Wyoming Wildfire (12 page)

Sibyl hardly knew what she cooked. All she could think of what was it might be the last time she would ever see Burch alive. She had been born two years after the war ended, but no one growing up in Virginia could escape a profound knowledge of the sickening extravagance of death, the horror of mangled bodies, or the way such wanton destruction twisted the lives of those who survived. An aversion to such needless waste had been bred into the very fiber of her being, and it filled her with such a terrible foreboding that she was barely able open her mouth throughout dinner. Augusta was similarly quiet, but the prospect of facing danger seemed to have the opposite effect on the men.

Jesse and two of the more experienced hands ate with them because there was a good deal of business to be discussed. They laughed and joked about the upcoming fight, the men actually requesting that Burch allow them to come along, everyone acting like it was a treat not to be missed. Suddenly Sibyl couldn’t stand it any longer, and she hurriedly left the table. Moments later Burch found her in the front parlor.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, completely oblivious to the cause of her worry. “You’re not getting sick are you?”

“No,” she said, doing her best to smile. “I just don’t want anything to eat. I think my stomach is upset.”

“Can I get you something?”

“No. It’ll go away soon. It always does.” She realized that she couldn’t send him away burdened with her worries. Now she understood why wives and mothers sent their sons and husbands off to war with smiling faces, when inside they felt like all their dreams were dying.

“You will take care of yourself, won’t you?”

“Are you worried about us?” he asked, incredulous.

“A little,” she confessed. “You did say those men would kill you if they could.”

“We might get a few bruises, but nothing more,” he assured her. “Ute and Loomis are crazy, but they’re not smart. It shouldn’t take us more than a day, two at the most, to get those cows away from them. We’ll be back before you have time to forget all the things you want to argue about with me.” He lifted her chin until she was forced to look into his eyes. “I plan to take very good care of myself. I have some business I am determined to finish.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Now we’d better go back in. Your aunt was looking mighty worried, and if we’re gone any longer, she’s going to have to come after us or suffer a palsy stroke.”

No more was said about the expedition, and after a while Sibyl began to feel a little better; their final preparations were confined to the bunkhouse and the talk after dinner centered on other topics. But it was almost dawn before Sibyl was able to fall asleep. Every time she closed her eyes she was confronted with the vision of Burch’s lifeless body being delivered to her by a pair of grinning monsters, each raucously enjoying his triumph. Even after she fell asleep, they haunted her dreams. They terrorized her aunt, wantonly shot the rest of the herd, and chased away anyone who tried to help her. It was a relief when the first streaks of dawn exploded across the night sky.

Chapter 9

“I didn’t expect things to be this easy,” Burch whispered, crouching low behind the large boulder.

“Don’t go making plans for tomorrow just yet,” Lasso warned. “They may be drunk as coots, but they’re still plumb dangerous.”

Traveling quickly, the four men had covered the hundred miles in a day and a half. With little difficulty, they followed tracks preserved by a rainless summer until they came upon their quarry in a run-down cabin at the head of a small canyon nestled between sparsely covered pine ridges. The only other building was a horse shed that looked about ready to fall over. A mixed collection of livestock, including Sibyl’s six missing yearling beeves, were in an open corral with little food or water and no protection from the blazing sun.

“Let’s get closer,” Burch said. “I want to find out what those three men are talking about.” The three men in question were unknown to Burch, Lasso, or the young cowboys; they sat on the corral fence, in earnest conversation, while Ute and his son guzzled straight whiskey inside the cabin. Earlier, Loomis and his pa had emerged from the cabin, brandishing nearly empty bottles, and engaged in a shouted argument no one seemed able to understand. The men looked up at the noise but resumed their deliberations when the pair staggered back to the cabin.

Burch and Lasso surreptitiously worked their way down the canyon until they were only a few hundred feet from the cabin. “You wait here until I get back.”

“I’m coming with you,” said Lasso. “I don’t trust you not to take on the whole crowd by yourself.”

