He added fuel to the fire, moved back into the trees, and listened to the night … all was still. It was time he called Dal to take over, but his mind was in no condition for sleep. There were too many problems.
When they came up with the renegades they must first scout the camp. His field glasses would help in that, but he must use them with care and never when a reflection might be seen. If they could study the layout, there was a chance they might Injun into camp, free the girls, and get away.
Seven or eight girls? No chance. One of them would bump against something, fall, gasp or something. It would be the same with seven or eight men. The odds were against easing that many out of camp. One, even two, but not seven.
From the tracks he had observed, the girls all seemed to be riding in the wagon.
Cut the wagon out and get away with it? Maybe when the marchers were all scattered out? There would be times, there always were on such treks, when going over a hill, through a draw, or something when most of the men would be out of sight of the wagon. That was something to be hoped for, but one could not plan that way.
Some of the men with Ashford were guerillas of the type who rode with Quantrill or Bloody Bill Anderson – bad men, but good as any Injun when it came to working rough country in a fight.
He walked over and checked the horses. All was quiet. The horses were in good shape, and he and Dal would push hard today, closing the gap.
He went to another tree, further from the fire, and sat down. A voice spoke from the blankets. “What’s the matter? You want to be on watch all night?”
“Figured you were tired.”
“I’m tired, but so are you. Come on now, you get some sleep. You ought to know I always wake up on time.”
Mac walked to his blankets and sat down, pulling off his boots, then his gun belt and spare pistol. His hat beside him, his head on his saddle, he looked up at the stars through the leaves. There was too much to think about, and he was never going to get to sleep. Dal might just as well have …
He opened his eyes to the smell of coffee and the sound of a crackling fire. He sat up abruptly. Dal was at the fire and glanced over at him, his eyes twinkling. “I’d say for a man who wasn’t tired you did a mighty good job of sleeping.”
Mac shook out his boots to dislodge any stray scorpions, lizards, or tarantulas that might have taken refuge during the night.
He slung on his gun belt and walked down to the trickle of water beside which they had camped and splashed water on his face. He squatted beside the branch and after a minute, splashed more cold water on his eyes and rinsed his hands, then flipped the water from his face with his fingers and wiped his fingers dry on his pants.
“Coffee and bread,” Dal said. “We’ve got to come up with some rations, partner.”
“You’re telling me? My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.” He bit off a piece of the bread and took a swallow of the black coffee. “We’re going to close in on them tonight. I’ve had enough of this. We’ve got to get that wagon away from them when all the girls are in it.”
“Take some doin’. And hard to get away, after.”
“You thought about something? Happy Jack Traven had a place down thisaway.”
“When he was out of jail.”
“I think maybe we could use him. He had friends among all them Neuces outlaws, too. Remember? He was always takin’ up for them, feedin’ ’em, hidin’ ’em from time to time? We could use some help.”
A pebble rattled among the rocks, and Dal rolled over behind a fallen tree. Mac’s Spencer slid forward.
“Nice of you boys to remember me, an’ that coffee sure smells good!”
Happy Jack Traven wore a battered black hat and a smile on a face seamed by sun, wind, and years. “Mac? Put down that gun. You wouldn’t be shootin’ an old man, would you?”
“Come in an’ set. You’ll never get old, Jack. You’re too mean. Where’d you steal that horse?”
“Now, Mac, that’s unkind. You know I never stole no horse unless I needed him. This here’s one your pappy give me.”
Five
“How did you find us?”
“Been watchin’ for you. Your ma sent word about what happened at your place. You didn’t think I was goin’ to tackle that outfit all by myself, did you? I said to myself, says I, Them boys will come a high-tailin’ it after their sister, an’ they’ll surely need help. So I been settin’ an’ waitin’ while sort of keepin’ track of that outfit.”
“How far ahead are they?”
“Last night, about two days. Looks to me like they’ve taken a notion to go over to the Gulf Coast. At least, they’ve changed direction. Turned almost at right angles just after some gent rode into their camp on a paint pony. He was not a stranger to them, either. He just rode right in and went straight to the boss-man.”
“I figured they were at least three days ahead.”
“They been settin’. I figure they were waitin’ for whatever this gent on the paint had to tell them.
“You know, most of those folks down below that border are mighty fine people, but just like with us, there’s some that hangin’ is too good for. There’s folks down there will pay good prices for women, preferably white women, blondes at the top of the list.
“They’ll buy men, too, black or white, to work in the mines. They don’t let the officials know what’s goin’ on, or they find one they can pay off. Most of them live far out in the hills, and some are bandits, operatin’ both sides of the border. I figure that’s where they’re headed for.”
“Why would they head for the Gutf Coast?”
“Only thing that makes sense is that they figure to meet a ship over there. You know there’s some fellers around who were smuggling slaves in through the bayous to New Orleans and the like. With the end of the War they’re out of business, unless they find something else. They’ll stop at nothing.
“Importing slaves into the country has been illegal for years, but they smuggled ’em in. The way I hear it this Ashford feller used to deal in smuggled slaves now and again. Take ’em to his plantation, let ’em work for a few weeks, then sell them off like they’d been here for years.
“If that’s true he would know who to get in touch with if he had something to sell. Trust a slave dealer to know where slaves, even white slaves, could be sold.”
“How could a man justify that sort of thing? What kind of man could he be?” Mac said.
Happy Jack glanced at him over his cup. “There’s some folks will justify anything if it will make them a dollar. Commonest excuse is that if they don’t do it somebody else will. It’s high time folks started ostracizing anybody who makes a dishonest dollar. Worst thing about crime is the kind of people you have to associate with.”
Mac Traven checked the Spencer. Happy Jack watched him, saying, “There’s a town east of here. South an’ east, rightly speaking. If a feller had some money he could pick up some grub, an’ maybe a little news.”
“What town?”
“Well, we gotta choice, sort of. There’s Victoria – that’s closest – then there’s others farther along. I’d say we ride into Victoria and have a look around, buy ourselves some grub an’ maybe see how the wind is blowin’.
“Since the War ended there ain’t been much of what you could call law in Texas. I hear tell there’s a Union general bringin’ some troops into Galveston, but he ain’t here yet so far’s I know.”
“Sounds all right to me,” Dal said, “but I surely hate to leave this trail, even for a few hours.”
“My feelin’ is they’ll be headin’ the same way, only I think they’ll fight shy of Victoria. Here in the last twenty-five years or so, ever since about 1840 the way I hear it, Victoria’s become more German than Spanish. Lot of settlers moved in. Now a lot of those folks have Union sentiments, at least so I’ve heard. I think Ashford may ride into Victoria, but not with his women and his wagons.”
Mac Traven had ideas about that, but he kept still, thinking it out. Southwest of Victoria, if he recalled correctly, was the Guadalupe River, with a thick stand of pecan, cypress, and oak along its course. There was a good place to hole up and rest, with grass for the stock and plenty of water. If Ashford or some of his crowd were riding into town they would certainly leave the camp on the Guadalupe. He said as much to Dal. “My bet is we will lose no time at all, and may gain a little, but step easy and talk polite. These folks don’t trifle with the law. They take it serious.”