Death Rides a Chestnut Mare

Chapter 4

The Carlyle Ranch. North Texas. August 19, 1870.

“The first thing we’d better do,” Tuck said, “is get the word to Dumont, Baldwin, Chadman, and Flagg that we’re back. If they’ll help us gather our herd, we’ll be on the trail to Abilene tomorrow.”

“They promised,” said Mrs. Carlyle.

“Maybe we’d better remind them we’re ready to begin,” Danielle said.

“Then let’s go,” said Tuck. “We’re losing more time.”

Only Carrie said nothing, but stared vacantly out the window.

Tuck and Danielle weren’t even off the Carlyle spread when they met Barney Dumont.

“I was just comin’ to see if you’d made it back,” Barney said. “Pa said if you was back that I’m to take the word to Baldwin, Chadman, and Flagg. We can start your gather today, getting on the trail that much quicker.”

“We’re ready,” said Tuck, “and we have the needed parts for the Colts, besides the wagonload of provisions and ammunition.”

“Then I’ll tell the others to get on over to your place just as quick as they can,” said Barney.

“Bueno,” Tuck said. “It’s the moment of truth. We’ll have to find out if we have cows enough to make the drive.”

At Upton Wilks’s ranch, Wilks was receiving a report from Kazman, his segundo.

“They’re gettin’ ready for a drive,” said Kazman. “Four of the outfits has rounded up at least five hundred head. There’s nobody left ’cept the Carlyles.”

“Why not the Carlyles?”

“Tuck and the young gent stayin’ with ’em took off south a week ago, in old man Flagg’s wagon. Today they come back. From the tracks, I’d say the wagon’s loaded to the bows. They likely been to Dallas, buyin’ food and ammunition.”

“Where the hell would they get the money?” Wilks demanded.

“Somebody staked ’em,” said Kazman. “Maybe that new gent that’s stayin’ with ’em.”

“Looks like we’ll have to take care of him,” Wilks said. “Give ’em a couple of days on the trail, but before the herd becomes trail-wise and settles down, stampede the lot of them from here to yonder.”

“It’ll be hell, finding them longhorns in Indian Territory,” said Kazman. “I was hopin’ we could grab the herd and take ’em on to Abilene ourselves.”

“Maybe we can,” Wilks said, “but we’ll need more riders. Not countin’ you and me, we got eight riders. There’s nineteen in that outfit, and every one of them, even including the women, can shoot. We’ll wait until they’re practically out of Indian Territory before we take the herd. Let them do most of the hard work.”

“I like it,” said Kazman. “Ambush?”

“Yes,” Wilks replied. “Shoot them all dead. Then when they default on their taxes, I’ll take over all their ranches dirt cheap. Take a pair of riders with you and ride into Indian Territory. We’ll need four or five more riders. No petty thieves. We want killers.”

Within the hour, riders began showing up at the Carlyle ranch. The Dumonts were the first to arrive, followed by the Baldwins. The Chadmans were next, followed closely by the Flaggs.

“I’ll need daylight to repair your Colts,” Danielle said. “The rest of you begin gathering the cattle. When I’m done with the Colts, I’ll join you.”

“It’s important we have those Colts ready,” Tuck said. “Go ahead and fix them.”

Danielle spread out a blanket on the grass beneath a tree. She then began work on the half-dozen Colts, breaking them down one at a time. Finished with one, she started on the second one before Carrie joined her.

“I thought you hated me,” said Danielle mildly.

“I don’t, really,” Carrie said. “I’m just disappointed in you.”

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you,” said Danielle, “but you knew when I first rode in that I was after my pa’s killers. I won’t find them settin’ on my hunkers here.”

“I suppose not,” Carrie said with a sigh. With Danielle being busy, the conversation lagged, and Carrie wandered back to the house.

An hour past noon, the riders drove in the cattle they had gathered.

