Goodnight's Dream (A Floating Outfit Western Book 4) (13 page)

‘
Yeah,’ agreed the Kid. ‘And some folks
get real touchy about getting stole from. I wonder what Chisum and
that hard-faced cuss’re talking about?’

‘
Could be where’d be the best place to
turn loose those cattle, but I doubt it. Do you want for Lon to
trail after them a ways, Uncle Charlie?’

‘
Nope. John Chisum might be tricky, but
he’s not fool enough to come back looking for trouble with
me.’

‘
I’m real sorry if I came between you
and your friend, Colonel,’ Dawn put in.

Turning, the rancher smiled at the girl.
‘It’d’ve come sooner or later, Miss Sutherland. How do you figure
on getting your cattle back home?’

From the momentary flicker of confusion on
her face, Dawn had given little thought to the matter. She gave a
shrug and replied, ‘Likely I can pick up a couple of fellers up
around town to help me.’

‘
You could,’ Goodnight admitted. ‘Only
I don’t take to the notion of you picking out a couple of
strangers. Trouble being that I’m going to need every man I’ve got
for rounding up eleven hundred head to replace Chisum’s
herd.’

‘
I’ll be all right,’ Dawn stated and
wished that she felt as confident as she tried to sound.

‘
How important is it that you get those
cattle back home, Miss Sutherland?’ Dusty inquired. ‘I mean, does
it matter to a day or so?’

‘
That buyer’ll be around by the end of
the week,’ she replied and, after a brief pause, continued, ‘Miss
Sutherland makes me sound real old. Couldn’t you say “Dawn”
instead?’

‘
I reckon I could, if you call me
“Dusty”. If the buyer’ll not be around until the end of the week, I
reckon you could spend the night at Uncle Charlie’s house and still
be home in time.’

‘
It’s a bachelor spread, Miss
Sutherland,’ Goodnight warned. ‘But if you’d care to stay, you’ll
be more than welcome. I’ll ask the Dilwotts from the store to come
out for the night—’

‘
Why?’ Dawn smiled.

‘
So that Mrs. Dilwott can act as a
chaperone for you.’

‘
If I figured I was going to need one,
I’d’ve said “no” from the start.’

‘
Danged if I know whether that’s a
compliment to me or not,’ Goodnight said with a frosty
grin.

‘
Now me,’ drawled Mark. ‘I’d say that
all depends on how old you are.’

‘
Which’s just about what I’d expect one
of Big Rance Counter’s sons to say,’ Goodnight sniffed. ‘Shall we
get going, we can bed your cattle down by the house, Miss
Sutherland.’

‘
It’d be as well,’ Dusty agreed and
turned in his saddle to look after the Goodnight herd. ‘They’re
pushing the cattle a mite, aren’t they?’

‘
Maybe they don’t like the company
around here,’ suggested the Kid.

‘
You’re sure you don’t want him to
trail after them, Uncle Charlie?’ Dusty asked in a disgusted
tone.

‘
I don’t,’ the rancher replied, then a
thought struck him. ‘What do you intend to do about those three
fellers, Miss Dawn?’

‘
I’m not fixing to do anything,’ the
girl answered. ‘I’ve got my stock—’

‘
Why not go in and swear the complaint
against them?’ Dusty interrupted.

‘
I don’t want to make a fuss,’ she
replied. ‘Do you reckon I ought to?’

‘
I reckon you should,’ Dusty confirmed.
‘Even if you don’t push it through all the way, it’ll be
interesting to hear what those three jaspers have to say.
Especially when they hear that their boss’s pulled out and left
them.’

‘
You figure they might do some talking,
Dusty?’ Mark inquired.

‘
I’m hoping that they do,’ Dusty
admitted. ‘Take my gear out to the ranch for me, Mark.’

‘
And mine,’ drawled the Kid.

‘
You lend a hand with the herd,’ Dusty
ordered with a grin. ‘I don’t want Dawn getting wrong ideas about
Rio Hondo County by associating with varmints like you.’

‘
She couldn’t
get
wrong
ideas about Rio Hondo County,’ sniffed the Kid and slid his
rifle into the saddle boot.

