Ralph Compton Death Rides a Chestnut Mare (13 page)

 

When Danielle awakened next morning, the fire in the stove had apparently gone out, for the room was cold. She lay there dreading to get up. Finally wrapping a blanket about herself, she got up and looked out the window. There was an unbroken expanse of snow, and it was still falling. Some buildings had drifts all the way up to the windowsills. The room was colder than Danielle had imagined, and hurrying back to the bed, she lay there shivering. Unanswered questions still galloped through her mind. Who
was
the gunman she had been forced to shoot, and why had he tried to kill her? An obvious answer was that he was probably an outlaw who feared being followed by a lawman. But Danielle had said or done nothing to lead the stranger to suspect she represented the law. It would be to her advantage to leave town before the melting snow revealed the dead man, but she dared not attempt it with snow up to a horse's belly. She considered the possible ways the law might connect her to the killing, and decided there was only one. While she had been in the cafe, the man had scarcely taken his eyes off her. There had been others in the cafe, including several cooks. Had any of them noticed the dead man's interest in the stranger with a tied-down Colt?

Resuming her identity as a man, Danielle donned the sheep-skin-lined coat and gloves she had bought in Abilene. She then left the hotel for the cafe. She was dismayed when she discovered the only other person in the cafe wore a lawman's star. One of the cooks spoke to the sheriff, and he stood up, coming toward Danielle's table.

“I'm Sheriff Edelman,” said the lawman. “Yester day, there was a killer in town name of Gib Hunter, wanted in Texas, Missouri, and Kansas. When he left the cafe, he never went back to his hotel room. His horse is still at the livery. Do you know anything about him?”

“Only what you've just told me,” Danielle said. “I'm Dan Strange, from St. Joe, and I got caught in this blizzard on my way west. Why would you expect me to know anything about this Gib Hunter?”

“I've been told Hunter had his eyes on you last night, after you came in for supper,” said the lawman. “Since I have no other clues, I thought there might be a connection.”

“I saw him watching me,” Danielle said, “and I can't imagine why, unless he mistook me for somebody else. He left the cafe ahead of me, and I went straight to the hotel.”

“Snowin' like it was, a man with killing on his mind could stage one hell of an ambush, couldn't he?”

Chapter 6

Sheriff Edelman's question took Danielle by surprise, and she recovered as quickly as she could.

“I'm not a bounty hunter, sheriff, if that's what you're thinking.”

“Glad to hear it,” Edelman said, “and the possibility
had
crossed my mind. All over the frontier, there are men who are man-hunters. They make their living hunting down wanted men with prices on their heads. Texas is willing to pay a thousand dollars for Gib Hunter, dead or alive.”

“From what you've told me,” said Danielle, “Hunter had been here several days. If you recognized him, why didn't you arrest him then?”

“I wanted to be sure,” Sheriff Edelman said, “so I sent telegrams to authorities in Texas, Kansas, and Missouri. It took a while to get answers.”

“Maybe one of the bounty hunters got him,” said Danielle.

“I doubt it,” Sheriff Edelman said. “He was in the cafe last night, and even then, snow was up to a sow's ear. Something happened to him after he left the cafe and before he reached the hotel. His bed hasn't been slept in.”

“So I'm a suspect,” said Danielle.

“Frankly, yes,” Sheriff Edelman said. “It has all the earmarks of a bounty killing. You and Gib Hunter were the only strangers in town. Maybe you
ain't
a bounty hunter, but this owlhoot had no way of knowin' that. It could have well been his reason for watching you in the cafe, and reason enough for him to use the storm as cover, bushwhacking you when you left.”

“Well, he's gone,” said Danielle. “Can't you be satisfied with that?”

“It ain't that easy for a lawman,” Sheriff Edelman said. “Wanted men are unpredictable. You never know when they're goin' to get suspicious, like Hunter was last night, and it's damn near impossible to prove one of 'em's dead if you can't produce a body. Come on, kid, tell me what happened after you left the cafe last night.”

