Across the Rio Colorado (4 page)

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Authors: Ralph Compton

BOOK: Across the Rio Colorado
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“Where the hell have you been, McQuade? Fine wagon boss you are.”
“I rode back to get some grub for me and the Flanagans,” said McQuade. “I got the wagons on the trail before I left, and they're somewhere ahead of you.”
“I'm well aware of that. Why didn't you wait for us?”
“We roll at first light, with or without you,” McQuade said. “Your choice.”
Without another word, Chance McQuade rode away.
M
cQuade found that his wagons had made good time, and were a good five miles or more ahead of the Rufus Hook wagons. McQuade trotted his horses alongside Ike Peyton's wagon until the train stopped to rest the teams.
“I'll split this up among some of the other wagons,” McQuade said, “if you don't have room for it.”
“I got room,” said Ike. “We didn't have much that was worth bringin' with us.”
Many of the other men had gathered, obviously expecting some word of Rufus Hook's position. McQuade didn't disappoint them.
“Hook's maybe five miles behind us,” McQuade said. “I told him if he aims to travel with us, we move out at first light.”
There was shouting and applause, with grins on many faces. Keeping his saloon open until past midnight, Hook and his bunch would be ill-prepared to take the trail at first light. Ike and several other men helped McQuade load the supplies into Ike's wagon.
“I bought extra coffee and sugar,” said McQuade. “If any of you run short, come and talk to Ike.”
It was a truly unselfish act to which every man and woman could relate, and McQuade became one of them, for better or worse. There now was a solidarity among
them that had been absent, a bond that Chance McQuade knew he must have, if they were ever to each the Rio Colorado. In his own mind, he was sure of one thing: reaching this Promised Land in Texas might be the easy part. McQuade's mind harbored a growing suspicion that Rufus Hook had a far bigger stake than just establishing a new town. He had within his reach, thousands of acres of Texas land, for almost nothing. When Texas became a state, which someday it must, Rufus Hook could become the wealthiest man in North America.
1
“I'm riding ahead to look for water,” said McQuade, as the train prepared to take the trail again. As McQuade rode past the Flanagan wagon, he tipped his hat to Mary, and she smiled. It was enough to banish from his mind all thought of Rufus Hook and the dangers which might lie ahead. Riding along, he thought ahead. The train was a little less than three hundred miles from the Neosho River, where they would cross into Indian Territory. While there were outlaws in southern Missouri, he expected little danger from them or from Indians, until they reached the Territory. It would allow some time for his teamsters to gain some confidence, and accustom them to standing watch at night. While these people had little wealth to attract thieves, their livestock was sufficient to interest outlaws as well as Indians. When McQuade had located water for the night's camp, he returned to meet the wagons. Reining up on a ridge, he could see them coming. There he waited, expecting to see the Hook wagons following at a distance, but there was no sign of them. He doubted Hook would stop short of the McQuade camp, for there wouldn't be sufficient water without going out of the way to find it. When the Peyton and Warnell wagons drew near, he rode ahead of them to the creek he had chosen. There was still an hour of daylight, and as the men began unharnessing their teams, McQuade sought out the Burke wagon. While old Andrew Burke and his troublesome
sons had made it hard on McQuade, they were part of the train, and his sense of responsibility told him he should at least inquire about Matthew. He found Mark and Luke unharnessing the teams, and old Andrew greeted him in silence, without enthusiasm.
“How's Matthew?” McQuade asked.
“Alive,” said Andrew.
“I brought back some laudanum from town this morning,” McQuade said. “If there's a need, you're welcome to some of it.”
“We're obliged,” said Burke grudgingly. “We'll keep it in mind.”
McQuade turned away. Matthew Burke would need whiskey to break his fever and fight off infection, but let them get their own. Rufus Hook had an abundance of it. Reaching the Peyton wagon, he found that Maggie Peyton, Ellen Gunter, Minerva Haymes, Lucy Tabor, and Odessa Bibb had begun sharing the preparation of meals, and instead of five supper fires, there now were just two.
