Goodnight's Dream (A Floating Outfit Western Book 4) (19 page)

‘
And me,’ Goodnight replied, knowing
the number to be correct—and a whole lot short of the two thousand
head he needed to finance his dream.

On the point of the herd, the first of the
cattle drew near a victim of the stampede. Halting, the leader
snuffled at the air. Then it cut loose with an eerie, mournful
bellowing. Many of the following animals took up the sound,
gathering around the gory body to paw in the earth and hook at the
carcass with savage thrusts. Cursing cowhands forced the animals by
their herd-mate’s body only to meet the same reaction when they
came to the next dead steer.

‘
Listen to the blood call!’ Jones said
to Dusty as they rode towards the point. ‘Of all the noises a
longhorn, or any other critter, can make, there’s nothing sounds
worse.’

‘
That’s for sure,’ agreed
Hultze who was with them. ‘I’ve seen ’em gather off the range and
bawl all night around a fresh-stripped hide that the cook’d left
hanging on a corral fence. Not just home-range critters, but
mossy-horned old
ladinos’d
most times run for cover at the first sight of a
man.’

Although the other two men continued to talk
as they rode along in the wake of the slow-moving herd, Dusty took
little part in the conversation. The small Texan found his thoughts
returning to the other two’s comments on the ‘blood call’. Despite
having witnessed the phenomenon on the OD Connected range and
occasionally during his travels, he had given it little attention.
He did not know what quirk of nature, or primeval urge, caused the
longhorn cattle to behave in such a manner. Certainly neither
sympathy nor solicitude prompted it, for the cattle would hook at
and try to gore to death any badly wounded member of the herd.
Whatever the cause, Dusty wondered if the ‘blood call’ might be
utilized to help rebuild the scattered shipping herd.

As Dusty had said, he came from
open-range country. Yet he was all too aware of what rounding up
cattle in thick brush meant. If they hoped to gather sufficient
steers to cover the stampede’s losses, something quicker than the
conventional methods must be tried. So Dusty rode along,
half-listening to the two ranchers as they talked of the cattle
industry’s troubles, or the evils of Reconstruction. All the time
he inserted such comments as he felt necessary but mostly he
was
formulating a plan and hoped for a chance to discuss it
with his uncle.

The chance did not materialize. Unsure of
whether his idea would work, Dusty wanted to sound Goodnight out in
private and there was always somebody close to the rancher. On
reaching the lake, Dusty left the others to settle the cattle down
and collected his dilapidated hat. Looking at it, he grinned and
decided that he was lucky in not having bought a new Stetson the
previous afternoon in Graham. No opportunity presented itself to
speak to Goodnight while riding from the lake to the ranch house.
Approaching the buildings, Dusty found that the remaining members
of the floating outfit had arrived and were walking towards
him.

Red Blaze was a tall, well-built youngster
Dusty’s age, with an untidy mop of flaming red hair and a freckled,
pugnaciously handsome face. Dressed in range clothes, he carried
twin walnut-handled Army Colts butt forward in twist-hand draw
holsters. During the War he had been Dusty’s second-in-command and
won a reputation for recklessness which somewhat obscured his true
virtues. Sure Red managed to find himself in any fight taking place
close by, but once involved he became cool and capable. Dusty
understood his hotheaded cousin and never hesitated to trust Red in
any matter he understood.

Few people, seeing the gangling
length, prominent Adam’s apple and mournful features, would take
Billy Jack for a bone-tough, shrewd and efficient cowhand. Dusty
knew him to be all of that, and also a reliant sergeant major who
had given loyalty and backing on numerous missions against the
Yankees in Arkansas. Billy Jack equaled Red in height, but looked
like a starving bean-pole. However, he could handle his low-hanging
Army Colts with precision and accuracy. If he felt any pleasure at
reaching the Swinging G, or seeing his own spread’s
segundo,
he manage to hide
it.

‘
I’m right pleased to see you pair,’
Dusty greeted.

‘
That means there’s something danged
risky to be done,’ Billy Jack wailed, face contorting into even
more woe-filled lines. ‘You see if it don’t, Red. He’s likely got
them other two varmints killed off already.’