“More than two hundred head,” said Tuck proudly. “We got to gather the rest, run all the five herds together, and post guards. The rustlers could clean us all out in one night.”

After a hurried dinner, the riders went to finish the gather before dark, if they could. Danielle, having finished repairing the Colts, went with them.

“Most of the varmints are holed up in thickets where there’s shade,” said Tuck. “We’ll have to run them out of there.”

“I’ve never worked cattle,” Danielle said. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, here or on the trail to Abilene.”

“The secret to trail driving,” said Tuck, “is keepin’ the varmints bunched. Keep ’em on the heels of one another, so that every critter has a pair of horns right at her behind. It generally takes a few days—maybe a week—for them to get trail-wise and settle down.”

Danielle rode into the brush with the other riders and was amazed at all the longhorns they flushed out. Some of the riders circled the growing gather, seeing to it that none of the cattle made a break for the thickets. With many riders, the gather proceeded quickly.

“I think we got enough,” said Tuck, an hour before sundown. “Let’s run a tally.”

“I count five hundred and thirty head,” Elmer Dumont said.

“I count five hundred and twenty-seven,” said Cyrus Baldwin.

“Five hundred and thirty-two,” Enos Chadman said.

“I count five hundred and twenty-five,” said Wallace.

“Our herds has got a few more than five hundred,” Elmer Dumont concluded. “We generally accept the lowest tally. Does that suit you, Tuck?”

“Yeah,” said Tuck. “I’m glad to see this many. I was afraid, with all the rustling, we’d have trouble finding five hundred.”

“You got lots of scrub thickets, especially near the spring runoff,” said Wallace Flagg. “I believe we could drag out another five hundred if we had to.”

“Let the others wait until spring,” Tuck said. “It’s important to get our gather on the trail to Abilene as soon as we can.”

The gather was driven to the Carlyle ranch and herded in with more than two thousand of their kind.

“We got twelve men,” said Enos Chadman. “We got to keep watch. I think with the herd bunched right here near the barn, we can get by with six men and two watches.”

“It’s always the men,” Carrie Carlyle said. “I can shoot as well as any man here.”

“No doubt you can, ma’am,” said Chadman, “and I expect you’ll get a chance to prove it before we reach Abilene. Get yourself one last good night’s sleep in a bed.”

The Trail North. August 20, 1870.

The first day on the trail, the cattle were predictably wild, seeking to break away and return to their old grazing meadows and shaded thickets. At her own request, Danielle rode drag. The chestnut mare quickly learned what was expected of her. When a cow quit the bunch, the mare was after her. Danielle had little more to do than just stay in the saddle.

“I reckon we’ve come ten miles,” Enos Chadman said when they had bedded down the herd for the night.

“Lucky to do as well as that with a new herd,” said Cyrus Baldwin.

“Starting tonight,” Carrie said, “we’ll need more than six on each watch. I’m offering to stand either watch.”

“So am I,” Katrina Chadman said.

“We may not need you,” said Tuck. “We have enough men for a first and a second watch. The rest of you can just sleep with your guns handy.”

“No,” Katrina said. “We’ve already decided the women will do the cooking, and I can ride better than I can cook.”

Her response brought a roar of laughter, and the question was finally resolved when it was decided that Carrie would join the first watch, and Katrina the second.

“You ladies ride careful,” said Enos Chadman. “If one of you gets spooked and shoots a cow, you’ll end up washing dishes the rest of the way to Abilene.”

On the first watch was Danielle, Tuck, Katrina, Elmer Dumont and his son, Barney, Chadman’s son, Eric, and Wallace Flagg’s sons, Floyd and Edward. Carrie had hoped to be part of the first watch, and she watched Katrina Chadman with some envy. Katrina was a year older than Carrie, and Carrie wanted to prove herself in front of Danielle.