Danielle sighed. She had fired in self-defense, and Hunter's Colt would prove it. There seemed little doubt that Sheriff Edelman would not stop short of hearing the truth of it. It was time for a decision, and Danielle made it.

“All right, Sheriff,” said Danielle. “When I left the cafe, it was snowing so hard that I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. Somebody fired at me, and even through the swirling snow, I could see the muzzle flash, so I returned fire. You'll find him there just a few feet from the western wall of the hotel. I'd never seen the man until last night, and I'm claiming self-defense.”

“I won't dispute that,” Sheriff Edelman said. “I just need to find him so we can close the book. There'll be an inquest in the morning, and you'll have to testify. But with deep snow and maybe more comin', you can't go anywhere. Besides, soon as I can verify that Hunter's dead, the state of Texas will owe you a thousand dollars.”

“I told you I'm no bounty hunter,” said Danielle, “and I don't want any reward. All I did was defend myself. Claim the reward in my name, and then see that it goes to a needy cause, such as an orphanage or church.”

“I'll do that,” Sheriff Edelman said. “I'll see you at half-past eight tomorrow morning, and we'll go to the courthouse for the inquest. Now I'd better get some men with shovels to dig out Gib Hunter.”

Somehow, Danielle felt better for having told the lawman the truth. He was right about the snow, and there was no way she could leave until it began to melt. By then, Hunter's body would have been found. The snow finally ceased in the late afternoon and there was a dramatic drop in the temperature. A big thermometer outside the hotel's front door said it was ten below zero. Danielle kept to herself, never allowing the fire in her stove to burn too low.

 

True to his word, Sheriff Edelman was at the hotel the next morning. Danielle was in the hotel lobby, waiting.

“We'd better get started,” Sheriff Edelman said. “Snow's still mighty deep.”

“I reckon you found him, then,” said Danielle.

“Yeah,” Sheriff Edelman said, “and there's proof enough of what you told me. His Colt had been fired and was still in his hand. I'll testify to that.”

With Danielle's story and Sheriff Edelman's testimony, the inquest lasted not more than a quarter hour. Hunter's death was ruled self-defense. With some relief, she started back toward the hotel. There was little to do until the snow began to melt, and not until the following day did the clouds begin to break up enough for the sun to emerge. Danielle was thoroughly sick of the hotel and the cafe next door, silently vowing to ride out if some of the snow had melted.

 

 

The eight outlaws who had deserted Upton Wilks had reached Mobeetie just in time to hole up in the hotel before the snow storm had begun.

“If we ain't goin' back to Indian Territory,” Rufe Gaddis said, “I think we should split up. Eight of us in a bunch attracts too much attention. I've already heard talk here in the hotel. Somebody's wonderin' who we are and why we're here.”

“I think you're right,” said Julius Byler. “We'd better split.”

Chancy Burke, Saul Delmano, Newt Grago, Snakehead Kalpana, Blade Hogue, and Brice Levan quickly agreed.

“I crave warm weather,” said Snakehead Kalpana. “I'm bound for south Texas.”

“Yeah,” Newt Grago said. “You aim to run them Mex horses across the border into Texas. Better men than you have been strung up for that.”

When the snow had finally melted enough to permit travel, the eight outlaws split up, each going his separate way.

 

 

Danielle judged the snow had melted enough for her to continue her journey to Denver. Before riding out, she paused at the sheriff's office to tell Edelman she was leaving.

“Good luck, kid,” Sheriff Edelman said. “Don't turn your back on strangers.”

The hotel clerk had told Danielle it was just a little under three hundred miles to Denver, so Danielle took her time. There were still snow drifts so deep, it was necessary to dismount and lead the chestnut mare. An hour before sundown, Danielle found a secluded canyon where there was water. The canyon rim was high enough to keep out the cold night wind. After a hurried supper, she put out her fire. The chestnut mare had been picketed near the stream, where there was still some graze. Confident that the horse would warn her of any danger, Danielle rolled in her blankets at the foot of the canyon rim, where the snow had melted and the ground was dry. She slept undisturbed, awakening as the first gray light of dawn crept into the eastern sky. After a quick breakfast, she again rode west. Much of the snow had melted, being replaced with mud as the sun thawed the ground and sucked up the moisture. About two hours before sundown she came upon two sets of horse tracks leading from the southeast. While catching up to them could possibly be dangerous, they might be two of the very outlaws she sought. Her first warning came when the chestnut mare nickered and a distant horse answered. Danielle reined up.