‘
Where’s Mark and Lon at,
Cousin Dusty?’ Red inquired,
harboring much the same suspicions as his
companion, although on a less drastic level. Then he noticed
something else. ‘Hey! What in hell’s happened to your
hat?’

Nothing Dusty could do had managed to return
the battered Stetson to its former shape. So he had carried it
along hanging by its storm-strap from the saddle horn.

‘
A feller stomped on it,’ Dusty
explained sketchily.

‘
Same feller’s put the bullet through
it?’ asked Red.

‘
Nope,’ Dusty answered. ‘That was
somebody else.’

‘
Now me,’ declaimed Billy
Jack with mournful satisfaction, ‘I don’t have even
one
feller riled at
me.’

‘
Damned if I know why,’ Red grinned,
then became seriously hopeful. ‘Do we have trouble, Cousin
Dusty?’

‘
Some,’ the small Texan
admitted.

While unsaddling the paint, Dusty told Red
and Billy Jack all that had happened since his arrival in Young
County. Both the OD Connected riders showed that they understood
the points he made and scowled when they heard his conclusion on
the idea behind the trouble.

‘
That damned Chisum!’ Red growled. ‘We
should take out after him—’

‘
Chisum’s only part of the game,’ Dusty
interrupted. ‘Likely he only went along with it because Pitzer lost
that herd and he wanted to make some easy money. Unless I call it
wrong, Chisum’s out of the deal now. Likely the fellers who used
him won’t give up that easy. They damned near brought off their
play today. And still might unless we can fetch at least five
hundred steers out of the brush in the next few days.’

‘
I told you so!’ Billy Jack announced
dismally, turning to Red. ‘I said there was something risky
a-foot.’

‘
Yeah,’ agreed Red.

‘
Dustine, Charles,’ Goodnight
called.

‘
Yes, sir?’ Dusty answered and Red
turned on hearing his seldom-used name.

‘
These gents will be dining with me.
Will you tell Rowdy to make the arrangements?’

‘
Yo!’ Dusty replied and let his paint
enter the corral. ‘We’ll do it now.’

‘
I dearly love
brush-popping,’ Billy Jack stated as he walked with the other two
towards the cook-shack. ‘Effen a thorn don’t gouge your eyes out,
the branches bust your ribs, or gut your hoss so it falls and rolls
on top of you. And that’s only in
thin
brush.’

‘
Young County’s different, though,’ Red
informed him. ‘They don’t have wait-a-minute thorns up
here—’

‘
Naw,’ answered Billy Jack, stoutly
refusing to be comforted. ‘They have wait-a-son-of-a-bitching-hour
thorns in this no-account section.’

‘
I figured you boys’d fight shy when it
comes to hard work,’ Dusty put in. ‘So I thought up a fool notion
that might just save us having to go in after them.’

Billy Jack let out an explosive snort which
expressed disbelief at Dusty thinking out ways to make his life
easier. However, Red saw what might provide a way of avoiding the
drudgery involved in brush-popping.

‘
Been thinking, Cousin Dusty,’ the
redhead said. ‘Could be them jaspers who started the stampede’re
still around and looking for another chance to make fuss for Uncle
Charlie.’

‘
Could be,’ Dusty agreed. ‘Only, afore
you ask, you’re not taking out to look for them. I need you and
Billy Jack to help me try out this notion of mine.’

By that time, they had reached
the cook-shack and entered to find John Poe talking with Rowdy.
Just awake, the
segundo
of the Swinging G wore a red undershirt, levis pants and
moccasins. Looking at the battered condition of the hat in Dusty’s
hand, Poe grinned and said:

‘
Man’d say you’ve been mixed in some
fuss, Dusty.’

‘
Some,’ Dusty admitted and told about
the stampede.

‘
Damn it!’ Poe spat out. ‘We’ll play
hell trying to get that five hundred head back again.’