Supper was over, and it was time for the first watch to mount up. The cattle were restless, being on the trail for the first time, and the riders were kept busy by bunch quitters. Danielle’s task was made simpler by the chestnut mare. The horse seemed to sense when a cow was about to break away, and was there to head her. There was a moon, and it was Danielle’s first opportunity to see Katrina Chadman close up. The girl had long blond hair that she wore in a single braid, and she rode her horse like she was part of it. For a few minutes Tuck rode alongside her, the two of them laughing. Danielle suffered a new emotion. As she watched them, flames of jealousy rose up, threatening to engulf her.

“Damn you, Katrina,” said Danielle under her breath, “you haven’t seen him jaybird naked in the creek.”

The cattle finally settled down, and by the time the second watch came on at midnight, there were no more bunch quitters. Breakfast was an orderly affair, with Anthea Dumont, Teresa Baldwin, Maureen Chadman, Tilda Flagg, and Audrey Carlyle doing the cooking.

“This is the best I been fed in ten years,” said Elmer Dumont. “A man could start to liking these trail drives.”

“A man generally don’t have his women folks along to fix the grub,” said Tuck. “We all know it’s hard times in Texas, and we didn’t dare leave them there.”

“There’s a stronger reason than that,” Maureen Chadman said. “Katrina and me haven’t had a stitch of new clothes since before the war, and we’re practically naked. Surely we’ll get enough for the herd so we don’t go home in rags.”

“We’ll just have to hope we get a good price,” said Enos Chadman uncomfortably.

“Katrina’s cast-iron underpants are startin’ to rust,” Tuck said softly, standing behind Danielle.

“If anybody would know, it would be you,” said Danielle coldly. “You spent the night following her around, instead of watching the herd.”

“So what the hell is it to you?” Tuck demanded. “Sooner or later, she’s got to give in to some hombre. Why not me? You reckon I can’t do her justice?”

“I don’t doubt that you can,” said Danielle. “And neither does she. I just want to get this damn herd to Abilene, so I can get on with my life.”

“You mean to get on with your killing,” Tuck said.

“Well, just what the hell would you have done if your pa had been strung up without cause?”

“I deserved that,” said Tuck. “I’d do the same thing you’re doing.”

Their second day on the trail was little better than the first. “We should reach Red River tomorrow,” Elmer Dumont said. “From there on, every night will be a danger. They can even set up an ambush and pick us off in broad daylight.”

“There’s always the old Indian trick,” said Wallace Flagg. “Stampede the herd, and when we separate to gather them, get us one at a time.”

The third day on the trail, the cattle had begun to settle down. The drive reached the Red River, making camp on the Texas side.

“This could be our last peaceful night,” Cyrus Baldwin warned. “From here on, it could be Indians, outlaws, or both.”

The night was still, and Danielle lay in her blankets, unable to sleep. She kept hearing Katrina laugh, and had no doubt Tuck Carlyle was keeping her amused. On Danielle’s mind was the sobering realization that unless that murdering pack of outlaws died somewhere in Indian Territory, she would have to ride away and leave Tuck to the wiles of Katrina. At midnight, when it was time to change watches, Danielle spoke to Tuck.

“Well, did you get the key?”

“Not tonight,” Tuck said cheerfully. “Maybe tomorrow night.”

“Damn it,” said Danielle, “like most men, you have only one thing on your mind.”

“Then I reckon you don’t,” Tuck said. “Are you one of them fool hombres that prefers other hombres to women?”

“Tuck Carlyle, if we weren’t on watch, I’d pistol-whip you for saying that.”

“Just watch your damn tongue,” said Tuck. “You’re startin’ to sound like a jealous female, and anytime you’re of a mind to pistol-whip me, just keep in mind that I have a pistol too.”

It silenced Danielle. Already, Tuck was suspicious of her. It was difficult, playing the part of a man when she most yearned to be a woman, but her resolve to find her father’s killers was just as strong as ever. She would have to keep her silence, whatever Tuck and Katrina did. Danielle didn’t realize it, but Tuck and Katrina were actually talking about her.

