Ralph Compton Death Rides a Chestnut Mare (12 page)

“You sure don't talk like the rest of the men around here,” Katrina said. “I thought Tuck was different, but I'm changing my mind. I like you better than I do him. You're good with a gun, but there's a gentle side to you. Something only a woman would notice.”

Danielle's heart beat fast, for she was treading on dangerous ground. All she needed was for poor confused Katrina to develop a romantic interest in her, if only to make Tuck jealous.

Weighing her words carefully, Danielle spoke. “Why don't you just leave Tuck Carlyle alone for a while? He's still young, and so are you. Besides Tuck's sister, Carrie, you're the only unattached female on this drive. Leave Tuck be, and it'll worry the hell out of him.”

Katrina laughed. “Thanks. I'll do that, and if you don't mind, perhaps I'll build a fire under him by talking to you.”

“That might work,” said Danielle, “but don't push him too far.” Katrina walked away grinning.

Danielle felt sick to her stomach. She saw herself as a hypocrite, telling Katrina how to win Tucker Carlyle while she—Danielle—was interested in Tuck herself. But Katrina had an edge. She would be there long after Danielle had ridden away in search of her father's killers. Danielle bit her lower lip and said some words under her breath that would have shocked her mother beyond recovery. Danielle didn't know Tuck was nearby, until he spoke to her from the darkness.

“Well,
amigo
, did you get the key to the cast-iron underpants?”

“Tuck,” Danielle said, “it's cruel of you to keep repeating that. She needs a friend.”

“And now she has one,” said Tuck. “You.”

“Only if you play the part of a damn fool and drive her away,” Danielle said. “But I'll be riding on, once we reach Abilene. I can't afford to have Katrina interested in me, for a number of reasons.”

“We still may run into that bunch of outlaws,” said Tuck, changing the subject.

“I'm doubting it more and more,” Danielle said. “There's too many of us, and we're all armed. The bunch I'm lookin' for is the kind who would kill and rob one man, like they did my pa. If the odds aren't favoring them, they'll back off.”

 

 

The next morning the outfit set out downriver, seeking the rest of their herd. Their women would stand watch over the seven hundred cattle they had gathered the day before. When the sun had been up an hour, both riders and horses were sweating. The cattle, when they began finding them, were scattered. Single cows grazed alone.

“We got our work cut out for us,” Enos Chadman said. “It'll be one damn cow at a time. We'll be lucky if we find the rest of 'em in two or three days.”

The riders split up, each going after one or two cows. Danielle watched Katrina as she went after the wandering cattle. Danielle felt some envy. While Katrina had been frightened during the gunfire, she was adept at gathering the strays. With doubled lariat, she swatted the behinds of troublesome steers and cows, bending them to her will. She would make some proud rancher a worthy wife, Danielle thought gloomily.

“Time for another tally, before we herd these in with what we got yesterday,” Wallace Flagg said.

Enos Chadman had the low count of six hundred and twenty-five.

“Just barely half of them,” said Cyrus Baldwin. “Two more days, if the rest are all over hell, like those we found today.”

“We're just almighty lucky they stopped shy of crossin' the Red,” Enos Chadman said. “Otherwise, and we might have been trailing them all the way to their home range, starting this drive from the very beginning.”

“We might have been deeper into Indian Territory at the time of the stampede,” said Tuck. “I've never been there, but I've heard it's hell, tracking stampeded cattle. The deeper you are into the Territory, the more danger.”

“I've ridden across it,” Danielle said, “and parts of it are wilderness. A cow—or a man—could hide there forever without being found.”

Their day's gather was driven back to camp and bedded down with those gathered the day before. Barney Dumont was still feverish, and would have to drink some of the whiskey during the night. Danielle remained on the first watch, and wasn't in the least surprised when she again found Katrina riding alongside her.

“I've been watching how well you handle cattle,” Danielle said. “My pa was a gunsmith, and I'm having to learn this business by watching the rest of you.”

