Read Across the Rio Colorado Online
Authors: Ralph Compton
Across the Rio Colorado (15 page)
“Back to your wagons,” said McQuade. “There's nothing more we can do tonight. In the morning, we'll see to them, doing what we must.”
McQuade helped Mary into the wagon, helping her strip off the sodden gown. To his surprise, he realized he was barefooted, wearing only his drawers. Stripping them off, he used them to wipe the mud from his feet. Rolling in the blanket next to Mary, he found her weeping. He lay there holding her close until she finally slept, but for him, there was no rest. Strong on his mind was the Henderson wagon, and the charred remains within that awaited them, come the dawn.
M
ost of Hook's camp, Creeker, his men, and the teamsters, had to weather the storm as best they could. Mostly, they hunkered under wagons. There was one hilarious moment, however, when Hook lost his tent. Once the ground had grown sodden from the torrential rain, the storm-bred wind had gotten beneath the tent, ripping the stakes loose. The tent was swept away into the sky, leaving Hook standing there cursing. Dawn broke without any end of the rain in sight.
ost of Hook's camp, Creeker, his men, and the teamsters, had to weather the storm as best they could. Mostly, they hunkered under wagons. There was one hilarious moment, however, when Hook lost his tent. Once the ground had grown sodden from the torrential rain, the storm-bred wind had gotten beneath the tent, ripping the stakes loose. The tent was swept away into the sky, leaving Hook standing there cursing. Dawn broke without any end of the rain in sight.
“Damn it,” Groat moaned, “we'll be stuck here a week, waitin' for the sun to dry up all this mud.”
But the rain slacked to a drizzle, and by early afternoon the sky had begun to clear. With help from some of the teamsters, Hook rescued his wayward tent from a tree. The men were in a better frame of mind by supper time, for just a few hours of sun had begun to dry the ground. After supper, Hook spoke to Hedgepith, and the two entered the tent, where Hook lighted a lantern.
“Hedgepith,” said Hook, “I want you to destroy any and all papers entitling Lora Kirby to a land grant in Texas. Any other promises I may have made in writing, I want voided and destroyed. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Hedgepith replied, “but I disagree with you. The grant you have promised her depends on her proving up. If she failsâwhich she willâthen the grant reverts
to you. Excluding her will mean one less grant. I can't see hurting us financially, just because your personal relationship with her has gone to hell.”
to you. Excluding her will mean one less grant. I can't see hurting us financially, just because your personal relationship with her has gone to hell.”
Hedgepith was caught totally off guard by Hook's reaction. His right fist smashed into the lawyer's chin, tipping over the stool and spilling Hedgepith to the ground.
“My relationships are none of your damn business,” Hook snarled, “and only through my generosity are you sharing anything with me. I'm considering reducing your share, and it's becoming a temptation not to cut you out of it completely.”
“You'll never do that,” said Hedgepith, sitting up and wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “I gave up my practice in St. Louis, just on your word, and you're going to keep it. Perhaps I can't make you, but I can make you wish you had.”
“Are you threating me, you damn fool?” When Hook laughed, it was evil and without humor. “There'll
be
no law in Texas, except what I allow. I can put an end to all your legal hocus-pocus with a little piece of lead.”
be
no law in Texas, except what I allow. I can put an end to all your legal hocus-pocus with a little piece of lead.”
Xavier Hedgepith said no more. He got to his feet and left the tent, and nobody within the camp seemed aware of the hard words between himself and Hook. And that suited Hedgepith perfectly.
When the rain had ceased, McQuade and some of the other men contemplated what remained of the Henderson wagon.
“It's only fittin' and proper that we do somethin' for them,” said Ike, “but I purely got no stomach for siftin' through them ashes.”
“We have plenty of shovels,” McQuade said. “Why don't we all pitch in and cover the remains with dirt? The earth is soft from the rain, and we can still bury them deep.”
“I believe that's best,” said Will Haymes.
The others nodded their agreement, and they all took turns with the shovels. Within two hours they had a
mound that would soon grass over, a grave more suitable than any of them had thought possible. Mary brought Miles Flanagan's bible, and Ike Peyton read appropriate passages from it.
mound that would soon grass over, a grave more suitable than any of them had thought possible. Mary brought Miles Flanagan's bible, and Ike Peyton read appropriate passages from it.
“It was them that was taken and us that was spared,” said Ike, in closing, “and this ought to be as much a giving of thanks as a memorial to the Hendersons.”
Despite the clearing skies and sunshine, there was a sadness, a sense of loss, that had descended upon them like a shroud. Most of the men occupied their time by taking the horses and mules to graze, but there was little for the women to do until supper time.
