Chapter 10
Everything was working out just fine. The Tanners blamed the Butchers for the deaths of LT hands I had killed. The Butchers blamed the LT for Sissy, yet another name I could scrawl on the chalkboard of victims that stretched back over the years to that fateful day in the alley when I stabbed my pa.
No one suspected me. No one guessed who I was or the real reason I was there. I was free to go on killing, and the beauty of it was that if I killed with care, the blame would continue to fall on other shoulders than mine.
Thanks to Calista and her meddling, I had to do it soon. Everyone was taking it for granted that it would be a week or more before the Texas Rangers arrived, but there was no predicting. The Rangers fought hard, they rode hard—they were hard. It could be they would show up tomorrow. I had to be done when they got there or risk tangling with law officers as feared and as efficient as those gents in the red coats up in Canada. Like the Mounties, the Rangers possessed a fierce devotion to duty and took pride in always getting their man. Since this time I was that man, I preferred to light a shuck before they began nosing around.
I did not eat at midday. I strolled to the general store and bought coffee and jerky and a few canned goods: beans, peaches, tomatoes. I mentioned to the store owner and a few others that I needed to get out of town for a spell and commune with my Maker. I asked about the country to the south, and when I left I rode south, but as soon as I was out of sight I reined toward the Dark Sister.
I stayed well clear of the trail up to the Butcher place. Approaching from the southwest, I was soon in deep timber. I cautiously wound higher until I judged I was due south of their cabin. Then I reined north.
I had a few landmarks to go by. A ridge, for instance, I had noticed from the clearing. It was half a mile from their place. When I spotted a lightning-scarred tree, I knew I was as close as I dared go on horseback.
I did not like leaving Brisco unattended. Horse thieves were two bits a dozen in that part of the country. Stray Indians could not be discounted, either. But if I was to sneak close to their cabin undetected, I had to do it on foot.
As a precaution I led Brisco into a thicket, trampled a circle wide enough for him to lie down if he was so inclined, then shucked my rifle and was ready to commence spilling blood. I left the scattergun in my bedroll. In the daylight the Winchester afforded greater range.
I had been thinking about Sissy on the ride up. I had not known her well. She had been friendly, though, and treated me nice. And now she was worm food. It bothered me. Not that she was dead, but that I was thinking about her being dead. Normally, I never gave a thought after the fact to the wicks I snuff out. I refuse to let myself think about them. Yet here I was, thinking about her.
I spied smoke curling into the sky. Casting Sissy from my mind, I concentrated on the job. I got down on my belly and snaked through the undergrowth like an Apache, stopping often to look and listen.
I was about a hundred yards from the cabin when a cough froze me in place. As slowly as a turtle, I swiveled my head. It took fifteen to twenty seconds to spot him, he was so well hid.
It was Jordy, armed with a rifle and a brace of pistols, perched in the crook of an oak.
I was amazed he had not spotted me. Then I saw that the heat of the afternoon was getting to him. He kept yawning. His chin would droop to his chest, and when it did, he would jerk his head up and shake himself to stay awake.
I could have picked him off. One shot, and he would drop like a sitting grouse. But he was not the only fish I was there to fry and the others must not be forewarned. So I lay still and waited.
The sun was well on its downward sweep when the crackle of brush and low whistling warned me someone was coming.
Kip Butcher strolled into view, carelessly holding his rifle by the barrel. He halted at the base of the oak and glanced up.
“You’re the ugliest squirrel I’ve ever seen.”
“Did you come to spew insults or do you have a purpose?” Jordy retorted.
“Ma says I’m to relieve you and stay out here until midnight. Then Carson will take my place.”
Jordy started climbing down, saying, “Are you sure you made enough noise? The Kiowas might not have heard you.”
“There ain’t no Kiowas within a hundred miles.”
“Maybe so. But you know better than to barge around like an elk in rut. You can bet those cowboys won’t make noise when they pay us a visit.”
