“Tom,” she said suddenly, “go get Amby and bring him down here, and the mules, too. We’ll water them and keep them close to the house tonight.”
“I’ve found a place back in the aspen that’s just like a stable,” he said, “there’s shelter from the wind and some shelter from rain. It wouldn’t take much to fix it up.”
Fortunately, they had no fire. The water had been heated some time before and that fire had died down. Otherwise that man could have detected the smoke. She watched Tom trudge up the trail to the bench, and then she got the shotgun and went to the chest for extra shells. She put four in each pocket of her apron.
Where was Duncan? She had heard no shot, no sound since he had left, hours before. The shadows grew longer. Light bathed the summit of the bald mountain but there was no sound, nothing to disturb the cool evening.
Duncan had said he would be back before dark, and he was not yet back. She felt a strange tightness in her throat… was it fear? Her eyes turned to the trail from the bench.
Tom should be coming back. It was not as if the animals were running loose, they had been picketed, all of them. Nervously, she walked across the grass… listening.
An owl spoke mournfully from the cottonwoods near the river. Was it an owl? Didn’t Indians sometimes call to each other that way?
She took up the shotgun and started toward the trail. Yet she had taken only a step when she heard a hoof strike stone and she stopped very still. “Well, now. And all alone, too.” She turned. The shotgun was hidden in the folds of her skirt. She did not believe they had seen it. After a first chill of sheer panic, her nerves steadied.
The man with the flat nose and another one, a slender, dark man with a buckskin jacket stood before her.
“All alone,” the man with the flat nose repeated, “we surely lucked out, didn’t we, Huron?”
“I am not quite alone,” Susanna said quietly, “but it does not matter, does it, gentlemen?”
Booster chuckled. “Flattery gets you nowhere, ma’am, nowhere at all. I ain’t no gent an’ never pretended that I was.”
She stood very still and tall. Booster drew his foot from the stirrup. “Now, ma’am, we know you’re all alone, and if you want to make trouble you can, but it just ain’t goin’ to do you no good.”
“Will nothing influence you to just ride on? We just want to build a home here. We wish trouble to no one.”
Booster chuckled. “Now that’s right nice of you, ma’am. I always like to come up with folks like you, who don’t want trouble, because it saves a heap of sweat.”
“If nothing else will influence you,” Susanna lifted the shotgun waist-high, “how about this?”
Even as she said it she was surprised that she, Susanna McKaskel could say such a thing, but her hands were steady as she held the shotgun. Con Vallian, she thought, would have been proud of her.
Booster stopped. “Now, ma’am, you be careful. That thing might be loaded.”
“It is,” she replied quietly, “and my husband tells me this will be very destructive at this range. I will hope I do not have to find out… I do not like the sight of blood, gentlemen.”
Booster stared at her. He was angry but he was also scared. Would she shoot? She sounded very cool, and although she might be too frightened to shoot, he was not at all sure he wanted to make the test. A shotgun, at that range, could rip a man in two.
“Now, ma’am-”
The Huron spoke for the first time. “Booster, you are becoming a little hasty. Have you thought what Red would say to this?”
For the moment Booster had… and he knew very well what Red Hyle would say. “You’ve got a point there, Huron,” he said, “maybe we should just ride back to camp.”
Suddenly there was a faint rattle of stones from the bench trail. Both men turned sharply, and when they did, Susanna, moved over behind them. “Go now… and don’t come back.”
Booster McCutcheon looked around. “Oh we’ll go!” he said, “but we’ll be back, too. We got a man who is mighty wishful of knowin’ you, ma’am, and when we come back we’ll all come.”
The Huron had turned his horse back toward the river and was walking it away. Booster, glad of an excuse to leave Susanna and the shotgun behind, turned and followed. A shotgun, especially in the hands of a scared woman, was a dangerous thing.
Susanna turned and walked back toward the cabin, then stood there, listening to the retreating sound of their horses’ hoofs. She heard them splash through the river and heard the click of hoofs on stone as they crossed the wide bed of rocks that covered part of the stream bed.
Then she heard Tom coming, with their own stock. “Ma? Are they gone?”
“Yes, I think they are… for the time being.”
“Boy, Ma, you were terrific! I was scared, really scared!”
“So was I.”
“You sure didn’t act scared. Wow! The way you threw down on them-!”
“Threw down! Tom, what kind of talk is that?”
“Well, anyway, you sure made them back up. Wait until I tell Pa-”
“He should be home soon. Let’s go inside and light a lamp, and you can build up a fire. They know where we are now, but I doubt if they will come back this night. In any event, we shall be ready for them.
“Your father will be tired and we must have some coffee ready for him, and a hot meal.”
She tried to make her voice sound confident, but she was frightened. What if something had happened? What if some of the others had found Duncan and there had been trouble? Still, there had been no shooting… but suppose they were in some canyon? Could she still have heard?
Susanna lighted the lamp, then replaced the chimney. She glanced at the doorway, and realized that the light within made the darkness without even more intense. Leaving the lamp on the mantel she went outside where Tom was kindling the camp fire.
She looked again toward the darkness of the forest, and the silver of the water. The gravel bench at the water’s edge looked white now.
Where was Duncan?
“Ma? Don’t worry. There’s lots of reasons why he might not make it on time. He may be across the river and it’s very deep in some places. Maybe he’s looking for a place to cross, or has to ride around some thick brush. And sometimes somebody stays out longer than they planned, without realizing.”
What he said was true, of course, but Tom’s reasoning did not allay her fears. Something was wrong, and she knew it.
“He’s lying hurt somewhere, I just know it!”
“Aw, Ma-! He maybe couldn’t find his way home in the dark and just stopped where he was. That would be the wisest thing. Con told me that if you figured you were lost the best thing was to stop right where you were until daylight, then think yourself out of it.”
“I wish he was here now.”
“We’ve got to do for ourselves, Ma. We can’t always be trusting to him to come along and pull us out. I found a place, back in the aspens, where somebody had made a sort of hidden corral with dead aspen logs. Indians, maybe.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“We could hide the mules. Three of them, anyway. We… me, I should say, I can ride old Balaam. You could take one of the sorrels.”
“All right, Tom. When daylight comes if he is not here, we’ll look for him. It’s better than just waiting for them to come back.”
CHAPTER XII
Con Vallian left the Indians on the tenth day. His leg was still stiff and needed careful handling, but once in the saddle he was ready to travel. He thanked the Indians, shook hands all around, and rode out to the westward.
Running Wolf squatted beside him at the fire on the morning he was to ride out “You friend,” he said, “he leaves somethings.”
After some casual talk and a few questions, Con grinned. So they had begun to learn, after all. Well, maybe they would make it.
They had left, he gathered, some articles of furniture. The Indians, scouting around, had found indications and had looked further. Knowing these things had belonged to the friends of the man at their camp, they had left them alone.
The Indians, who were constantly on the move and missed very little gave him the direction of the McKaskels’ wagon.
“Smart,” he decided, “or lucky.” They had left the trails behind and had taken a high country route that normally could not be traveled for lack of water. Now, with the recent rains and pools in the buffalo wallows, they could make it through.