“Not Loomis,” Burch said rather grimly and headed down the slope, being careful to keep under cover. A few minutes later, while Lasso kept a eye on the three men on the fence, Burch reached the side of the cabin away from the corral. Being extremely careful to keep his own face out of the range of vision, he cautiously peered inside.

The interior was dark and filthy, but not nearly so unkept as its two occupants. Ute and his son appeared to be in the midst of a binge that had already gone on for several days.

“I say we throw in with Brady? growled Loomis in a sullen voice. “He promised us gold and he got us gold. Why should we stay in this stinking hole stealing just enough beeves for hides or meat? We could
buy
all the beef we wanted if we had gold.”

“I don’t hold with robbing trains, that’s why,” his pa bellowed savagely. “It’s not safe. People don’t care too much about a few beeves here and there, but they get real mean when you start messing about with their gold.”

“We don’t have to do it a lot. Another haul like the last one, and we can buy us a decent place. Nothing like this dump.” He took a swipe at a broken chair with his foot before pouring half the liquor left in his bottle down his throat.

“You planning to go without me if I say no?”

“Hell, yeh,” Loomis stated defiantly. The little man darted in like a snake at a slow-moving bull and caught Loomis under the chin. “Leave your old man here to rot, would you? What kind of son are you?” he asked, shattering his own empty bottle across the duck skull of his offspring.

Burch worked his way back to Lasso. “They’re fighting over joining some outlaws—the ones at the corral, I guess. Fortunately they’ve been too drunk to consider slaughtering any of the beeves. Let’s get back to the boys.” At the mouth of the canyon they held a brief council. “Wait until we’re all in place,” Burch told Young Ed, “then show yourself. Make sure they see you while you’re still a long way off, and be sure to walk real slow. We don’t want any shooting before we get close enough to jump them.”

They had almost reached their positions when one of the men slid off the fence and went into the cabin, where sounds of conflict could still be heard. Burch dispatched Gaddy to follow him. A few minutes later, Young Ed appeared at the far end of the canyon; the two remaining outlaws, who noticed him almost immediately, were so intent on his approach they never heard Burch and Lasso. They were soon gagged and bound, hand and foot, and each securely tied to one of the knobby pines. Moments later, the third outlaw stepped around the corner of the cabin into Gaddy’s fist and instant unconsciousness. “Now for the real renegades,” Burch said.

The struggle was only sporadic now, but Ute still taunted his son with a knife. “The only way you’ll leave me is dead,” spat the misshapen little man. Loomis made a clumsy lunge, but he was no match for the otter-like quickness of his father and his huge arms came away empty; he had a small nick on his chest to show for his trouble.

“You too slow” hissed Ute. “Can’t survive without me, big stupid.” At that moment Lasso burst through the doorway and Burch vaulted in through the window.

“Kill the bastards!” screamed Ute in fury. Almost quicker than the eye could see, he hurled his knife at Burch’s heart. Fortunately Ute was off balance when he took aim, or the fight might have ended right there. When the enraged half-breed realized his knife was quivering in the window frame, not Burch’s heart, he darted through the doorway right into the waiting arms of Gaddy and Young Ed; they might as well have taken on a cougar. Ute’s tiny body was all bone and sinew and agile as a mink; the bad whiskey hadn’t diminished his strength, and he fought so viciously he might have escaped if he hadn’t made the mistake of biting Young Ed. That so incensed the boy he picked up a rock and smashed it into Ute’s skull. The little man subsided at last.

It took Loomis’s whiskey-clouded brain several seconds to understand that the men who had entered the cabin were not his friends; then, with a bearlike roar, he charged. Lasso, nearly as big as Loomis himself, sidestepped the attack and smashed one fish into Loomis’s jaw and the other into his huge stomach. About the only effect the blows had was to make Loomis even madder, but before he could charge Lasso again, Burch tripped him and sent him sprawling to the floor; both men threw themselves on him.

