Black Horse Creek (9781101607466) (8 page)

Leaving the river behind, the small herd of horses galloped out onto the prairie, with Grayson content to follow, as long as they continued in that general direction. He would let them run until they tired themselves out, even with the risk of breaking a leg on the dark prairie; then he would attempt to herd them back toward the river and John's place. His thoughts were interrupted once again by the zip of a rifle slug over his head, followed by the report of the rifle behind him.
Damn,
he thought, sure it was the same Indian that sent the first shot over his head earlier.
If he ever figures out he's shooting high, I'm a goner
. Bending low over his horse's neck, he galloped on until coming to a line of low hills. Charging straight over the top of one of them, he pulled the gray to a hard stop as soon as he crossed over the crest, coming out of the saddle with his rifle in hand. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he scrambled back to the top of the hill and dived on his belly. He didn't have to wait long before he saw two Indian ponies charging after him at full speed, the dark forms of their riders leaning low over their horses' necks. He took his time to make sure the front sight was squarely in the center of the dark form on the lead horse. He squeezed the trigger and the rider disappeared from the horse's back. Grayson cocked the rifle and quickly shifted to aim it at the second Indian, but he veered away when the rifle spoke, causing Grayson to miss. He immediately cocked it again, but the Indian was galloping away at an angle by then and lying low on the side of his pony. Grayson watched to see if the warrior would attempt to come after him again, but after a few minutes, he decided that the Indian had had enough. With thoughts of his little herd of horses scattering in all directions, he sped off after them again, only to lose them in the darkness. “Dammit!” he cursed, afraid he had gone to all that trouble in vain.

*   *   *

He found them right after dawn the next morning. They had evidently run until forced to rest, then drifted back to the river. They were grazing near the bank, as if waiting for him to show up, and paid him no mind when he guided the gray among them. Knowing his horse was in need of rest, for he had continued to look for the horses most of the night, he pulled his saddle off and turned him loose to drink and graze. Apparently fully domesticated, John's horses were content to mill around close to him, so he figured it worth the gamble to remain there until the gray was fully rested. He felt sure the Pawnee raiders had suffered enough grief to be discouraged from continuing the chase. To be safe, however, he kept a sharp lookout from the top of a low swale during the entire morning. It was midmorning before he saddled his horse again and began the job of herding the horses back up the river to the trading post. He didn't expect it to be an easy job, for he never fancied himself to be much of a wrangler.

Chapter 6

“You busted my head,” Billy wailed. “It's still bleedin'.”

“You lucky I don't shoot you,” Belle replied. “You want food, or not?” After the first time she brought him coffee and jerky the night before, she was wary of any more of his attempts to escape. “You want food, push the door open and get it.” After placing a cup of coffee and a plate of bacon and biscuits on the ground beside the smokehouse door, where he could reach them from inside the open door, she had removed the spike from the hasp and stepped away.

He could see her through a crack in the weathered door, standing with the rifle against her shoulder, aimed at the door. There was little chance he was going to make any surprise move on the sturdy Indian woman. As she had instructed, he pushed the door open, slowly, until wide enough to see the cup and plate before it, and the stoic woman standing ready to shoot. Squinting against the sudden light, after being confined in his dark cell, he eagerly took her offering, and sat back on his heels to gulp it down. “You put a bad cut on my forehead,” he complained after he had eaten one of the two biscuits she had brought and washed it down with half the cup of coffee, “and a pretty damn good-sized knot on my head.”

“You don't behave, I don't give you no more food,” she said, her face expressionless. “Grayson say it all right to shoot you if you cause trouble.”

“What Grayson says ain't always gonna be the way things are gonna be done,” Billy responded angrily, venting some of his frustration before checking his emotions. “But I ain't gonna cause you no trouble, ma'am,” he hastened to say. “You can count on that. I'm real sorry I scared you before. I surely didn't go to.” He could tell by her expression that she was not moved by his attempt to appear contrite.
Damn hardheaded Injun
, he thought.
If I get half a chance, I'll put a bullet between those dead eyes.
“I could sure use another cup of that coffee,” he said, but she was distracted by something on the far side of the river. He followed her glance to see a string of horses loping toward the river.
Grayson
, he swore to himself.

“Close the door now,” Belle ordered and gestured with her rifle. When Billy didn't respond at once, she lifted the rifle to her shoulder again. “Grayson say I can shoot . . .”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted impatiently. “I'm closin' the damn door.”

*   *   *

“Belle said you got all my horses back and two Injun ponies to boot,” John forced out of one side of his mouth. It was obviously painful for him to talk at all.

“Yeah,” Grayson replied. “You got a couple extra horses, but I don't reckon they were worth the price you paid for 'em.”

“Reckon not,” Polsgrove groaned. With great effort, he shifted his huge body around, trying to find a position that lessened his discomfort. His massive body looked too big for the small bed. Grayson couldn't help but wonder how they made out when Belle climbed in with him. “I guess I'da had to pull my wagon myself if you hadn't got 'em back.”

