Under the Sweetwater Rim (1971) (6 page)

"Mornin', suh. I been out for a look-see."

"Yes?"

"No camp . . . just a blind. They pulled out fast. I'his here was to hold you whilst they got away. And they're onto somethin', suh. They found some sign, but noways enough."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, suh, those boys are mighty handy, but they sure ain't found any kind of a trail. The way they're scoutin' the country, they aint rightly sure what happened. Whatever they found, they lost.

That Lieutenant Brian, suh, he's a cagey one."

"How many men do they have?"

"Nigh onto forty. That's a sort of guess, but I figured by the rifle stacks an' the length of the picket line for their horses."

"You found their camp, then?"

"Yes, suh. They built up those fires, an' then they pulled their freight. They went on about four, five mile up the country and made a dark camp. They hadn't been gone no more'n thuty minutes when I come upon it."

"Is Chancel back?"

"No, sub. Not hide nor hair."

"Thank you, Turpenning. I'll have that coffee now" He would gain on them during the day. The fact that they had to find a trail would restrict their movements. This they would understand as well as he, and they would know he would catch up . . . hence an ambush.

It was the logical step. They could not escape him and find the fugitives, too, so they would attempt an ambush to inflict casualties and make him more cautious.

As he was finishing his breakfast, Chancel appeared.

"Fill your cup, Chancel, and sit down," he said.

"I'll have your report." "Yes, sir. I found the ambulance, sir." Without waiting for comment, he continued. "Very well hidden, sir, in a copse almost impossible to find. It was the grazing where the horses cropped grass-that helped. "They had a lookout posted and they sighted the enemy, stripped the ambulance of food and whatever they could use, mounted the horses, and left."

"Any sign of the women?"

"Yes, sir. Two of them, sir. I found their trail, followed it as far as a stream, then lost it."

"Had others found the trail?"

"Yes, sir. I think they lost it, too."

Brian would try for Bridger, of course. By now that was evident. It would also be evident to the renegades, who would attempt to overtake them or cut them off. Brian knew this country-but how well did he know it? "Sir?"

"What is it, Chancel?"

"The enemy, sir. They know this country. Know it well. Several times they rode the easiest way .

. . but it was not always the easiest to find. Their leader knows what he is about, sir."

Mark Devereaux was not a man who hurried, and even now, with time and distance a matter of the greatest importance, he took his time, trying to figure out what procedures they might adopt.

All possible positions of ambush would have to be scouted, but these renegades had lived among Indians, and Indians had a way of choosing a spot for ambush in the last place one would suspect.

Devereaux rode up on the knoll with Turpenning and Chancel and studied the country while they pointed out its features. He swept the country carefully with his glasses, and then examined it at a closer range. Cahill rode up to join him, and Devereaux explained briefly the situation as it might develop. "We must guard against surprise.

Be especially careful in what seems to be open country. I want to pin them down and get them into a fire fight."

He turned. "Now, Chancel, take me to the ambulance, and I'll take Halleck along. Cahill, form up and move out, but get Turpenning and Boner well out in front. Use them, but don't rely only on them."

With Chancel leading the way, they rode swiftly.

As they neared the copse where the ambulance had been hidden Devereaux studied the terrain. The camp was small, and the ambulance was not visible at all until one was within a dozen feet of it. It would have to be snaked out, of course, and brought back. It would be useful in the event of wounded men. He went at once to the secret compartment. The gold was gone . .

. but he had expected that. Nevertheless, it had been his duty to see for himself. He walked up to higher ground. From here they could easily have seen the approach of the renegades and they would have had time to escape if they moved swiftly.

"Took me a time to find this place, sir,"

Chancel said. "It was not a simple thing."

"I can see that." Devereaux was studying the land as he spoke. He looked thoughtfully at the Wind River range, looming up to the west. "I wonder if there's any way over that," he said.

"Yes, sir," Halleck said. "It isn't easy, but a mountain man at Fort Laramie told me it could be done."

The South Pass country, which lay before them, was open after they passed the Beaver Rim. Broken country quickly petered out into rolling plains. A small group heading southwest for Fort Bridger would have a bad time of it. What would Brian do?

By mid-afternoon they had not come up to the renegades, and time was growing short. When they took a brief halt, Devereaux stepped down from the saddle and his knees sagged a little. For a moment he stood still, getting hold of himself. There was a limit to what a man could do, he supposed, but he must be careful to show no weakness.

After a moment he walked to a fiat rock and sat down. Shadows were gathering in the mouths of the canyons.

What sunlight there was touched the remaining spots of snow high on the mountains. The air was cool, and amazingly fresh. Far off toward the west he could see several objects moving along the shoulder of a hill. He leveled his glasses . . . buffalo, half a dozen of them. It was late, and the buffalo would probably bed down somewhere in the vicinity. If the situation permitted, he might send several men out to get them. The buffalo meat would augment their rations, and might give him another day in which to work. Saving the payroll would be a permissible excuse for remaining out from the Fort that much longer. Turpenning and Halleck came in together.

"Found them, suh," Turpenning said with satisfaction. "They're camped under the Beaver Rim, only a few miles from here. They followed Twin Creek and skirted the foot of Limestone Mountain yonder. They're camped in a meadow about three-quarters of a mile below the Rim."

"The trail they followed is it guarded?"

"You just bet it is, suhl They got them four men staked out there, a-watchin' for us. But Halleck an' me, we scouted around some, an' we come on a game trail down the face of the rim."

"Can we make it?"

"Uh-huh. I mean, yes, suh. That there rim's about five hundred feet high, and she drops sheer from the top for maybe seventy-five, eighty feet, but there's a trail. It ain't for skittish folks, but we can make it." "Did you try it?"