“Thank you,” said Katrina. “You're better at it than you think. I remember what you said about leaving Tuck alone, and I caught him watching me all day.”

Danielle laughed uneasily. “He thought he had you hooked, and now he's not quite so sure. Most men don't like it when things don't work out the way they've planned.”

“You say some curious things, to be a man,” Katrina said. “Most men will fight until hell freezes, even when they know they're wrong. I have the feeling you're not like that at all.”

“I try not to be,” said Danielle. “Ma tried to change my pa's mind about selling his gunsmithing business and going to Texas for a herd of cattle. The more she tried, the more stubborn he became. All his pride and stubbornness got him was a lonely grave here in Indian Territory.”

“I'm surprised you weren't riding with him,” Katrina said. “If it had been my pa, my brother, Eric, would have been hell-bent on going along.”

Danielle thought fast. “He didn't want my mother left here alone. Then, after we knew Pa was dead, Ma changed her mind about me going, because she knew I'd be going anyway.”

Katrina laughed. “You just described yourself the same way you have described most other men. Pride ful and stubborn.”

“Damn.” said Danielle, “you've discovered my secret. I'm just like all the others.”

“No,” Katrina said. “There's something strangely different about you.”

Danielle sighed. Was this curious girl seeing through her disguise, looking beyond her lowered voice, her man's clothing, and fast gun? She made a silent resolution to avoid Katrina as much as she could, hoping—yet dreading—that Tuck Carlyle's interest in her might be renewed.

 

 

Gathering the remainder of the herd required two more days.

“We started with 2,625 head,” said Wallace Flagg, “and we now have 2,605. I think we'd better end this gather, take our small loss, and head for Abilene. I'd hate to be here looking for those twenty cows when the first snow flies.”

Flagg's suggestion was met with unanimous approval, and the next morning, the drive again headed north. The hot August sun had sucked up standing puddles of water, there was no mud, and the wagons followed the herd without difficulty. The first and second watches were continued, and there was no further sign of the expected outlaws. Danielle was glad for the sake of the small ranchers, but disappointed with her own position. She had been virtually certain the outlaws would try to take the herd. Now, having seen four of their number quickly shot down, the others had apparently given up. Tuck had barely spoken to her since she had begun talking to Katrina, and Danielle was surprised to find him riding beside her, in drag position.

“What are you doing with the drag?” Danielle asked. “You think these cows will find their way to Abilene without you leading them?”

Tuck laughed. “They'll have about as much chance with me leading 'em. I've never been to Abilene. I just hope we can avoid any more outlaws and stampedes.”

“I just wish I knew whether or not the bunch of outlaws that stampeded the herd is the same outfit that murdered my pa. The more I think about it, the more certain I am that the killers aren't using their real names. The names I have may mean exactly nothing.”

“Yet, when we reach Abilene, you still aim to go looking for them,” Tuck stated.

“Yes,” said Danielle. “I made a promise, and I'll live or die by it.”

Tuck's sister, Carrie, had said virtually nothing to Danielle since the drive had begun, and it came as a surprise when she found Carrie riding along beside her during the first watch.

“You've been avoiding me,” Carrie said. “What does Katrina Chadman have that I don't have? Besides the cast-iron underpants, of course.”

“She has feelings for that thick-headed brother of yours,” said Danielle. “She needs somebody to tell her there's nothing wrong with her. She needs a friend, and I haven't seen any of the rest of you being overly friendly.”

“I've never been her friend, because she seemed snooty and stuck up,” Carrie said. “I can't see that she has anything I
don't
have, but she acts like she does.”

“It's a defense against the way she's been treated,” said Danielle. “How would
you
feel if men started spreading the word that
you
have cast-iron underpants?”

“I think I'd be flattered,” Carrie said. “Nobody notices me except Barney Dumont, and he's about as romantic as a corral post.”

Danielle laughed. “Do you want me to spread the word that you have cast-iron underpants too?”