It appeared that the bullet in his back was not enough to put the big man down for good, just as Belle had said. But it was going to be a while yet before he would be on his feet again, and this was the present cause for concern for Grayson. The need to transport Billy Blanchard to Fort Smith as quickly as possible was still his main focus. The Pawnee raid on the trading post had in no way altered that, but it had thrown a snag in his plans, and given him a difficult decision to make. John Polsgrove was in a vulnerable state with no one to help him but the one Indian woman. Grayson could not ride off and leave them in this fix. His big friend's next statement made it even worse.

“Grayson, I thank the Good Lord that you showed up when you did. I reckon I'd be under the sod now if you hadn't. I think the Lord sent you and I want you to know I'm beholden to you.”

Grayson thought he detected the start of a tear in the huge man's eye.
Oh, Good Lord
, he thought,
don't do that
. John's expression of thanks was enough to make Grayson uncomfortable. He didn't need tears on top of it.

“Hell,” he replied, in an effort to shift John's thinking to something else, “it was Belle that run 'em off when she gave 'em a taste of that rifle. She's the one you should be beholden to.”

“You ain't told me what happened when you caught up with them Pawnee,” John said. “There was five of 'em. Did they join up with any more?” He was concerned with the possibility of even bigger trouble to come.

“No, they were by themselves,” Grayson answered. “You saw 'em, just a few young bucks lookin' to steal some horses and whatever else they could find. I doubt you'll see that bunch again.”

“I know they didn't just run off and let you have the horses back. Did you get any of them?”

Grayson nodded. “Two that I know of. I don't think I hit anythin' else.” John nodded in return. Grayson moved on to a question of more importance to him at the moment. “What about you and Belle? Have you got anybody helpin' you at all?”

“Sometimes,” John answered. “I ain't needed him lately, but Belle's sister's boy, Robert, comes to help me when I have to take the wagon to meet the boat to pick up supplies. He's a hard worker, and he knows how to handle a gun.”

“I expect you could use him right now,” Grayson suggested. “I'm gonna have to take Billy on in to Fort Smith before some of his crowd come lookin' for him. Where is this boy, Robert, now?”

“He lives in a village about a half day's ride east of here,” Belle said, having heard the question as she entered the room. “You gonna send for Robert?”

“I think it'd be a good idea,” Grayson said. “I have to get movin', and you need the help.”

“I go,” she said. “You stay with John till I get back?”

“Well, sure,” Grayson replied, “but I figured I'd go get Robert.”

“I go. Be quicker. Then you take that man outta my smokehouse. He pee in corner. I smell it at back of smokehouse. Ain't good for the meat.”

Grayson almost laughed, but he was concerned about the wisdom of sending the woman off across the prairie by herself. His concern must have shown in his face, because John told him not to worry. “She always goes to fetch him when we need him. Besides, he's liable to run if he sees you come ridin' in. He's been in a little trouble from time to time, and he gets kinda spooked when he sees a deputy marshal show up in the village.”

“I ain't a deputy,” Grayson reminded him.

“Yeah, but you look like one,” John said.

*   *   *

Early the next morning, Belle crossed the river and set out across the prairie to the east. After making sure John didn't need anything, Grayson took Billy his breakfast. He had given some thought to the possibility of escape with Billy locked in the smokehouse for that length of time, but he now reasoned that if his prisoner hadn't found a way out by now, he was not likely to at all. For Billy's part, however, he was about to go crazy in the dark confined cell. Grayson was not without sympathy for the young outlaw's plight, but there were no other choices for Billy's incarceration unless he was tied hand and foot the entire time.

“You gotta let me out of this damn hole,” he complained to Grayson as the bounty hunter watched him eat, much the same as Belle had. “I'd rather you just go ahead and shoot me instead of keepin' me locked up in this rat hole,” he wailed, knowing that Grayson wouldn't.

“One more night's all you gotta do,” Grayson said. “Then we'll be on our way and you can go back to cryin' about your hands bein' tied.” He watched Billy eat for a while longer, before commenting, “You kinda found out the hard way not to try pullin' anythin' on Belle, didn't you?” Billy scowled, but didn't reply. “That's a right nasty cut you got there on your forehead. What the hell did she hit you with?”

“That bitch come at me by surprise,” Billy said. “I didn't give her no reason to hit me with that axe. She said to come out to eat, and that's all I done—damn Injun bitch.”

“Yeah,” Grayson said. “Women are like that, always tryin' to trick a man.” He knew the true version of how Billy got knocked in the head, and he knew that Billy knew he did. But he couldn't resist japing him about it. Still, never far from his thoughts was the threat of pursuit by Billy's father and brothers. They would come after him. That was something he knew for a fact from the start. The thing he didn't know was how close they were now with the delay caused by the Pawnee attack.