“Hello, the camp!” Danielle shouted. “I come in peace.”

“Come on,” said a cautious voice. “Just keep your hands where I can see 'em.”

Both men stood with their revolvers cocked and ready.

“My name is Dan Strange, and I'm from St. Joe, Missouri, on my way to Denver.”

The men were young, in their early twenties, Danielle judged, and they looked like out-of-work, line-riding cowboys. Danielle had made no threatening moves, and the pair slid their weapons back into their holsters.

“I'm Herb Sellers,” said the rider who had called out the challenge. “My
amigo
here is Jesse Burris. Our grub's running low and we're out of coffee, but you're welcome to take part in what there is.”

“I just left a trail drive in Abilene,” Danielle said, “and I stocked up on supplies. Why don't you let me supply the grub for supper? I have coffee, too.”

“That's the best offer I've had lately,” said Sellers. “We holed up in Dodge, waiting out the storm, and town living just about busted us.”

“Yeah,” Burris said. “We done been starved out of Texas. Where in tarnation did you find a trail herd bound for Abilene? Ain't no money in Texas. It's been picked clean, and the buzzards is still there.”

“Five small ranchers risked everything they had, driving 2,600 head to Abilene,” said Danielle. “Come spring, they'll have money enough to take a larger herd.”

“Straight across Indian Territory,” said Sellers. “Any trouble with rustlers?”

“Some,” Danielle admitted. “After we killed four of them, the others decided to ride on to other parts.”

The two men laughed, appreciating the droll humor.

“We aim to do some bounty hunting,” said Sellers. “Catching outlaws pays rewards, and I don't know of nobody needin' it worse than we do. We heard that Gib Hunter had been seen in Dodge and might be headed for Denver. That's a thousand-dollar bounty.”

“No more,” Danielle said. “Hunter tried to bushwhack somebody during the storm, and was gunned down in Hays. I was waiting out the storm myself.”

“Damn the luck,” said Sellers. “We're having trouble getting the names of outlaws with prices on their heads. Lawmen don't like bounty hunters.”

“That's one reason we're bound for Denver,” Burris said. “I got an uncle there, and he's working for the Pinkertons. We're hoping he can supply us a list of outlaws and the bounties on their heads.”

While Danielle wasn't concerned with the bounty, the possibility of a list of the names of outlaws on the dodge appealed to her. These two down-at-the-heels cowboys seemed to be exactly as they had described themselves. Danielle decided to take a chance and, after supper, told the pair of her search for the outlaws who had murdered her father.

“I'm not after these men for the bounty,” Danielle said. “I don't know if there's bounty on them, but of the ten of them still loose, I can tell you the names they were using in Indian Territory.”

“Then maybe we can work out a trade,” Burris said. “If my uncle in Denver can get us a list of wanted men with bounties on their heads, you can compare the names you have to the names on the list.”

“I'd be obliged,” said Danielle. “I'm hunting them down because I don't want any of them to go free. If there's money on their heads, then you're welcome to it. I just want them dead.”

On a page from a small notebook, Danielle wrote down the names of the outlaws that she remembered.

“Nobody on here I've ever heard of,” Jesse Burris said, “but that don't mean anything. Outlaws change their names like the rest of us change our socks. It'll be something to compare to our list if we're lucky enough to get one.”

Danielle had no cause to doubt the sincerity of the two young bounty hunters, but she slept with her Colt in her hand. Danielle supplied the food and coffee for breakfast, and the trio set out for Denver. Except for deep canyons where the sun didn't often shine, the snow had melted, leaving a quagmire of mud.