“We need to leave this place as soon as we can,” Gunter Warnell observed. “We can't forget what happened here, as long as we're right on top of it.”
“I've been thinking the same thing,” said McQuade. “Maybe we ought to keep to high ground as much as we can, and move on in the morning.”
“Let's gamble on it,” Cal Tabor said. “I'd rather be fightin' the mud than just sittin' here waiting.”
Rufus Hook spent the day in his tent, even after the skies had cleared and the sun had come out. He appeared briefly at supper, ignoring everybody and being ignored in turn. As had become the custom in Indian Territory, supper fires were extinguished before dark, and Hook no longer used a lantern. There was no movement within the camp until far in the night, when Lora Kirby slipped away to her rendezvous with Riley Creeker. But while Creeker and the girl talked of the future in Texas, a shadow crept toward the tent where Rufus Hook slept. Ever so stealthily it moved, and in its right hand the starlight glinted off the blade of a long knife â¦
When everybody had eaten breakfast and Hook hadn't appeared, Ampersand went to the tent and called to Hook. When his appeals went unanswered, the elderly Negro
opened the flap and looked inside. With a terrified shriek, he turned and ran.
opened the flap and looked inside. With a terrified shriek, he turned and ran.
“What the hell's goin' on?” Groat demanded.
Ampersand couldn't speak. He pointed toward the tent with a shaking hand. Creeker, Groat, and Ellis went to investigate. When they stepped out of the tent, everybody in the party had gathered, wondering what had happened.
“Hook's dead,” said Creeker. “Somebody slit his throat from ear to ear.”
“Them damn Indians,” Hiram Savage said.
“I don't think so,” said Creeker. “We had the wagons circled, with plenty of men on watch, and there ain't that much cover around us.”
“You're sayin' it was one of us that done him in?” said Snakehead Presnall.
“That's exactly what I'm sayin',” Creeker replied.
“We got no law, no proof,” said Slaughter, one of the teamsters, “and there's nothing we can do for Hook. What's to become of Hook's wagons and goods, and who's goin' to pay us, when we reach Texas?”
“Nothing has changed,” Xavier Hedgepith said. “Hook and I had an agreement that if anything should happen to him, I would follow through with his plans.”
“Damned convenient for you,” said Creeker.
“Are you accusing me?” Hedgepith snarled.
“Take it any way you like,” said Creeker.
“McQuade and his party should be told of Hook's death,” Doctor Puckett said.
“No,” Hedgepith said. “Insofar as the grants are concerned, nothing has changed. All the administrative work would have been done by me, not Hook. I will act on behalf of all, including McQuade's party. For the time being, what he doesn't know won't hurt him. We have a duty to see that Mr. Hook is properly buried. Will some of you be responsible for the digging of a grave?”
“Long as we're gettin' paid,” said Slaughter. “Hansard, will you help?”
“Yeah,” said Hansard. “I'll help.”
Creeker began saddling his horse, getting Hedgepith's attention.
“Where are you going?” Hedgepith demanded.
“These Indians are gettin' so bold, I'm goin' to look around for some sign,” Creeker replied.
The sarcasm wasn't lost on Hedgepith, but he said no more. With the mud, there was no possible way they could take the trail anytime soon, and Hedgepith wished to be rid of Creeker and his suspicions. Creeker rode north until he was well away from the wagons, and he then rode southwest, the direction they must later travel.
“I think we'll make this a short day, because of the wet ground,” McQuade said, as he prepared to scout ahead. “When you take the trail, keep to the high ground as much as you can.”
With that, McQuade rode out. The condition of the ground was such that if Indians had been near since the rain ended, there would be tracks. McQuade had been gone only a short time, when Ike Peyton, in one of the lead wagons, shouted the caravan to a halt. A hundred yards ahead of them, a rider had trotted his horse out of the brush. He sat facing them, his hands shoulder-high, and shouted a question.
“Where's McQuade?”
“Who wants him, and for what purpose?” Ike inquired.
“This is Creeker, and I have some information for him. I'm alone, and I'm peaceful.”
“McQuade's scoutin' ahead,” said Ike, “and he's been gone only a few minutes.”
“I'll catch up to him, then,” Creeker said. “I'm obliged.” He quickly galloped away.
“What in tarnation is that all about?” Gunter Warnell wondered.
“I got an idea we'll know, after he talks to McQuade,” said Ike. “It sure didn't hurt, us helpin' Creeker and his bunch escape them Indians. Makes me wonder if somethin'
big ain't took place in Hook's camp that McQuade ought to know.”
big ain't took place in Hook's camp that McQuade ought to know.”
