Nest of Vipers (9781101613283) (15 page)

THIRTY-ONE

By the time the others woke up, Brad was sitting on a log with a knife in his hands. He had started a fire and put the coffeepot on to boil. Stacked on the ground were five or six long sticks, tree branches he had cut down. He had one of these in his hands and was sharpening the forked ends. The branch had been shaved of bark and limbs and was free of leaves.

Joe was the first to walk over. Wilbur and Julio were relieving themselves at trees some distance away.

“What're you doin', Brad?” Joe asked.

“Trimming up this bunch of forked sticks,” Brad replied.

“What for?”

“We're going to catch rattlesnakes with these, Joe.”

“Rattlesnakes? What in hell for?”

“A surprise for Jordan Killdeer,” Brad said.

Joe sat down on the log a few feet from Brad. He rubbed his forehead.

“Brad,” he said, “I know you're in charge of this case. And you do a fair job of detective work. Sometimes. But you're way too unorthodox, not only for my tastes but for the police and court system. I don't know why Harry ever hired you, and I sure don't know why he holds you in such high esteem.”

“Harry doesn't like to get dirt or mud on his boots,” Brad said.

“But he has other detectives who work for him. He has operatives who follow the rules and do their jobs in an orthodox manner.”

“I don't know, Joe. Harry doesn't discuss his other agents with me. He just calls on me when he's got some dirty work for me to do.”

“Look, Brad, you go about things all wrong. I'm a range detective. That means I dig up evidence and make arrests. Once we had witnesses located, we should have gone to Cheyenne, maybe asked for police help up there and arrested Jordan Killdeer, hauled him back down to Denver and seen to it that he was tried, convicted, and sentenced to hang. A simple, straightforward procedure. Time-tested. Tried and true.”

Brad stopped whittling on a forked stick, picked up another one that had not been sharpened, and tossed it to Joe.

“Make those ends real sharp, Joe,” Brad said.

“Are you trying to run away from the facts, Brad?”

“No. I'll just ask you this question, Joe. Was your wife raped and murdered? Did you have any horses stolen?”

“That's two questions.”

“Just answer either one, Joe.”

“So, you think because it's personal, you can just do anything you want, is that it?”

Brad picked up another forked tree limb and began to shave the end of one fork into a point.

“Harry hired me because I get the job done, Joe. In my own way. Orthodox or unorthodox. I solve cases for him. I do what a detective agency is supposed to do. Find the criminals and put them out of business.”

“Did you ever bring any criminals into court? Did you ever deliver a live culprit to Harry or anybody else?”

Brad paused and looked up through the pines at the sky. “Not that I recollect,” he said.

“See? That's what I mean. You kill whoever you track down. You don't follow the rules.”

“Joe, I kill only when I'm forced to. I don't back shoot, and I don't bushwhack.”

“He who lives by the gun, dies by the gun, Brad.”

Brad began to shave wood with the blade of his knife.

“He who doesn't live by the gun, dies from the gun,” Brad said, and his blade went
whick, whick, whick
.

Julio and Wilbur walked up out of the timber and watched Brad and Joe for a few seconds. Brad looked up at them.

“Get your blades out and pick up a couple of these forked sticks,” Brad said. “Sharpen the tips of the forks like that one I did.”

“What are they for?” Wilbur asked.

“Snakes, Wilbur,” Brad said. “We're going to catch us a bunch of live rattlers with these forked sticks.”

“Not me,” Wilbur said.

“Yes, you. All of us.”

Julio sat down first, picked up a stick, and drew his knife.

“I don't want to get bitten by no rattlesnake,” Wilbur said.

“I'll show you how to do it, Wil. Now, get to work. I'm going to need a lot of snakes.”

“And I don't suppose you're going to tell us what the snakes are for, are you, Brad?” Wilbur said.

“They're for a secret Ute ceremony that will protect us from bullets,” Brad said.

Wilbur sat down. “I guess I shouldn't have expected a straight answer,” he said. Brad handed him a stick and kept whittling.

Wilbur drew his knife and began to whittle at one of the forks.

“While you boys finish sharpening those forked sticks, I'll put that snake box together,” Brad said. He got up and walked over to the stack of wooden panels. He hammered together the box that wound up being four feet long and two feet wide. The spring-hinged door and its ring worked fine.

When the others had finished sharpening the sticks, they came over to the lean-to and looked at the box.

“How does it work?” Joe asked.

“I'll attach a long length of twine through that round handle so that one of us can pull the door open when the time comes.” He demonstrated by pulling the door open and then letting it slam shut.

“You're going to put snakes in there?” Joe said.

“Yes,” Brad said.

“Then, what?”

“Oh, there's more to it than that,” Brad said. “When the time comes you'll see it all come together.” He reached down and picked up the burlap gunny sacks. He handed a bag to each of the men. Then he picked up the roll of heavy twine.

