Savage Hellfire Read online

  “So, he is coming,” Manolo said, softly and with a rare tenderness.

  “Who?” Eva said, flustered at Manolo’s perception.

  “The tall man. The handsome one. The one you wait for.”

  “Mind your place, Manolo,” Eva said. “You don’t know anything.”

  “I know what is in your heart,” he said. “And, I think, so does he.”

  “You just mind your own business, Manolo.”

  He laughed and took off his hat. He bowed and swept the hat in front of him.

  “Yes, miss. I mind my own business. But my eyes see what my eyes see.”

  He started walking toward one of the drovers who was herding the cattle across the plain.

  Eva watched him and thought how wise Manolo was. And if he could see what was in her heart, so could her mother.

  And so, too, would John Savage.

  16

  JOHN’S HEART THRUMMED IN HIS CHEST WHEN HE SAW THE CATTLE spreading out over the grassy plain. They were, as Gasparo had said, fat on winter hay, and the short drive up from the Denver stockyards had not leaned them down much. He saw Carlos Montoya and waved. Carlos waved back, yelled at a small bunch of white-faced Herefords, and then turned his steeldust gray and galloped toward him.

  “Hola, John,” he said as he rode up.

  “You made good time, Carlos. Lose any?”

  “No, we no lose any, and soon you will have two cows to milk. They are coming with their calves.”

  John stood up in the stirrups and hollered back over his shoulder.

  “Okay, Gasparo, come on up, and bring Corny with you.”

  Gasparo had ridden to their camp early that morning and said that Carlos was crossing the creek at the wide shallows about two miles from camp. He guessed they would reach the plateau in about three more hours, but the herd was strung out for another three miles or so, and it would take most of the day to get them all up on the new pasture.

  John, Ben, and Whit had set out, with Corny and Gasparo bringing up the rear. He told Gasparo and Corny to wait below the plateau until he called them up. He wanted to make sure that they had not been followed and that the claim jumpers were not waiting for them. Corny had said that they knew nothing about the cattle or their homestead, but John still didn’t trust him.

  The two men rode up, Gasparo grinning like a Mexican Cheshire, and Corny’s eyes bulging out of their sockets like hen’s eggs.

  “The wagons should be here before the sun sets,” Carlos said.

  “Juanito is driving the chuck wagon,” Gasparo said.

  “And Pepito, he drives the supply wagon,” Carlos said.

  “Good job, Carlos,” John said.

  “And there is gold?” Carlos said, a smile on his thin lips. He was lean and wiry as a cougar, with a pencil-thin moustache and long sideburns. He, like the other drovers, wore two six-guns on his belt and had another dangling from his saddle horn. A Henry Yellow Boy jutted from his saddle scabbard. John knew that all were fully loaded. He had picked his drovers well. They were all good vaqueros who had learned about cattle from Argentine gauchos when they were boys in Jalisco. They also knew the ways of the West and the scorn of the white men. They had come up from Texas and liked what they saw when they looked at the snowcapped mountains and the sprawling empty lands.

  They saw opportunity and John, who spoke fluent Spanish, made friends with them, told them of his plans.

  He told them he would build a ranch and give them a place where they could raise their families.

  “It will be a democracy on my ranch,” John said, “but I am the boss.”

  “Democracy,” Carlos had said, “is a word found only in the dictionary. Discrimination is found everywhere we go.”

  “There is no discrimination in the mountains, Carlos,” John had told him. “There are only men who know how to live on the land.”

  “We will see,” Carlos had said.

  “That is my promise to you. You will be treated as a man when you work for me. You can be Mexican or Russian, I don’t care.”

  The two men shook hands and Carlos helped him pick out the stock and hired the hands. None of the men were married, but they all were young and intended to find mates when they had built homes and had money in their pockets.

  More cattle ambled into the valley. Carlos spoke to Gasparo. “Vete a los ganados,” he said, and Gasparo nodded, rode off toward the woods to help the drovers drive the rest of the herd into the valley.

