Red River Revenge (Remington Book 1) (6 page)

“And stubborn as a mule,” Tom Beck said.

“Well, she’s gonna find out who’s running this show in the morning,” Ned said. “There’s no way I’m going to take her south to Texas with us.”

“I’ll bet you end up eating those words,” Beck said.

“Not a chance,” Ned said.

“I’d be willing to put a little money on it,” Beck said with a grin. “That gal’s made up her mind she’s going with us and I don’t think we can stop her.”

“Not even your filthy tongue will stop her,” Shaw said, mocking the half-breed girl.

The deputies were in a jovial mood. They’d been on the hot dusty trail for a week and they finally felt like they were making progress by finding Lina and Charlie Killbuck.

“Well, she ain’t goin’ with me,” Remington said, dismissing the subject. “We won’t build a fire tonight. We’ll just eat jerky and hardtack.”

“And to think we could be sitting down to a meal of steak and potatoes at this very minute,” Shaw said as he glanced toward the glow from the riverfront. “We’re so close to town.”

“When you crawl into your bedrolls tonight, keep your weapons handy,” Ned said as he spread his own blankets out on the hard ground.

“Are you expecting trouble tonight?” Beck asked in a more serious tone.

“I’m not expecting it,” Ned said, “but I didn’t like what Killbuck said about Gaton having friends around here. I plan to sleep with one eye open and I think you two should do the same.”'

N
ed Remington awoke with a start
. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but he knew something had awakened him. Something wasn’t right.

His eyes shot open and he found himself staring up at the half moon that was already on its downward path toward the western horizon. It had to be way past midnight, probably about two or three in the morning, he figured.

He listened hard and heard only the low, rhythmic snoring of Frank Shaw. During the past week of sleeping out under the stars with his deputies, he’d learned that Tom Beck seldom snored. And during his long years as a marshal when he’d spent many nights sleeping outside, he’d learned to distinguish the ordinary night sounds from those that were out of kilter. Like now.

Other than Frank’s snoring, there was only the silence. An ominous silence. No coyotes yapping in the distance, no night birds hooting their calls, no tree leaves flapping in the breeze, no frogs or crickets humming, no music coming from the riverfront town. There were no sounds of gaiety or drunken voices from the distant saloons.

But something had awakened him. Maybe it was the silence itself that had aroused him from a light sleep. Maybe the saloons had finally closed their doors and the boisterous men at the riverfront had gone home and gone to bed.

Or maybe it was the bright moonlight suddenly striking his closed eyes that had caused him to come out of a restless sleep. Perhaps the moon had just now reached the point in its travel across the skies where its light shone directly down on his face as he slept on his back, his head turned slightly to the side as it rested on his rolled-up coat.

Remington felt a sudden chill and knew that it wasn’t the night air that caused it. The night had been too warm for him to sleep under a blanket and he had stretched out on top of his bedroll, his Henry .44 pistol tucked under his coat pillow, the other pistol nestled between the two blankets under him, near his shoulder. His rifle rested beside him, on top of the blankets. All of the weapons were loaded. Ned had removed his boots, his wide-brimmed hat, and his gunbelt just before he’d stretched out. He had placed the boots and gunbelt just above his head, next to his saddle and saddlebags. He had put his hat on top of the saddle so it wouldn’t get any dustier than it already was.

It had taken Ned a long time to fall asleep the night before. Not because the heat of the day had lingered into the late night hours, and not because the noisy din from the saloons had grown louder with the passing hours. It was the result of having a lot on his mind. After he and his men had eaten the jerky and hardtack, and shared a can of cold beans, they had talked for more than an hour before they decided to get some sleep. Ned had used that time to familiarize himself with, the darkened landscape, something he always did when he slept on unfamiliar ground. He knew from their conversation that they were all apprehensive about what they’d be facing the following day, and now that they were getting closer to finding Gaton, Haskins and Peter Van Hook, they were anxious to get moving so they could arrest the two outlaws and the rancher who bought stolen cattle. If Ned’s hunches were right, Van Hook was the boss, the top man in the cattle rustling business, and Gaton and Haskins were merely his hired hands, the ones who did Van Hook’s dirty work while the rancher raked in the profits.

