Under the Sweetwater Rim (1971) (20 page)

Travel from here on would be increasingly dangerous, for here the war parties would go east or west, filtering down to the plains, and here there might be search parties of soldiers . . . with their horses. At daybreak he was up, tired, but eager to be going. He worked his way down the slope, dogtrotted across a meadow and into the trees. Catching his breath there, he watched his back trail and saw nothing to worry him. He cut across country toward the Little Popo Agie and found his first horse tracks just beyond it. They were a day old, but one of the horses was Ten Brian's big gray.

He found dry wood, and made coffee, ate jerky, and then killed his small fire, scattered the ashes, and sifted earth and leaves over the spot.

If an Indian actually looked for it he would find it, but without a careful search he would see nothing amiss. Reuben Kelsey knew that, given time, a man could walk down a horse, and he knew that with the women to protect, Ten Brian would not be taking risks.

At a dogtrot he covered a couple of miles, then alternately walked and ran.

By nightfall he was sure he had gained ground. The tracks looked fresh, and he had seen no Indians.

He slept the night through, but at the first hint of grayness in the sky he was up, chewing jerky and cutting for sign. He found it, and was off. Running and walking, he kept to the trail of the horses.

Shortly before noon, coming down a slope through a clump of aspen to save time and cut off a wide bend in the trail, he saw them: horses feeding on the grass, saddles still in place, the big gray among them. They were close by, then. Ten Brian, somebody else, and the two women.

Reuben Kelsey eased himself down on his haunches and studied what lay before him. There was a fringe of trees along a trickle of water . . . no sign of a fire.

They were down there, and he could wait.

The trickle of water Kelsey had seen came from a spring in a cluster of rocks. There were pines and aspens around the rocks, and a clump of low brush.

The place offered excellent cover for a small party. Jason and Brian took turns watching the horses grazing in the meadow. The horses as well as themselves needed the rest. Mary and Belle were asleep, worn out by the days of riding and hiding.

Brian knew that in their state of exhaustion, he could no longer consider the ride to Fort Laramie.

Regardless of the chances they might take, they must ride for South Pass. The nooning, planned to last no more than an hour, stretched on as the women slept. Jason was in bad shape from his wounded arm, and Brian was fighting sleep, but soon he must awaken Jason to take over the watch. The camp was a good one. There was even a place among the trees where the horses could be hidden after they had fed. Why not stay the night through and leave at daybreak?

South Pass could be no more than ten miles away, in a straight line, but by the trails they must follow it would be at least another five miles-- too far for the women to ride in their present state, too far even for Jason. To rest through the day and night might be the wisest plan and start fresh in the morning and go right on through without a stop.

He felt his eyes closing, and forced them open, then got to his feet, shaking his head to try to clear it. He moved around, keeping low and under cover of the trees.

Suddenly he noticed one of the horses-the one closest to the woods across the meadow. Its head was up, ears pricked.

Tenadore Brian took up his rifle and waited ... something or somebody was out there.

He let his eyes scan the edge of the trees opposite, then looked away, letting the peripheral vision pick up any movement, for sometimes a slight movement is seen better from the corners of the eyes .... There was no movement.

Yet what was that shine from among the leaves? He studied the area, looked all around, but saw nothing out of the usual. Yet he was sure there was something there.

He eased down to his haunches, peering past the trunk of a pine, then he lowered one knee to the earth for a better shooting position.

Only the one horse had seemed nervous, but now Brian looked toward his gray. It was at the end of the picket rope but turned to face the trees, eating quietly but with the ears pricked. He knew from the past that the gray was alert and watching, even as it cropped grass. Whoever waited out there had only to stay until they came for their horses, and he would be sure to get at least one of them. But would they wait? Turning his head, Brian looked behind him at the place where the women and Jason lay asleep. None of them moved; all was still. He looked again to the spot where he had seen that different shine, and as he looked a small rock or clump of dirt rolled from under the brush. Something back there had moved. He was tempted to shoot, but he had never shot at any target he could not see or did not know was there. He had no desire to shoot an innocent person, or even an animal, so he held his fire.

Whoever it was would wait, as he had considered doing.

They might remain where they were throughout the night. Yet soon the horses must be moved, and when dark came, they must be watered.

He studied the situation. The gray's picket stake was thirty-five or forty feet from the shelter of the trees. Mary's horse was no further away, but the other two were picketed out in the meadow a good sixty yards from shelter. He could let Mary or Belle go for the horses, for there was small chance they would be fired on. Rather, it might lead the unknown watcher into a trap, as he might believe there was no man here with them. But the thought of exposing one of the women to even a slight chance of danger went against the grain. There had to be some other solution.

Another idea occurred to him. The horses out yonder had not whinnied as they would have done to another horse, and therefore the unknown in the trees across the meadow either had no horse or had left it some distance away. If he had no horse he would be wanting one desperately. So what would happen? He-or they-would come during the night when a horse might be stolen with less risk. And it was at night that Brian himself must go after the horses.

He settled down to wait and to watch, and the horses, too, seemed to have settled down. Either the unknown in the trees had gone, or he had relaxed enough to make the horses less wary.

Slowly, time slipped away. It was warm and pleasant in the small grove. Jason moaned a little in his sleep, something he would never have done awake. Several times Ten Brian caught himself dozing. He needed sleep, but not so bad as did the others. Despite the rugged conditions, he had recovered somewhat. His headache was almost gone, and his lean, powerful body was asserting itself. Finally he went down and awakened Mary. "Can you watch? I need some sleep before night."

She rose quickly, and leading her away from the others he explained the situation and advised her to watch the horses, and to be alert for any movement by the unknown watcher.