“Ladies,” said McQuade, “that's a downright smart move. I won't be surprised if it's quick to catch on.”
“It already has,” Maggie Peyton said. “The others are followin' our lead. We was all killin' ourselves findin' wood for a fire of our own. With six of us sharin' the work, it's easier on us all.”
“Six?” McQuade looked around and saw Mary Flanagan coming from the creek, a big two-gallon granite coffee pot in each hand.
When supper was ready, McQuade thoroughly enjoyed it, for the sharing further drew the families together. When Miles Flanagan had eaten, he went from one group of families to the other, spending some time with them all. Everybody seemed to enjoy the closeness, except some of the single men. The Burkes had their own fire, refusing to participate. It was well after dark before they heard the rattle of wagons and the jingle of harness, marking the arrival of Rufus Hook's wagons.
“I reckon the saloon will be openin' late tonight,” said Ike Peyton.
“Yeah,” Will Haymes said, “and closin' earlier.”
It brought a round of laughter, for they all knew what Ike and Will meant. While they could do nothing about Hook's saloon, they could continue taking the trail at first light, leaving Hook and his late-night outfit behind. McQuade had already assigned the first watch, and some of the women had taken to their blankets, when the stillness of the night was shattered by a rollicking refrain from Hook's piano.
“Damn it,” Ike Peyton grumbled, “I used to like the piano.”
“There's hot coffee on the coals,” said Maggie, “if you need it.”
“I need it,” McQuade said, and went to fill his cup. There was no moon, and he saw a shadowy form on the seat of the Flanagan wagon. When he drew near it, he spoke softly.
“Mary?”
“Here,” she replied.
“Would you like some coffee?” he asked.
“Yes, please.”
He reached the Peyton wagon, and without a word, Maggie handed him a cup. Quickly he filled it from the coffee pot, returned to the Flanagan wagon, and passed the cup to the girl. He then climbed up on the box beside her.
Ike Peyton laughed. “He don't waste no time, does he?”
“No,” said Maggie, “and he shouldn't. She's a good girl, and she needs somebody like Chance McQuade.”
For a while McQuade said nothing, content to sit there beside Mary Flanagan. When he did speak, he pleased her more than he knew.
“I'm glad you pitched in with the supper. Not that they couldn't have managed, but I want you to have friends, to become one of these folks.”
“I'm already one of them,” she said. “I discovered that tonight, when I was made to feel welcome.”
She set the tin cup down, leaned her head on his shoulder, and he discovered she was weeping softly. It was a while before she trusted herself to speak again.
“It … means a lot to me, but … did you see my father? Do you know what he said to me, before he turned in for the night?”
“What?” McQuade asked, interested.
“He said, ‘Daughter, I don't need Rufus Hook to build me a church. I've found it.'”
“I can believe that,” said McQuade. “Some of the best preaching I've ever heard, was when all I had over my head was trees and sky.”
It was a pleasant interlude. But then came the roar of a Sharps .50, in the direction of the Hook camp. There was a distant scream, and the piano jangled to silence.
“Dear Lord,” said Mary, “what's happened now?”
“I don't know,” McQuade said, “but I have an idea we soon will. Wait here, and I'll be back. They may try to suck us into this.”
McQuade joined a dozen other men who stood looking toward the lights of the distant Hood wagons. Nobody said anything, and after the time it would have taken a man to saddle a horse, they heard riders coming. His Sharps in the crook of his arm, McQuade made his way through the circled wagons until he stood in the open. While he had given no order, he sensed the men behind him. Three riders loomed up in the darkness.
“That'll be far enough,” said McQuade. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
“This is Rufus Hook,” a grim voice replied, “and you got some answering to do.”
“You ask the questions,” McQuade said, “and if I can answer them, I will.”
