.44 Caliber Man (17 page)

‘
I thought if I roped that horse Miss Jeanie would be pleased,’
Colin told the Texans. ‘No matter what I do, it seems to go
wrong.’

‘
I’d worry about that,’ Dusty replied. ‘Only I figure you’ve
got sense enough to learn from your mistakes. There’s one thing you
can’t do and that’s rope a wild stallion when it’s acting like that
one. It’s got its mind dead set on one thing—’

‘
How’d you like it if you’d got a belly full of love, was set
to go roosting with some pretty lil gal and somebody stopped you?’
Mark interrupted. ‘You’d be some riled, just like the stallion,
likely.’

‘
Any time one comes at the remuda, it’s hot after a mare,’
Dusty went on. ‘If you rope it, it’ll turn on you and a bullet’s
all that’ll stop it.’

‘
I didn’t know,’ Colin admitted. ‘No stallion back home ever
acted that way.’

‘
There’s a big difference,’ Dusty pointed out. ‘These
mustangs’re wild animals, not somebody’s strays. You interfere with
near on any wild critter and it’ll fight back.’

‘
Mind that next time, amigo,’ Mark continued. ‘And don’t worry
about this time. I’ll go along with Dusty, you’re smart enough to
learn from your mistakes.’

At that moment
Jeanie returned and the Texans left to resume their flanking guard.
For a time the girl and Colin rode in silence. Then Jeanie’s sense
of fair play and humor took over and she chuckled. Luckily Colin
realized that she was laughing with, not at, him and took it in a
good spirit. By the time the party made camp for the night, Jeanie
and Colin were on good terms. For the remainder of the day’s
journey she had answered his questions on things they saw, asked
about conditions in Scotland and explained something of the work
ahead.

The Kid rode
into the camp area soon after dark. After caring for his
wild-looking, magnificent white stallion— brought to Fort Sawyer
along with the cattle—he announced that there was still no sign of
pursuit. However he dismissed as unlikely Colin’s suggestion that
the Flores brothers had given up the idea of revenge.

‘
Could be they haven’t got back to Fort Sawyer and learned
we’re gone yet,’ the Kid guessed. ‘One thing you can bet on, amigo.
Once they know we’ve pulled out, they’ll come looking and won’t
rest until they find you.’

In which the
Kid proved a pretty fair judge of the situation, although wrong in
a few small details.

Pushed hard by
the cavalry patrol, the Flores gang had only that night returned to
their hideout on Onion Creek. At about the same time as the Kid was
giving his views on the situation, Matteo Flores walked into the
firelight’s glow. Seated with his back to the wall of the small
cave in which the remains of the gang hid, Tiburcio watched his
brother clean the blade of the machete on his shirtsleeve.

‘
I caught Ramon sneaking off,’ Matteo explained, sheathing the
long-bladed weapon and looking at the five worried faces in the
background. ‘He’s changed his mind about leaving.’

During the
pursuit, two wounded men had been killed by the brothers. Since
then there had been a growing restlessness among the rest of the
gang. Several of the bandidos had managed to slip away. In fact
only six remained with the brothers on their return to Onion Creek.
It seemed that one of those chose to desert.

‘
Do any more of you want to go?’ Tiburcio demanded, coming to
his feet.

Only for a
moment did the five bandidos hesitate with their reply. The
brothers stood in a menacing attitude blocking the only .way out of
the cave. If there was any refusal to stay, its maker would die
before he finished speaking. So a muted, sullen chorus of ‘No’
echoed hollowly from the men.

‘
That’s better,’ Tiburcio growled and sank on to his haunches
again. ‘What did you learn, Matteo?’

While his
brother had come to Onion Creek and set up camp, Matteo went into
the Mexican quarter of Fort Sawyer after information.

‘
Things are going badly for us,’ Matteo answered. ‘Hogan’s been
arrested by the Army and already the peons are saying we’re
finished.’

‘
We’ll show them different when we get some more men,’ Tiburcio
promised.

‘
Only we won’t get them unless we finish the bastard who killed
our brothers and everybody who helped him,’ Matteo pointed
out.

‘
Is he still in town?’

