A Horse Called Mogollon (Floating Outfit Book 3) (22 page)

‘
We met
up with the Weasel,’ Clum remarked, devouring Beatrice with a
lust-filled stare. ‘He told us to come on over’s you’re hiring men,
Hubie.’

‘
Where’s he now?’ Stagge demanded.

‘
Gone
on up to the Fork to see who-all’s in town,’ Glum
answered.

‘
What’s
it all about anyways, Hubie?’ asked Orell. ‘Laura’s been hitting
the Taos Lightning ’n’ couldn’t tell us nothing.’

‘
Least-wise, nothing’s we could go repeating afore a
for-real lady,’ Walde went on, looking pointedly at Beatrice.
‘She’s sleeping it off up to the house right now.’

A low hiss of anger broke from
Beatrice as she listened to the men
’s comments. Up to that point, she had
been blaming Weasel for describing her character in an
uncomplimentary—if fairly true—manner. From what she had just
heard, the source of their information was much closer at
hand.

‘
We’ll
tell you about it when the boss comes back,’ Stagge promised, and
dismounted. ‘Ramon! Come and tend to the horses.’

‘
Si
, senor.’
answered the wrangler, advancing.

‘
Hold
it back there, boys!’ Stagge ordered as the five men made as if to
move in Beatrice’s direction. ‘The
Vicomtesse
rides good enough to get off without
needing help.’

Saying the words, Stagge opened
his jacket and placed himself between Beatrice and the newcomers.
With his right
hand pointing towards the butt of the concealed revolver,
there was a challenge and a threat in his attitude.
Stagge
knew the kind of men
he was dealing with and that he must assert his domination over
them from the start. So he seized on their behavior towards
the
Vicomtesse
as the excuse for a showdown.

Slowly Stagge
’s eyes turned from face to
face, remaining on each until its owner looked away. Beatrice could
sense the tension, but ignored it. At that moment she was too
furious at Laura to worry about what the men were doing. If she had
possessed more knowledge of the situation, she would have had a
greater awareness of the danger.

However, the newcomers had no
collective reason to go up against Stagge. Nor had any single
individual the necessary guts to take on the cold-eyed killer. All
realized that they had not seen Royce or Coxin since their arrival
and suspected that the two men could be close by, ready to back
their boss
’s
play should it be necessary. So the men put aside their individual
desires to see if Laura had been telling the truth about the
foreign woman.

‘
Have
you boys fed yet?’ Stagge inquired in a more friendly manner,
satisfied that he had made his point for the time being.

‘
Was
just set to when we heard you coming,’ Buck-Eye replied.

‘
Go to
it then,’ offered Stagge. ‘You’ll find you’ve not had the ride for
nothing when the
Vicomte
comes home.’

Leaving the wrangler to attend
to their horses, Beatrice and Stagge went into the house. Buck-Eye
and his companions watched the door close, then returned to the
cook-shack, discussing the
Vicomtesse’s
possible relationship with the killer. One thing
on which the newcomers agreed, Stagge had given them a ‘hands off’
warning which it would be wise to take.

On leaving the ranch, the
Renfrew family had taken most of their furniture. So the de
Brioudes had been forced to make do with their own camp equipment
and items salvaged by their escort. Expecting to move on after a
week or so, they had taken little trouble in refitting the
buildings. The main house
’s front room had only a rickety table, six
folding camp-chairs and blankets hung at the windows to preserve
the occupants’ privacy. Three doors in the rear wall led to the
bedrooms and kitchen which were just as scantily
furnished.

‘
That
woman you brought must go!’ Beatrice shrilled at Stagge as they
stood in the front room. ‘She’s been talking to those men about
me!’

Hinges creaked and a
disheveled,
bleary-eyed Laura came from the bedroom allocated to her and
Stagge. Barefooted and wearing only a loosely-fastened, flimsy
robe, she swayed forward to confront Beatrice and the
killer.

