Buzzard Bait Page 8

  "I don't understand you, Matt. It's going to be hard enough to keep warm without going any farther."

  "Addie, I don't ask you to understand me. I'm not Luke and I can't see why he'd take up with a woman, no offense to you. We were different from the start. I got you on my hands now and I'll deliver you to your brother safe and sound if I can. After that, I think you'd best look to your own self."

  Stunned, Addie looked at him, his face invisible through the falling snow. He was only a silhouette among the shadows of the cedars.

  "You sound as though you resent me, as though you didn't approve of my marrying your brother!"

  "Maybe. I think he was paying attention to the wrong thing on this drive. He might be alive today if he'd not had you with him."

  Addie walked up to Matt and looked up at him, trying to see his face.

  "You think that!" she exclaimed. "You think your brother died because he was with me?"

  "It's possible," Matt said quietly. "It's a thought that crossed my mind."

  Addie turned away from him, glad he couldn't see the tears that welled up in her eyes.

  She was further humiliated when he mounted, took her reins and led her to the place where they would camp that night. She wondered why she felt more of a prisoner with him than she had with the Lathrops.

  Addie forgot about her weariness as a quiet rage began to build within her.

  Chapter Eleven

  "The cattle's jumpy as grasshoppers and Roumal's bunch ain't nowheres near them," Tex Goff said.

  "You checked?" Ted Malone stood in the doorway of the log house, rifle in hand. He was not a tall man, but burly, round-shouldered, easy on his feet, his pear-shaped face ruddy from the wind and blowing snow, blue eyes sparkling like cut gems. He wore a cap 'n ball revolver and a hunting knife on his belt.

  "Yep," said Tex, a tall, angular man, hard as an oak slat, high-cheekboned, similarly armed. "Les and Cal are keepin' an eye on the Roumal outfit. I think someone's up in the hills."

  "You think they might be trying to come in the back way?"

  " 'Pears that way."

  "We'll sit tight. It could be Matt. He knows the way in here from that direction."

  "It's what I was thinkin'," said Goff, who missed the warmth of a Texas ranch.

  "At least it's stopped snowing," said Ted, closing the door. The two men walked to the back of the house and looked up at the hills. He was older than Matt and Addie, almost thirty. "It's my guess that if it's Matt up there, he'll come in after dark. We'll take turns watching from this direction. I don't want any surprises from Roumal."

  "They may try and run the cattle off tonight, snow or no snow."

  "Could be. Les and Cal couldn't handle them."

  "Nope. They got too many men."

  "I wasn't expecting Matt and Luke until tomorrow or the next day. Maybe the day after if they dropped off the cattle at Talking Horse's camp."

  "The snow could hold 'em up more."

  "You want the first watch, Tex?"

  "I'll take it. Bring me some grub after a while, will ya?"

  "I'll see to the stew. The Stamps kid can take grub to Les and Cal."

  The Stamps kid was a drifter who'd come there a month before, starving and willing to work. Ted had felt sorry for him and put him up. Les and Cal were two Texans who had come up the trail with Tex. Les Dalkins and Cal Walker. No one knew the Stamps kid's first name. They just called him Stamps. He was about nineteen, give or take a year. As the two men talked, he was feeding the horses in the corral built in a natural draw near the house's western side.

  Ted went into the house through the back door. He hoped that it was Matt out there, with Luke and Addie, the rest of the bunch. He'd be glad to see him. Two days ago, before the storm, Roumal had come, trying to run off the herd. Ted and his men had stood them off, but only because it had started snowing. Now that it was clear, Ted knew it was only a matter of time before Bull made his move. There was no way to warn Matt of the present situation. He was hoping that Matt had seen the campfires and tents out there along the Gallatin and sensed the trouble. He knew that Matt and Roumal were old enemies.

  Ted stoked the fire in the kitchen stove and set the stew pot on. It was filled with chopped venison, new potatoes from the Gallatin Valley, onions, roots, swimming in a thick, seasoned broth. Stew was the only thing that Ted could cook well and he longed for Addie to arrive so that they could have different fare. He and the boys had finished the little log cabin in the clearing above the spring where Luke and Addie would live after they were married proper in Bozeman City.