Remington’s main concern, however, had been about Lina Miller. And he thought about her now, as he had done for a long time before he finally fell asleep. He just didn’t know what to do with the girl. He still had hopes that she would allow Tom Beck to escort her back to Galena in the morning, but if she refused to go, then he was afraid he’d be forced to take her along with them.

Ned didn’t mind giving in to Lina’s wishes, but it was just too damned dangerous for her to cross over the border into Texas where she might be spotted by Gaton and his friend. Maybe, if she continued to dress like a boy, she could get away with riding with them without being detected. He felt responsible for the girl’s safety, but it was something he’d have to face when they returned to Killbuck’s adobe at dawn.

Ned turned his head and glanced over at the other two deputies who were sleeping on top of their own bedrolls, a few feet away. They were also fully dressed except for their boots and they had their weapons within easy reach.

The deputies’ horses were tied to the trees, some thirty feet behind them. They made no sound.

Ned didn’t want to make any sudden movements in case someone was watching their camp. Better to play possum. He raised his head only slightly and listened again.

Frank Shaw shifted positions in his sleep and the snoring stopped.

Ned held his breath.

The silence that swelled up around him was almost deafening and he could hear his own pulse throbbing in his ears. His pulse had quickened and he could actually feel his heart thumping in his chest. A leg muscle cramped because of Ned’s rigid position. He resisted the urge to reach down and rub the pain away. He relaxed the leg as much as he could and waited until the cramp subsided.

Without moving the rest of his body, Ned slowly propped himself up on one elbow and scanned the lonely, moonlit landscape that stretched out in front of him. He saw nothing unusual out there. No movement. No vague silhouettes where they weren’t supposed to be. The shadowy outlines of the few dark trees were right where he remembered them to be. The distant contour of the unusual rock formation was just as he had memorized it.

And yet, he sensed something different in the night air. It was almost as if a cloud of doom now hung over them. It was as if the night air had suddenly been charged with tension.

He still had the feeling that something had roused him out of his light sleep. A sound. A smell. A feeling. Otherwise, why had he awakened with such a start? A bad dream, maybe? But he couldn’t remember dreaming. Had it been a smell that wasn’t familiar to him? He didn’t know.

Ned sniffed the night air and drank in the aroma of the dank grasses, the treebark. Even if he couldn’t smell the stench from the river front, he could imagine it. The other scents he sniffed out were more familiar to him: the mustiness of the sweaty bedrolls, the leather of the saddles and saddlebags, the bear grease that they used to clean their guns, a hint of gunpowder, the strong aroma of horseflesh. Even the heavy stench of the droppings of the tethered horses was familiar to him, and not unpleasant.

There was a trace of some mustiness in the night air that seemed unfamiliar to him, but he couldn’t separate it from the other smells. It smelled almost like human sweat, rank human sweat, he thought. It could be the night-damp fleece of the sheep that he smelled, an odor that he hadn’t experienced during the earlier hours of evening. Or it could be the rotting stench of the river town garbage drifting his way. With no breeze, such scents would tend to hover close to the ground.

Dammit, he knew something was out there. He sensed it. And whatever it was had awakened him. Was he the only one who sensed it? Frank Shaw and Ted Beck usually slept as lightly as he did on such outings, and although Shaw had changed positions and stopped snoring, neither man had awakened.

At that moment, Ned Remington felt all alone, apprehensive. It wasn’t fear he was experiencing. Ned was never afraid to face danger. Some accused him of having nerves of steel, but he knew better. He had just learned to stay calm and think clearly in tense situations. And that little bit of knowledge and self discipline had saved his ass more than once during his many years as a deputy marshal. The apprehension he was experiencing right now was just an uneasiness over the unknown.

He closed his eyes and strained his ears, listening for any sound at all. All he could hear was his loud heartbeat pounding against his eardrums. His muscles tautened and his leg muscle threatened to cramp up on him again. He forced himself to relax and then eased his leg a few inches to the side so his position wouldn’t be so awkward.

Remington was just about to get up and look around when one of the horses behind him suddenly neighed. Ned nearly jumped out of his skin.

