“Howdy, boss. You huntin’ comp’ny?”
“Why not?”
“I ain’t been up to you sooner because I
figured you knew about them. I mean I saw your tracks back yonder.”
“The Talrims? Yes, I saw them.”
“I can’t decide what they’re after. They’re
traveling too slow unless they’ve got somethin’ on their minds. Whatever it is concerns you or that herd. Every now and then they crest a ridge to study you.”
Chantry had his own ideas about the reason for their presence. Somehow, he felt, French Williams had gotten word to them, and they were lying in wait for their chance to kill him. He might be mistaken, but there was the presence of Dutch Akin as an indication that Williams thought along such lines.
“They’ve dogged your trail a couple of times.
I’d ride careful, if I was you.”
“Any sign of Sun Chief?”
“Not hide nor hair.” McCarthy dug
into his saddlebag for a strip of jerky and began chewing on it. “Chantry, you’re ahead of your time in this country—I mean, you not wantin’ to carry a gun. This ain’t the kind of world you came from, and it won’t be for a few years. Whenever a man enters a new country like this his way of livin’ drops back hundreds of years. You ain’t livin’ in the nineteenth century here, Chantry.”
“You don’t talk much like a cowhand.”
“That’s nonsense. Whoever said a cowhand was any
special breed? Cowhands, like freighters, bankers, and newspaper editors, are apt to come from anywhere. They just like the life … as I do.”
Chantry glanced at him. “Where did you come from, McCarthy?”
“Ireland … where else? Twelve years ago I left there, but at the end of the War Between the States I went back for a few weeks, and got into trouble again.”
“Again?”
“The first time I was visiting a friend in
Glenveagh and there was trouble over an eviction … I had to leave the country. I joined up with the French, as many a good Irish lad has done over the years, and after a bit I migrated to this country. I had two years in the war, then back there, and straight away I got into the Fenian troubles and was lucky to get out with a whole skin. Back here again, and two years fightin’ Indians with the Fifth Cavalry.”
“The McCarthys are an old family, I’ve heard.”
“Yes, some say we’re the oldest family in Ireland. We owned Blarney Castle at one time.”
“How does it happen that sometimes you talk as if you’d been born in the West.”
McCarthy shrugged. “Saves questions. A good many men do it, you’ll find. They just fall into the habit as I have, of talkin’ the western way. You put on a way of talkin’ when you change your clothes. It’s as simple as that.”
They rode on, scouting the country. “By the way,” Bone McCarthy said, “back there at Clifton’s the day I met you there was a girl there.”
“I saw her.”
“Well, she saw you. And she’s been askin’
questions. Aside from the fact that you’re a handsome, upstanding man, why would she be so all-fired curious?”
“I don’t know. She was a pretty girl, I remember that.”
“I remember it too, but I’ve got an idea neither of us should. I’ve got a nose for trouble.”
“She was asking questions?”
“She was. She was askin’ the wrong questions,
too. I mean, not questions a girl would ask who was interested in a man … but questions of somebody who wanted to know where you was goin’, what route you’d be likely to take, and how many hands you had workin’ for you.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Chantry commented.
“It did to her,” McCarthy said dryly.
Chapter 9
The girl did not concern him. She would not be the first curious person he had encountered, and women had a way of asking questions about strange young men who are, or seem to be, unattached … and vice versa. Tom Chantry was more concerned with the Talrims and with worrying over when Sun Chief would reappear.
The cattle had moved slowly. Water holes were scarce, and it seemed they came to them early in the afternoon when French Williams invariably suggested it would be risky to drive on and make a dry camp. Twice at least his claims had undoubtedly been correct, for they were followed by long, dry drives.
On the drive itself all went well. The cattle were well broken to the trail, there was no friction among the riders, and nobody was troubling Chantry. His two victories over Koch seemed to have settled the matter of how much nerve he had, and the stampede caused by Koch had meant much additional work for them; they wanted no repeat performance.
Hard though the work might be, it had settled into routine, and this, Tom Chantry knew, increased his danger. Routine had a lulling effect upon the senses, and he knew his security demanded that he be alert at any moment for whatever might come.
Despite his impatience, he had to recognize that the short drives were having their effect on the cattle. Settled down after their stampede, the short days offered more time for grazing and they had gained weight. If nothing happened to change their present rate of progress and if the grazing continued to be good, the herd would arrive at market in excellent condition.
Was this what Williams was thinking of? Or was it something else? Why was he moving so slowly? Was he, too, waiting for word from the railroad?
There was no sign of Sun Chief.
Bone McCarthy was close by, and several
times, riding out from the herd, Chantry came upon his tracks, as well as those of the Talrims, who seemed to have been joined by a third person. The new set of tracks were those of a smaller, shod horse.
Trinidad was not far ahead, and although it was only a small settlement it had already acquired a reputation as a tough place. In 1859 Gabriel Gutierrez and his nephew had come up from New Mexico with a herd of sheep. The men built a cabin on the south bank of the river and settled down there, grazing their sheep, hunting and farming a few acres of land. Others moved in, and the settlement was named for the daughter of Trinidad Baca, one of the first-comers.
Was French Williams waiting for something to happen at Trinidad? Chantry told himself he was imagining things.
“I got to hand it to you,” Williams said one night as they sat by the fire. “You’ve done your share. You’ve stood up to the work better than I figured you would. You’ve changed, too. These last days you’ve honed down and sharpened up considerably.”
“Thanks. You’ve done your job, too.”
Williams chuckled. “But we still haven’t
reached Dodge and the railroad.”
“Call it off if you want to,” Chantry replied carelessly. “I’ll pay you the going price for your herd on delivery at Dodge.”
“You quitting on me? Trying to welch on your deal?”
“You know better than that. Just trying to let you make a dollar. Don’t worry, French. When we deliver these cattle, I’ll be there to collect.”
“You got any idea what’s ahead?”
Williams studied him, his amusement apparent. “The Kiowas are out, and believe me, nobody is worse. They’ll give us bloody hell.”
“And there’s been no rain, so we’ll have water trouble. And there are rustlers. You’ve told me all that.” Chantry leveled his eyes at Williams. “And don’t pull another Dutch Akin on me. I won’t stand for it.”
“What will you do?”
Chantry knew the hands around the fire were
listening, but he did not care. “If anybody shows up hunting me, French, I’ll figure he was sent by you.”
“And then?” Williams’ voice was low.
“I’ll take your gun away and break your
neck.”
Williams laughed. “I’d kill you,
Chantry. Nobody will ever put hands on me the way you did with Koch. Gun or no gun, I’d kill you.”
“Better have your gun out when you see me coming, then. You’ll never get a chance to draw it.” He got to his feet and walked over to the chuck wagon for the coffeepot. Coolly, he filled Williams’ cup and then his own, putting the pot down by the fire. “And while you’re at it, French, you’d better tell those Talrim boys to light a shuck. They might lead to some misunderstanding.”
He looked at French, and suddenly he smiled. “I wouldn’t want to break your back and then find it was all a mistake. You tell them to light out, will you?”
French Williams shook his head.
“Chantry, if I wasn’t so set on beating you out of that herd, I could like you.”
The next day broke cold and raw, with a long wind in their faces, and the cattle had to be forced into it. And the wind did not let up as the sun rose behind the low gray clouds.