Читать книгу Ghosts of the Green Swamp - Lee Gramling - Страница 12

5

WE WAS HEADIN’ SOUTH now along this narrow sand road, with big old live oaks an’ hickories on both sides, hung over by wild grape and Spanish moss. The frogs an’ other night critters was singin’ so loud the creak an’ rattle of Monk’s wagon was just one more noise amongst the rest. Still loud enough that a listenin’ man could pick it out, but not near so noticeable as earlier in the day.

It was real dark all around us, what with them thick woods and the moon not yet high enough to where we could see it. The sky overhead was clear an’ full of stars, though. So that white sand showed up pretty good for keepin’ us pointed right. And the mules seemed to have a idea of where we was besides. Like as not they’d traveled this way a time or two before.

A hour or so after leavin’ Arredonda we begun comin’ acrost some open country in amongst the stands of hardwood an’ low hammock land. Monk allowed as how we’d ought to be skirtin’ the west edge of Alachua Lake about then. And after the road curved to the left a mite, he told me we was startin’ to pass through a narrow stretch of ground with that piece of water on our left and Levy Lake to our right.

There was mostly low, sandy hills hereabouts, with open patches where cattle grazed in between the groves of live oak an’ thick growed-up woods. Ever now an’ again we seen a pole corral or a dark cabin, but without no way to tell from a distance whether folks was livin’ there or the place had been abandoned long years before.

It was maybe nine or ten o’clock by then, and the moon was climbin’ higher. Once in a while we’d come out from the trees or top a little rise, and be able to see almost a mile of open country before us.

The second or third time we done that, Monk Drucker whispered to his mules and all of a sudden drawed back on the reins. I followed his pointin’ finger to a little stand of live oaks away off on our right, where the ground rose up before slopin’ off towards what I figured must be the lake, although we couldn’t see it from where we was. If you squinted up your eyes and looked real close, you could just make out this faint orange an’ yellow glow next to the trunk of one of the furthest trees.

Neither one of us said nothin’ for a minute. Then Monk turned his head towards me and whispered, “Well? What do you think?” When I didn’t answer right away, he went on. “There’s no cabin up there. And it appears to be a man-made light of some kind. Maybe it’s the camp of those three we’ve been following.”

“Maybe.” I kept my voice low whilst I studied them trees in the distance. “Or maybe not. Could be just some local feller doin’ a little night fishin’.”

I hesitated before addin’, “Or cookin’ shine. In which case he’d prob’ly appreciate not bein’ interrupted.”

“Well, there’s only one way I know to find out.” Seemed like Monk was startin’ to get a mite impatient with me. “Are we going to have a look-see, or not?”

“We?”

I glanced at him, and the little bald-headed gent shrugged.

“In for a penny, in for a pound I always say. We’ve traveled far enough together that I guess we might think of ourselves as partners now. And I’ve got a special dislike for thieves in any case. Having the chance to administer a little justice would give me a feeling of personal pleasure.”

Monk took his shotgun from underneath the seat and made a move like he meant to climb down. Then he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “That is, unless you’d rather tackle this job all by yourself?”

“Hell,” I said, still keepin’ my voice quiet as I threw a leg over and started easin’ myself to the ground. “Come on along and welcome, if you’re of the mind. It ain’t no part of my nature to keep any man from his pleasures.”

Tell the truth, I was glad to have somebody along for company at the moment. Leastways a man what been up the river and over the mountain like they say, and who could handle hisself the way this Monk appeared to do.

’T weren’t that I didn’t reckon I could of took on them three by myself if the need was there. But I figured it didn’t hurt my chances any to have this gent with his sawed-off shotgun watchin’ over my backside as I made my way up to them owlhoots’ camp. I’d already learnt what brand of cold, hard customers they could be, with that Lila prob’ly the hardest an’ coldest of ’em all.

It wouldn’t of surprised me a bit if she’d arranged to keep one of ’em on watch through the night, purely as a matter of caution. Even though far as I could tell she’d no way of guessin’ that I or anybody else was on their back trail.