Taking his rifle, she moved up to where she could watch, and Brian lay down on the pine needles in a small hollow under a tree. He held his pistol in his hand.

It was dusk when she awakened him. "Ten, I thought something moved over there."

He got up quickly. The others were already awake.

He had slept only about an hour, but even that small rest had refreshed him. The horses were still at their picket ropes, but the gray was as close to the trees as it could get. Near a pile of rocks, several marmots were playing, evidence enough that nothing was moving over there. "Mary," he whispered, "I'm going to try to get my gray horse. You cover me with the rifle. If anybody comes out from the trees over there . . . shoot." He worked his way along the ridge, keeping under cover of the scattered trees and brush until he was close to the gray.

He knew the horse would be expecting him, for it would be wanting water.

He spoke softly and the gray lifted its head and looked at him. A bullet whapped against the rock within inches of his head and scattered him with stinging fragments. Almost with the same report, Mary fired.

The double report echoed, the sound drifted away, and all was still. Nothing moved except the horses, nervous at the firing. Mary, Brian decided, had fired at the flash of the rifle over yonder, but it was unlikely she had hit anything.

But the shot had told him something. The man over there-and Brian was sure it was only one manwanted a horse the worst way. At the first indication that someone might be approaching he had fired, risking everything to warn them away from the horses. It would be too dark to see in a matter of minutes, and he needed to know where the horses were, where their picket pins were located.

The trees and brush across the meadow were now a wall of blackness, and the area in between was vague and indistinct. If someone started to crawl toward the horses he would scarcely be able to see them . .. nor could anyone see him.

Brian went down the slight bank, and pistol in hand, wormed his way slowly across the grass. He crawled past the gray, pulled the picket pin, and then, whispering to the big horse, he swung to the saddle. Lying low along its neck he urged the horse toward those horses farthest out, keeping his gray at a slow walk, occasionally stopping it to simulate a horse cropping grass.

He moved closer, caught another picket rope, andwitha sharp tug, loosened the pin. Then he walked his horse on toward the next one. He was near it when suddenly a dark figure rose from the ground. He caught a glimpse of movement an instant before the man lunged, and he kicked the gray with his heel.

The horse leaped forward, and the attacker missed his lunge, but turned sharply as Brian did. In his hand there was a gleam from a knife blade. "Is that you, Reub?" Brian asked.

"It is: His "Then get out of here while you've got a chance."

"I need a horse, boy-I need one bad. In fact, I need two horses." "Get them from the Sioux. There's Indians all over the place."

"I'll take a couple of these," Kelsey replied easily. "I hate to do it, Ten." And then he added quietly, "I've got a gun on you, Ten. I can blast you out of the saddle."

"And I have one on you." It was Mary, speaking from the darkness. "I have you right against the sky."

Kelsey chuckled. "Now wouldn't you know it?

It's always a woman who ruins a man. Ma'am, I think you're bluffin'. Show me you got a gun."

Mary was cool. "I have one all right."

"I have one too, Reub," Brian said, "laid right on you. It's an Army Colt, if you want to know, caliber .44, and I always could shoot, so you just back up.

"We haven't a horse for you, or I'd take you in a prisoner, and I'd take your gun, but I'd not want to leave any man afoot and unarmed in Indian country. You just back off, and figure yourself lucky. "Mary, you get up on one of those horses. Gather the others and we'll start back."

Mary hesitated. "But you'll only have one gun on him, Ten. He might take a chance."

"Not if I know Kelsey. He likes a sure thing. Anyway, he can take his chance if he feels lucky."

Kelsey's chuckle was genuine. "You're right, Ten. I play the sure thing. You were a good shot, so I'll not chance it. We'll have to get together some other time. I'm holstering my gun, Ten, and backing off."

"You'll forgive me if I don't holster mine, I'm sure. Good-bye, Reub . .. and good luck. You're going to need it."

His eyes were accustomed to the darkness now and he saw Reuben Kelsey slip his gun back into its holster.

"Ten, they tell me you been all over. Paris, Rome, China ... all them places. What're they like, Ten? I always figured someday I'd see them." "They're worth seeing, Reub, really worth it. But don't try to talk me off guard. It won't work."

"It ain't that. I just wished I could have gone along. We should have stuck together, you and me."

Tenadore Brian believed that Kelsey was at least half sincere. He also knew the volatile nature of the man, who could change from sentiment to killing within a moment. He backed his horse away a few steps. Was Kelsey really alone? There was no way of telling, and with Kelsey one must be ready for trickery at all times. Brian wanted to be away and riding . . . there could be no thought of spending the night here now. Somehow they would have to get away quickly.

Alert for any movement, he turned his horse slightly, still watching Kelsey.

"Ten, leave me a horse. I got to have one."

"We've just enough, Reub, so you'll have to get one from the Indians. So long, Reub."

He swung his horse in the opposite direction and rode a zigzag course toward the trees.

When he reached their shelter he looked back.

He thought he could see Kelsey still standing there.

What would the man do? Without a horse, in that country, even a man like Kelsey was not going to last very long. And he could get nowhere with the gold, if he had it.

He could not even leave the mountains. As long as he remained here, in the Wind Rivers, he had water, he could rustle for food, and he could survive. But there was nowhere he could go from the mountains without a horse. To go east into the Big Horns would simply put him in a worse situation, for the Sioux were there in numbers. West and south was open country, much of it without water, all of it exposed to view.

So what would he do? He would come after them, of course. He had no other choice.

He would follow them, steal a horse before they came to South Pass if that was possible; and if not, steal one at the settlement. He was not the kind of a man to give up. He would have been a good man for this country if he had not chosen the wrong side of the law. But he had made his choice, and it led down a one-way road.