Even given such an opportunity, Dusty
hesitated before mentioning his idea to the more-experienced Poe.
While not sycophants in any way, Red and Billy Jack had become so
used to his ‘fool notions’ paying dividends that they expected it
to happen. For all his comments on brush-popping, Billy Jack had
done little of the work. On the other hand, Poe had been reared in
brush country and could form a far better estimation than the OD
Connected men of the scheme’s possibilities. Considering the novel
nature of the suggestion he aimed to put out, Dusty wondered if he
might be laying himself wide open for ridicule by making it.

‘
What’re you looking so joyful about?’
Rowdy inquired, eyeing Billy Jack suspiciously.

‘
Was thinking,’ the doleful one
answered. ‘Cap’n Fog ain’t telled you the best of it
yet.’

‘
What’d that be, Cap’n?’ asked the
cook.

‘
Uncle Charlie’s entertaining four
ranchers, Red and me to dinner at the house tonight,’ Dusty told
him.

‘
I can tend to it,’ Rowdy
stated.

‘
You ain’t heard the best of it yet,’
warned Billy Jack.

‘
They’ve got ten men with them,’ Red
went on. ‘And all of ’em look hungry.’

‘
If they ain’t, my cooking’ll help ’em
get that way,’ Rowdy replied. ‘Damn it, though, I’m going to need
some more meat. How’s about getting somebody to go out and butcher
a steer for me, John?’

‘
You’ve got two of Rio Hondo County’s
best butchers waiting here, all hot and eager to
volunteer.’

‘
Who else’s here, Red?’ Billy Jack
inquired, looking around.

The cook’s words had acted as a spring to set
Dusty in motion. It almost seemed to be a sign that Rowdy’s need
for meat came at such a moment. Certainly the cook’s requirements
came at a time to merge with the small Texan’s. So Dusty told Red
and Billy Jack what he wanted them to do while demonstrating their
talents as Rio Hondo County’s two best butchers.

‘
So that’s how it’s going to be done,’
Red commented.

‘
If it ain’t, we’ve done some messy
work for nothing,’ Billy Jack continued.

Ignoring his companions, Dusty turned to Poe
and explained his idea. The Swinging G’s foreman listened
attentively, nodding now and then to show that he followed Dusty’s
words. With the small Texan finished speaking, Poe stood for a
moment deep in thought.

‘
It could come off,’ Poe said at last.
‘How many men do you need, Dusty?’

‘
I reckon for the first time you and
me, with this pair to do the toting that doesn’t call for
brain-work.’

‘
He means Red and me,’ Billy Jack
soberly informed Poe.

‘
I’d never’ve guessed,’ the foreman
sniffed. “When do we start, Dusty?’

‘
After we’ve ate,’ Dusty answered.
‘With just a smidgin of luck, we’ll know if it’s going to work and
be back here before Uncle Charlie needs us.’

In the Swinging G’s main house, the meal was
accounted a success by the visiting Mineral Wells ranchers. No
business was talked until after the table had finally been cleared.
Before their uncle tackled his guests, Dusty and Red excused
themselves and left the house.

With his two nephews out of the room,
Goodnight raised the subject the other ranchers were waiting to
hear. That they all came from the Mineral Wells area and were, in
fact, the very men Dawn planned to contact on her return home,
allowed Goodnight to speak freely without the chance of
embarrassing her.

On hearing Goodnight’s proposals, Wardle,
Hultze, Jones and Colburn expressed their gratitude and eagerness
to go along with him. More than that, Wardle made a formal apology
for his past comments about Goodnight’s non-participation in the
War. From that moment everything went exactly as the bearded
rancher wanted. Each ranch would supply two of its cowhands, their
horses and up to three hundred head of steers. That number would
give Goodnight more than he needed to fill the contract, but left a
margin for losses on the way. The expenses for the drive were to be
shared in proportion to the number of cattle sent. At eight cents a
pound on the hoof, even three hundred head would bring to their
owner more money than he had seen at one time for many years. So
the four ranchers knew they were getting a very good deal. In
addition to giving freely of his experience, Goodnight would be
providing the cook, his louse, the scout and horse wranglers. It
was, as Wardle stated, a most generous offer.

‘
I don’t reckon we’d best go along
though,’ Wardle went on. ‘Too many chiefs in a war-party’s bad
medicine, so a wise old Comanche once told me.’