When Monk got done tyin’ his mules to a scrub cedar, we moved off a little ways into the shadow of some pines and had us a low-voiced council of war. That infernal rig of his didn’t travel near quiet enough for me to feel confident about us reachin’ this place without somebody takin’ notice of our approach, even if they had to wake up from a sound sleep in order to do it.

It was a good half mile to where that light was showin’, and the woods all round behind us ought to keep anybody from seein’ the wagon’s outline against the sky. But if they was payin’ attention to sounds in the night, they’d sure as shootin’ know something was out here, without maybe guessin’ exactly what it was. What we needed was some kind of a scheme to sneak up closer and have a look, while not stumblin’ into some welcoming committee that was all primed an’ loaded to meet us.

The idea I’d got in mind was to make my way on down the road afoot for a good fair distance, then face about and Injun up on the camp — or whatever it happened to be — from beyond in the opposite direction. If it turned out they was expectin’ visitors, that was the last place they’d think of to look for ’em, and it might give me a chance to get the jump on the entire party.

In the meantime I suggested to Monk that he follow along this here tree-line so’s to get hisself as near as possible to that light on this side without bein’ noticed. He could make up his own mind then about whether it was safe to sneak any closer acrost the open space between ’em. In any case he was to come on the run from wherever he was, just soon’s he heard me start to make my play.

Monk seemed agreeable enough, and from his manner I’d a idea he was the kind of gent who could handle a job like that without gettin’ flustered. And without takin’ no foolish chances what could turn out with either or both of us bein’ shot full of holes.

When I’d checked the action on that Smith an’ Wesson again, I slid a shell out of the cartridge belt to load the empty chamber under the hammer before droppin’ her back in the holster. As a general rule, havin’ that one less shot is a heap safer than havin’ some kind of a accident from a buckin’ bronc or a unplanned tumble on the ground. But I weren’t carryin’ no extra weapons with me this time, and I seen a altercation or two when all six shots from a six-shooter didn’t hardly appear to be enough.

Monk Drucker touched the brim of his high-hat in salute before we separated. And I started back down towards the road with a partin’ wave.

It was high grass all around hereabouts, ’cept where the road served to part it a mite. And since the cool of the evening had set in, that grass was wet with dew. I didn’t much appreciate gettin’ my clothes all damp, and covered with stickers to boot, from snakin’ through that thick growed-up prairie — sometimes on my hands an’ knees and now an’ again on my belly. But I favored the notion of a bullet between my shoulder blades a whole heap less, so I done what was needful. Took my time at it too, so’s to make as little sound an’ show of my passin’ as possible.

It must of been the better part of a hour before I reached the woods on the other side of that stand of live oaks where we’d seen the light. And then it took a while longer to ease myself up through the trees an’ brush towards a place where I could have a tol’able view of the surroundings.

I had to hope my new-found partner weren’t startin’ to get too impatient by now. Although there wasn’t much help for it if he was. I was a right cautious man when it come to any game where my hide was part of the stakes, and I meant to stay that way. From all appearances, Monk Drucker was a gent who could understand that kind of thinkin’.

When I’d finally got myself up to maybe thirty, forty yards off from what was left of the campfire, I could see pretty good that that was exactly what it was. Only a couple red coals was showin’ now, with ever onct in awhile a little yellow lick of flame from some scrap of bark or pitch what hadn’t burned itself out entire yet.

I eased myself over to where I could hunker down behind a couple low-growin’ bushes at the edge of the woods, and took my time studyin’ the layout. That new Smith an’ Wesson six-shooter’d done found its way into my fist by then, comin’ easy to my hand like it was already some part of me.

I could barely make out several dark shapes on the ground near the fire what might of been bedrolls. But from where I was watchin’ they could just as easy been the twisted-up roots of them big ole live oak trees. After I’d shifted my gaze back an’ forth a time or two, lookin’ for any movement what might appear at the corners of my eyes, I was reasonable certain there weren’t nothin’ nor nobody stirring about that camp at the moment.

So either the folks who’d built the fire was powerful sound sleepers. Or maybe they wasn’t just exactly where I expected them to be.