“If they come,” Kip said. “I suspect they’ll think twice after what Ty and Clell and Carson did to those two in town.”
Jordy did not say anything until he reached the ground. Then, “Listen to me, little brother. There’s no if about it. The cowboys will come and they will come in force. We had damned well better be ready or we will damned well be dead.”
“I’m as ready as you are.”
“Like hell. Or you wouldn’t clomp through the woods like you did.” Jordy put a callused hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Your problem is that you are never serious enough about things. You take life too lightly.”
“I’ve taken Sissy’s death serious enough.”
Jordy gazed at the surrounding forest, his eyes passing right over me without seeing me. “Stay alert. Spot them before they spot you and get word to us pronto.”
“You don’t have to tell me what to do. I was there when Ma gave us our instructions, remember?”
“She’s smart, our ma. Like a fox,” Jordy said. “Killing those two cowpokes will make the rest come to us. We can fight them on our terms, as she puts it, and not on theirs.”
Kip nodded. “There are more of them, but we’ll have the edge. They don’t know these woods like we do.”
“It will be even better if they come at night. Most cowboys can’t hit the broad side of a barn unless they’re standing right next to it, and in the dark their aim will be worse.”
“The one who shot Sissy had good aim,” Kip remarked.
“He was using a shotgun,” Jordy said, “and shotguns are like cannons. They don’t need aiming. You just point and squeeze.”
Kip reached up to a low limb, then paused. “Say, what if all the cowboys bring shotguns?”
“There aren’t that many hand howitzers to be had in these parts,” Jordy said. “Besides, we’re ready for them this time.”
“I sure as hell hope so.” Kip went up limb by limb until he came to the fork. He hooked a leg over one limb and his other leg over another, but that did not suit him so he hooked both legs over the same limb.
Jordy was heading for the cabin and had his back to me.
I resumed crawling. I was almost to the edge of the trees when the front door opened and out ambled Daisy. I was pleased to see her and shouldn’t have been. I considered raising my rifle and shooting her through the head to prove I could do it, but that was plain stupid.
Hannah emerged. They came in my direction, apparently for no other reason than to stretch their legs. They were calm and at ease, remarkable in light of the circumstances.
“—you would reconsider.” Hannah’s words reached me. “I’ve already lost one daughter. I don’t care to lose you, too.”
“I’m a Butcher, ain’t I?” Daisy responded. “I refuse to run out on my kin when they need me most.”
“It’s not running, daughter. It’s playing safe,” Hannah said. “Calista said she would take you in. You could lie low until this is over.”
“No means no,” Daisy declared.
“I’d take it as a favor.”
“Don’t. Please, Ma. I could never live with myself if they bucked out all of you and I wasn’t here to help. Why, I would march right up to the LT and call out that shrew and shoot her dead unless they shot me first.”
“Consarn it, Daisy Mae. Don’t be so blamed pigheaded,” Hannah said, but she said it tenderly.
Daisy grinned. “I take after my ma.”
“Nothing I can say or do will change your mind?”
“Not short of conking me over the noggin so you can hog-tie me and cart me off to Whiskey Flats,” Daisy said.
Hannah was trying to appear madder than she was. “I should do just that to spite you. But I won’t. Because you’re right. You are part of this family and this family always sticks together through thick and thin.”
“Now that that’s settled,” Daisy said, “how about you let me take a turn at keeping watch?”
“I’ll think about it,” Hannah said in a way that hinted she would not give it any thought at all. “In the meantime, you’re not to wander off by your lonesome. You hear me?”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to wear a leash?”
Her comment reminded me of their dog. I had not seen it the night I shot Sissy; I did not see it now. Yet the logical place for it to be was outside where its sense of smell and hearing could be put to good use. Where had it gotten to?
“We only have one leash and Ty and Clell took it with them,” Hannah was saying. “I hope my plan works. I’m taking an awful chance.”
“None of us would have thought of it,” Daisy said by way of praise.
“When a pack of wolves is on your trail, you don’t sit and wait for them to surround you,” Hannah said. “You go after the wolves in their own den.”