Loomis was slow and clumsy, but his strength and stamina were amazing. Roaring like some primeval monster, he rose from the floor, flinging Burch and Lasso from him. He staggered about the room like a giant bear, trying to trap one of the men in his crushing embrace. Burch lost his footing in some spilled whiskey when he dodged one of Loomis’s clumsy attacks and fell to his knees, striking his head against the corner of one of the bunks. Lasso tried to interpose his body between Loomis and his dazed friend, but he was thrown against the wall by a forearm powerful enough to belong to a full-grown bull. Loomis picked Burch up and hugged him to his chest.

Sharp pains shot through Burch’s body as the powerful arms tightened around him like bands of steel. The evil smell of Loomis’s breath helped clear his head and he pushed against the powerful chest with all his strength. He couldn’t break Loomis’s hold, but it kept Loomis from breaking several of Burch’s ribs. Using his powerful legs, Burch propelled Loomis about the room to keep him off balance. They lurched into shelves, the hot stovepipe, and the walls, but Burch was unable to break the lock on his body. All the while Lasso landed blow after blow into Loomis’s back with virtually no effect. Once he tried to get a grip on Loomis’s throat, but his neck was so big and powerful Loomis sent him spinning. Lasso hit his head against a beam, knocked it loose, and fell down, stunned. Loomis tightened his hold on Burch.

Burch knew he couldn’t hold out much longer. If he didn’t dunk of something soon, Loomis would crush his chest. Even now it was extremely difficult to get enough air into his lungs to keep his head clear. His own powerful arms staved off the blackness threatening him, but already the room began to lose its sharp focus. It was like being in the coils of a giant constrictor, never loosening, always tightening at every chance. Burch felt himself growing dangerously weak and, in desperation, he brought his knee up between Loomis’s legs with all his remaining strength. A horrendous roar erupted from Loomis’s throat and the death-dealing grip was broken at last. Burch leaned against the wall, taking huge gulps of air into his lungs. The pain in his chest was still excruciating, but gradually his gaze cleared and objects came into sharp focus.

“Look out!” Lasso warned as Loomis turned on Burch once more. Burch sidestepped deftly, and before the pain-crazed man had time to turn and charge again, Burch picked up the beam Lasso had knocked loose and brought it down on Loomis’s head. The half-rotten timber broke clean in two, but Loomis sank to the floor with a grunt.

“Let’s get him tied before he wakes,” Burch said, panting heavily. “I never knew anyone could be so strong.”

“Or so huge,” Lasso added, struggling with the enormous body. “Here, grab hold of a leg and we’ll drag him outside,” he told Gaddy and Young Ed, who came in from tying up Ute. “And don’t take any chances. Use double ropes on him.”

Burch emptied the water bucket over Ute’s head. “I’m burning you out,” he said as Ute glared at him out of cold, reptilian eyes. “The boys are drenching the cabin with kerosene; there won’t be a single stick left when we’re through. I want both of you out of Wyoming.” Burch struck a match and tossed it into the open doorway. With a horrendous “Whoosh!” the cabin was engulfed in flame. “Next time I come looking for you, I’ll come with a gun.” Ute was forced to watch as Young Ed and Gaddy tore down the shed, pulled up every post and pole in the corral, and threw them into the fire. The flames rose higher and higher with the added fuel.

“I’ll see you dead,” growled Ute.

“No, you won’t,” countered Burch. “I came into your territory and I still beat you. Next time you’ll have to come into mine, and I’ve got two dozen men just itching to get a shot at you.”

“And that doesn’t even count mine,” Lasso added. Ute spat at Burch.

“You lousy sonsofbitches!”

“I’m also going to file a grievance about you with the cattlemen’s association, so that every rancher from here to Montana will be on the lookout for you.”

“They don’t know what I look like.”

Burch held up the drawing that was unmistakably Ute and his son.

“This ought to make sure everybody knows your ugly face if you ever show it around here again. We don’t go easy on rustlers.”

“Who says I’m a rustier?”

“I do,” Burch said, pointing to the six beeves slowly wandering down the canyon. “That’s a hanging offense in Wyoming, and some men don’t wait for the law.”

“You’ll pay for this,” Ute threatened as the last wall of his cabin collapsed into the bed of red-hot coals. Burch didn’t answer until the cabin had been reduced to a mound of ashes.