  John Bozeman had been there five days before and said the cattle market was wide open with beef due to sell at a premium. John had promised to notify the preacher that he'd have some customers soon. The other news he had brought was disconcerting, but Ted didn't want to think about that. His main worry now was Bull Roumal. If he rustled their cattle they would be wiped out. Memories of beefless winters haunted the mining camps, the gulches. If they got the C Bar M cattle to Virginia City they'd make enough to buy even larger herds, to make the ranch grow and show a profit for all concerned. It was a dream that Ted shared with Matt. Now, his stomach was in knots, thinking of the men out there, waiting to steal all they had worked for.

  Ted's stomach was out of kilter more from inactivity than worry. He always fretted when he couldn't be doing something. The snow had kept him from doing a lot of things and he was like a spring knife, ready to snap open its blade. He paced the floor and chewed his fingernails. He looked out the window and checked his pistol. He stirred the stew and ran a hand through his shock of reddish hair. Finally, he dished up a bowl for Tex and took it through the house and out the back.

  "Any sign of anything, Tex?" he asked.

  "Nary, but the cattle are spooky."

  "This infernal waiting!"

  Tex began eating the stew. Ted paced and looked up into the hills even though the sun was set and he could see only the bare silhouettes of tree tops against the darkening sky. This was a lawless land and Matt had warned him that someone might try to take their cattle away someday. Still, it didn't make the situation any easier to take. The Army was no help, even with the new forts. They were supposed to be protecting the settlers coming through on the Bozeman and Bridger roads, but there had been complaints of soldiers stealing stock from some of those passing through. Besides, everyone said the soldiers were afraid of the Sioux. They ignored squabbles among civilians this far up the Bozeman. The mining towns were wide open and beef was beef. No one paid any attention to brands in this country.

  "Keep your eyes peeled, Tex."

  Tex handed Ted the bowl. It was clean.

  "Want some more?"

  "Not now. Later. Get too full, I get sleepy, boss."

  "Where's the Stamps kid?"

  "Still out with the horses, I reckon. He'll be along."

  Ted stomped back into the house to pace some more. It would be pitch dark in a few minutes. He lit an oil lamp and put it near the back door where it would shine through the cracks in the window boards. He stirred the stew pot again and ignored his own gnawing hunger. He was too keyed-up to eat right then.

  There was a noise at the front door. Ted jumped up out of his chair and reached for his pistol.

  The Stamps kid clumped into the kitchen.

  He was a thin, handsome boy, sandy-haired, hazel-eyed, with bony shoulders, a head too small for their width. He had a crooked smile, made worse by two broken teeth where a horse had kicked him.

  "Howdy, Mr. Malone. I got the horses all fed and bedded down. Where is everybody?"

  "Out watchin', kid. Have some stew, then take some to Cal and Les down at the front gate."

  "Is it okay if I eat with them? I mean I could take all the chuck down there."

  "Yeah, go ahead, kid. Just be careful where you walk. The boys are jumpy tonight.''

  "I wish't I had a gun so's I could hep out."

  "Well, maybe we can find an extra one for you around he
re," Ted said, secretly pleased at the Stamps kid. He wondered if Matt was ever as awkward as this kid. He doubted it. Matt was one of those men who seemed to have been born old. Even though he was younger than Ted, Ted looked up to him. Matt was that kind of man.

  The Stamps kid filled a pail with stew, tucked three wooden bowls under his shirt, stuffed wooden spoons in his trouser pocket and grabbed hardtack from the shelf to carry in his other hand. He wore men's clothes that were too big for him and looked like a destitute urchin to Ted, like a starveling, stealing food.

  "You really going to look for me a gun, Mr. Malone?"

  "Sure, kid. When you get back, I'll have something for you to pack around. Can you shoot?"

  "I can shoot, but I never owned no gun of no kind. I can shoot pretty fair."

  "Hurry down there with that grub, Stamps. Don't be jawin' with Cal and Les all night."

  "No, sir. I'll be right back."

  Ted watched the gangly kid clump across the wood floor, heard the front door kicked shut.

  The minutes ticked by, seeming like hours.