"I did, sir," Halleck said. "I went down, all the way to Beaver Creek at the bottom. I went a-foot, sir, but horses will have no trouble." Here it was then. It might be an ambush, but they must risk it. A hard blow now might take the pressure off Brian, might give him just the chance needed to make a run for Bridger or to hole up somewhere in the mountains. He could settle with Brian afterward. It was a case of first things first. He turned to Cahill, "Lieutenant," he said, "give the men a hot meal. Pickets out, and good men. I want no slip-ups now. About four hours sleep, and we'll move out shortly after midnight."

He thought of Mary. Where was she? What was she doing now? Belle was with her, fortunately, and for all her flighty looks, Belle was Army. She had seen her husband through a dozen campaigns, and she had made some long, hard treks herself.

He got out his razor, heated water over the fire, and shaved by the last light. As he shaved he considered the steps that must be taken. He would have to move with care, for these were woodsmen, Indian fighters, far more skilled at fighting than most of his own men. But even such men can become careless, and they knew his troops were green. Putting his kit away, he stretched out on his blanket, slowly easing his tired muscles. He smelled bacon frying and the smell of coffee, mixed with the smell of cedar. He could think this was a good life . . . if only Mary were safe.

Ten Brian stepped down from the saddle and walked back to Mary, holding up his hands to help her down.

"We'll rest here," he said, and turned to help Belle from the saddle.

Ironhide and Schwartz got down immediately, then Dorsey. Only West lingered in the saddle, looking around carefully.

"What river is that?" he asked.

"The Popo Agie," Brian said; "actually what they call the Little Popo Agie. Better get down and get some rest. You're going to need it tomorrow." Unwillingly, West got down. He was as tired as the others, but he was increasingly wary. The more he thought of it the less he trusted Lieutenant Brian.

Brian was a good soldier, admitted, but how had he happened to ride up out of nowhere and order them off the wagon train? He should have refused. Brian said the wagon train had been wiped out, but he admitted he had not seen it done. The whole thing might be a cock-and-bull story to get them back in the hills where nobody would ever find them, and murder the lot of them. Sixty thousand dollars was a lot of money.

He got down warily, keeping his horse between Brian and himself. Thoughtfully, he considered the others. At least one of them might be an ally of Brian. Ironhide had served with him, and Ironhide was an Indian, and after all, you couldn't trust an Indian, even an educated one like Ironhide. "Schwartz, fix us a good meal,"

Brian said. He spoke over his shoulder while going from one horse to the other, checking their backs for sore spots, and looking them over with care.

Mary walked down to the stream, where thick groves of cottonwood grew right down to the bank. As she stood looking into the clear water, Brian came down, cut himself a willow pole, and baited his hook with bacon rind. Within minutes he had landed a speckled trout.

"Have we gotten away, Ten?" Mary asked.

"No. I won't lie to you, Mary. We're in serious trouble. Right now I'd say we have a few hours. Kelsey has lost our trail, but he'll find it, and he'll come on fast. Or he may elect to go on toward Fort Bridger, scatter pickets across the country where we must travel, and just wait. He knows we have to come that way."

"So how can we escape?"

"I don't think he can hold his men out here very long. We're going up over the divide. We may have to change, but I think we'll cut through Sweetwater Gap, come down off the mountain, and go straight across the valley to the other side. If we can manage it without being seen we'll cross the Green and then make a run for it down the far side.

I think we'll have a chance. But he's a devil .

. . we can't low-rate him . . . not for a minute."

Belle Renick had come down to the stream to join them, and she was listening to him. "It's too bad," she said, "that we couldn't have come to this place under other conditions. It's beautiful."

Brian hauled in his fourth trout, and rebaited the hook. "It is," he said, "and you'll see more of it tomorrow. The Wind River Mountains have some of the finest glaciers you'll find anywhere, and some lovely lakes." He went on talking and Mary listened, but she was hearing more than the words; she was sensing something of the man behind them. Tenadore Brian was, she thought, one of the most attractive men she had ever met . .

. not the most handsome, although he was very good-looking, but there was something in his presence that said more than words. He talked easily, and having traveled and studied, above all having thought about what he had seen and read, he had much to talk about.

She knew he was talking in part to put them at ease. It had been a hard, dangerous day. So far they had eluded their pursuers . . . if there were any. She herself had seen no enemies, but she knew enough of the frontier to know she had seen a classic job of evasion and escape. Brian had led them over a shelf of rock and into the water. They had gone downstream for half a mile before he led them out through tall grass. He had gone back alone and carefully brushed the grass back into position so that a casual glance would show no evidence of their passing. Then from rock shelf to stream, and stream to rock shelf, they had worked their way across and up the mountain, angling back and forth by a switchback route until they had stopped for noon among some rocks.

From that vantage point he had studied both their back trail for pursuit and the route they must select for climbing the mountain.

Mary had climbed up beside him, and he pointed out landmarks. "See? That is Roaring Fork Mountain, and the peaks just on the left are the Sweetwater Needles. We're going up there."

"Is there a trail?"

"An Indian trail, if we can find it. And there are a couple of passes that will let us cross over. It won't be easy, and it's going to be cold up there."

"I'm worried about pa."

"The Major? You needn't. He's a tough old campaigner."

"But Ten, he isn't as young as he was, and he won't give up. I am afraid he'll overdo it. He'll be worried about me, and I know he wasn't planning to come this far west. He will be overdue at the post, and they will be worried, too."

Brian shrugged. "Trust him. He's lived with bad situations all his life, as you should know. A man can get information and education at any age; you only get wisdom with experience, and he has it."