“Each of you cut slits in the open end of each bag about four to six inches apart until you've got holes all the way around.”

“What are these for?” Wilbur asked as he held a bag and took his knife out.

“We'll put the snakes we catch in these bags and transfer them to the box when we have enough,” Brad said.

“I ain't catchin' no snakes,” Wilbur said.

Brad walked back to the log and picked up a forked stick that had been sharpened. He walked to where the others were standing and raised the stick a foot or two off the ground.

“When you spot a snake,” he said, “go for a spot just behind its head, then drive the stick down, with the fork straddling its body. Pin the snake firmly to the ground. Then you reach down and grab the snake just behind its head and drop it into your sack. Pull the twine tight and go on to the next rock or cave.”

Wilbur recoiled in horror.

“I'll show you how,” Brad said. “Each of you string enough twine through those holes and tie the ends so you can pull it tight once you've caught a snake. Do this each time you catch a snake. If you have a snake in your bag and have caught another, shake the bag so that the first snake is on the bottom, then drop the other snake in, tail first, and pull the string so that neither of the snakes can escape.”

Brad made slits in one bag and ran twine through the holes to show them how to do it.

“Two of you carry this box out to the road and then stand it on its end with the door at the top,” he told them.

When they all had their bags ready and were holding forked sticks, Brad walked toward the road. “We'll spread out,” he said when they got to the tabletop. “Kick over flat rocks and be prepared to jab your stick down tight behind the rattler's head.”

“This is just scary as hell,” Wilbur said.

“I'll catch the first snake to show you how it's done, Wil,” Brad said.

They all followed him as he walked up some flat rocks. He moved one or two with his stick. At another, a rattlesnake that was lying under it raised its head and then shook its tail. As it was coiling up, Brad struck.

He jammed the snake between the forks and pushed until he drove the snake flat. It whipped and struggled to free itself. Its rattles shook with alarming rapidity.

Then Brad reached down and grabbed the snake just behind its head with his left hand. He let the stick fall and held the wriggling snake over the open end of his gunny sack. He dropped the snake straight down into the bag, and pulled the looped twine tight and closed the bag.

“Keep the bag away from your legs when you carry it,” he said. “And, when you find another snake, just drop the bag on the ground until you need it while you snare the next rattler.”

They all stared at him as if he had gone mad. Brad smiled and picked up his forked stick.

“When you have several snakes, you can drop them into that box back yonder and the lid will close automatically. Then go back and catch more snakes.”

“How many do you want, Brad?” Joe asked.

“Fill up the box if you can,” Brad said.

“Are you serious?” Joe asked.

“About ten or twenty, Joe. Four or five rattlers apiece.”

They all set out in different directions. Brad and Julio paired up and walked well away from the others.

“You are a good snake catcher, Brad,” Julio said.

“You've done this before, Julio.”

“I have not done it so well as you.”

They found a low mound that was surrounded by talus and each took a side and scooted flat rocks away from the hillock.

Julio uncovered a small nest of snakes, and Brad walked around to help him. They managed to get three snakes before the others slithered well away from their hiding place in the rocks.

Brad heard Wilbur yell a couple of times. Joe was searching intently.

Julio chased one rattler that was corkscrewing away, headed for the timber. He jabbed in several inches behind its head.

“Brad,” he called, “you come. Give help.”

Brad went over and jabbed his stick just behind the snake's head. Julio reached down and grabbed it. He dropped it into his bag and grinned.

“Sometimes it takes two people,” Brad said.

They all caught snakes until past noon and dropped them into the upended box. The box resounded with several rattling sounds, and they could hear the snakes squirming and slithering inside.

Wilbur had caught two small pygmy rattlers and a green snake.

“That one's harmless,” Brad said, “but we'll keep him.”

“Maybe the others will eat him,” Julio said.

“Then, we don't have to catch any rats,” Brad said.

At the end of the day, when they had finished catching as many snakes as they could find, Brad told them that they had enough.

“I'm glad that's over,” Wilbur said.

“If I never see another rattlesnake, it will be too soon,” Joe said.

“They are good to eat,” Julio said.

“We're not going to eat any of these, Julio,” Brad said. “But they do make good eating.”

Wilbur shivered in revulsion.

“Now we ride down to the valley,” Brad said.

“For what?” Joe asked.

“We're going to catch up two horses and hitch them to one of those wagons stored in the timber. Then we'll haul the wagon up the road and leave it just below the summit. Won't take long.”

They saddled their horses and set out for the road down into the valley.

Just below the rim, Brad stopped and pointed to the side of the road. There was a flat place that sloped at the same angle as the road.

“We'll set the empty wagon here,” Brad said. “Tongue pointing upslope. Then we'll attach a long length of that heavy twine to the tailgate. We'll make sure the tailgate is closed, but not secure. We want to be able to pull the twine and open the tailgate.”