For the first time Dawn noticed that the Kid
held a repeater. It looked like a Henry, yet had a wooden foregrip
along the lower part of the magazine tube. While riding into town
with Dusty, she learned that all the three OD Connected men carried
similar weapons. Known at that time as the New Improved Henry, the
type of rifle grew to fame as the Winchester Model of 1866 or, due
to its brass frame, ‘the old yellowboy’. Dusty, Mark and the Kid
had been given the guns during the mission into Mexico. While his
friends selected rifles, Dusty had chosen the shorter carbine
model. On reaching the edge of the town, he returned the carbine to
its boot, having shown the girl its improvements over the
Henry.

Approaching the jail, they could see no sign
of life. Although the sun was starting to set, the lamps in the
sheriff’s office had not yet been lit.

‘
Likely the sheriff’s gone ho—,’ Dusty
began.

The words chopped off as the office’s front
door flew open and Keck came out. With his Metropolitan revolver in
his hand, he stopped and gazed at the approaching riders.
Recognition flared on his face, twisting it into hate-filled lines.
Behind him, Venner and Alden also emerged from the building. Like
Keck, they were armed. Venner had an Army Colt, while Alden
clutched a double-barreled shotgun.

At the first sight of the three men, Dusty
knew they must be escaping. Released prisoners would not come
through the door holding weapons and in such an alert,
wolf-cautious manner. Dusty also knew that the trio posed a threat
to Dawn and himself. Not only had they been responsible for the
men’s arrest, but they sat on horses which could be used as an aid
to evading recapture.

So, even as Keck started to
raise the revolver, Dusty acted. Wanting the girl clear of the
danger area, Dusty jerked his left boot from its stirrup. With a
whooping yell, he kicked the
bayo-tigre
in the ribs and continued to swing his leg
forward, then over his saddle horn. A spirited animal, Dawn’s horse
showed its objection to the treatment by leaping forward and
galloping by the front of the jail. Slapping the paint’s flank as
he dropped clear, Dusty sent it running after the
bayo-tigre.
On landing, he
flashed his hands across to the butts of the Colts.

Flame licked from Keck’s Metropolitan.
Dusty’s hat flew from his head with a hole in its crown, to be
caught and held by its storm-strap. Already holding his matched
Army Colts, he went instantly into what would come to be known as
the gunfighter’s crouch. Legs slightly bent on spread-apart feet,
body inclined forward, Dusty made no attempt to lift either
revolver above waist level. Even as the storm-strap tugged against
his neck, he cut loose with a shot from the right-hand revolver and
aimed it by instinctive alignment. A conical .44 bullet spiked into
Keck’s throat before he could draw back the Metropolitan’s hammer
for another shot. Reeling back, he almost crashed into the two men
following him.

Alden flung himself to the left, letting Keck
sprawl between him and Venner as he tried to line the shotgun on
Dusty. Going aside in a fast dive, Dusty just managed to pass
beyond the spreading pattern of buckshot which belched from the
right-hand barrel of the shotgun. The small Texan landed rolling,
seeing Venner’s Colt starting to swing in his direction. Having
missed with his attempt from waist high, Alden began to swing the
shotgun shoulder-wards. There would be no time for Dusty to stop
both his attackers.

Brain working as fast as it
could, Dusty analyzed the
situation and thought up a possible solution. Of
the two, Alden held the more dangerous weapon. Maybe Venner would
miss with the Colt, but there was far less chance of Alden doing so
a second time with the shotgun.

With that in mind, Dusty fired his left-hand
Colt as he landed on his side. His missed and continued to roll,
twisting himself over with desperate speed but not in panic.
Looking along the barrel of his left-hand Colt, he found it was
lined at Alden’s chest. Satisfied, Dusty squeezed the trigger. On
the heels of the revolver’s shot, the other weapon boomed. Only by
a fraction of a second had Dusty beaten Alden to the shot; but it
proved to be sufficient. Deflected slightly when the .44 ball
struck home, the second barrel of the shotgun sent its charge on
their way. Plowing into the hard-packed surface of the street with
a solid ‘whomp!’, the buckshot balls threw geysers of dirt up to
patter against Dusty’s shirt. Continuing his roll, Dusty saw Alden
stumble back and let the shotgun drop. Blood was trickling down the
hardcase’s shirt from a hole in its left breast and the truculent
expression had at last been wiped from his face.

