Читать книгу Ain't No Way - Jerry Milam - Страница 7

Chapter One

The Shot

A shot rang out and echoed down the canyon. John Duvale, the leader of the calico group, tilted his head to where his right ear went into the wind. At the same time, he raised his right hand to hush the murmur of the rest of the party. John, a big, strong, rugged man of thirty years, backed away from no man, but the unknown had made the hair on the back of his neck come to attention.

There was a gunshot out here in the middle of nowhere, and it had not come from his camp.

Bernie Douglas, a garment salesman from St. Joseph, grumbled under his breath something about not wanting to be here in the first puce. The small man with beady eyes and spectacles, and a major attitude problem, was not even happy about being on this journey. Although when he had a mind to, he could charm most any woman. His new wife, Martha, was already wearing the new pair of pants in the family. Bernie knew quite well that when Martha had said they were going to San Francisco for their honeymoon, that he might as well start packing the bags and buying three tickets for the trip.

Martha, a big-boned, well-bred woman with a cute but weathered face, was a hard worker. On the outside, she was as tough as leather, while on the inside she had a heart as big as the grand canyon. As a rule, she knew whom she had to push and how far she had to push them. Bernie had to be pushed hard and often, while on the other hand, her sister, Beth, had to be treated very tentatively.

Beth was in her late teens, eight years younger than Martha and about half the age of Bernie. When Beth was nine, a group of men came to their house, near the Kansas border, and destroyed everything that their parents had so painfully built. The times were not tame by any means, but this was an appalling act even then. Beth had seen her father pistol-whipped to death and her mother raped repeatedly and hung from the barn rafters. When Martha had returned from the fields, she found Beth just sitting there and staring at her mother’s limp body. Martha was forced into taking the roles of both mother and father to Beth. Since that dreadful day, Beth had neither said a word nor cried a tear.

Rounding out the rest of the party were two brothers from the Jackson hole, Wyoming, area, Matthew and Luke Adams. Matthew, or Matt, was thirty-two going on fifty-three. His life had been spent mostly out on the range rounding up wild horses for other ranchers. A likable-enough fellow, but just didn’t have a whole lot to say, except to Luke. Luke, on the other hand, was a high-spirited young lad of twenty-one, who didn’t mind talking at all. Luke had stayed at home with his folks, against his wishes, farming and going to the one-roomed schoolhouse in Jackson hole. Last year when the pox had taken their folks and their middle brother, Mark, Matt kind of took Luke under his wing. Both got more than they had expected.

As the sun began to rise over the ridge, a calm settled in the camp, but peace had not entered the mind of a single member of the group. In fact, a bad feeling had appeared in the center of John’s gut.

“Matt,” John whispered. “Take a couple of rifles and the boy and hide over there by those trees to the east. Boy, you keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. The rest of you, stand over there by the fire. Mrs. Douglas, put some coffee on the fire.”

“Okay, John,” Martha acknowledged. “Bernie, bring me some more wood for the fire, and no mumbling or complaining, just get it done.” Martha’s voice mellowed as she turned to speak to Beth, “Honey, bring me those cups from the wagon, please, and don’t forget Bernie’s sugar. I swear that man has the largest sweet tooth in Missouri.”

Although not reaching his lips, a large grin went through the eyes of John as he briefly let his mind wander from the problem at hand. Hearing a small twig snap about twenty-five yards northeast of the camp quickly brought John’s mind back to their more important situation. He glanced around one last time to make sure that there was nothing that he had forgotten and that everybody was in their correct positions. Then he took his place on a big rock on the north side of camp with his rifle laid across his left arm near his elbow, his right hand firmly on the rifle stock with his forefinger on the trigger, but looking as though he had not a worry in the world.

A moment later a husky voice cried out, “Hello, in the camp!” A few more steps and John could see a man coming through the woods. At six feet and two inches and two hundred and twenty-five pounds, John thought that he was a pretty good-sized man, but compared to this fellow, John was a mere boy. The man was a walking oak tree with long hair and a beard. “May I enter your camp, sir?” the man asked. John’s eyes were bigger than anyone in camp had ever seen them, and his mouth was slightly agape as he motioned the man to enter.

“Barnabus Theodore Beastovich is my name,” spoke the man right out as he looked around the area. “My friends just call me Barney,” he said as he ran his left thumb and forefinger across his moustache, around his mouth, and down his beard. Then he said with a little pride and a slight grin, “I hear tell that some folks call me Barney T. Beast, but that’s just what I hear tell.”

John introduced himself and then began to introduce the rest of the visible group. “This is Bernie Douglas, and the lady bringing you a cup of coffee is his wife, Martha.” Barney just tipped his old hat to Martha so he would not interrupt John. John continued, “And the young lady over by the fire is Martha’s sister, Beth.”

Barney replied, “I am very pleased to meet you, folks.” Then turning in the direction of the trees where Matt and Luke were hiding, he gave a sharp whistle. Everybody in the group gave him a strange look and then looked at John as if to ask what was going on. Moments later their question was answered as a big dog appeared out of the woods. He came up beside the big man and sat, occasionally glancing toward the woods where the Adams boys were positioned. Barney petted the dog on the head then turned to John and said, “This is Do-What. He’s been watching those two out there by those trees.” With his head down as if he were looking at the dog, but his eyes looking straight at John, a slow gentle grin appeared on Barney’s face. A big smile came over John’s face as he yelled to Matt and Luke to rejoin the others in camp.

“Mr. Be…” John tried to pronounce Barney’s last name.

“Barney, just Barney.”

“Barney, this is Matt Adams and his younger brother, Luke.” In his own defense, John continued, “We didn’t know who was out there or what type person they might be.”

“No need to apologize. I would have thought you were a greenhorn had you not placed these two men out there in the woods,” Barney said. “I had an ace in the hole myself.” He smiled and reached down to pet his dog again. As Barney switched his coffee from his right hand to his left, Barney stretched out his right hand to John and asked, “How about another cup of coffee over there by the fire?”

John firmly shook his hand and replied, “Barney, you are welcome at my fire any time.” The two men chuckled as they strolled over to the fire for another cup of coffee, followed closely by Do-What. Finally, since the rude awakening of the camp, a peace of mind had been restored to the entire group. Although an explanation was yet to come, Barney and Do-What were now accepted as part of the campfire party.