Along about then it struck me that I hadn’t come acrost no sign of horses nor livestock neither. Could be that meant the campers was just some strangers travelin’ on foot, which was a more common thing hereabouts than out in them western lands I’d lived in till recently. But it might mean too, that I’d ought to take a little better look around before jumpin’ to conclusions.

So after one more glance about the fire without seein’ nothing I hadn’t already seen, I eased myself further back into the shadows and got to my feet. If there wasn’t no animals picketed out yonder in the grass, which seemed the likeliest spot unless somebody had concerns they might be noticed, it appeared the only other place to leave ’em would be right here in these woods where I was standin’.

I took a long, slow, careful look all around in ever direction, movin’ nothing but my head and the hand what held the six-shooter. But underneath them thick branches everthing was so pitch black that I didn’t expect I would of caught sight of a elephant if the critter was standin’ a dozen feet in front of me.

Then I tried listenin’ for the little sounds a horse or a mule will make, stompin’ a foot or croppin’ grass, or swishin’ its tail at a insect. But a breeze had come up off the lakes about then, and with all them leaves a-rustlin’ I couldn’t be certain of anything partic’lar around me, unless it happened to be mighty close by. I tried to wait her out, but when she just kept on a-whisperin’ and a-blowin’ real steady for long minutes on end, I finally told myself “The hell with it,” and started in to move.

I was still bein’ watchful as a cat, takin’ one step at a time and gettin’ each foot set before pickin’ up the other so as not to make no more noise than necessary. Kept my ears pricked for anything the least bit out of the ordinary too, the entire while I was moving.

Suddenly I heard what sounded like a low nicker a couple yards away, and I froze in my tracks. There was somethin’ familiar about that horse-whisper, and when it come to me a second time I’d no doubt a-tall who it was had made it.

You can choose to believe that or not, I don’t give a damn. ’Cause it’s the honest truth. That ole roan horse and me had covered a sight of territory together, prob’ly spendin’ more days and nights in each other’s company than a lot of husbands an’ wives. I reckon I knew his voice ever bit as good as he knew mine by then.

When I’d whispered a couple words to try an’ keep him calm, I stepped up closer until I could lay a hand on his neck in the dark. Generally Ole Roan weren’t much of a one for showin’ his feelin’s. But this time I guess he was so plumb glad to see me that he didn’t care who knowed it. He was dancin’ and tossin’ his head somethin’ fit to kill, and it near ’bout cost me a finger before I could get his hackamore loose from that picket rope it was tied to.

I was mighty pleased at the re-union my ownself, so it like to pained me to the quick when I had to grab holt of his nostrils an’ pinch down hard to keep him from makin’ any more ruckus than he already was. Still I figured we’d best be on our way without further to-do, ’cause it wouldn’t be much longer until all Hell busted loose. The other horses was stirrin’ about restless-like from hearin’ me and the roan, and I could make out Jube’s mule a-warmin’ hisself up to sing ’most any second in the background.

I still didn’t have no idea where Lila and her compadres was situated at the moment, so it appeared my best plan was to just light a shuck with the roan, and worry about gettin’ the rest of my outfit back some other time. If they mounted up to give chase, I’d a mind to lead ’em east towards Micanopy, and away from Monk’s wagon.

For starters I managed to drag the roan a short distance off from the picket line and turn him, before grabbin’ a handful of mane and settin’ myself to swing up onto his bare back. Then as I was reachin’ down to holster my pistol, I heard these two sharp clicks no more’n a dozen feet behind me.

I threw myself backwards and hit the ground rolling, just as Purv’s shotgun split the air with a mighty blast a couple feet above my head. The second charge of buckshot chunked into a tree alongside my shoulder whilst I dropped down into a dry creek bed and skittered on my knees an’ elbows for another dozen yards before comin’ up a-smokin’.

I let fly twice at the sound of Purv’s voice whilst he was callin’ out to his friends. And it give me a feelin’ of satisfaction to hear him yelp an’ cuss when he realized why a gent with a unloaded shotgun would be a mite smarter to hold his peace.