“I’d like to know Dan Strange a little better,” Katrina said. “He keeps watching me, and he seems so nice.”

“I reckon I’m not,” said Tuck grimly.

“Sometimes you are,” Katrina said, “and other times you’re not. You think I haven’t heard all the talk about my cast-iron underpants?”

“I didn’t start that,” said Tuck.

“I wouldn’t expect you to admit it,” Katrina said angrily, “but you repeated it.”

“Hell, it’s a reputation you created for yourself,” said Tuck. “Your look-at-me-but-don’t-touch attitude scares hell out of men.”

“Everybody except you,” Katrina said.

“And I’m gettin’ exactly nowhere,” said Tuck angrily. “Build yourself a reputation as a man-hater, and you won’t need them cast-iron underpants.”

Katrina laughed. “I’ll give the key to the right man. Just don’t get your hopes up too high, Tuck Carlyle.”

Indian Territory. August 23, 1870.

The Red River crossing had been used many times before, and there was a shallows that allowed even the wagons to cross without difficulty. There was a trail of sorts, left by previous drives, and they followed it closely. Tuck was the point rider, and with the herd still behaving, he rode far ahead, seeking out a possible ambush. But all during their first day in Indian Territory, they saw nobody.

“From here on,” said Elmer Dumont, “all of you on watch mustn’t let anybody through your guard. Our lives and the herd are depending on you. No talking and no smoking, and when it’s your turn to sleep, keep your horses saddled and picketed.”

At the Wilks ranch, Kazman had just returned from Indian Territory. With him were four men, and he introduced them.

“These gents is Mitch Vesper, Elihu Dooling, Burt Keleing, and Chunk Peeler. I done told them what we got to do.”

“Nothin’ ain’t been said about the pay,” Dooling said. “This ain’t one of them thirty-and-found jobs, is it?”

“Forty and found,” said Wilks.

“Fifty and found,” Dooling said. “If I got to shoot somebody, it’d better be worth my while.”

There was quick agreement from Vesper, Keleing, and Peeler.

“Fifty and found, then,” said Wilks, “but damn it, I want results.”

“We can leave now and be in Indian Territory by midnight,” Kazman said.

“I want you to get ahead of the herd and stampede them south,” said Wilks. “There’ll be no moon tonight, so don’t go after the riders. Scatter the herd, and the riders will have to split up, looking for them. That’s when we pick them off one or two at a time.”

“Thirteen of us,” Chunk Peeler said. “That’s an unlucky number.”

“Only if you don’t do what you been hired to do,” said Wilks. “Now get the rest of the bunch out of the bunkhouse, Kazman, and ride.”

Within minutes, thirteen heavily armed men rode north toward Indian Territory.

Danielle noticed there was not much conversation between Tuck and Katrina, and she wasn’t sure if it was by command or by choice. She was awake an hour before the second watch took to the saddle, and lay there listening. There was nothing to disturb the silence of the night except the occasional bawling of a cow.

An hour after the second watch had gone on duty, the raiders struck, riding in from the north. Bending low over the necks of their horses, they fired their pistols until it sounded like a small war in progress. The second watch fired at the elusive targets, their own shooting spooking the cattle all the more. The herd was on its feet in an instant, running south, seeking to escape these demons who swooped after them from the north. Tuck Carlyle and Wallace Flagg got ahead of the running longhorns, but they wouldn’t be headed off, and the two cowboys had to ride for their lives to escape being trampled. The stampede thundered on, while those responsible for it fell back and vanished into the darkness. Slowly, the night watch made its way back to camp.

“Damn it,” said Enos Chadman, “we didn’t get a one of ’em.”

“Well, at least they didn’t get any of us, either,” Elmer Dumont said. “That tells me that when we split up to gather the scattered herd, they’ll try to gun us down.”

“That bein’ the case,” said Tuck, “maybe we’d better let the cows go for a couple of days and trail the varmints that stampeded ’em.”

