North to the Salt Fork (24 page)

“I won't let that happen,” Jack said, shaking his head.

“Okay, I'll draw you the map.”

She took a sheet of butcher paper and pencil and quickly sketched out a route. Jack stood over her, watching the long, clean lines she drew with such precision. At last he might've found the scoundrel. If Knotts stayed put until the cattle were sold he'd be back for him. A smile crossed his lips; he might even bring some Texas Rangers along for the party as well. For the first time since he stood in the streets of Abilene that hot summer night over his brother's dead body, he felt good. Lighter, as if a weight had been lifted. Come summer he knew the matter would be resolved.

He thanked and paid the woman, pocketed the map and circled south to rejoin the crew shortly after supper.

“Have a good day?” Ralph asked, bringing over a cloth-covered plate of food for him.

“Good enough day, thanks.” He dug into the pan-fried steak and beans. “Any troubles?” he asked Jangles, who took a place on the ground beside him.

“We lost another horse. Figure he got snake bit the night before.”

“We're gettin' kinda hard up for horses,” Jack said between bites.

“That, indeed. We'll try to avoid losing any more. You do any good today?”

Jack nodded and lowered his voice. “We'll do something about it later. But I found the guy who shot my brother.”

Jangles' eyes lit up. “That's swell news! We can go over there in the morning.”

Jack shook his head, raising his hand to stop him. “We've got cattle to move to Wichita. We can settle with him on the way back.”

“But, Captain, what if he takes off before we get back?” Jangles asked anxiously.

“Well, that's a risk I'm willing to take. I promised Lucy I'd make this my first priority, and I'm not going to risk the cattle drive for a personal revenge mission.”

Jangles nodded. “You're at least takin' us rangers, right?”

“Don't I always?”

Jangles smiled. “I reckon so.”

“At the rate we're going, we should be there in two to three weeks. If we sell the cattle quickly, I can give Knotts what's coming to him.”

“You got any notion if the market's up or down?”

“No, but I'll ride up there when we get closer and look for some buyers.”

“You know this job gives me a bellyache sometimes, but I kinda like being the boss,” Jangles said with a grin. A storm approached the next afternoon, but in the end the clouds slid north, much to Jack's approval. The cooler air made the next two days and nights easier to handle.

“Can you see the North Pole from Kansas?” Cotton asked, huddled under his unlined jumper at breakfast one morning.

“I doubt it. I never saw the glare from it up in Abilene. But I did see the northern lights,” Jack said.

“What're they?”

“Some strange, colored streaks in the northern sky at night.”

“How far are the Rocky Mountains from here?” one of the boys asked.

“Five hundred miles, I'd guess.”

“Ah hell, I ain't gonna go there, then. My butt's too sore now.”

Everyone laughed.

 

Before they stopped for the day, Jack met a lone cowboy headed south. He was unshaven and red-eyed, like he'd been riding without sleep for days. His clothes were wrinkled and well-worn, and the horse he rode was a common bay with a bushy mane.

“You ain't got the makings have you?” he asked Jack.

“Nope, I don't smoke.”

The rider twisted in the saddle and looked over the line of cattle passing them. “You're going to be the first herd up here.”

“That's our intention,” Jack said.

The man made a sour face. “I don't know if that's a good idea. There's a group of delinquents in these parts called the Caughman Gang. They'll probably sweep in here on you and take the whole herd.”

Jack frowned. “When should I expect them?”

“First rainy night, I'd say.”

“Who leads them?”

“A mean old bastard. Got flaming red hair to match his temper. He don't leave any witnesses.”

“Any special place he's liable to strike?”

“After you cross a river, usually. Everyone's worn out and his bunch steps in.”

Jack stuck out his hand. “Name's Captain Jack Starr. Didn't catch your name.”

“Smith.” He shook Jack's hand firmly.

“Well, Mr. Smith, here's a few dollars to buy the makings. It's a long way back to Texas without a smoke.” He doubted the man's name was Smith, but he'd given some valuable advice and Jack was grateful.

“I'm beholden to you, Captain.” He spurred his horse and moved on. Jack thanked his lucky stars for meeting the mysterious stranger.

 

In camp that night, he called the boys together after supper and told them what Smith had told him.

“You figure he was serious?” Jangles asked. “Or just bumming money?”

“We wouldn't be the first crew shot dead by rustlers,” Jack said.

“We'll sleep with our guns,” Jangles said.

“Post a camp guard.”

“We can do that. And they do it in the rain, huh?” Cotton asked.

“Unless we get too close to Wichita before it rains again. I figure they use the rain for cover to take advantage of the confusion.”

“I'll be gawdamned,” Jangles swore. “If it ain't one thing, it's another. Captain, we'll be ready for them, rain or shine.”

Jack began using his field glasses to see if anyone was sizing the herd. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary until the rain moved in a few days later. Before they halted for the night he saw three riders pass by, headed south, standing in their stirrups. They avoided looking in his direction, but he knew it was a sign.

His camp was armed through supper. They stayed under an extra fly that Ralph had attached to the wagon while they ate. Wind whipped the sheet and rain pounded from all sides. A more miserable night to ride the herd and watch for bushwhackers couldn't have been designed.

Jack heard someone say “Psst” over the wind and he knew someone was coming. Either was under the wagon armed with a rifle and Jack nodded to him in the dim light of the fire.

“Get your hands up!” a gruff voice shouted from the darkness.