Startled though she had been by Dusty’s
actions, Dawn’s long experience at riding kept her in the saddle.
Nor did she allow the horse to continue running unchecked.
Regaining control of it, she started to rein it around. At the same
time she twisted her right hand back to grip and draw the Cooper
revolver from its holster. Trained to use firearms by her parents,
she acted swiftly. Seeing that Dusty needed help, she raised,
sighted and fired the revolver.

Advancing to the edge of the sidewalk for a
clearer shot at Dusty, Venner became suddenly aware of the girl’s
intervention. Splinters erupted from the top of the hitching rail
close to his empty hand as a bullet plowed into the wood. Swiveling
around, he saw who had fired. Already the small Texan’s Colt was
roaring out its challenge to the shotgun. The sickening sound of
lead driving into flesh rose from close by. Too close for it to be
Dusty Fog who had caught the bullet, which left only Alden to be
the victim.

Venner paused briefly,
wondering if he should run in the girl’s direction. If he shot her,
he could grab her horse and make good his escape. Only, doing so
would be extremely dan
gerous. Judging by the manner in which she
thumb-cocked the Cooper on its recoil, that girl knew how to handle
a gun. She did not act scared, but showed every sign of knowing the
score. Even if she did not throw lead at him, she likely had sense
enough to turn and ride away before he reached her.

Reaching a decision with commendable speed,
Venner turned to his left and darted in front of his dying
companion. Down the street, a horse was hitched before a barber’s
shop. So he raced along the sidewalk towards the animal. As he
approached his goal, he saw the sheriff run out of a store across
the street.

Unlike many of the men appointed as peace
officers by the corrupt, inefficient Davis Administration which the
Union Government had put in control of Texas, Sheriff Ward Kater
was capable and really enforced the law. Having heard the shooting,
he appeared ready for trouble with his Colt drawn and cocked in
hand. At the sight of Venner, who should still be locked in a cell
at the jail, the sheriff needed no further information.

‘
Hold it!’ Kater yelled, bounding from
the sidewalk.

‘
Go to hell!’ Venner screeched and sent
a bullet across the street.

Which showed mighty poor sense when dealing
with a man trained in Captain Jack Cureton’s now-disbanded company
of Texas Rangers. With the smooth speed gained fighting an
assortment of bad men during the War Between the States, Kater
threw up his gun and returned Venner’s fire. The escaping man cried
out in pain as lead caught him. Stumbling backwards, he still
retained his hold on the Colt and tried to use it again. Once more
Kater’s revolver cracked, but he had taken the brief time necessary
to raise it and aim visually. Struck in the skull by the second
bullet, Venner crumpled lifeless to the sun-warped sidewalk
boards.

‘
Catch my saddle, Dawn!’ Dusty yelled,
coming to his feet and wanting to keep the girl out of harm’s
way.

Deciding that there was no
further danger to Dusty, she turned to obey. The request made by
the small Texan was one often given by an un-horsed cowhand. While
the horse which threw him mostly belonged to the rancher who hired
him, the saddle was always the cowhand’s own property and
its
loss not
to be contemplated. So the girl rode after and caught Dusty’s
paint. Holding its reins, she rode back towards the small
Texan.

After removing Dawn from the line of further
fire, Dusty sprang on to the sidewalk and across it to enter the
sheriff’s office. His right-hand colt aimed at Keck’s sprawling
shape; but one glance told him there would be no further danger
from the man.

Looking across the room, Dusty saw a figure
lying face down in one of the cells. Before he could go and
investigate, he heard rapidly approaching footsteps. The sheriff
appeared at the door, also holding a cocked weapon.

Halting, Kater studied the scene for a
moment, then gave Dusty a long, searching glance. ‘You’re Captain
Fog, aren’t you?’

‘
Sure.’

‘
Colonel Charlie told me you were
coming. Looks like you arrived just at the right time.’

‘
I had to kill these two,’ Dusty
remarked as the sheriff opened the cell and entered to kneel by the
groaning man. ‘Did you get the other alive?’

‘
No,’ Kater admitted. ‘It’s a pity
they’re all dead. I’d like to know where they got the
guns.’