Carrie sighed. “I suppose not. Perhaps someday a man will see me for what I am. Whatever that may be. Do you still plan to leave us when we reach Abilene?”

“I must,” said Danielle, “unless somewhere between here and there, I run into those outlaws who murdered my pa.”

“I'll hate to see you go,” Carrie said. “You're too nice to be shot in the back by some devil of an outlaw.”

“I've learned to watch my back,” said Danielle, “but I appreciate the kind words.”

 

 

The outfit reached Abilene without further stampede, Indian attacks, or outlaw trouble. There were two cattle buyers who hadn't left town, and Wallace Flagg called on both of them.

“I got us a deal,” Flagg said. “We're definitely the last herd of the season, and all our beef is prime. We're getting thirty-five dollars a head.”

Flagg collected the money, and the first thing he did was count out $3,500 of it to Danielle. He then divided what was left by five, and the five ranchers each had a little more than $18,000.

“Dear God,” said Wallace Flagg's wife, weeping, “I never expected to see so much in my whole life.”

“We have Dan Strange to thank for suggesting this drive,” Tuck Carlyle said. “All of us, on our own, were sittin' there starving, waiting for the rustlers to drive off the cattle we had left. Now we'll have enough to make a bigger drive next year.”

Amid shouting and cheering, Danielle felt a little guilty. She had taken $3,500 of their money, after investing only $300. But she was grateful, and told them so.

“I don't feel like I've earned this money,” Danielle said, “but God bless every one of you for it. Now I won't have to always sleep on the ground, living on jerked beef.”

The time had come for Danielle to say good-bye, and she found it far more difficult than she had expected. Carrie and Katrina further dampened her enthusiasm by weeping, while all she got from Tuck was a handshake. Mounting the chestnut mare, she rode west, having no destination in mind. Far beyond the Kansas plains lay Colorado. She had heard Denver was a thriving town, and being so far west, it might be the very place that would appeal to outlaws ready to hole up for the winter. She would go there, but her progress was interrupted by a blizzard that had blown in from the high plains. She fought snow and howling wind for the last few miles, before reaching the little town of Hays.

 

 

With the Union Pacific railroad coming through Hays, there were many cafes, hotels, and boardinghouses. After leaving her horse at a nearby livery, Danielle took a room on the first floor of one of the hotels. There was already a foot of snow on the ground, and a man from the restaurant was shoveling a path to the hotel. Danielle decided to go ahead and eat before the storm became more intense. In the cafe sat a man she had seen in the hotel lobby. He wore at least a three-day beard and a pair of tied-down Colts, and he eyed Danielle as he had in the hotel lobby. He left the cafe before Danielle finished her meal. When she left, darkness had fallen, and the swirling snow blinded her. There was a sudden muzzle flash in the whiteout, and quickly returning the fire, Danielle dropped to her knees, unhurt. She heard the unmistakable sound of a body thudding to the ground. She waited to see if anyone had been drawn by the shooting, although she was unable to see the front of the cafe or the hotel. Minutes passed and nobody appeared. She approached the inert form and saw that it was the man from the cafe, his intense eyes now rolled back. Searching the dead man quickly, Danielle found only a worn wallet. She placed it in the pocket of her Levi's and hurried on to the hotel. She found a fire had already been started in the stove in her room, and that it was comfortably warm. Locking the door, she lighted a lamp and sat down on the bed to find out whom she had killed. The dead man's wallet contained no identification. There was a hundred dollars, however, and she took it. From the man's behavior, she was virtually certain he was on the dodge, but why had he come after her? She was leaving yet another dead man along her back-trail, without the slightest idea why he had tried to kill her. She added more chunks of wood to the already glowing stove and prepared for bed. She thought of the many nights she had slept in her clothes and, despite the risk, stripped them all off. She had worn the binder around her chest so tight, her ribs were sore, and she sighed in blessed relief when she was without the bothersome binder. When she lay down for the night, the howling wind whipped snow against the window, and she was doubly thankful for a soft bed and a warm room.