He whirled his head around, strained his neck, and looked back at the horses that were tied to the trees. Another of the three horses that belonged to the lawmen whinnied and all three animals cocked their ears toward the wagon-rutted road that stretched between the river front and the Indian village. Their rubbery nostrils flared as they sniffed the night air.

So I wasn’t imagining things
, Ned thought as he snapped his head back around and peered in the direction of the road.

And then he saw them. Not more than fifty yards away. Five horsemen looming out of the shadows of darkness, riding toward the Indian village. Ned spotted the riders just in time to see them rein up hard at the sound of the whinnying horses. The riders’ horses reared back, their front hooves pawing the air until the horses dropped their legs and skidded to a halt. Even though it was fairly dark out, Ned could see the moonlight reflecting off the spools of dust kicked up by the skidding horses.

The horsemen looked in the direction of the deputies’ camp. Ned was sure of it, even though he could only see their dark silhouettes.

“Over there,” one of the riders called out, and Ned saw him point with an out-thrust arm. “Them marshals are over there.”

“Hush, Harvey. Not so loud,” said another man. The voices carried far on the still night air and Ned had no trouble hearing the words. And then he heard only the excited buzzing of hushed voices as the riders discussed something among themselves.

With a sickening feeling, Ned wondered if the one the riders called Harvey was the same big brute who had sat at the next table at the fish house when he and his men were questioning the cook about Gaton and Van Hook. He couldn’t remember for sure, but he thought Madonna had said that the fisherman’s name was Harvey. Yes, Harvey Cardin, he thought. That was the name the cook had mentioned.

It didn’t really matter at this point. Ned knew he and his deputies were in trouble.

“Frank. Ted. Wake up,” Remington whispered. “We got trouble.”

“I’m awake,” Shaw whispered back. “I woke up the same time you did. I hear ’em.”

“Me, too,” whispered Beck without moving.

“Stay put, but keep your weapons handy,” Ned cautioned. “They may come after us, but if they head for the village, we’ll go after them.”

The three deputies moved only enough to snag their pistols and rifles from their resting places and to check their weapons. They turned and silently watched the group of riders who were still talking softly among themselves. Ned didn’t have to say any more to his men. He had every confidence in them. They were experienced men and they were damned good at their job. When the time came, they’d do what they had to.

“Let’s get ’em while they’re asleep,” called out the first voice.

“Shut up, Harvey,” said another man in a loud, hushed voice. “Do you wanta wake ’em up, you damned fool?”

“I told you we’d find them marshals out here,” said the voice that belonged to Harvey.

“You told us they were staying at the hotel,” argued the other man. “We wasted a whole damned hour there checking them rooms.”

“It don’t matter,” Harvey said. “Paco’s gonna be so damned happy we killed ’em, he’s gonna piss his pants.”

“We ain’t killed ’em yet, you dummy, so shut your mouth,” said a deep, gravelly voice Ned hadn’t heard before.

“Hell, I was the one who told Paco about them marshals bein’ in town,” Harvey said, “so you got no right to tell me to shut up.”

“That don’t make you special, Harvey,” said the gravel voice.

“It does too,” Harvey argued. “Paco promised to pay us a lot of money if we killed the marshals and that half-breed gal. If it weren’t for me, none of you would be in on this.”

“Hush! Both of you,” said a fourth voice.

The hackles on the back of Remington’s neck rose. “Is Harvey the, brute who was eating at the fish house?” he whispered.

“He must be,” Beck said.

“I thought so,” Remington said.

“Then the bastard told Gaton and his friends that we were in town asking questions,” Shaw said in a low voice.

“It doesn’t matter,” Remington whispered. “Gaton is smart enough to know he’s gonna have the law on his ass. Harvey just let him know we’d come this far. Gaton may be harder to find now that he knows we’re here, but we’ll track him down.”

The three lawmen fell silent again and tried to make out the words of the distant horsemen.

“Let’s go get ’em!” came the hushed battle cry.

Ned and his men watched and suddenly all five riders were headed their way at a fast gallop, their long rifles silhouetted.

“You ready?” Ned asked his men as he readied his rifle.

“Ready,” said Beck.

“Ready,” repeated Shaw.

‘Then let’s get those bastards,” Remington said. “Before they get us.”