‘
So
what if I did?’ Laura challenged, teetering to a halt on wide
spread feet. ‘I only said you was a gal who’d sleep with anything
in pants—’

Leaping by Stagge as he moved
towards Laura, Beatrice hurled up her left leg with a speed that
took the other two by surprise. Powerful muscles propelled the toe
of the riding boot between Laura
’s thighs. White-hot torment burst through
the brunette. Clutching at the stricken area, she folded over and
collapsed on to her side. Laura’s whole being wanted to scream
aloud, but the unexpected agony had robbed her lungs of air and she
could make no sound.

Almost as soon as Laura struck
the floor, Beatrice had lowered her left leg and kicked with the
right. Teeth splintered and blood gushed from the
brunette
’s
mouth as the boot struck her face. The impact rolled Laura on to
her back, the robe trailing open. Spitting out a string of French
gutter-oaths, the
Vicomtesse
stamped first one foot then the other into Laura’s naked
body and features.

Amazed by the animal speed and
fury of Beatrice
’s attack, Stagge allowed six stamping kicks to descend on
Laura before he made a move. By that time, the brunette’s face was
a mass of gore and blood was dribbling from the nipple of her left
breast. Striding forward, Stagge caught Beatrice’s right arm and
jerked her away from the supine, motionless woman. Around whipped
his free arm to slap the
Vicomtesse’s
face. For a moment he thought that the blow would
bring her rage on to him. Then sanity returned and Beatrice
relaxed.

‘
Get
her away from me, Hubie!’ Beatrice ordered, reverting to English
and studying her victim without displaying compassion. ‘Throw her
out and tell her not to come back.’

‘
And
have her go straight to town and tell the law what she knows?’
Stagge growled. ‘Like hell. And she could be too useful to kill,
before you say it. Go to your room. Buck-Eye always totes a
sleeping potion with him. I’ll use that to keep her quiet until we
decide what to do with her.’

Seeing a
thin column of smoke rising from a
clump of post oaks, Mark Counter turned his horse in that
direction. He was on his way back to the Schells’ camp after an
abortive visit to Kerrville, but decided to see who had made the
fire among the trees. Jeanie and Colin planned to make a
corrida
on four
manadas
which had been
located to the north-west of the
Caracol de Santa Barbara,
so Mark intended to
ask whoever he found to stay clear of that area until it was
completed.

On Dusty and Colin returning
from Kerrville the previous evening, they had told the others about
their visit. In view of Libby
’s annoyance over hearing that the de Brioudes
apparently intended to purchase the Renfrew ranch, Dusty had kept
quiet about his theory. Taking Mark and the Kid aside later, he had
confided in them. Even with Dusty’s more detailed description to
guide him, Mark had been unable to claim definitely that ‘Nerton’
and the two hard-cases were the same he had seen in Fort Sawyer.
Agreeing with Dusty that they must act warily and be sure of their
facts, Mark had suggested that he should visit Kerrville in the
morning and examine the bodies. They had been buried by the time he
arrived, so there was no chance of him identifying them. As Tam
Breda was still away with the posse, Mark had learned the latest
developments and was headed back to tell Dusty what had happened.
Probably the small Texan would find other means of checking out his
theory.

Passing through the post oaks,
Mark approached a small clearing. Two wiry, smallish horses stood
hobbled on the bank of a narrow stream which flowed across the open
space. Going by the fact that they still had on their saddles and
hackamores, Mark concluded that their owners did not intend to make
an extended stay in the area. From the horses, he turned his eyes
towards the fire. A coffee-pot steamed on the flames and two
buckskin-clad men stood
facing him. They held tin cups in their left
hands, the right fingers close to their holstered revolvers. That
did not surprise Mark, for they were merely taking an ordinary
precaution. Mark had made no attempt to conceal his presence while
riding up, but he had expected whoever he found to be
wary.