“More mystery,” Joe said.

“Not that much. The snake box will be in the center of the wagon and there will be a long length of twine attached to the round bolt's hole. We'll pull both lines at the same time. The tailgate will drop and the box will open. The snakes will slither out of the wagon and make a hell of a racket as they wriggle all over the place.”

“And, when do you do that?” Joe asked.

“The minute that Jordan Killdeer starts coming off the flat and down this road,” Brad said. “When he's just slightly past the wagon, we pull the cords and release the snakes.”

“A diversion, then,” Joe said.

“I get it,” Wilbur said. “Then what?”

“Then we ask Killdeer and his men to surrender or we shoot them out of their saddles.”

“Where will we be?” Joe asked.

“There's cover on both sides of the road. Two of us will be on one side, two on the other.”

“What if he's got a dozen men?” Joe asked.

“Make sure you've got plenty of ammunition for your rifle and pistol. Now, let's go on down, catch two good horses and water ours at the creek.”

They rode down into the valley. Joe and Julio shook out their lariats and rode toward some of the grazing horses.

Brad and Wilbur headed for the timber where the wagons were stored.

Up on the rimrock, Curly saw the riders enter the valley.

He put his binoculars to his eyes and looked at each man.

When he saw Brad Storm, he held the glasses still for a long time.

Brad and that traitor, Wilbur Campbell, were heading straight for the bluffs.

He climbed onto his horse and rode to the edge. He jacked a cartridge into the firing chamber as the men walked their horses slowly straight toward where he was waiting.

He made sure the hammer was back in the firing position and sucked in a breath before he brought the gun to his shoulder.

Horses whinnied down in the valley and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Mexican and another man chasing them with looped lariats.

Somebody, he said to himself, is going to die right soon.

THIRTY-TWO

Curly rested his cheek on the stock of his rifle and pressed the butt against his shoulder. He leveled the front blade sight on Brad Storm, chest high. He lined up the blade with the rear buckhorn sight. He drew a breath with his finger poised to squeeze the trigger.

Just then, he heard a cougar cough. Close by. He had the trigger depressed halfway and could not stop his finger's movement. The horse he was on jerked under him and wheeled. Its shrieking whinny caused the two riders nearest him, Brad and Wilbur, to look up.

Brad heard the explosion from the rifle. It sounded like a bullwhip's lash cracking. A split second later, a bullet whined above his head. He ducked, and so did Wilbur.

Then they heard the delayed sound of the horse atop the bluff. Brad looked up and saw Curly wrestling with the animal as it twisted and bucked, kicked out with his hind legs at empty space.

Brad drew his pistol.

Behind him, Julio and Joe looked up and saw Curly wrestling with his horse. They had heard the shot and both drew their pistols.

Brad started firing his pistol up at Curly. So, too, did Julio and Joe. Curly brought the horse under control and disappeared from view.

“I'm going after him,” Brad shouted to Wil. “You stay here and help Julio and Joe.”

He galloped off toward Joe and Julio. He didn't stop.

“Carry out my orders,” he told them.

“Where you goin'?” Joe asked.

“That was Curly up there. I'm goin' after him.”

And then Brad took off toward the road, the only way out of the valley. He climbed the slope and turned his horse toward the bluff where they had seen Curly.

“Well, he's gone,” Joe said to Julio.

“He will catch him,” Julio said.

They saw Wilbur riding toward them. His face was nearly the color of white flour.

“Did you see that?” he asked.

“We saw it,” Joe said. “Lucky that rifle shot missed Brad.”

“It flew right over his head. And mine. A close call.”

“Brad said to keep doing what we're doing,” Joe said. “When we catch up two horses, we'll lead them to the wagon.”

“What if Brad doesn't come back?” Wilbur asked.

“Then we have to do what he would have done,” Joe said.

“He will come back,” Julio said.

They all heard the sound of hooves striking rock and saw Brad gallop to the spot where Curly had been waiting in ambush. They lost sight of Brad, but could hear his horse thrashing around atop the limestone bluff.

“Brad will track Curly,” Julio said. “He is a good tracker.”

“Let's get those horses, Julio,” Joe said. “We can't worry about Brad anymore.”

“That stupid Curly,” Wilbur said. “I wonder what made him miss.”

“His horse tried to buck him off,” Joe said. “Something scared it. A snake, or a bear, maybe just an elk cracking a branch. The horse was spooked just as he fired off his rifle.”

“Lucky for Brad,” Wilbur said.

“Maybe lucky for you, too, Wilbur,” Joe said.

He and Julio trotted their horses after a likely target.

Five horses grazed close together. Two of them were geldings. They appeared to be three- or four-year-olds.