‘
No. There’s a wagon and horses behind the house, but not the
ones we saw when we made the attack. They’ve gone.’

‘
Where to?’

‘
Mustanging. They took the man in the skirt and the blonde
woman from the Black Bear with them.’

‘
Do you know where they went?’ Tiburcio asked.

‘
I asked around,’ Matteo answered. ‘Nobody knows for sure. One
girl said that the Schell family do most of their hunting along the
Ronde River.’

‘
It’s a start,’ Tiburcio admitted. ‘And we have to make one
somewhere. We’ll never get men to join us until we’ve killed the
man in the skirt.’

‘
I want him,’ Matteo snarled. ‘The bastard shot my horse. I’ll
tear his guts out for that.’

‘
Well have to find him first,’ Tiburcio reminded. ‘Let’s sleep
now and then start for the Ronde River country in the
morning.’

At dawn, the
gang set out. With their horses tired by the exertions of the past
few days, Tiburcio knew that they could not hope to catch up to the
Schell party as long as it kept moving. Trying to find and follow
their tracks would also be too slow a process for him. That point
was emphasized when another of the gang slipped away on the second
night out of Onion Creek. Taking the warning, Tiburcio made the
remaining four responsible for each other. He threatened to shoot
any man who tried to desert and kill those left behind should one
succeed in departing while he and Matteo slept. That prevented any
further drain on their numbers. Going in a straight line for the
lower reaches of the Ronde River, Tiburcio turned north and headed
up-stream. In that way they ought to strike their quarry’s tracks
and be led to it.

Mile after mile
fell behind them without a sign of the Schell party. Even Matteo’s
patience was wearing thin, while Tiburcio grew more morose and
dangerous by the day. None of the gang showed any pleasure at the
sight of a small, ruined, deserted village.

‘
We’ll rest up here for a couple of days,’ Tiburcio decided,
looking at the two lines of tumble-down adobe shacks and the
roofless wreck of a small church. ‘There might be food and, anyway,
the horses need the rest.’

Hiding their
horses in the buildings, the men searched the village without
finding anything edible or worth stealing. However they decided to
stay on, for they could do some hunting to replenish their supply
of meat. Towards nightfall, Matteo rose and picked up his Spencer
rifle. Before he left the shack, he halted and peered through the
window.

‘
A rider’s coming,’ he announced. ‘One man. A mestenero from
the look of him.’

Joining his
brother, Tiburcio watched the man draw nearer. Big, thickset, he
slouched in the saddle of a bay gelding. He rode with his head bent
forward, the brim of the sombrero hiding his face. A serape hung
across his shoulders, and he wore vaquero dress, with a revolver
and knife at his belt. When the brothers stepped from the shack,
the bay snorted. Jerking erect, the man started to grab at his gun
but shot his hands into the air at the sight of the lined weapons.
His surly, coarse face had a split, swollen lip and discolored
eye.

‘
I’m only a poor m—’ he began.

‘
Who do you work for, mestenero?’ Tiburcio
interrupted.

‘
Nobody. I worked for the Schells until a son-of-a-whore
wearing a skirt attacked me and ran me off.’

The words saved
the man’s life. Holstering his gun, Tiburcio gave a friendly
chuckle and waved a hand towards the shack. ‘Get down, mestenero.
If you hate the man in the skirt, you are among friends.’

‘
Hate the bastard!’ the man spat out. ‘I’ll tear his heart out
and leave it for the buzzards.’

‘
Will you show us where their camp is?’ Matteo
demanded.

‘
I would,’ the mestenero answered. ‘Only I don’t think there’ll
be any need.’

‘
Why not?’ Tiburcio growled.

‘
I’ve been hid in a clump of mesquite most of the day with a
large band of Indians making medicine not half a mile from
me.’

‘
Indians?’ Tiburcio breathed.

‘
Renegade Tejas mostly, maybe a hundred or more of them,’ the
mestenero elaborated. ‘From the way they were headed when they rode
off, they’ll run right into the Schells’ camp.’

‘
Not much farther now,’ Ma commented as the men gathered by the
wagon for the noon meal on the seventh day out from Fort Sawyer.
‘Our boys’ll be camped down on the Owl Fork.’

