and whether you stay or not should be up to you.” He paused. “So here’s your chance. Anyone who wants, light a shuck, and no hard feelings.”
No one moved.
“Don’t feel embarrassed if you want to go,” Stout persisted. “It’s better to be breathing than dead.”
Chancy stayed put. He was worried, sure, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he deserted his pard and his friends. Plus, there was Missy to consider. Somehow he was going to see her again.
“No takers?” Lucas Stout said.
Jelly Varnes pushed to his feet. “I can’t speak for the rest of these hombres, but I’ll tell you something, trail boss. I’m insulted you ask. I signed on to do a job. To take this herd to Wichita. To stick at it through thick and thin. Storms, drought, hostiles, what have you. They come with the work. Outlaws too.”
“Exactly right,” Drew Case said.
Jelly wasn’t done. “These vermin are out for our blood and you want us to tuck tail? To go around with a yellow streak down our backs for the rest of our days?” He shook his head. “A man doesn’t let others ride roughshod over him. A man doesn’t let them take what isn’t theirs. A man stands up for himself, and for the things he believes in. He does what needs doing, and that’s all there is to it.”
Chancy found himself nodding along with a lot of the others. Someone even clapped.
“I shot three of those buzzards today,” Jelly concluded. “And I get to shoot a lot more before this is done. Let them come after our cattle. They’ll find out that when you tangle with cowboys, you bleed.”
Lucas Stout appeared deeply moved. He looked at each and every one of them, and said, almost hoarsely, “Well, then. It’s settled. We’re going to war.”
Chapter 34
Stars speckled the night sky. A wind out of the northwest rustled the grass, and somewhere an owl hooted.
By the position of the Big Dipper, Chancy reckoned it was close to midnight. Another five hours of riding herd to go.
“That was some speech, wasn’t it?” Ollie remarked. “Jelly got all of us raring to spill blood.”
Chancy wouldn’t go that far. He was determined to do what he could to thwart the outlaws, but he wasn’t as bloodthirsty as Jelly and some of the others.
“You’ve been awful quiet.”
“I have a lot on my mind,” Chancy said.
“Would that ‘lot’ have the first name of Missy and the last name of Burke?”
“Ha-ha,” Chancy said.
“You want to be with her. I don’t blame you. If I had a chance with a lady as fine as she is, I’d be pining too.”
“I’m not pining.”
“You sure are prickly. And that’s a sign that you’re pining. Prickly and pining go together, my ma always says.”
“She says a lot. Or else you’re making that up.”
“I’d never,” Ollie said.
Out of the darkness came a low laugh.
“Talk a little louder, why don’t you, you lunkheads? They probably can’t hear you in Prosperity.”
Chancy came to a stop.
A pair of riders were sitting their horses, the younger one with his hat pushed back.
“Addy and Mays,” Ollie said, drawing rein.
“Who else?” Mays said. “We’re riding herd together, ain’t we?”
“In pairs,” Ollie said. “The boss made it clear we’re not to do anything alone until this is over.”
“You do as Stout tells you,” Addy said. “Stout knows what he’s doing.�
�� He gazed toward the distant town. Only a few lights gleamed, as late as it was. “This is bad, boys. As bad as it gets.”
“They’re just outlaws,” Mays scoffed.
“They’re killers,” Addy said. “Some of them anyway. And you should never take a man who will kill you lightly.”
“We have killers of our own,” Mays said. “Jelly and Rigenaw. Drew Case shot somebody once too, I heard.”
“My pard is a good shot,” Ollie bragged.
“You ever shot anybody, Gantry?” Mays asked.
Chancy was thinking of Missy and how he would dearly love to be sharing a drink with her at the saloon. “I’m no gun hand.”
“He shot a snake once,” Ollie said. “Best shot I ever saw.”
“A snake?” Mays said, and snickered.
“There are snakes and there are snakes,” Addy said. “The serpents we’re up against have two legs and fangs that can shoot you full of lead. It could happen at any time, so don’t let down your guard.”