  He got up, dug through a box and found a pistol and holster. He spun the cylinder, checked the barrel. It was a Colt Navy, .36 caliber, made in 1851. He shot two caps on each cylinder to dry them. He got a powder flask and balls, poured the powder in the cylinders and rammed the balls home. He smeared grease over each ball to prevent flash ignition, then capped each nipple. He put the hammer between two nipples and holstered it. The gun showed signs of rusting, but was otherwise in perfect condition. It would make a fine sidearm for Stamps, Ted thought.

  Handling the gun had made him less nervous, but he was still apprehensive. He knew he didn't have enough men to stand off Roumal right now. If Matt arrived with his brother and the hands they might have a chance. Matt himself might be just the edge they needed to prevent Roumal from taking their cattle. There had been a lot of unexplained deaths in the valley all this year. Some said Roumal was behind them, others said Plummer. In any case, there were vigilantes taking care of the latter threat. This was the nearest thing to law in the mining camps. There were many who held that this kind of law was worse than the crime it was supposed to snuff out. People were afraid of the vigilantes who dispensed justice swiftly and without recourse.

  Ted picked up his own rifle and went to the front porch again. In the distance he could see the camp-fires of Roumal and his bunch. He walked around back to see if Tex had heard anything more. His nervousness returned.

  "Hear anything, Tex?"

  "Yair, boss. Listen!"

  Ted strained his ears.

  There was something moving out there, up the slope. Moving and then stopping. He tried to pinpoint the direction of the sound. Was it the secret back trail that only he and Matt knew about? They had chosen this site for the ranch house because of that trail. It offered a chance for escape or approach in case of trouble. Matt had often said that he would use it if ever he had to. Perhaps he had seen the campfires of Roumal and his men. If so, he could well be using that unmarked trail that switched back and forth through gullies that looked impenetrable to the naked eye, but were actually coursed by this thin game trail.

  "I hear it," said Ted. "Stay ready, but don't shoot unless I tell you."

  He wondered if Roumal could have discovered the trail for himself. His hand gripped his rifle more tightly. The darkness seemed to thicken as he waited, next to Tex.

  "There it is again," Tex whispered.

  "Shh. I hear it."

  The two men waited, rifles ready, as the sound of a horse or other large animal moved closer to them. Whatever it was, it was still high up, in the slope where the last gully topped out. There were no more pauses, however. The horse, if that's what it was, moved down the slope steadily. Ted looked over his shoulder to be sure he and Tex weren't silhouetted by the lantern he had hung. They were some distance from the light cast by its glow and off to one side.

  Satisfied, Ted continued to listen. As the sound drew closer, he and Tex crouched and moved into position where they could both shoot if they had to. Whoever it was had to have come through the maze of gullies that separated the slope back of the house from the larger mountain rising beyond them. The slope pitched off into the series of crisscrossing gullies as though some crazed meteor had spun through the land at that spot centuries, eons, ago, digging a network of ditches before it burned up or careened off in another direction.

  Finally, a horse's head appeared, then the horse itself, its rider. Down the long slope it came, a shadowy apparition moving toward them. Five hundred yards, four hundred, three hundred, two hundred. Ted let the horse come on. At a hundred yards he called out. He knew it wasn't Matt.

  "Sing out a name or come no further!"

  "Ted!"

  "Addie!" His voice was choked with emotion. "For the Lord's sake, get on down here. Tex, it's my sister!"

  Tex was dumbfounded as the tension of the last several moments drained out of him.

  "You're alone!" Ted exclaimed as she rode up. He helped her from the saddle. She was limp, exhausted, in his arms. "Where's Matt and Luke?"

  "Luke's been killed, Ted. Matt's back there, way back, somewhere. He brought me so far and then rode back."

  "I don't understand. But come on in the house. You're weary, little sister, and look half-starved. Tex, keep a watch for Matt. He may be coming up."

  "Yes, boss. Howdy, Miss Addie. Glad you got here safe."

  "Tex Goff, Addie. You remember him."

  "Yes. Tex, I'm glad you're here with Ted. Matt knows about the man, Roumal, being out there."

  Ted rushed her into the house, to the kitchen down the hall from the two back bedrooms, where he could look at her in the light. She was a pathetic sight, her skin tight against her facial bones, her mouth drawn and weak, her eyes weak and swimming in tears. He held her close against him for a long time.

