Goodnight's Dream (A Floating Outfit Western Book 4) (8 page)

‘
Let’s go out and look at the cattle,
shall we?’ Goodnight suggested.

‘
Well,’ Chisum answered
in a hesitant manner, throwing a look to the saloon. ‘I was
figuring on going in. The boys like to have ole Uncle John
buy
’em
a drink when they’re in town.’

‘
There’ll be time for it,’ Goodnight
stated.

‘
Shucks, the herd’s held not half a
mile out,’ Chisum said. ‘’Less you want to cut it right now, you
can see it easy enough from the edge of town.’

‘
I just want to make sure where it’s
held,’ Goodnight replied. ‘Let’s go.’

Neither of the ranchers noticed
a rider coming along the street from the east, nor a man pointing
them out to the newcomer. Walking in the opposite direction, they
passed the building that housed the sheriff’s office and jail.
While
making
for the edge of town, Goodnight raised a point which puzzled him
about the other’s arrival.

‘
Pitzer moved fast to pick up eleven
hundred head and bring them here already, John.’

‘
He’s a good boy and a fast worker,’
Chisum replied cheerfully; which was not how he had thought of his
younger brother a couple of weeks earlier. ‘Cattle’re easy enough
to come by.’

‘
Yeah,’ Goodnight agreed in a
noncommittal tone.

‘
If your boys can handle them, they
might’s well take them out to your herd right off,’ Chisum
suggested. ‘That’ll give ’em all time to get settled together afore
we start the drive.’

Halting by the last building of the town,
Goodnight looked across the open range to where a large bunch of
cattle was grazing under the care of his four men. He considered
Chisum’s words, knowing them to have wisdom. The more time the
steers had to become acquainted with his own stock, the less
trouble there would be when the drive to Fort Sumner started. From
the noise inside the Demon Rum saloon, few of Chisum’s hands would
be ready to resume work that day. So his own men could either hold
the herd where it was until morning, or ease it over to where the
Swinging G’s bunch were waiting to start the journey.

Although the men heard the sound of the
approaching horse, neither gave it any attention. As Goodnight
opened his mouth to say that he would have Chisum’s stock taken and
added to his own herd, something happened to prevent the words
being spoken.

‘
You’ve got some of my cattle in that
herd!’

Anger crackled in the voice that sounded from
behind the two men, sufficient to cause them to turn even without
the implication of what had been said. Facing them was a girl,
stabbing an accusing finger in the direction of the grazing cattle
and glaring in a hostile manner at Chisum.

Tall, slender, with a figure
fast ripening into full womanhood, the girl made an attractive
picture seated astride a line-backed
bayo-tigre
gelding. Her blonde hair was tucked under
a battered white Jeff Davis Confederate campaign hat, the brim of
which threw a protective shadow on to her pretty, tanned face. She
wore a short rawhide jacket over an open-necked blue shirt and
levis pants hanging cowhand style with the cuffs outside her
high-heeled riding boots. Around her waist hung a military-style
weapon-belt with a Cooper Navy revolver butt forward in the
open-topped holster at its right side.

At any other time Goodnight might have
regarded the girl’s choice of clothing with mingled disapproval at
its lack of femininity and appreciation for its charm. Her opening
words, however, drove all such thoughts from his head and he slowly
turned his eyes in Chisum’s direction. Something in the bald
rancher’s manner gave Goodnight a hint of suspicion.

‘
How about it, John,’ asked Goodnight,
‘do you have any of this young lady’s cattle with your
herd?’

‘
Brother Pitzer’s brought eleven
hundred head at least, Charlie,’ Chisum answered, looking his most
guileless. ‘You know I’ve not had time to look ’em over yet. Could
be that maybe a couple or so of her’n’s strayed in if the boys
drove the herd across her land.’

‘
A couple or so!’ the girl spat out.
‘They run off a bunch of over a hundred that we’d gathered and were
holding. Damn it! I saw them do it!’