‘
How about me going on ahead, Ma?’ Jeanie suggested. ‘I’ve got
to tell Fernàn that he’s a father—again.’

‘
Go to it,’ Ma smiled.

‘
Why’n’t you come along, Colin?’ the girl continued and eyed
the three Texans at the fire with mock disgust. ‘It’s time these OD
Connected yahoos did some work instead of just riding the
rims.’

‘
Aye, that it is,’ Colin agreed. ‘How about it, Ma? I may be
able to shoot another elk or something on the way.’

‘
Go to it,’ Ma grinned. ‘I reckon Dusty and Mark can handle the
remuda.’

‘
Why don’t you come and help us, April?’ Mark
inquired.

‘
You know what you can do with your horses,’ the blonde
snorted. ‘I’m a big city gal and I just can’t wait to get back to
one.’

‘
Now that’s a pity,’ Ma chuckled. ‘I was going to ask you to
take on as cook for the outfit.’

Since leaving
Fort Sawyer, April had handled the cooking to everybody’s
satisfaction. It had been several years since she prepared food in
such primitive conditions, but she still remembered the best ways
of doing so. However her reply to Ma’s offer was blunt, to the
point and reaffirmed her desire to return to her old way of life as
soon as possible.

Letting Jeanie
carry his Henry in the mare’s saddleboot, Colin picked up his
powerful double-barreled rifle. Twice he had used the heavy weapon
to bring down game, a buffalo bull and an elk falling to it. With
the rifle resting on his knees, he rode away from the camp at the
girl’s side.

They saw no
game on the journey and at last Jeanie reined in her horse on a
rim. Halting at her side, Colin looked down at the mestenero’s
camp. It lay in the hollow of a U-shaped bend in a wide stream. At
the bottom of the bend was a large corral with a number of horses
in it. Beyond the corral stood a wagon, with a line of horses
picketed along from it. Twenty-five or so Mexicans were gathered
around a fire, squatting on their haunches and eating a meal served
by a fat, jovial cook.

‘
Those horses are moving in a strange manner,’ Colin commented.
‘They look lame to me.’

‘
They’re all right,’ Jeanie replied. ‘It’s just that they’ve
got sarprimas on. Ole Raoul’s done good bringing this many
in.’

Advancing down
the slope, Jeanie felt surprised that none of the mesteneros came
forward to greet her; not even Fernàn, the fat, happy cook. He at
least ought to be showing interest in her arrival. Followed by
Colin, she rode down the slope and across the stream. While still
wading through the water, Jeanie became aware of two details.
Raoul, the segundo, was not present and the sarprimas on the horses
had been secured in the wrong manner.

There were two
ways of fixing a sarprima, a means of quietening down captured wild
horses. The one insisted on by Trader Schell had been to girth the
horse’s body with a rawhide thong from which a strap coupled to the
ankle of a front foot, in such a manner that it could use the foot
when walking slowly but was brought down if it tried to run. Jeanie
saw that the horses did not have that kind of sarprima. Instead the
rope was passed around the animal’s lower throat, between the
forelegs and fastened to a hind fetlock, drawing the hoof from the
ground. The girl knew this was a far more dangerous method than the
first.

Nor did the
flouting of her late father’s orders end there. A block of wood
hung from each horse’s foretop, free to swing and bang its face
when it moved.

Hot with anger,
Jeanie dismounted and flung her reins to Colin. Then she stalked
around the wagon and towards the fire. Fernàn started to move
forward, but the big, surly-looking man leaning against the side of
the wagon scowled at him and he halted in his tracks.

‘
Where’s Raoul?’ Jeanie snapped, speaking Spanish with the ease
of her native tongue.

‘
He had an accident,’ the surly man answered. ‘His horse fell
and rolled on him. So I took over.’

Turning her
eyes towards the speaker, Jeanie studied him coldly. Luis Cijar was
a troublemaker who her father had only hired because he had urgent
need of an extra man. Of all the mesteneros, he had been the one
she expected to make trouble on learning that Kenny was not with
them. Moving from the wagon, he confronted the girl and grinned
truculently at her. Jeanie stiffened slightly. To show weakness at
that moment would mean a loss of control over the men.