They was some scrabblin’ around in the woods between Purv an’ the horses, so I changed position and tossed a couple more shots over thataway to remind big Jube and Lila not to get too careless about when and how they decided to make their appearance. Didn’t hit nothin’ this time, far as I could tell. But it weren’t because I wasn’t tryin’.

I reckon maybe it crossed my mind for a half a second there about how one of them I was shootin’ at was a woman. But I didn’t let it fret me. Generally I ain’t one to make war on women, nor treat ’em bad in any other way. But this here Lila had brought the war on me, ordering my killin’ earlier in the day an’ all. And she was totin’ iron the same as a man.

If she didn’t want more trouble she knew how to avoid it. And if she still meant to come a-huntin’ it, the least I could do was make sure she didn’t go away disappointed.

I’d dropped down on one knee after them last couple shots. Now I started easin’ myself back to where I’d left Ole Roan. I didn’t have no plans to lose track of that critter again, regardless of how this fight come out. Not after all I’d been through today chasin’ after him.

When I seen a pistol flash and heard a bullet whisper through the brush right close to the spot I’d been kneelin’, I didn’t bother shootin’ back this time, but just kept on moving. That would be Lila I reckoned, somewheres off on my left. Leastways from the sound I was pretty sure it was her .38.

A couple minutes later I was climbin’ out of that dry wash not far from the place where Purv first tried to ventilate my hide. It was still black as the inside of a tar barrel under them trees, so I was bein’ mighty careful about how an’ where I put my feet. Trippin’ and falling over one of them vines or roots hereabouts would of been embarrassin’ enough. But it wouldn’t be nothin’ compared to the feeling I’d have whenever the whole neighborhood opened up shootin’ at the sound from it.

Ole Purv’d had him plenty of time to slip a couple fresh shells into his shotgun by now. There was a chance I’d got some lead into him earlier. But if it weren’t enough to keep him from hollerin’, it prob’ly weren’t enough to keep him from pullin’ no triggers neither.

An’ then there was big ole Jube.

I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of that feller since first arrivin’ at this place. But it was a safe enough bet he was somewheres about. And I’d of sure give a pretty to know where it was.

Thinkin’ about all them dangerous folks around me what I couldn’t see had kind of slowed my steps, until I was standin’ stock still at the moment, tryin’ to puzzle out what I’d ought to do next. The odds didn’t appear near so favorable now as they had when I first made powwow with Monk on t’other side of the clearing, plannin’ to take everbody what was camped here by surprise instead of the other way around.

I’d more’n half a notion to take my Ole Roan horse and just light on out. If I could lay hands on the critter in the dark that is, without findin’ one of them other three first.

Speakin’ of Monk, I was gettin’ right curious to know where that li’l high-hatted gent had got hisself to. I could sure use a tad of help about now. But after considerin’ the situation I realized he prob’ly wouldn’t be able to offer much, even if he was close enough by to pitch stones at. In this dark he’d be as likely to fill me full of lead as one of my enemies, when and if the shootin’ got started again.

Since I couldn’t think of nothin’ else to do, I was right on the verge of takin’ a powerful gamble and callin’ out to Ole Roan — when I felt this nudge in my back what like to made me jump clean out of my skin.

It took everthing I had to swaller a yelp about then. I jumped forward and spun round in a crouch, earin’ back the hammer of my six-shooter and comin’ just half a inch from lettin’ the lead fly before I realized what it was had give me that push.

It was Ole Roan. I guess he decided not to leave the findin’ in the dark to no weak-sensed critter like me, but just went ahead and took matters into his own hands. I grinned a mite to myself when I realized what had happened, and bent down to gather up his reins.

Which I reckon plumb saved my life. ’Cause a instant later they was two big booms that I recognized as comin’ from my old Dragoon Colt, aimin’ right square at the spot where I’d been standin’ when I turned and clicked back that hammer. I hit the dirt and sort of clenched up my shoulder muscles without thinking about it, waitin’ for Purv’s shotgun blast what I expected to come pretty close on the heels of them two pistol shots.

But when I did hear a shotgun speak, it was a good forty yards away in the direction of the clearing. A second later I could make out Monk’s voice shoutin’ over the echoes.