“You rope the sorrel, Julio,” Joe said. “I'll put a loop on that other gelding, the chestnut.”

Julio nodded and built his loop.

They approached the horses slowly, riding several feet apart. When they were within ten feet, two of the horses looked up at them. They raised their heads and stared at both riders.

Julio closed in on the sorrel gelding and began to swing his loop.

Joe approached the chestnut and twirled his loop over his head.

Both men fired their ropes at almost the same instant.

Julio's loop lazed through the air and dropped over the sorrel's head and settled at the base of his neck at the top of its chest. The horse bolted. Julio wrapped part of the rope around his saddle horn and tugged on his reins. Chato started to back up. The rope tautened and held the sorrel fast.

Joe's rope hit its mark and he pulled it tight and twirled part of it around his saddle horn as well. The chestnut pulled on the rope by jerking its head but did not try to run away.

“We got 'em, Julio,” Joe said. “Good ropin'.”

“Now we go to the wagon,” Julio said.

Wilbur watched the two in amazement. He was impressed by their roping skills.

“Take us to the wagons, Wilbur,” Joe said.

“You bet, Joe.”

They rode into the timber where once Wilbur and Jack had camped. There were two wagons parked some ways past the shelters and the tack hut.

Joe handed his rope off to Wilbur. Then he lit down and walked to one of the wagons. He checked the side panels and then the tailgate. He opened and closed it. He went to the other wagon and did the same thing. One wagon was slightly larger than the other.

Both tailgates worked well.

“You kept them oiled, Wilbur,” Joe said. “Wheels and tongue.”

“Yep. Jack was right particular about that. Our supplies depended on them wagons, and he wanted them to be in top shape.”

Joe took the rope from Wilbur. “Fetch us the harness, Wilbur,” he said. Then he turned to Julio.

Wilbur dismounted and walked toward the tack hut. His horse stood there, hipshot, its reins dropping onto the ground.

“We'll hook 'em up to that short wagon there, Julio. Let's stand our horses on either side of the tongue.”

Julio dismounted. He led his horse to the other side of the wagon tongue and backed it up, then held it in position. Joe pushed the chestnut back until it was even with the sorrel, and rubbed the horse's face and worried its nose with his knuckles.

Wilbur came back festooned with leather harnesses. The three of them laid leather across the horses' backs and hooked them up to the wagon. They arranged the reins so that they dropped into the seat well.

“You drive the wagon up the hill to that spot where Brad showed us he wanted it, Wilbur.” Joe said. “Julio and I will follow you.”

Wilbur climbed up into the wagon and picked up the reins. He released the brake and rattled the reins across the backs of the two horses. They stepped out and he guided them out of the timber.

Joe and Julio followed the wagon to the road.

“Hold it right there,” Joe called out to Wilbur when he was close to the spot Brad had pointed out as the place where he wanted the wagon.

Wilbur pulled on the reins and halted the two horses.

“Now, set your brake, Wilbur,” Joe said. “That looks to be about right.”

Wilbur pulled on the brake until it locked.

“Unhitch 'em,” Joe said. “Then, turn 'em loose.”

He and Julio watched as Wilbur deftly unhitched the horses from the wagon after slipping them out of their harnesses.

“I guess you'll have to walk back and get your horse, Wilbur,” Joe said.

“What's next, Joe?” Wilbur asked.

“We'll lug that snake box down here, set it in the wagon, then pick out spots on both sides of the road to hide in and tie long enough strands of twine to the tailgate and the box.”

“Then what?” Wilbur asked.

“Then we wait,” Joe said. “We wait for Killdeer to show, or for Brad to come back. We'll hide out in the brush on both sides of the wagon.”

“It's goin' to be a hell of a long day,” Wilbur said.

“And, a long night, maybe, too. We won't leave here until Killdeer shows. Night or day.”

Wilbur swore. Then he walked toward the timber where he had left his horse.

Julio chased the two pulling horses back down into the valley.

He rode back to where Joe waited. “We'll have to hide our horses up in the timber where I have my lean-to,” he said.

“Then we carry our canteens back down here,” Julio said.

“We'll bring back grub. That roll of twine. We may have a long wait.”

“I know,” Julio said. He dismounted and handed his reins to Joe.

“After we bring the grub and such, you and I will walk back up and carry that snake box down here and tie on the twine.”

“Yes,” Julio said.

The two left their canteens under the wagon, in the shade, and rode back up to Joe's camp.

In the valley, Wilbur walked past the bend in the creek and into the timber.

Joe looked back and wondered if Wilbur was going to try to escape.

If so, he had a clear shot, because he and Julio would be in the timber and busy hobbling the horses so that they could graze.

He was betting that Wilbur wouldn't ride out and put distance between him and them.

Somehow, it seemed to him that Wilbur had come over to their side.

Time would tell, he thought.