“Are you trying to scare us?” Ollie said.
“If you’re not already, you should be,” Addy replied. “Fear keeps us on edge when we need to be the most.”
“All it makes me want to do is worry,” Ollie said.
Addy raised his reins. “Well, we’d better get back to work. It’s not wise to bunch up like this. Stout wouldn’t like it.”
“Be seeing you,” Mays said.
Their silhouettes melted into the ink of the night.
“That was short,” Ollie said.
“Addy is right,” Chancy said. “We shouldn’t all be in one spot. The owl-hoots can pick us off too easy.”
They reined around and resumed their guard, the cattle on their left, open prairie on the other side. The longhorns had long since bedded down. Only a few were moving about. Here and there one lowed or snorted.
“It’s peaceable, the sounds cows make,” Ollie said contentedly. “I sure do like this work. I can’t think of anything I’d rather be than a cowboy.”
“How about a rancher with your own herd and a spread as big as New Jersey?”
“New what?”
“It’s a state back East.”
“Oh. I never paid much attention to what they are called. Or to anything else east of the Mississippi River.”
“Why not?”
“They live a whole different life than we do.”
“People are people,” Chancy said.
“Some are good and some are bad. Even I know that. And come tomorrow we’ll be up against some of the worst.” Ollie was silent for all of a minute, then said, “Do you reckon the trail boss is right and they’ll hit us in the morning with their guns blazing?”
“Could be,” Chancy said. “Pretty near fifty of those vultures and only fifteen of us. That’s three to one. Remember to keep low and don’t do anything reckless. I don’t want to have to break in a new pard.”
“I’ll do my best to stay alive,” Ollie said. “But I wasn’t joshing about being worried. I’m scared, Chancy. More scared than I’ve ever been.”
“That’s normal.”
“What kind of world is it where people are out to kill you over a bunch of cows?”
“They’re out to kill us over the sixty thousand dollars they’ll get for selling those cows,” Chancy amended.
“Why can’t folks get along? Me, I could go my whole life without hurting a soul and be happy as can be.”
“You’re a good man, Oliver Teal,” Chancy said, and meant it.
“I suppose that counts for something,” Ollie said. “But between you and me, what good does being good do if it gets you killed?”
“A parson would say that being good was its own reward.”
“I bet that parson never had outlaws out for his blood,” Ollie said. “All he has to fret about is the Devil.”
“There are human devils too,” Chancy said.
Chapter 35
Lucas Stout had everyone up and ready to head out before daybreak. His plan was to drive the herd to the north until the town was out of sight, then swing east to the main trail to Kansas.
Everyone was to check that their sidearms and rifles were loaded. Partners were to stick together. Since Finger was laid up in the chuck wagon, Jelly Varnes would ride with Stout. Ben Rigenaw and Lester Smith, along with Chancy and Ollie, were to bring up the rear and give warning if the outlaws streamed out of Prosperity to try to stop them from leaving.
Chancy thought it was a good plan. They had enough rifles that even though they were outnumbered, they might be able to drive the outlaws off.
“How come we’re at the back?” Ollie asked anxiously. “We’re not gun hands like Ben Rigenaw.”
“Few of us are,” Chancy said.
“Jelly should be back here. Not us.”
“Stout wants a shooter at the front too.”
Gnawing his lip, Ollie stared toward town. “They won’t let us go. You know that, don’t you?”
“Have a little confidence.” Chancy sought to cheer him up.
No sooner had a golden arch crowned the horizon than they were under way. Usually the cattle were allowed to string out, but today the punchers kept the herd tightly bunched, the better to control them.
Chancy tried not to think of Missy Burke, and couldn’t. Every step of his horse took him farther from her, and from any likelihood of the two of them getting to know each other better. That he hadn’t been able to go back to see her was like a rock in the pit of his stomach.
