Читать книгу Firestick - William W. Johnstone - Страница 16

CHAPTER 11

By the time Tolsvord and the second rider, who turned out to be Cleve Boynton, reined up before the Double M’s main house, Firestick, Beartooth, and Moosejaw had emerged to stand waiting for them on the front porch.

“Mornin’, Tolsvord,” Firestick greeted. “You’re out and about mighty early.”

“Always been my way. It’s served me well, and times like these give me no reason to change.” Tolsvord was a heavyset man somewhere in his fifties. He had shoulders wide enough to balance out some of his expanded gut; a fleshy, heavy-jowled face piled around a surprisingly dainty nose under bristly brows that always seemed on the verge of scowling—a trait not lacking this morning.

Noting this, along with the man’s words, Firestick said, “By ‘times like these,’ I expect you’re tiltin’ toward the fact of me havin’ three of your men in my jail. Is that what brings you around?”

“It’s certainly something I have on my mind,” Tolsvord replied. “But right at the moment, I consider it a secondary matter. You know Cleve here, my ramrod.” He jerked a thumb toward Boynton. “He came across something that might be a lot bigger and more urgent. We’d like to talk to you and your deputies about it.”

The somberness of Tolsvord’s tone and the expressions on the faces of both men was enough for Firestick to say, “Light on down, then. Tie your horses and come inside, let’s hear what this is all about.”

A handful of minutes later, they were in the house, seated once more around the dining room table. Victoria, with the aid of Jesus, had hurriedly cleared away the breakfast dishes and poured cups of fresh coffee for everyone. Miguel and Jesus then excused themselves to go begin the day’s chores. Victoria returned to the kitchen to make another pot of coffee and to start washing dishes and pans, telling the men to call if they needed anything.

After stirring a spoonful of sugar into his coffee, Tolsvord wasted little time getting to what he’d come to discuss. “As you quickly will see, this is a bit of a tricky thing. On the one hand, we don’t want to overreact and cause undue alarm. On the other, if we’re able to confirm what Cleve is convinced he saw, then we surely will want to spread the word and sound an alarm.”

“I guess the first thing is for one of you to tell us what it was Cleve saw—or thinks he saw,” Firestick said.

Tolsvord nodded. “Indeed. Best, of course, for Cleve to tell it himself.”

All eyes shifted to Boynton. The ramrod squirmed a bit uneasily in his chair, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table as he began to talk. Quickly, concisely, he related his experience the previous evening of spotting the mysterious horsemen who quickly turned and disappeared as soon as they’d been sighted. “The whole thing was strange and unsettling. At first, I didn’t quite know what to make of it,” he summed up. “But then, after I pondered on it some and played it over in my mind a couple times, everything I’d been able to make out . . . well, I came to the conclusion that I skedaddled home to tell Boss Tolsvord.”

“Indians,” Tolsvord blurted, as if he was no longer able to hold back. “What Cleve is convinced he saw was a pack of Indians.”

“Whoa,” said Moosejaw as he and the other two former mountain men were rocked back in their seats.

“Indians,” repeated Firestick, frowning. “That’s a troubling and unexpected thing to hear. You’re suggestin’ a pack of renegades is on the prowl—is that it?”

“That’s sure the way it looked,” said Boynton. “And they were out and about in a place where they had no business being. You tell me what it means.”

“Have there been any reports of Indian trouble anywhere around?” Tolsvord asked. “Any rumblings of trouble brewing on one of the reservations that might have resulted in a pack of young hotbloods busting loose?”

Beartooth shook his head. “Nothing we’ve heard of. Nothing that’s come our way as of yet.”

Boynton licked his lips. “I’m thinkin’ they were Apaches.”

“Now you’re goin’ from bad to worse,” groaned Moosejaw. “But it wouldn’t be a first for Apaches to go out raidin’. Last anybody heard they’re still chasin’ Geronimo somewhere up in New Mexico.”

“Why do you say Apaches?” Firestick wanted to know.

“From the look I got at ’em,” said Boynton. “I’ve run across some Comanches in my time. They’re bigger built, and I’ve never seen ’em in a pack where there wasn’t some feathers or bright colors or headdresses showin’.” He shook his head. “Wasn’t any of that with this bunch. They were small, wiry, wearin’ all drab colors. No feathers or hats. Long hair and maybe some headbands, but otherwise bareheaded.”

“That sounds like Apaches, right enough,” agreed Moosejaw. “But except for that bunch runnin’ with Geronimo, they’re supposed to be contained up in San Carlos . . . unless Geronimo has decided to head down this way.”

“No, we would have heard something about that. The soldier boys up north might not be able to catch Geronimo, but he ain’t runnin’ so far ahead of ’em that he could make a swing in our direction without us gettin’ word,” said Beartooth. “But don’t forget there’s still some others that have never been captured down in the mountains of Mexico. Could be there’s a pack of them who decided to cross the Rio for some hell-raisin’. The Mex government don’t really have ’em contained very well in the Sierra Madres. A renegade pack like Boynton is describin’ could squirt across the border and nobody’d notice until they commenced to raidin’ and carryin’ on.”

Boynton’s forehead puckered. “Not that I’m complainin’, mind you, but what I can’t figure out is—if it was a raiding party I saw—why didn’t they take out after me when I caught sight of ’em?”

“Could be they weren’t ready to tip their hand yet,” said Firestick. “Could be they were on their way to raid somewhere else, and attackin’ one lone man wasn’t worth their while. All that’s supposin’ you’re right about it bein’ Injuns at all.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you. I said, if you’re right. You came here with some doubts of your own, didn’t you?”

“Maybe doubts . . . Maybe I just don’t want to believe what I saw.”

“What we came here for,” said Tolsvord, “was to seek your help in trying to make certain. Like I said at the start, the last thing we want is to cause undue panic. No, make that the second-to-the-last thing. The very last thing is for this renegade pack, if they’re out there, to start killing and raiding without any warning.”

“You three are the best trackers in the territory,” Boynton quickly added. “We were thinking that, if I take you to where I saw those riders, you could pick up their trail and see where it leads. Or maybe you could tell something simply from the tracks.”

“Hey, that ain’t a half-bad idea,” said Moosejaw.

“No, it ain’t,” agreed Firestick. “You want to take a crack at pickin’ up that trail, Moosejaw? In the meantime, I’ll get into town and send out some telegrams, see if there’ve been any other sightings anywhere around. Though I’ll have to word ’em careful-like so’s not to rile things up until we have a better idea what’s goin’ on.”

“What about me?” said Beartooth.

“In case there are some renegade bucks on the prowl,” Firestick told him, “don’t you think it’d be best for one of us to stick close to the ranch to keep an eye on things?”

“Yeah, I reckon,” Beartooth allowed reluctantly.

Tolsvord said, “That’s what I intend to do, too—get back to my place, where I can keep a sharp eye out without stirring up the rest of my hands until we know something further.” He aimed a scowl at Firestick. “Once we do, one way or another, you and me still have to take up the matter of my men you’ve got locked up. Especially if there are Indians on the prowl, we’ll need every gun we can get.”

Firestick met his scowl evenly. “Like you said, once we know something further as far as what Boynton saw, then we can take up that matter.”

“As soon as I get a look at those tracks and have a chance to make something out of ’em, me and Boynton will send word,” said Moosejaw.

Firestick quickly threw down the last of the coffee in his cup and then stood up. “Okay, sounds like we got us a plan. The quicker we get this pinned down, the better. So, we’d best get to makin’ some tracks of our own.”