  "Tell me everything, Addie," Ted said softly. "If you feel like it."

  "Yes," she said, as they both sat down. Ted listened quietly until she was finished. The front door opened.

  "I'm back, Mr. Malone," said the Stamps kid, coming into the kitchen. "Cal says that Roumal's bunch are moving around. Les is pretty worried. Did you get me a gun?"

  "Over there, kid. This is my sister, Addie. Addie, this is Stamps."

  "Gee, a pistol. Thank you, Mr. Malone. A thirty-six Navy." The Stamps kid beamed as he strapped on the belt and holster. "Pleased ta meetcha, Miss Addie."

  Addie laughed at the gangly boy putting on the big pistol. Ted laughed too.

  "I'm going back down with Les and Cal to help out," said Stamps.

  "Be careful, Stamps."

  "I will, Mr. Malone."

  There was a commotion at the back door. Stamps stopped in his tracks. Ted rose from his chair. The big man came through the door, his face grim.

  "Matt!" Ted exclaimed.

  Just then, the shooting began, the yelling.

  "The cattle!" Ted shouted. "Roumal's after the cattle!"

  Matt led the way to the front door, Stamps and Ted following. Addie put her head on the table and her shoulders began to shake with sobs.

  Chapter Twelve

  Roumal dispatched his men like clusters of knives, striking in three directions. There were two dozen of them, whooping and hollering, as they rammed into the C Bar M herd. Their six-guns blazed like murderous fireflies, winking first in one place, then another. The raid was well-planned, well-executed. In the seeming helter-skelter of confusion, Roumal's men worked the cattle. The shooters rode the fringes of the herd, returning fire from Les and Cal who were having trouble with their horses.

  Bull himself stayed to the rear, watching his lightning attack work to his satisfaction. Beside him was a somber man, Big John Lathrop, itching to get into it.

  "No, John," Roumal said, "my way is best. In the dark you couldn't be sure which one is Cord. His gun wouldn't care who you were."

  Lathrop knew that Roumal was right. The dust raised by the stampeding catt
le was thick. Roumal knew where his own men were, Big John did not. Roumal knew where the C Bar M hands were, Lathrop did not.

  From the house, though, came shouts and shots into the night. Lathrop wondered if Matt Cord was one of those. He'd had time to get to the C Bar M. He'd lost Matt's trail a long time back.

  The herd moved according to plan, a thousand head, gathered up in a rush by able men, practiced men. To the rear, picked hands kept up a steady stream of fire while the distance between the herd and the home ranch lengthened.

  Les Calkins spurred his horse free of bunched cattle that had milled on their position. He had emptied one six-gun, was now snaking free another from the holster slung from his saddle horn. Cal Walker was behind him, caught in the turmoil, cursing the cattle that barred him from getting into action. He had three shots left in the pistol he shook ineffectually as he backed his horse out of the melee.

  "They boxed us in for fair," Les panted. "But I'm a-gittin' loose."

  "Looks like hep is a-comin'."

  Both men saw figures racing on foot toward the Gallatin.

  "Won't do 'em no good. Nor us'n either. The boss and them ain't mounted."

  "Damn it all!" cursed Cal, finally out in the open. "Let's go git'em."

  The Stamps kid raced ahead of Matt, Ted and Tex. In the dust he couldn't see anything to shoot at. He was yelling with excitement.

  "Come back, kid!" Ted warned. "Go get the saddle horses!"

  "Aw!" groaned Stamps, but he turned back. Three horses were saddled. He dashed back to the corrals to get them, Tex alongside.

  "My horse's tuckered, Ted," Matt said. "But I'd like him brought to me."

  "See to it, Tex," Ted ordered. Then, "Damn, Matt, they're getting away with the herd. I can't see Roumal, can you?"

  "He'd be back somewheres, out of the fight, watching." Matt knew that this was the most dangerous of men. Others did his bidding, while he moved them around like chess pieces on a board. Still, Roumal would be nearby, making sure the moves were carried out the way he had planned.

  Roumal was watching. And, he was very pleased with the way things were going. He still had more moves to make.