Читать книгу North of Laramie - William W. Johnstone - Страница 15

CHAPTER 10

Lefty Hanover ignored Matt Bowman as he led the men north to Newton.

But that didn’t prevent the rancher from talking anyway. “I don’t know why we’re headed north like this. The boy at the livery said Trammel and Hagen were headed south toward Texas.”

“Liverymen ain’t known for always being reliable,” Lefty said. “It’s all that time they spend in the stables, see? Makes ’em loco. Besides, these here tracks we’ve been following say otherwise. Chico says otherwise, too. Best tracker I ever seen, and I’ve seen a bunch.”

But Matt persisted. “I had two men tracking them as they left town, but I don’t know where they went. I think we should split up and at least take a look.”

“Chico took a look at the tracks from The Gilded Lilly. They headed north, not south. Neither Trammel nor the gambler’s got any call to head south along the cattle trail because neither of them are cowpunchers. They’d stick out in that crowd. Too many stragglers could see us comin’ and tell us where they went. They headed north, and so are we.”

But Lefty’s logic failed to reach Bowman, and the old cowhand tuned him out. He and his bunch had dealt with men like Matt Bowman their entire lives; men accustomed to giving orders and not taking them. Men who thought the purse strings they held were like reins to the men they paid.

Men like Bowman just couldn’t understand that they only held power for as long as the men who worked for them gave it to them. Lefty and the others hadn’t ridden back down to Texas with the rest of the boys because they didn’t want to, not because they didn’t have a place with any of the cattle companies. They were top hands, every one of them, and better than the three Bowman had brought with him from the BF. Tending horses and cattle in a field was one thing. Driving them hundreds of miles to market took a special sort. The sort of man that Bowman thought he was, but wasn’t.

And even though he hadn’t been paying attention to what Bowman was saying, the noise was beginning to bother him. He could tell it was beginning to bother Skinner and the others, too, so he decided to put an end to it.

“If you want to head south, Mr. Bowman, feel free to do so, but me and mine’ll continue north the way the tracks lead us. Chico’s got a good bead on them, and I’m given to trusting his instinct. But before you go, you’ll pay us that money you claim to have.”

“Like hell I will,” Bowman said. “If we split up, you’ll get paid when you bring back Trammel and Hagen to the BF. Dead or alive makes no difference to us, so long as we can see they’re dead with our own eyes.”

Lefty looked behind him at his men. They were riding in one group, while the three BF hands brought up the rear. Walt the cousin was in between the two groups.

His men looked at him, silently telling him they’d back his play no matter what. The only one missing was Chico, who’d ridden ahead of the group a few miles to scout for them. He knew Chico wasn’t the independent sort. He’d support Lefty whatever he decided to do.

“If we split,” Lefty said, “we’ll need money for expenses. For outfitting, see? We’re out here on your dime and your say-so. You’ve told us you’ve got the money, but we ain’t seen a cent of it yet. Layin’ eyes on it could go a long way to settling our nerves.”

“Settlin’ nerves,” Parrot said. “Long way.”

Matt Bowman brought his horse alongside Lefty’s. “Are you calling me a liar, sir?”

Lefty wouldn’t look at the man and kept his pace. “Just said we ain’t seen the money you claim to have is all. Layin’ eyes on it would go a long way to puttin’ my men at ease, not to mention makin’ your talkin’ that much easier to tolerate on as long a trail as this one’s turning out to be.”

“I’ve got the money, by God,” Bowman said. “Right here with me. No man has ever questioned my word before and I’ll be damned if I’ll allow the likes of a saddle tramp like you to question it now.”

Lefty had heard just about as much as he could stand of the rancher. “Then be damned.”

He drew his Colt from his belly holster and fired into Matt Bowman’s chest at point-blank range.

The rancher tumbled backward off his horse, his shirt aflame, and landed on the ground.

The three Bowman ranch hands at the rear of the pack bolted back down the trail, leaving the packhorses behind. Hooch, Skinner, and Parrot took off after the fleeing men without Lefty having to say a word.

Only Walt Bowman remained; man and horse frozen where they stood on the trail.

Walt said, “You shot him.”

“He deserved it.” Lefty turned his mount and aimed the Colt at Walt. “And so will you if you lied to us about that money, boy.”

“He’s got it on him,” Walt said. “In his saddlebags. Saw my grandpa give it to him the night before we hired you boys.”

“Unbuckle your gun belt and drop it over the left side.” Lefty aimed the pistol at his head. “Do it real slow.”

Walt never took his eyes off his cousin’s body as he obeyed Lefty’s commands, then held his hands up high. “I don’t want no trouble, Lefty.”

Hanover didn’t think he did. “Now climb down and find them gold pieces on your cousin’s person.”

He kept the Colt trained on Walt as the younger Bowman stepped over his cousin’s body to where the horse had trotted off and searched the saddlebags. He held the purse aloft as he grabbed the horse’s bit. “Here it is, Lefty. Just like Uncle Matt said.”

“Fetch it over here, now. That gelding, too, while you’re at it.” His own horse was played out by the long, hard ride up from Texas, and he could use a fine mount like Bowman’s. The dead man wouldn’t have any further use for it anyway.

He watched Walt as the boy did as he was told. He thought about whether or not he should shoot him now or keep him around. The boy hadn’t done anything when Lefty had gunned down his cousin. There could be a dozen reasons why and all of them might prove useful as they ran down Trammel and the gambler. Even idiots had their purpose, as evidenced by Parrot’s continued and unexplainable existence.

He took the purse Walt handed up to him. Lefty knew by the heft of it that Bowman had been telling the truth, but life had told him it paid to be cautious. Keeping the Colt on Walt, Lefty pulled open the purse strings with his teeth and looked inside. Ten gleaming coins winked back at him. One thousand dollars. The most money John “Lefty” Hanover had ever seen in his life was now in the palm of his hand.

His joy was interrupted by three gunshots echoing from somewhere down the trail.

Lefty pulled the strings closed with his teeth and tucked the purse inside his filthy shirt. “Sounds like you’re the last man from the BF ranch standing.”

Walt tried to put on a brave face. “Could be the other way around. Our men can handle themselves.”

Lefty thumbed back the hammer on the Colt. “You really believe that, boy?”

“No. I guess I don’t. And I hope I won’t meet the same fate as them, Lefty. I’d like to join up with you if you’d be kind enough to have me.”

Lefty grinned. “You mean you’d turn on your own kin after everything we done?”

“My kin never thought much of me, and the feeling was mutual,” Walt said. “Guess I’ve got just as much right here as I’ve got waiting for me back at the BF. Maybe more. Hell, they were never going to let me run that ranch anyway.”

Lefty eased back on the hammer and tucked the Colt away. Yes, maybe young Walt Bowman could be useful after all.

Lefty turned when he heard a rider coming back from the north. It was Chico, and he was smiling. “You better ride up here and take a look at this, boss man. Looks like Trammel and his friend did some of our killing for us. Got two dead men at an old campsite up ahead.”

He looked down at Matt Bowman’s body on the trail. “What happened here?”

Lefty stepped down from his horse and took the reins from Walt. Yes, it was a good mount indeed. “What you see here is progress, Chico. Plain, old-fashioned progress.”