Studying the girl’s face, Goodnight doubted
if the righteous indignation on it could be assumed to give
strength to a lie. So he gave his attention once more to the other
rancher. Goodnight knew that the incompetence of Chisum’s younger
brother had caused the loss of a large herd on its way to Young
County. On receiving the news, Chisum had stated his intention of
rectifying the situation. He ordered Pitzer to return and gather
sufficient of his Long Rail or unbranded stock to replace the lost
cattle. Despite the vast numbers of longhorns roaming the unfenced
Texas ranges, Goodnight had been surprised when Pitzer returned so
quickly. If the girl was telling the truth—and there seemed to be
no reason why she should lie—the rapidity with which Chisum’s
brother had collected the replacement herd was explained.

One thing Goodnight knew for sure: the girl’s
allegation had to be investigated and prompt action taken if it be
true. Too much was at stake for Goodnight to be involved, even
indirectly, in the theft of cattle.

‘
It’s easy enough settled, John,’
Goodnight said. ‘You’ll have the herd cut and the young lady can
point out any of her brand that she sees. We’ll need help to do
it.’

‘
Some of my boys’re down to the Demon
Rum saloon,’ Chisum answered reluctantly, although only a man who
knew him real well would have noticed the change in his
voice.

Goodnight was such a man, so he said, ‘We’ll
go and fetch them.’

‘
I’ll come with you,’ the girl
announced.

‘
To a saloon?’ asked
Goodnight.

‘
I’d go to a saloon, a hawg-ranch, or
any other damned place to get those steers back!’ the girl assured
him hotly. ‘We’d gathered them to sell to a buyer and need the
money they’ll bring real bad.’

‘
Come with us then,’ Goodnight offered.
‘You say that you saw the men who took the steers?’

‘
I sure as hell did. It was up in the
Wallace Valley three days back. My hoss’d gone lame and I was
headed for the house to get another when they come.’

‘
You’d know the men if you saw them
again then?’

‘
I sure will, Colonel
Charlie.’

‘
How come they let you see ’em?’ asked
Chisum. ‘Cow thieves ain’t often so all-fired obliging.’

‘
I got hid up among the black chaparral
in a draw afore they saw me,’ the girl explained, directing her
words mainly in Goodnight’s direction. ‘Couldn’t see who they was
when I heard them coming, ’cepting we don’t hire that many men, and
a-foot I sure didn’t figure to stand in plain sight to find
out.’

Which proved to the listening men that the
girl, young as she was, knew how to act when alone on the range.
Goodnight could see no reason for her to be lying about the theft,
yet felt puzzled by at least one thing and sought to have the
problem solved.

‘
How did you know who owned the cattle
and who I am?’

‘
Feller back along the street told me
who you was and pointed you out when I asked him about the herd.
Which same’s why I come here afore going to see the sheriff. My
pappy’s told me plenty about you, Colonel Charlie.’

‘
Do I know him?’

‘
You likely do, Colonel. He’s Darby
Sutherland. My name’s Dawn.’

‘
Darby Sutherland, huh!’ Goodnight
grunted. ‘I know him.’

‘
Why didn’t your pappy come instead of
sending you, gal?’ Chisum inquired.

Clearly Dawn Sutherland’s friendly feelings
and trust did not extend to Chisum. She lost the smile and
expression of pleasure which had crept to her face at Goodnight’s
words. Drawing her lips into tight, unsociable lines, she answered
the taller rancher’s question.

‘’
Cause he got stove up when a hoss
threw him and isn’t back on his feet yet. I’d’ve gone straight to
see Sheriff Carlin, only I figured that Colonel Charlie’d do right
by me.’

‘
And I will,’ Goodnight promised.
‘Let’s go and get your men, John.’

‘
Sure,’ Chisum agreed, beaming in his
most winning manner at Dawn. ‘I’m’s keen as you are to get this
straightened out.’

If Dawn’s expression was
anything to go by, Chisum had failed by a good country mile to win
her over. Swinging from her saddle, she walked at Goodnight’s side
with the
bayo-tigre
following her on loosely held reins. As he accompanied them
along the street, Chisum tried to make light conversation but
failed. While his face and voice remained placid and friendly, his
eyes took on a wolf-cautious, almost menacing glint.

