“If that’s the case,” Parmalee suggested, “he’ll stampede our cattle as soon as we’re close to his range … or sooner.”
Morning came bright and clear, and the cattle started off well. Maybe it was the smell of fresh water, maybe it was the grass, but the cattle wanted to go. We had the towering wall of Mesa Verde on the east and Ute Park on the west, and soon we would start bearing east to strike the trail to the ranch.
Suddenly one of the cowhands rode up. “Sackett,” he said, “we’re being watched.” He pointed toward the distant ridge. “Indians!”
Sure enough, there were several Indians watching us from the ridge, and as we moved along they kept pace with us, watching our every move.
The Dunn ranch house was long, low and built of logs. Cornered against it and forming a right angle was the bunkhouse, where there were bunks for twenty men, and thirty yards away, forming another side to the loose square, was a barn or shed, also low-roofed and built of logs. The fourth side of the square was the corral.
Inside the house, seated at the table, was Bull Dunn. A huge man with bulging muscles, he slouched at the table with a pot of black coffee and a jug of whiskey, staring at Curly with narrowed eyes.
“You listen, and you listen damn well,” he said—then his eyes swept the room—”and this goes for you all. I seen countries change. I ain’t so young as you, and I seen them grow up. Well, when they do those folks who hold land are the ones in power, they run things. Those who don’t have nothin’ are shoved out.
“This here’s the end of it. We’re going to latch onto a big chunk of this country and we’re going to hold it. We’re through bein’ movers. Here’s where we make our stand.
“The Sacketts are bringing in a herd. That’s fine, because we’ll need stock. There’s two of them and this Nick Shadow. I happen to know the cowhands comin’ in with the herd won’t stay. Anyway, there’s only four of them.
“We’re goin’ to hit that herd of a night, and we’re goin’ to scatter it to hell an’ gone into the breaks of the canyons, and we’re going to kill the Sacketts and Shadow. If one of them goes down from a fall or is hurt in the stampede, just leave him lay. We want this to look as right as it can be … not that there’s much chance of anybody nosin’ around up here.
“Curly, you been sparkin’ that Rossiter gal long enough. Marry her, with old Rossiter’s let-be or not. You latch onto her, then you be the nice lad and you go over there and work for her papa, and you work hard. I want Rossiter to tell folks what an all-out fine son-in-law he’s got. Then if anything happens to Rossiter nobody will ever think you had a hand in it.
“Then I want ever’ last one of you to file on claims, grazing land or mingmg claims, just so you claim title to it.
“We been wanderin’ around the country long enough, and the land is fillin’ up back east and we might as well have ours while we can. This is closed-off country, and if we move right it’ll be our country and sooner or later we can freeze out anybody who moves in.”
Ollie Hammer rolled a cigarette, touched the paper with his tongue and folded it over. “Maybe you’re cuttin’ a wide swath, Bull. These Sacketts have the name of bein’ rough.”
“So are we. On’y we’re rougher and meaner. I got Vern comin’ in and when he gets here he’ll take to the hills and clean up anything we left over. … As for the stampede, we blame it on the Utes.”
He downed his whiskey and refilled the glass to the halfway mark, then took a gulp of the black coffee.
“We done this before, and you all know what to do. I want nobody seen. And get this into your thick heads. We ain’t outlaws no more … we ain’t renygades … so when you go into Shalako or any other town, you act like gents. If you can’t hold your liquor, don’t drink.
“Get this—” Bull Dunn pointed with a stiff middle finger, “some folks are goin’ to complain … let ’em. But if we mind our p’s an’ q’s we’ll end up with a good many folks on our side.
“Now they can’t have more than three men on the night ridin’ job, and three ain’t goin’ to stop any herd of near two thousand head. If we can stampede those cattle right over their camp, so much the better … we might just take out a Sackett in the process.
“But remember this. I want nobody seen! An’ Curly, as soon as ever this is over, you ride hell bent for election back here, get you a fresh horse and go on over to Rossiters’ place. Tell ’em your horse spooked a couple of times, and you think there’s Indians about. Rossiter will likely get up, but you offer to set up with a rifle.
“Above all, if one of them Sacketts should show up over there, you be friendly. You put yourself out to do it. And you act the gent, see?”
When all had scattered, Bull Dunn drained his glass, gulped another cup of black coffee, then stretched out on his bed. He was not worried. His outfit had scattered or rustled herds across seven states in the past dozen years and nobody had ever caught up with them yet. Of course, there was a lot of places where they could not return, but they had no idea of going back, anyway.
This place he liked, and here he was going to stay. He chuckled in his beard. More than one old-time cattleman had rustled a few head and then put on the coat of respectability, and so could he … and he would enjoy it, chuckling all the time at how he had fooled them.
Curly worried him. Rossiter was too shrewd a man to fool, so as soon as ever Curly was married up with that Rossiter girl, they’d have to do something about Rossiter. In this rough country with half-wild horses and cattle, with dangerous trails and rough winters, a lot of people disappeared. He was tired of moving, and this was the best country he had found. Right here he would stay.
The Sacketts’ herd moved north and then turned east. In the mountains, their horses grazing nearby, the Dunns played cards, slept, or talked in a desultory fashion as they waited.
Galloway Sackett saddled a horse to ride into Shalako. With a trail herd coming there’d be more hands to be fed, and they would need more grub.
Far to the east, at a stage stop not far from Pagosa Springs, a big man on a sorrel horse rode up to the hitch rail and dismounted. The hostler, his team ready for the incoming stage, glanced at the horse.
“That’s a mighty fine animal, but you’re riding it hard.”
“I got a ways to go.” The big man with the shaggy hair had a bullet hole through his flat-brimmed hat, and he wore a low-slung gun, tied down. “You got a horse you want to swap? I’d want as good a horse as I’m trading.”
“Only one around is a strawberry roan over in the stable. I don’t know if the owner would swap or not. But he might sell. He’s in a poker game and he’s losing ground fast.”
The big stranger walked across the hard-packed yard. He wore a beat-up sheepskin coat and striped pants. His boot heels were run down. He walked into the stable, glanced at the horse, then untied the knot and took it outside where he walked it around a good bit. When he retied the horse he walked back. He took the stub of a cigar from his pocket and put it between his teeth. He lighted up, then squinted over it at the hostler. “That man in there? He’s surely losin’?”
“He was unless it’s changed in the last five minutes. Mister, you’d not go wrong on that horse. It can run and it can stay.”
“I figured it. Wffl you hold mine for me? I’ll be comin’ back through in a few days. I got me a little business to tidy up … family business.”
The big stranger walked into the stage station. In one corner of the room near the ticket window three people were sitting, concerned with their own affairs, luggage on the floor beside them. At the other end of the room was a bar and there were several tables. A poker game was going on at one of them.
The big man walked to the bar and ordered a beer, and taking it in his hand, strolled over to where the game was being played. The owner of the horse was immediately obvious.