That would be the last thing the outlaw ever ordered, Jack decided. Either answered the order with several loud cracks into the darkness. The crew reached for their holsters and in seconds six-guns blazed and men screamed as the drivers cut them down. Despite the fact that they couldn't see well for the misty rain, it was over before they knew it.

Outside the fly's protection Jack waited for Ralph to light his candle reflector lamp so he could survey the scene. A Colt in one fist, he raised the lantern with his other hand to see the outlaws on the ground, their limbs splayed, either dead or dying. The whole shootout took less than two minutes. Had they not been warned it easily could have been his crew on the ground.

“Any get away?” Jack asked.

“Naw, there's two I shot over here,” Either said.

“Your surprise worked pretty good, Captain,” Jangles said. “I was worried the shots might frighten the cattle, but they never even got up. Guess they couldn't hear it from a distance.” Jangles gathered the rustlers' hardware.

“How many more are there?” Cotton asked.

“Ask him,” Jack said, jerking his head toward one lying on his back with his eyes half open.

“Where's the rest of your bunch?” Jangles asked the man, but the outlaw coughed weakly, a bubble of blood forming on his lips, and died.

The Mexican hands managed to drag the dead ones from the other side of the wagon near the fly.

Jack stood back and wondered about the grizzled cowboy who'd warned him. Was he once a member of this gang and wanted revenge? No matter who he was, Jack owed him one. Jack was happy to exact some justice on this drive. It was all practice for when he'd come face-to-face with Cory's killer.

They buried the outlaws in a shallow mass grave, then tailed up the lead steer at dawn and struck out north for the Salt Fork. His men were showing signs of wear and tear; they were as testy with one another as curs. Thankfully there was only a week or so left until they reached Wichita. Ralph said he knew a place where they could find decent water while the cattle and horses grazed.

The overall improved conditions of the cattle impressed Jack. They'd been putting on a lot of pounds since they reached northern Texas, and subsequent creek crossings after Red River had been a breeze, since most of them were shallow in this part of Indian Territory. They'd lost more than a dozen horses so far, but the remuda looked surprisingly well. Only his sleepy-eyed, cranky cowboys looked the worse for wear, but they'd have to hold tight. Kansas was nearby.

Midmorning, two men in suits rode up to Jack, who rested on a rise. They nodded to each other as they reined in their horses. The taller one spoke first.

“U.S deputy marshals McCory and Snyder.” McCory indicated the man beside him, who was shorter and had a mustache. Snyder nodded.

“Jack Starr. What can I do for you?”

“We're looking for some whiskey peddlers bringing liquor out of Kansas.”

“I guess that goes on all the time, the territory being dry and all.”

“It sure is hell to enforce too. There're more miles than deputy marshals.”

Jack nodded sympathetically.

“You got a real early start. Bet you're the first new herd we've seen this spring.”

“Yes, and I'm eager to get home. You hear anything about the steer market?”

“Must be alright. They've been shipping out the herds that wintered over in these parts with no problem.”

“Good to hear,” Jack said, pleased.

“You ever hear anything about the Caughman Gang coming up here?” McCory asked.

“I heard about so many I can't keep track of them all.”

“The leader is a big man with a bushy red beard. He's cagey, but we'll catch him. Him and his gang have been robbing whole herds on the way into Kansas, and drivers on their way out with their pockets stuffed full of money.”

“I'll try to remember that,” Jack said. He wanted to tell them that Caughman and his gang were planted under territory sod. They were out of the robbery business and roasting in hell, for his part. But he thought better of it. He didn't want to let on that he'd been tipped off by a possible ex-gang member. He owed the cowboy that much.

He saluted the deputy marshals and they moved on.

 

Short-loping Mac, he came over a hill half an hour later and reined up at the sight of two women in bright red and blue dresses, standing beside a light buggy with a shattered wheel. Hair piled high on top of their heads in elaborate styles, they held their wide-brimmed straw hats at their sides and considered the broken spokes, which didn't look repairable from Jack's point of view.

“Good day, ladies,” he said.

The blonde in the blue dress smiled like a sly fox and used the side of her hand to shade out the sun. “Well, darling,” she drawled in a thick Georgia accent. “Ain't you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Looks like you two are in a fix,” he said.

“We ain't never in a fix with a man around,” the brunet said, and winked at her friend. She pulled up her low-cut dress, which barely covered her white bosoms. “But I must say we're not often rescued by someone as good-looking as you. What's your name, sugar?”

“Captain Jack Starr.”

“I'm Strawberry Rose and she's Texas Flower.” The blonde indicated her darker-haired partner. “How do we get out of here alive?”

“My boys are breaking camp just north of here. When I reach them, I'll come with four of my boys for you and your luggage. Where are you headed?”

“We're going to Wichita, same as every other traveler in these parts,” Rose said.

“Well, I'd be happy to take you gals on with us.”

“Yeehaw!” Flower yelled, lifting her skirt and petticoats and doing a quick jig in her high-buttoned shoes. “He ain't going to leave us out here for the Injuns to eat.”

“It'll be several hours before I can get there and back,” Jack warned.

“One of us can ride the buggy horse and the other can ride double with you on your pony,” Rose suggested, and her partner giggled. “That way, you won't be leaving us in harm's way.” She batted her eyelashes prettily.

“You girls are plumb resourceful,” he said, laughing out loud. These two beauties should perk up the crew, he thought.