*   *   *

“Earl,” Mae Johnson called to her husband as he came up from the hog pen, “there's a couple of riders coming down from the bluff, and they're leading a bunch of horses behind them.”

Earl quickened his step in an effort to see for himself. It was a little late in the day for his usual customers to show up at only an hour or two before sundown. He already had an increased sense of caution ever since Grayson had stopped for the night with his prisoner. “You know 'em?” he asked as he joined his wife in the front yard.

“Nobody I ever saw before,” Mae answered, still staring back at the bluffs along the river. Like Earl, she was feeling cautious about seeing any strangers since the incident with Grayson and Billy Blanchard. When Cassie walked out of the house to throw the dishwater out in the yard, Mae turned to her and said, “Go back in the house, and stay there till we find out who's coming down the path.”

“Why, Mama?” Cassie asked, sensing her mother's caution. “Who is it?”

“I don't know, so you just stay out of sight till I do.”

When Cassie hurried back to the house, Earl turned to his wife. “It don't look like none of them bucks from the village. I expect we'd best go on in the store, and just wait to see what they want. Might be somebody needin' some supplies.” He paused for a moment before suggesting, “Might be a good idea if you went back in the house with Cassie.” He was certain he would feel better behind the counter with his pistol on the shelf just under it. Without further comment, they turned and went back inside, he to the store, she to the house behind it. Both wondered if the strangers approaching were from Black Horse Creek.

*   *   *

“Look here, Yancey. Looks like he turned off the trail, and there's more'n a few tracks leadin' down to that place there—looks like a store or somethin'. They musta stopped off here for a spell. I wonder why.” The simple fact that Grayson had stopped to go to a trading post made him uncertain. “I hope to hell we been followin' the right trail all along.”

“It's the right trail,” Yancey Brooks insisted. “Who the hell knows why he stopped here? It's sure as hell the same trail we followed through that gap where Stump said he found his mule. Besides, look at them prints.” He pointed to a distinct hoofprint in the sand. “Billy said he just had that Appaloosa shod before he came home. Looks to me like Grayson musta wanted to stop for somethin' to eat, or a drink of whiskey, or somethin'. It don't matter why he stopped, but them tracks are Billy's.”

“I reckon,” Lonnie Jenkins replied. “I expect it'd be a whole lot simpler to go down there and ask 'em if Grayson came this way, instead of arguin' about horse tracks.”

“Reckon so,” Yancey replied. Both men had been sufficiently impressed with the task Jacob Blanchard had charged them with—that they were to ride night and day, never stopping to rest until they had killed Grayson and brought Billy back home. The subject had never been discussed between them, but they were of like mind in thinking that the six hundred dollar reward would be well worth the strain. But in case of failure to catch Grayson, it would be healthier for both men to keep on riding, rather than face Jacob Blanchard's wrath. “Well, let's quit wastin' time.” He started down the path, and Lonnie followed, their spare horses behind them.

Earl stood beside the door watching the two strangers as they rode down the path to his store until they pulled up at the hitching rail. Then he walked back to stand behind the counter to await them, his hand feeling under the counter to make sure his pistol was in easy reach. In a moment, they walked in the door—two rough-looking men with trail-weathered faces, heavily armed with both rifles and handguns. “Howdy,” Yancey said as he paused to look the room over. “Don't suppose you got any whiskey, do ya?”

“No, sir,” Earl answered. “I don't carry any spirits of any kind. Seein' as this is Indian Territory, I ain't supposed to.”

“But seein' as we ain't Injuns,” Lonnie said, “you might could sell us a shot or two outta that whiskey you
ain't
got.” He gave Earl a wink of his eye and turned to grin at Yancey. “We've been ridin' long and hard, and a little drink would sure help cut the dust in our throats.”

“I'm sorry as I can be, fellers,” Earl replied, “but I wasn't japin' you. I don't have no whiskey on hand, not even for my personal use. If I did, why, I'd be tickled to offer you a drink. Is there anythin' else I can help you with?”

Disappointed, Yancey looked at Lonnie and shook his head. “Well, maybe you can help us out a little,” he said to Earl. “Me and my partner, here, are government agents, and we're on the trail of two outlaws. One of 'em's name is Grayson and he's got an innocent man as a prisoner who ain't done nothin' wrong. We think they mighta stopped here. Maybe you can tell us how long ago that was.” He glanced at Lonnie again to receive his partner's look of appreciation for his original story.

Earl was at once undecided as to which way he should respond. One thing he was at least ninety-nine percent sure of was that the two men standing before his counter were not government agents. They could only be men who worked for Jacob Blanchard. It might be honorable on his part to say he had not seen Grayson, but he feared that there would be serious consequences if he tried to cover for him. Under the impatient glare from both men, he finally blurted the information they asked for. “Two days ago, they stopped for some supplies, then left right away.”