At daylight on that second day the barrels they carried were filled to the brim once more. When the wagons pulled out and started west, he took his rifle and kept well off to one side of the line of march, saving his horse and keeping it free of the dust that would increase thirst. Ernie Braden and the surly Bunker, his driver, were still with his company.
Matt Bardoul turned at right angles to the line of march and put the dun down a ravine, crossed the branch at the bottom and mounted the opposite slope through the trees. A half hour of easy riding brought him no sight of game, so he turned and cut back toward the trail. It was then he sighted the wagon.
Matt reined in sharply and swung the dun back under the cover of the trees.
It was a light spring wagon, much lighter than any other in the tram, and pulled by four mules. Two men sat on the front seat, and studying them as they drew up opposite him, he saw they both seemed very young, and from their resemblance, must have been brothers. They were travelling alone, and a good four miles behind the wagon train.
They kept the mules at a steady gate, and seemed to be talking in lively fashion. One of them was the young man he had seen leaning against the wall of the IXL Dining Room in Deadwood.
Tolliver had ridden back this way last night. Had he seen this wagon? Or had he known they were here and come back to visit them? If not, why had he not mentioned them when he returned? Circling back through the trees, Matt caught up with the wagon train, and just before he reached it he bagged three turkeys. Two days dragged by slowly, and in those two days they covered thirty miles. It was on the evening of the fifth day out that trouble started.
Herman Reutz, who had been spending more and more time with Matt, was sitting with him on a pile of rocks near the wagons, talking over the events of the day. Buffalo Murphy and Aaron Stark had come up to join them, and then Barney Coyle.
Suddenly a scream rent the air, and leaping to their feet, the men stared down toward the shadowed ravine where a stream, shallow but clean and clear, flowed over the rocks into a pool among the trees. As one man they started to run.
Matt was the first one through the brush, and what he saw brought a rush of anger to his face.
Sary Stark, who had evidently been bathing in the pool, was struggling, only half clad, with the huge, bearded Abel Bain!
With a lunge, Matt grabbed the big renegade by the collar and kicking him behind the knee, jerked him free. Then he hurled him staggering back into the trees. Stark took one glimpse and his rifle started to lift, but Reutz knocked it up.
Bain was on his feet, glaring at Bardoul. “I ain’t wearin’ a gun,” he said, “but if I was … !”
Matt shucked his guns and passed them to Reutz. Bain lunged at him, and there was a bright sliver of light in his hand! Bardoul ducked, blocking the knife with his left forearm. Then he slugged a wicked right into the big man’s stomach. Bain gasped, and Matt chopped him on the arm, forcing him to drop the knife. Then he stepped back and jabbed swiftly, three fast, knife like punches to the bearded face. One ripped a gash over his eye, the other widened it, the third pulped his lips.
Bain was a big man and powerful, but he was no match for Bardoul. Fast, and smooth on his feet, Matt stayed in close, ripping the big man with short, chopping, brutal punches. In less than three minutes the big man was gasping for breath his face battered to a pulp of blood and beard. Then Bardoul swung a right, a low, lifting hook, half uppercut, to the body. It just cleared Bain’s belt. The renegade gulped and staggered.
Men charged through the trees. “What goes on here?” Massey was in the lead, his face dark with passion. “Drop your hands, Bardoul, or I’ll kill you!” he roared.
Four or five of Deane’s men were with him. All carried guns. “Like hell you will!” Stark covered Massey with his rifle. “You raise a hand an’ I’ll kill you! Bain’s gettin’ what he deserves! Rightly, he ought to be hung!” Matt walked into the battered, reeling man and setting himself, threw another of those wicked punches, then a third. Bain sank to the grass, groaning.
“Bardoul,” Massey said, “you’re under arrest!”
“Just a minute!” Reutz passed Matt back his guns. “Hadn’t you better ask a few questions, Massey? This man Bain assaulted Sary Stark. Found her bathin’ here alone. Bardoul stopped him. I’d say hangin’ would be too good for Bain.”
“He’s had it comin’ for a long time,” Buffalo added grimly. “I’ll furnish the rope.”
“There’ll be no hanging here. You men all get back to the camp. Bardoul, you stay here.”
“What’s the matter, Clive?” Barney Coyle said. “Why are you so set on jumping Matt Bardoul? I think it was time we held a trial for Bain.”
Massey’s face was ugly, but his lips tightened. “I’ll say who’s to be tried!” he flared.
“No, you won’t.” Aaron Stark spat. “I reckon you’ve got some mistaken ideas about just who you are, Massey. Your men are to enforce the law, regulate peace, not to say who is to be tried and who is not. I reckon you all had better start with your own passel of men. Bain’s the guilty party here. Furthermore, I’m servin’ notice that no man is molestin’ my gals. You git rid of Bain, or I will!”
“I think,” Bardoul said calmly, “that we should have the trial of Bain. I think also we should have a meeting of all the people on this train and decide just where your duties begin and end, Massey!”
For a moment, Clive stared at him, hatred in his face. Then he turned abruptly. “Bring Bain to camp!” he said, and walked rapidly away.
Slowly, the group trooped back toward the wagon train. Barney Coyle fell in beside Bardoul. “I saw that,” he said. “I was right behind you, and saw that beast grabbing that girl, trying to tear her clothing! Why, Sis or nobody is safe with that land of an animal around!”
“I’m glad you were there, Barney,” Matt said sincerely, “it begins to look like there was trouble ahead, and a lot of it. I have a lot of respect for your father, and for you and your sister. My warning that night was sincere. I knew Bain. He has narrowly escaped hanging for molesting women on several occasions.”
“You sure gave him a beating!” Barney said grimly. “I never realized a man could hit that hard with his fists! I couldn’t have beaten a man that way with a club!”
Matt grinned. “I had a good teacher,” he said, “an Englishman I met in New Orleans, name of Jem Mace. He used to be the heavyweight champion. I boxed some with John Morrissey, too.”
Buffalo Murphy, Stark and Reutz were waiting near Matt’s wagons. As Barney walked off, Murphy said abruptly. “I reckon this begins it! Ever’ man better keep a gun handy from now on.”
“You, Matt,” Stark said, “had better watch your back. Bain’ll kill you if he gets loose!”
“He ain’t getting loose!” Reutz said grimly. “I’m having a talk with Pearson and Coyle right now!”
But he did. In the morning Abel Bain was no longer with the wagon train. He had “escaped” during the night.
CHAPTER V
Company D led off on the following morning. The trail was bad, much the worst it had been at any time since they left Spearfish. Matt knew the terrain, and twice circled large hills. He was beginning his third swing when he heard a sound of galloping horses, and turned in the saddle to see Colonel Pearson and Clive Massey riding toward him. With them was Barney Coyle.
“What’s the idea?” Massey demanded irritably. “If we keep winding around all the time, we’ll never get there! You’ve swung over three miles north of the route we’re supposed to be taking!”
“I know,” Matt agreed, “and I’m trying to miss some hills. There’s a mighty rough spot ahead.”
Tate Lyon had ridden up. Massey turned on him. “Tate, is there a place up ahead that we can’t cross with our wagons?”
Lyon laughed, his eyes avoiding Bardoul’s. “Hell, no! Just like this, an’ a few low hills. Nothin’ to bother.”
“Then swing back on the route!” Massey ordered.
“No,” Bardoul said, “I won’t. If you or Pearson want to take the lead from here on, you can. I say you’ve got some nasty bad country ahead of you unless we go at least three miles further north of the route we are taking.”