“That’s good thinking, up to a point,” Wallace Flagg said, “but there’s two problems. There must have been a dozen or more of the varmints, and you can be sure they’ll split up, making it necessary for us to divide our forces. That will make it easy enough for them to gun us down from ambush.”

“He’s dead right,” Cyrus Baldwin said.

“Damn it, we have to do something,” said Tuck. “If we go after the cattle or rustlers, we’re goin’ to be split up. If it takes the whole outfit to pick up one cow at a time, we’ll still be here next August.”

“I think they stampeded the herd south so it’ll be easier rounding them up, once they have disposed of us,” Enos Chadman said. “When the herd begins to scatter, the riders will split up and get ahead of us, somewhere in Indian Territory.”

“Maybe,” said Wallace Flagg, “but I don’t think so. Why scatter the herd all to hell and gone, unless they aim to scatter us for bushwhacking purposes during the gather?”

“Mr. Flagg’s talking sense,” Tuck Carlyle said. “I think if we separate while gathering the herd, that we’ll be picked off one at a time.”

“You think we should go after the rustlers, then,” said Walter Flagg. “So do I. After we’ve gathered the herd, what’s to stop them from stampeding it all over again? I think where we find one of these varmints, we’ll find them all.”

The argument raged back and forth until a decision was reached. Those from the first and second watches would trail the outlaws. The women—except for Katrina—would stay with the wagons. The tracks of shod horses were plain enough in the wake of the stampede, and as Flagg had predicted, once the herd had scattered, so had the riders.

“There’s thirteen of us,” Flagg said. “Let’s split up into two groups, with each group tracking one rider. Unless they all come together in a bunch, we’ll nail at least two of them.”

Again Danielle was denied an opportunity to ride with Tuck, for he was on the first watch with Katrina. The sun was an hour high when they reached the point where the herd had begun to scatter. None of the tracks of shod horses continued south, but turned east or west.

“Damn it,” said Elmer Dumont, “they’re expecting us. They’ll be holed up somewhere in Indian Territory.”

“Give me one rider,” Tuck said, “and if it’s an ambush, we’ll spring it.”

“I’ll go,” said Danielle.

“You got it,” Tuck said. “Ride a mile east of here, and then ride north. Look for the tracks of a rider who may have doubled back. I’ll ride west and then north, doin’ the same as you. As long as they’re split up, they’re at the same disadvantage we are.”

Danielle rode east for almost a mile before turning north. Her Henry was cocked and ready, and she carried it under her arm. For several miles, there was no sign. Suddenly, she saw the tracks of a shod horse coming from the southeast. The tracks were fresh. It had to be one of the renegades, bound for a rendezvous somewhere to the north.

To the west, Tuck Carlyle had made a similar discovery. His rifle ready, he cautiously followed the trail of the single horse. His first and only warning came almost too late. His horse suddenly nickered, and somewhere ahead, another answered. There was a blaze of gunfire, barely missing him, and Tuck rolled out of the saddle. There was no sound of hoofbeats, which meant his man was holed up within rifle range.

“Come on,” shouted Wallace Flagg. “Tuck’s flushed somebody.”

To the west, Danielle had no warning. The first slug snatched the hat from her head, and the second whipped through the baggy front of her shirt, leaving her thankful she had an uncomfortable binder around her chest. She rolled out of the saddle as though she had been hit, taking her Henry with her. She lay still, counting on her adversary to show himself. When she heard footsteps, she resisted the temptation to turn her head. Whoever was coming to see if she was alive or dead must soon come within her view. He did, finally.

“Just a damn kid,” he said aloud.

“With a gun,” said Danielle. She drew her Colt from flat on her back and fired twice.