‘
Howdy,
gents,’ Mark called, halting the blood bay and resting both hands
on its saddle horn to display his pacific intentions. ‘Can I come
ahead?’

‘
Feel
free,’ answered the taller of the pair. ‘Seth ’n’ me’ve got coffee
to spare. Light ’n’ take a cup.’

‘
Thanks,’ Mark drawled, setting the horse moving. ‘I could
sure use one.’

Watching the blond giant swing from
his saddle and lead the big stallion towards the stream, Seth
Roarke spoke quietly to his companion.

‘
Reckon
it’s that Counter jasper the Countess wants to see so bad,
Buck-Eye?’

‘
Ain’t
likely there’s two that size around,’ the lanky man answered in no
louder tones. ‘Anyways, his guns, hoss and gear’ll bring in a good
price if he’s not. Fill your cup,
pronto.’

Obeying swiftly, Roarke held the
filled cup to his companion. Showing an equal speed, Buck-Eye had
produced a small buckskin pouch from a pocket built inside his
shirt. While Mark was attending to the stallion
’s needs, his back to the fire,
Buck-Eye tipped powder from the pouch into the cup. Agitating the
contents, Roarke caused all traces of the addition to disappear
from the liquid. With the stallion’s thirst quenched, Mark set it
free to graze and joined the men by the fire.

‘
You
working hereabouts, friend?’ Roarke asked, holding out the
cup.

‘
I’m
helping the Schells catch mustangs for my spread,’ Mark replied,
for the question had not exceeded the bounds of frontier
etiquette.

‘
They
wouldn’t be hiring, would they?’ Buck-Eye inquired, watching the
big blond accept the cup. ‘Seth ’n’ me could use work real
bad.’

Mark took a sip at the coffee
before answering. While crossing the clearing, he had studied the
pair. They looked little different from the usual run of drifters
and might be
hunters or mustangers. Maybe they possessed a tough,
unprepossessing appearance, but he could hardly hold that against
them. Certainly they seemed amiable enough and Libby could use some
extra help with the next
corrida.

‘
Why
not ride on over and ask Mrs. Schell?’ Mark suggested and looked at
the black liquid in the cup.

‘
Coffee
all right?’ Buck-Eye asked. ‘We’re nigh on out of sugar, so it
won’t be over sweet.’

‘
It’ll
do,’ Mark answered, putting the fluid’s slightly bitter taste down
to the shortage of sugar. ‘You boys been mustanging?’

‘
We’ve
had to turn our hands to more’n one thing since the War,’ Buck-Eye
said. ‘Ain’t nothing paying worth a damn these days.’

After that the conversation followed
general lines about conditions in Texas. Mark saw nothing
suspicious and the men gave no hint of their interest in his
consumption of the coffee. Emptying the cup, he returned it to
Roarke.

‘
If you
gents want to come along,’ Mark said, ‘I’ll take you to see Mrs.
Schell. Can’t promise anything, mind, but there’ll be a meal in it
for you any way it goes.’

Starting to walk towards his
horse, Mark felt a sudden wave of dizziness strike him. For a
moment he tried to clear his head by shaking it. Then his legs
buckled under him and he found himself falling. Through the mists
which seemed to be swirling about his head, he heard the soft thud
of the men
’s
moccasin-covered feet coming towards him. Their voices appeared to
be a long way off.

‘
How
long’ll it make him sleep, Buck-Eye?’

‘
Until
near on midnight. We’ll have him to her afore then.’

‘
Why do
you reckon she’s so set on getting him?’

Everything went black for Mark before
he heard the reply.

‘
Now
why’d
you
think she wants him, Seth?’ Buck-Eye grinned, stirring
Mark’s unconscious, giant frame with the toe of his left moccasin.
‘’Specially after what Laura telled us about Mrs.
Count.’

‘
Which
I bet ole Laura’s wishing she’d not said nothing,’ Roarke
commented. ‘Whoever rough-handled her sure did one hell of a job at
it.’