He’d thought about asking Lucas Stout if they could take her along, but he knew what the answer would be. The trail boss would brand the notion preposterous. So would a lot of the others. A woman on a trail drive? And with a fight coming? They’d laugh him to scorn.
Chancy had no choice. He must leave with the rest and hope he would somehow see Missy again. Maybe if he got word to her, sent her a letter, she could come to Wichita. It was the only straw he had, and he clutched at the idea like a man caught in a flood clinging to a log.
Ollie kept twisting in his saddle to look back. After they had gone about a quarter of a mile, he smiled and said, “I reckon we were worried over nothing. There’s no one after us.”
He spoke too soon.
They hadn’t gone another hundred yards when riders galloped out of town toward the herd.
“Get set, boys,” Rigenaw called out, and fired a shot into the air to warn Lucas Stout, as Stout had instructed him to do before they started out.
Chancy counted ten outlaws. He wondered why the other thirty or so weren’t with them, and speculated that maybe these ten were the best shots, or those with the most grit.
Ollie was wondering something similar because he said, “How do they figure to stop us with so few?”
“Ten is still a lot when there’s only fifteen of us.”
The flankers on the herd were watching the outlaws too. Drew Case raised his rifle, but the owl-hoots were too far off yet.
Soon Lucas Stout came riding back, Jelly Varnes at his side.
The pack of two-legged wolves had slowed well out of rifle range and were matching the herd’s pace.
“What do you make of that, boss?” Ollie asked.
It was Jelly who answered. “They’re afraid to tangle with us after yesterday. Bluff and bluster, the whole bunch.”
“Or they could be up to something,” Ben Rigenaw said.
Jelly reached down and patted his rifle in its scabbard. “Let them try. I’ll drop two or three and the rest will tuck tail.”
“I never have understood that,” Ollie said. “People don’t have tails. Dogs and cats and cows do, but not us. So how can we tuck them?”
Jelly looked at him. “Are you serious?”
“About what?” Ollie said.
“The saying is about
our other tail,” Chancy said.
“The ones on our horses?”
“Enough about tails,” Lucas Stout said curtly. “Keep an eye on them and if they come any closer, send a holler up the line.”
“Count on it,” Rigenaw said.
Lucas Stout rode back. Jelly went to follow, then glanced at Ollie. “You shouldn’t be let loose without a leash.”
“How would that do me any good?” Ollie said.
Jelly snorted and trotted after Lucas Stout.
“Varnes is prickly today,” Ollie commented.
Chancy reflected that all of them were on edge. With good cause. He developed a crick in his neck from looking back so much. To relieve the discomfort, he shifted in his saddle so he was half-turned, his hand on his Colt.
“Is that Ira Reid?” Ollie suddenly said.
Chancy squinted against the glare of the sun. “Damned if it isn’t,” he said. He saw no sign of Krine or Ives or the mayor, and mentioned as much.
“You’d think they would tag along, them being in charge, and all,” Ollie observed. “Maybe Jelly was right and they’re yellow.”
Chancy doubted that was the case. Ives had impressed him as one of those men who didn’t know the meaning of fear. Krine had a hardness about him that suggested he didn’t either. Mayor Broom didn’t strike him as particularly courageous, but there was no telling how brave someone was until he was put to the test. For all he knew, Broom was a hellion when he had to be.
“What’s that?” Ollie said, and pointed to the northeast.
Not quite a mile off, a dust cloud was being raised by a lot of riders. They were parallel with the herd but would soon be past it.
“It must be the other outlaws,” Chancy realized.
“They get ahead of us, we’ll have outlaws at the front and the back,” Ollie said. “This is about to get bad, isn’t it, pard?”
“Very bad,” Chancy said.
Chapter 36
Lucas Stout must have thought so too. He called a halt, then had the flankers on the west move to the front of the herd while the flankers on the east reinforced the hands at the rear.
Every last cowboy unlimbered his rifle.
Ralph Compton Outlaw Town Page 13