She waited a few minutes, Colt in her hand, until she decided the bushwhacker had been alone. She then knelt beside him and began going through his pockets. She found only a bill of sale for a horse and an envelope addressed to Mitch Vesper. There was nothing in the envelope. On the back of it had been scribbled meaningless numbers. She then mounted the chestnut mare and rode back to meet her comrades. They had joined Tuck and were all looking at the bushwhacker he had shot.

“Did you find a name on him?” Danielle asked.

“Elihu Dooling,” said Tuck. “Is he one of the bunch you’re after?”

“No,” Danielle said, “and neither is the one I shot. Either I’m barking up the wrong tree, or this bunch has added some new faces.”

“They had more than eight men last night,” said Tuck. “That means they’ve added to their gang.”

“Daniel and Tuck,” Elmer Dumont said, “that was a good piece of work. The rest of the varmints will have to come together sooner or later. I say we run ’em down, one at a time if we have to.”

“It could become a Mexican standoff,” said Cyrus Baldwin. “If they’re after the herd, they can’t round ’em up while they’re dodgin’ lead. Neither can we.”

“It all comes down to who can hold out the longest,” Wallace Flagg said. “This bunch will be just as aware as we are that we’re not much more than a month away from snow. Every day we spend tracking them is one day less before snow flies.”

“Well, damn it,” said Enos Chadman, “what choice do we have? We know this bunch of owlhoots stampeded the herd with one thought in mind. They’re countin’ on us to split up in ones and twos, gathering the herd. That’s when they’ll come gunning for us.”

“Then we have no choice except to track them down first,” Danielle said.

“That’s how it looks to me,” said Chadman, his grateful eyes on Danielle.

“I’ll agree with that,” Wallace Flagg said. “Hell, I’d rather make the drive through the snow than to dodge bushwhacker bullets from here to Abilene.”

It was a sentiment they all shared, and they again began seeking tracks of shod horses that belonged to the outlaws. Elmer Dumont and his son, Barney, were the next to flush out one of the rustlers. Barney took a slug through his left thigh, while Elmer was unscathed. It was he who had killed the bushwhacker. Quickly, the rest of the outfit gathered. Elmer went through the dead man’s pockets, finding only a pocket knife and a few dollars.

“No name, then,” said Danielle, disappointed.

“None,” Elmer said. “Barney, you’d better ride back to the wagons and have your ma take care of that leg wound.”

“There’s a medicine kit and a gallon jug of whiskey in the wagon,” said Tuck. “Barney, can you make it alone?”

“I can make it,” the white-faced Barney said. “Go after the others.”

Danielle sneaked a look at Katrina, and the girl’s face was ashen. Tuck helped Barney mount his horse, and when he had ridden away, the others mounted, leaving the dead outlaw where he lay.

“The buzzards and coyotes will eat well,” Wallace Flagg said. “If we can gun down two or three more, it might make believers of the others.”

Losing Barney Dumont, they had twelve riders.

“We’re at a disadvantage,” said Tuck, “because they can be holed up under cover. For that reason, I think we should ride in pairs.”

“I’ll vote for that,” Danielle replied. “With two of us after the same bushwhacker, he’ll be forced to divide his attention.”

“Katrina rides with me,” stated Enos Chadman.

Nobody disagreed or complained, for Katrina was still pale and obviously afraid. She gripped her saddle horn with both hands, keeping her head down, refusing to look at any of them. Danielle felt sorry for her, but she thought Tuck looked a little disgusted.

Floyd and Edward Flagg rode into the next ambush, coming out of the fight unscathed. They were searching the dead outlaw when the rest of their outfit arrived.

“Does he have a name?” Danielle asked anxiously.

“Yeah,” said Floyd. “It’s in his wallet. Chunk Peeler.”

“Damn,” Danielle said, “four of them, and not one of the eight I’m looking for.”

“All of these might be the killers you’re looking for,” said Tuck. “The names you have may not even be their real names.”

“I know,” Danielle said softly. “I know. But I won’t give up the search until I’m certain each of the men who killed my father is dead.”