She just looked at me. “You know, Dru, we’ve waited long enough. When I’ve
caught these men I am going to resign and we are going to be married … and I’m
not taking no for an answer.”
119
Her eyes laughed at me. “Who said no?”
At the gap Cap and I picked up the trail and for several miles it gave us no
trouble at all. Along here they had been riding fast, trying to put distance
between themselves and pursuit.
It was a green, lovely country, with mountain meadows, the ridges crested with
cedar that gave way to pine as we climbed into the foothills. We camped that
night by a little stream where we could have a fire without giving our presence
away.
Chances were they would be expecting a large party and if they saw us, would not
recognize us. That was one reason I was riding Kelly. Usually I was up on Dapple
or Montana horse, and Kelly was not likely to be known.
Cap made the coffee and sat back into the shadows. He poked sticks into the fire
for a few minutes the way he did when he was getting ready to talk.
“Figured you’d want to know. Pritts has been down to see Tom Sunday.”
I burned my mouth on a spoonful of stew and when I’d swallowed it I looked at
him and said, “Pritts to see Tom?”
“Uh-huh. Dropped by sort of casual-like, but stayed some time.”
“Tom tell you that?”
“No … I’ve got a friend down thataway.”
“What happened?”
“Well, seems they talked quite some time and when Pritts left, Tom came out to
the horse with him and they parted friendly.”
Jonathan Pritts and Tom … it made no kind of sense. Or did it?
The more thought I gave to it the more worried I became, for Tom Sunday was a
mighty changeable man, and drinking as he was, with his temper, anything might
happen.
Orrin had had trouble with Pritts—of this I was certain sure—and Pritts had made
a friendly visit to Tom Sunday. I didn’t like the feel of it. I didn’t like it
at all.
Chapter XVI
There was a pale lemon glow over the eastern mountains when we killed the last
coals of our fire and saddled up. Kelly was feeling sharp and twisty, for Kelly
was a trail-loving horse who could look over big country longer than any horse I
ever knew, except maybe Montana horse.
Inside me there was a patience growing and I knew I was going to need it. We
were riding a trail that could only bring us to trouble because the men we were
seeking had friends who would not take lightly our taking them. But the job was
ours to do and those times a man didn’t think too much of consequences but
crossed each bridge as he came to it.
It was utterly still. In this, the last hour before dawn, all was quiet. Even
with my coat on, the sharp chill struck through and I shivered. There was a bad
taste in my mouth and I hated the stubble on my jaws … I’d gotten used to
shaving living in town and being an officer. It spoiled a man.
Even in the vague light we could see the lighter trail of pushed-down grass
where the riders had ridden ahead of us. Suddenly, the trail dipped into a
hollow in the trees and we found their camp of the night before.
They were confident, we could see that, for they had taken only the usual,
normal precaution in hiding their camp, and they hadn’t made any effort to
conceal that they’d been there.
We took our time there for much can be learned of men at such a time, and to
seek out a trail it is well to know the manner of men you seek after. If Cap
Rountree and me were to fetch these men we would have to follow them a far
piece.
They ate well. They had brought grub with them and there was plenty of it. At
least a couple of them were drinking, for we found a bottle near the edge of the
camp … it looked like whoever was drinking didn’t want the others to know, for
the bottle had been covered over with leaves.
“Fresh bottle,” I said to Cap and handed it to him. He sniffed it thoughtfully.
“Smells like good whiskey, not none of this here Indian whiskey.”
“They don’t want for anything. This outfit is traveling mighty plush.”
Cap studied me carefully. “You ain’t in no hurry.”
“They finished their job, they’ll want their pay. I want the man who pays them.”
“You figured out who it’ll be?”
“No … all I want is for these men to take me there. Twice before they tried to
kill Juan and now they got him. I’m thinking they won’t stop there and the only
way to stop it is to get the man who pays out the money.”
As I was talking a picture suddenly came to mind. It was Fetterson passing out
gold to that renegade Paisano. It was a thing to be remembered.
“Bearing west,” Cap said suddenly, “I think they’ve taken a notion.”
“Tres Ritos?”
“My guess.” Cap considered it “That drinkin’ man now. Supposin’ he’s run out of
whiskey? The way I figure, he’s a man who likes his bottle and whoever is
bossin’ the bunch has kept him off it as much as possible.
“Drinkin’ man now, he gets mighty canny about hidin’ his stuff. He figures he
got folks fooled … trouble is, it becomes mighty obvious to everybody but the
one drinkin’. They may believe that because the job’s finished they can have a
drink, and Tres Ritos is the closest place.”
“I’d guess it’s about an easy two-hour ride from here,” I looked ahead,
searching out the way the riders had gone. “They’ve taken themselves a notion,
all right. Tres Ritos, it is.”
Nevertheless, we kept a close watch on the trail. Neither of us had a good
feeling about it. A man living in wild country develops a sense of the rightness
of things … and he becomes like an animal in sensing when all is not well.
So far it had been easy, but I was riding rifle in hand now and ready for
trouble. Believe me, I wanted that Henry where I could use it. We had seven
tough men ahead of us, men who had killed and who did not wish to be caught. I
believe we had them fooled, for they would expect to be followed by a posse, but
only a fool depends on a feeling like that.
Against such men you never ride easy in the saddle, you make your plans, you
figure things out, and then you are careful. I never knew a really brave man yet
who was reckless, nor did I ever know a real fighting man who was reckless …
maybe because the reckless ones were all dead.
Cap drew up. “I think I’ll have a smoke,” he said. Cap got down from his saddle,
keeping his rifle in his hand. He drew his horse back under the trees out of
sight and I did likewise. Only one fault with Kelly. That big red horse stood
out like a forest fire in this green country.
We sat there studying the country around but doing no talking until Cap smoked
his pipe out. Meanwhile both of us had seen a long bench far above the trail
that led in the direction of Tres Ritos.
“We might ride along there,” I suggested, “I’m spooky about that trail ahead.”
“If they turn off we’ll lose ’em.”
“We can come back and pick up the trail.”
We started off at an easy lope, going up through the trees, cutting back around
some rocks. We’d gone about a mile when Cap pointed with his rifle.
Down the hill, not far off the trail, we could see some horses tied in the
trees. One of them was a dark roan that had a familiar look. Reminded me of a
horse I’d seen Paisano riding. And Paisano had taken money from Fetterson. This
trail might take us somewhere at that.
We dusted the trail into Tres Ritos shy of sundown. We had taken our own time
scouting around and getting the country in our minds. We headed for the livery
stable. The sleepy hostler was sitting on the ground with his back to the wall.
He had a red headband and looked like a Navajo. He took our horses and we
watched him stall them and put corn in the box. Cap walked down between the rows
of stalls and said, “Nobody … we beat ’em to town.”
The barkeep in the saloon was an unwashed half-breed with a scar over his left
eye like somebody had clouted him with an axe.
We asked for coffee and he turned and yelled something at a back door. The girl