  “Good grass,” Carlos said, looking around. “Very young and tender yet.”

  “Growing fast,” Ben said.

  John turned to Whit.

  “Go on, Whit. Ride up to the cabin and see your ma and your sister. We’ll pick you up later.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Whit said. He turned his horse and rode off.

  Ben shaded his eyes and looked toward the cabin.

  “That young Eva’s standing out there, a-lookin’ at us,” he said to John.

  “I saw her,” John said.

  “We have brought some lumber, hammers, nails, saws,” Carlos said. “You just tell me where to start the building.”

  “I will,” John said, “but first, I want to fill you in on some trouble that may lie ahead.”

  “Trouble?” Carlos said. “I do not like trouble.”

  “I think I can handle it, but you have to know what Ben and I ran into down at our diggings.”

  “Tell me,” Carlos said in Spanish.

  John told him about his run-in with three claim jumpers and the events of the previous night. Carlos kept looking at Corny while John was talking.

  “You keep this man?” he said when John was finished. “You should shoot him or hang him.”

  “I don’t think he knew what he was getting into with that bunch, Carlos. I think he’ll make a good hand.”

  “He will work with me and my men?”

  “If you want him to,” John said.

  “I will think about it, John.”

  “Well, don’t think too long, Carlos. There’s a lot to do, and we’ll need every hand.”

  “Bueno. With Corny and that young boy, we have two more than we thought.”

  “Three, maybe,” John said. “Mrs. Blanchett has a man working for her, Manolo Pacheco. That’s him over there chasing those cows to pasture.”

  Carlos looked and saw Manolo. “Ah, un paisano,” he said. “Three, then.”

  “And Emma Blanchett and her daughter live up there in that cabin. They can help with the chuck, maybe. They’re all working for me.”

  “And then, you are already a rich man, John. You have found much gold, eh?”

  “Enough to cover some expenses,” John said guardedly.

  “I think you are muy rico, John. I can see it in your eyes. And I can smell gold.”

  “You’re not smelling any on me yet.”

  “Maybe those bandidos want to steal it, eh?”

  “They might try,” John said.

  “Do you want us all to go with you to their camp and help you shoot them?”

  John pulled in a long breath.

  “That would be lawless,” he said.

  “Are you not the law in this place? I do not see any sheriffs. I do not see no constables. I do not see no judge.”

  “As a last resort, maybe I am the law. But so are they, in their minds.”

  “John, John, you talk like a woman. Do not wait for them to attack you again. You must cut off the head of the rattlesnake before it bites you, not after it has put the poison in your blood.”

  “He’s right, John,” Ben said. “We ought to ride up to Thatcher’s camp and rub ever’ damn one of those boys out.”

  “That’s not as easy as it sounds, Ben. Every one of those men is armed and primed to shoot.”

  “We could sneak up on ’em at night like they done to us,” Ben said.

  “Yes, that would be a good way,” Carlos said.

  “Carlos, you tend to the cattle. I’ll worry about Thatcher and his
bunch.”

  “Uh-oh,” Corny said, twisting his head, “speaking of the devil. Look over yonder way to the other side of the valley. Just in the trees. I think I know who that is.”

  Ben and John looked and saw a rider, just barely, sitting his horse, watching them.

  “You got those field glasses we took off Corny in your saddlebags, Ben?” John asked.

  “Sure do.”

  “Give them to Corny. Corny, you take a gander and see if you recognize that rider.”

  Ben pulled the binoculars from his saddlebag and handed them to Corny. Corny held them to his eyes and adjusted the lenses.

  “That’s Pete Rosset,” he said.

  “Anybody with him?” John asked.

  Corny scanned both sides of the horse and rider with the binoculars. He shook his head.

  “Nope, just Pete. But he’s packin’ iron. Six-gun on his hip and a rifle in his boot.”

  John took the binoculars from Corny, set them on Pete Rosset.

  “I recognize him,” John said. “Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. Thatcher will soon know we’re up here, and he’ll—”

  “He’ll what?” Ben said.