Creeker rode on, expecting McQuade to challenge him, and McQuade did.
“That's far enough, until I know who you are. You're covered.”
“I'm Creeker, and I have some information for you.”
Leading his horse, McQuade stepped out of some brush and waited for Creeker to join him. Creeker dismounted, and quickly related to McQuade what had happened to Hook, and Hedgepith's intention of taking over.
“I reckon we've swapped the devil for a witch,” said McQuade.
“You think there's goin' to be trouble with Hedgepith, once we reach Texas, then?” Creeker said.
“Probably more than we'd have ever had with Hook,” McQuade replied. “What do you think?”
“I think you're dead right,” said Creeker. “Even before Hook was killed, me and my bunch was mostly mindin' our business, with plans of our own, when we get to Texas. Now, with Hedgepith in the saddle, that's all the more important.”
“Hook had plans for you there,” McQuade said, “and you're expecting Hedgepith to try and hold you to them.”
“Hook had plans, made legal by Hedgepith, to claim grants in the names of every man of us, and then, for little or nothing, have us sign the grants over to him. While I can't speak for Hook's teamsters and the rest of his followers, those of us you cut loose from the Indians are taking our grants. Without law any closer than Mexico, that lawyer stuff of Hedgepith's ain't worth the paper he wrote it on.”
“That's exactly the way the rest of us feel,” said McQuade. “We've all been expecting a showdown with Hook, once we reached Texas. Now it looks like the showdown may become a bigger fight than any of us expected. But I believe we should play our cards close until
we get to Texas. We still have Kiowa ahead of us, and beyond them, the Comanches, so we're in no position to challenge Hedgepith. I aim to see that my party knows what I've just learned from you, but we'll say or do nothing to warn Hedgepith.”
we get to Texas. We still have Kiowa ahead of us, and beyond them, the Comanches, so we're in no position to challenge Hedgepith. I aim to see that my party knows what I've just learned from you, but we'll say or do nothing to warn Hedgepith.”
“That's the way we're goin' to play it,” Creeker said. “If Hedgepith comes up with anything you should know, I'll get word to you.”
“We're obliged,” said McQuade. “If you need help on the trail, or after we finally get to Texas, we'll side you.”
“I'm makin' you the same offer,” Creeker said. “We don't forget who our friends are.”
Impulsively, Creeker offered his hand and McQuade took it. Then, without a word, each mounted his horse. Creeker rode back the way he had come, while McQuade went on the way he had started. When McQuade found a suitable place to circle the wagons for the night, he rode back to meet the caravan. The sun bore down with a vengeance, drying the land. While the teams were being rested, McQuade took the opportunity to relate what he had learned from Creeker.
“I ain't trusted Hedgepith since I first laid eyes on the varmint,” said Hardy Kilgore.
“Me neither,” Eli Bibb said. “Sure as hell, he kilt Hook, or had it done.”
Most of the others were suspicious of Hedgepith, and McQuade could see doubt in their eyes, a dread that their chance for a Texas land grant had died with Rufus Hook.
“Nothing's changed,” McQuade assured them, “except that we'll be dealing with this lawyer, Hedgepith, instead of Hook. Creeker tells me that Hedgepith's responsible for all the legal papers. What we might have in our favor is that the Mexican government may not accept Hedgepith as a replacement for Hook.”
“Meanin' that we might ask for our grants without Hedgepith havin' a hand in the pot,” said Ike. “I like the sound of that. I always felt like Hook had more cards up his sleeve than was on the table.”
“We have another advantage that Hedgepith won't know about,” McQuade said. “We've got friends right under Hedgepith's nose. Creeker and his
amigos
aim to take and keep any grants assigned to them, and Creeker's promised to pass along anything he learns that we might need to know.”
amigos
aim to take and keep any grants assigned to them, and Creeker's promised to pass along anything he learns that we might need to know.”
“The man's proven himself, as far as I'm concerned,” said Gunter Warnell. “He didn't have to tell us Hook was dead.”
Other books
Hammers in the Wind by Christian Warren Freed
Fortune by Erica Spindler
Dakota by Gwen Florio
Pulse: Retaliation (Anisakis Nova Book 2) by Eloise J. Knapp
King John & Henry VIII by William Shakespeare
Rebel by Amy Tintera
41 Stories by O. Henry
Back to the Front by Stephen O'Shea
Little Lost Angel by Michael Quinlan
Slave Lover by Marco Vassi