“A while ago, somebody shot one of my gamblers, Snakehead Presnall. He's hurt bad, and somebody from your camp fired that shot. Who was it?”
“You don't know who did it, yet you're accusing somebody from my camp,” McQuade said coldly. “That's a fool question I won't take serious, unless you got some proof.”
“One of your pumpkin rollers was shot last night, after he drew on Presnall. Now I'm tellin' you him or one of his kin got even by shootin' down Presnall from the dark. Now I want you to drag that bunch out here where I can question them and have a look at their long guns.”
“No,” said McQuade. “It's your saloon, your women, your gamblers, and your booze. Maintaining order is your responsibility, and I don't aim to dance when you come fiddling around. Now mount up and get out of here.”
“Hold it, McQuade,” Andrew Burke said. “Mark, Luke, an' me, we got our long guns, and Mister Hook is welcome to have a look at 'em. We ain't about to have him spoutin' off what he can't prove.”
Unbidden, Ike Peyton brought a lighted lantern, as the Burkes came forth with their rifles.
“Creeker, Ellis,” said Hook, “examine those rifles.”
The two men accompanying Hook sniffed the muzzles of the long guns and checked the loads. Without a word, they passed them back to the Burkes.
“Well?” Hook said, impatiently.
“Loaded, an' no sign of havin' been fired,” said Creeker. “But they've had plenty of time to reload.”
“Where's the rifle belongin' to the
hombre
Presnall shot last night?” Ellis asked.
“Matthew's got no long gun,” said Andrew Burke. “All he has is the pistol the was wearin' when he was shot.”
“I guess we're supposed to take your word for that,” Rufus Hook said.
“You're damn well going to,” said McQuade. “You stomp in here without a shred of proof, with your demands. Now mount up and ride, all of you.”
Wordlessly they mounted and rode back the way they
had come. The Burkes departed in silence, and nobody spoke until they had gone.
“Ungrateful varmints,” Gunter Warnell said. “I wish you hadn't stood up for 'em.”
“I can't side any of you without sidin' all of you,” said McQuade. “Tomorrow, it may be any one of the rest of you. Rufus Hook's a man accustomed to having his own way, and the more you give, the more he'll take.”
It was a truth they all understood, and they made their way back to the wagons and their blankets. The piano had resumed its seemingly endless attack on the silence of the plains. Now very much awake, McQuade returned to the Flanagan wagon, and was elated to find Mary still there.
“Hand me the cups,” he said softly, “and I'll heat up our coffee.”
She passed him the cups and he refilled them from the coffee pot. Handing the cups to her, he climbed back to the wagon box and sat down beside her.
“I heard most of it,” she said. “What's going to happen now?”
“I have no idea,” he replied. “Mostly, it depends on whether or not these young hell-raisers in our midst have learned anything. If there's more trouble, we'll be seeing Rufus Hook again. Or he may just have his gunmen take a few shots into our camp, after dark.”
“But that's so unfair,” she cried, “making all of us pay for the sins of a few.”
“I couldn't agree more,” said McQuade, “but that's the way of the frontier. Many a man with a grudge just wants somebody to pay, often not caring if he harms the innocent along with the guilty.”
“Chance McQuade,” she said softly, “you are a compassionate and understanding man.”
“Coming from you,” said McQuade, “I take that as a compliment.”
“I wish I could take credit for having said that,” she replied, “but I'm just quoting my father. I asked him … what you wanted me to, and he gave his blessing.”
“I'm glad,” said McQuade. “Otherwise, I reckon I'd be taking my life in my hands, out here with you, and him likely under the wagon.”
She laughed softly. “Not really. Since I'm helping with the cooking, he insists on doing his share. He's out there with the first watch. He's taken to these people, and they seem to like him. I expect he'll be out there every night.”
“Then I'll take my turn after he calls it a night,” said McQuade. “While he's away, don't be surprised if I show up here, lookin' out for you. There's all manner of coyotes, wolves, and catamounts out here on the plains.”

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