  “I don’t know what he’ll do. But he’ll do something. Meanwhile, let’s let old Pete know what for.”

  John drew his Winchester from its scabbard, levered a cartridge into the chamber, and dropped the front blade sight on Rosset. He lined the blade up with the rear buck-horn and took a breath, held it.

  “Don’t shoot,” Carlos said. “You might stampede the cattle.”

  John lowered the rifle. He had been just a finger tick away from pulling the trigger.

  “You’re right, Carlos. We might have a week’s work ahead of us if I spooked those cattle.”

  “Aw, shit,” Ben said. “You had him cold.”

  As the four men watched, the rider turned his horse and disappeared in the trees.

  “Maybe he got the message, anyway,” John said.

  “He should have carried a lead pellet in his belly back to Thatcher,” Ben said.

  “I must tend to the cattle,” Carlos said. “And the wagons.” He touched a hand to his battered felt hat and turned his horse. “Hasta luego,” he said, and rode away toward the trees where the cattle were now coming through in large bunches. They could hear the drovers yelling and the cows bawling as they sighted the fresh grass.

  “You forgot something, Carlos,” John called after him. Carlos reined up the steeldust and turned the animal in a tight circle.

  “What do I forget?”

  John inclined his head toward Corny.

  “Your new hand.”

  “Do you know anything about cows?” Carlos asked.

  “Some,” Corny said.

  “Well, you gonna learn more. Come on.”

  Corny grinned.

  “Thanks, Mr. Savage,” he said as he rode off to catch up with Carlos, who was already putting his horse into a trot.

  Ben and John watched the two ride off toward the edge of the plateau.

  “I hope to hell you know what you’re doing, John,” Ben said.

  “What are you worried about, Ben?”

  “Aw, nothin’ I guess. I just wondered if you could make a friend out of an enemy.”

  “Dave Cornwall’s not a friend yet, Ben. He’s another cowhand who has to prove himself.”

  “Corny ain’t no cowhand.”

  “Maybe not yet, but Carlos will raise calluses on Corny’s ass in the next day or two.”

  “That won’t make that waddie a friend.”

  “Maybe not. But it might give him a profession and take down his fever.”

  “Fever? What fever?” Ben said.

  “Gold fever,” John said, and clucked to Gent. He headed toward the cabin before Ben could regain his senses.

  More exactly, John rode toward Eva, who was still standing there, watching curly coated cattle swell their numbers in the green grass of their new home.

  17

  EVA WALKED AWAY FROM THE LOG WHERE SHE AND HER MOTHER had been sitting to meet John and Ben as they rode up.

  “Hello, John,” she said. “Ben.”

  “Good morning, Eva.”

  “I saw that man over there,” she said. “Were you going to shoot him?”

  “A warning shot. Over his head.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Might have stampeded the cattle. Are you worried about him?”

  “Who is he?”

  “A bad man,” Ben said. “Claim jumper.”

  Eva looked at John, whose eyes were fixed on her. She felt that fluttering of insect wings in her stomach, the flush of blood through her heart. His look softened and she was sure she saw his eyes brighten with light. She could almost feel his kiss on her lips, and her face burned with the wicked thought of it.

  “I’ll walk you to the house,” she said, turning to go. “Do you want coffee?”

  “Maybe just a taste,” John said, and she turned her head at his words. Was there a hidden meaning in them? She was sure there was. She smiled and John smiled back at her.

  He watched her walk to the cabin, the graceful way she stepped, the sculptured beauty of her buttocks, the way her dress clung to her shapely legs. He felt a sudden squeeze to his heart as if her hand had reached inside his chest. He took a quick breath to wipe out his lusty thoughts. Her long hair shone in the sun, and he had the urge to run the strands through his fingers, touch her cheek. He knew then that he had never had such feelings for a woman. He felt as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning, an electric charge that sizzled his senses and made his skin tingle from his face to his toes.

  Ben and John dismounted, while Eva entered the cabin. They tied their horses’ reins to a hitching post that had been erected since their previous visit.