Judging by the noise rising
from inside, the Demon Rum saloon was doing remarkably good
business considering that the day had advanced only a little beyond
noon. Its band played in blaring opposition to laughter, shouts and
a continuous hum of conversation. Outside, horses lined the
hitching rails and stood hip-shot awaiting their owners’ return.
Dawn secured her
bayo-tigre
gelding in the only place available, next to a big, shapely
bloodbay stallion. Beyond it were two equally good animals, a paint
as fine as the girl had ever seen and a magnificent white that
looked as wild as a free-running mustang despite the low-horned,
double-girthed saddle on its back. The saddles attracted no
interest, being well made but of the normal Texas fashion and
carrying the absent owners’ bedrolls strapped to the
cantles.

Under different circumstances
the girl would have spent time admiring the fine-looking horses and
Goodnight might have found at least one of them of considerable
interest had he
noticed it. Wanting to regain possession of her father’s
cattle, Dawn contented herself with a swift glance while knotting
her reins to the hitching rail. Then she joined the ranchers on the
porch. For a moment she wavered before the entrance. Since her
earliest days, she had been taught that a ‘good’ woman did not
enter saloons. Only for a moment, though. Then her purpose in
coming to Graham over-rode her prejudices. Setting her face grimly,
she followed the ranchers through the batwing doors.

Once inside the barroom, Dawn found herself
wishing that she had left the visit to Goodnight. Slowly the talk
died down as every eye turned to the new arrivals. Dawn could sense
the cold hostility of the garishly dressed women present and knew
that they resented her invasion of their domain. However, in the
company of two prominent members of the ranching community, she had
little to fear from the saloon’s female employees.

Naturally the appearance of a girl dressed as
Dawn was could be calculated to attract attention. While the women
drew their own conclusions about what had brought her into the
saloon, the cowhands speculated on why Colonel Charlie had allowed
Dawn to accompany him inside. Being a gentleman in the strictest
sense of the word, he would not bring a young woman into a saloon
as a joke or merely to let her see what the inside of one looked
like.

Seated at the left of the room, two men
watched the arrival and guessed at what it meant. The taller of the
pair wore all black clothing, from his Stetson hat, through
bandana, shirt, levis pants and down to his boots. Even his gunbelt
was of black leather, carrying a walnut-handled Dragoon Colt butt
forward in the holster on its right side and an ivory-hilted James
Black bowie knife sheathed at the left. Such an armament did not go
well with his apparent youth and Indian-dark, almost babyishly
innocent handsome features. Yet a closer examination of his eyes,
red-hazel in color and with a reckless, alien wildness glinting in
them, would have led one to believe that the weapons were anything
but an affectation.

Compared with his somberly dressed and
somehow dangerous-looking companion, the other man hardly rated a
second glance; on the surface. He would be at most five foot six in
height, his dusty blond hair a contrast with the raven-black locks
of the dark youngster. Good, regular features, but not eye-catching
in any way, held strength and inner power if one cared to look.
While the black Stetson, hanging from the back of his chair,
scarlet bandana, grey shirt, levis pants and handmade boots were
expensive, he contrived to make them look like somebody’s
cast-offs. They tended to hide the well-developed muscular physique
under them. A matched brace of bone-handled 1860 Army Colts rode
butt forward in carefully designed cross-draw holsters. They were
good guns, carried at the correct position and angle to permit
rapid use, yet they failed to add to their wearer’s stature.

‘
That’s the gal we saw back on the
Wallace, ain’t it, Dusty?’ asked the dark young man, shoving back
his chair as if to rise.

‘
Sure looks like her,’ the small blond
answered. ‘Stay put a-whiles, Lon. I want to hear what’s up
first.’

Coming to a halt in the center of the room,
Goodnight looked around but failed to locate Pitzer Chisum. Nor did
he know any of the men who had helped deliver the suspect herd.

‘
Get some of your crew over here,
John,’ Goodnight commanded.

‘
Sure,’ Chisum answered. ‘They ain’t
all on hand, mind.’