I was suddenly all ears.
“But what if Ty and Clell only get one or two and not all three?” Daisy asked.
“Just so long as one of those they bed down permanent is Gertrude Tanner. She’s the boss of that outfit, not her weak-kneed husband. All our trouble is due to her.”
“But why? What does she hope to gain?”
Hannah let out a long sigh. “I wish to heaven I knew. With all the land she has, she doesn’t need our patch. Whatever she’s up to, it ends as soon as Ty or Clell puts a bullet in her brain.” Hannah squinted up at the sun. “They’ll wait until late to move in. The Tanners won’t be expecting us to take the fight to them, so your brothers should be able to slip in close.”
“With Samson along it will be a cinch,” Daisy said.
I realized with a start that Samson was the dog. I had to warn Gertrude. She was the one who had hired me. If anything happened to her, I wouldn’t get the rest of my money. I hesitated. Here was the perfect chance to shoot Hannah and Daisy. They were so close, I could throw a stick and hit either one. But I didn’t. Instead, I crawled back the way I had come until I was past the oak Kip was in. Then I stood and ran. I told myself that I had not shot them because I needed to reach the LT without delay. But I was only fooling myself.
I led Brisco from the thicket, forked leather, and applied my spurs. The Butcher homestead was a jinx, I decided. Twice now I had gone there to pick them off, and twice now fate played a wild card.
I assured myself I was doing the right thing. But I might arrive too late. It would be well after dark when I got there, and by then Ty and Clell might have struck.
Brisco raced like a Chinook. It had been a long while since I rode at a full gallop for so long and I think he enjoyed it as much as I did. Some horses were content to lounge their days away in a stall or a corral, but not Brisco. He had mustang in his blood. At heart he liked to roam wild and free, unhindered by the hand of man. In that respect we had a lot in common, him and me.
The shortest route to the LT was through Whiskey Flats. But the citizenry would wonder if they beheld the parson riding hell bent for leather through the middle of town. I had to skirt it, which added another fifteen minutes.
Chafing at a pace that would win a race, I still had miles to go when the sun sank. I was glad of that. My one worry was that some of the LT cowboys would spot me and want to know why I was in such an all-fired hurry. I had to get in, do what needed doing, and get out again with no one the wiser.
Hannah had said her sons would wait until late. Exactly how late was the question. Late as in sometime after supper, or late as in after everyone had gone to bed. Were it me, I would wait until the Tanners—and the cowpokes in the bunkhouse—had turned in. Never leave anything to chance was the cardinal rule I lived by. Or tried to. Life had a knack for spoiling the best-laid plans.
I had to hand it to Hannah. Striking at the Tanners was brilliant. Gertrude would never expect it, not on her very doorstep. And Hannah was right about Gertrude being the bullwhip that drove the husband and son. Remove her, and Lloyd and Phil might end the blood spilling.
Cattle appeared. Not a lot at first. The nearer I drew to the ranch buildings, the more cows there were, and where there were cows, there were bound to be cowboys. I did not come across any, however, which was puzzling.
Brisco was lathered from neck to tail when I finally reined to a halt. Swinging down, I was about to slide the scattergun from my bedroll when I changed my mind. I chose other items from my saddlebags. Better to deal with Ty and Clell quietly. And the dog. I must not forget the dog. I must not forget it could hear me and smell me from a long way off.
I had killed dogs before. I never liked to kill them because I was fond of dogs, but sometimes they had to be dealt with. I always did it quickly so they wouldn’t suffer, and so they would not bark or yip and give me away.
There I was, cat footing across the prairie and thinking about dogs in general when I should have been thinking about Samson in particular, and Ty and Clell. I was forgetting the rules that had kept me alive for so long, rules I had made myself. It showed how rattled I was about Daisy.
I came on a gully I had not known was there, stumbled down the slope, and collided with someone slinking along the inky shadow at the bottom. The next instant iron fingers clamped like a vise onto my throat.