  “Since when did you fire warnin’ shots, Johnny?” Ben asked, a sarcastic twang in his voice.

  “Since I gave up shooting humans for sport,” John said.

  “I didn’t know you did that, either,” Ben retorted.

  “Looking at you, Ben, I’m thinking of taking it up again.”

  Ben snorted and they walked to the cabin. The door was open, but John knocked on one of the wall logs.

  “Come in, John,” Eva called over the high pitch of her mother’s voice.

  Emma was railing at Whit, had him backed against the wall in the front room. John and Ben stopped just inside the entrance.

  “You’re not to go back with them, Whit,” Emma screamed. “You haven’t got sense enough to come in out of the rain.”

  “Ma, leave me alone,” Whit said, his back to the wall, his eyes wide with shock.

  Emma whirled to face John. She raised her arm and shook her index finger at him.

  “You almost got my son killed,” she said. “How dare you come into my house.”

  “Ma,” Eva said. “Calm down.”

  “Calm down? My hair turned another shade of gray when I heard what almost happened to Whit last night. Those shots I heard. They were trying to kill my boy. I won’t have it, you hear. I won’t let you risk my son’s life among that rabble down at the creek.”

  John held up both hands as if to ward off an attack by an angry mother.

  “Hold on,” he said in a calming tone of voice. “Whit was never in danger.”

  “What do you mean? Men came to your camp and shot at you or where they thought you were.”

  “Let me explain,” John said, as Whit slid a few feet along the wall so his mother couldn’t turn on him again.

  “Seems to me you’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Mr. Savage.”

  “Sit down,” he said, waving Emma to a chair. “Sit down and just listen.”

  There was now a commanding tone to his voice and Emma obeyed him, taking a chair at the table. Eva stood behind another chair, watching like a spectator at a prize fight, her eyes aglitter, her lips slightly parted.

  John stood where he was and told her not only about the events of the night
before, but also about how he and Ben had made dummy bedrolls and strung tins filled with pebbles across the trails as a warning system. Emma sat there, fuming, until the whole story came out and she felt a sense of calm.

  “Ben and Whit were up in the mine, completely safe, and armed. None of those men would have been able to get at them. Ben would have dropped the first one who poked his head above the ledge.”

  “Well, I just don’t like to think about Whit being anywhere near such men as those.”

  “He’s doing honest work and earning money for you and Eva,” John said.

  “I don’t see no money,” Emma said, a stubborn sheet of iron in her voice.

  “It’s not money yet,” John said, pulling a small sack from under his belt. “It’s gold dust and it spends the same as greenbacks.”

  He dropped the leather pouch on the table. It was tied with a thong through eyelets at the top of the sack.

  “Go ahead,” he told her. “Take a look. That’s gold your son sweated for just to put food on your table. He’s a hard worker.”

  Emma opened the pouch, peered inside. She opened it wider, and her eyes widened as well when she saw the glitter of gold dust. She pulled the thong tight and hefted the sack in her hand.

  “How much is it worth?” she asked.

  “Ben weighed it. Ben?”

  “It’s nigh to five ounces, Miz Blanchett,” Ben said. “Worth sixteen dollars to the ounce most everywhere.”

  “Keep it someplace safe, Emma,” John said. “When you go to town, you can buy yourself grub and pretties.”

  “When am I going to town?” she said, placing her hand over the pouch.

  “Some of my men will be going to Denver for supplies in a week or so. You can ride in the wagon.”

  “You got a wagon?”

  “We have three of them,” Ben said, “if’n the wheels stay on.”

  “One of them’s full of chuck,” John said. “You’ll eat well from now on, Emma.”

  “Well, this is certainly a surprise,” she said. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

  “Ma, don’t say anything,” Eva said. “Just leave Whit be. He’s in good hands with John and Ben.”

  Emma looked over at Whit, who was still standing against the wall.

  “I must say he’s got color in his cheeks now. I guess that’s a tan, like you and Ben have. He’s filling out some, too. I guess I shouldn’t worry so much.”