Читать книгу Violence of the Mountain Man - William W. Johnstone - Страница 6

The drive from Sugarloaf over to Crosshatch, which was the name of the ranch Ian Goodnature owned, was about five miles, and with a spirited team pulling the surrey, Pearlie covered the distance in about twenty minutes. He and Lucy talked during the drive, but it was of inconsequential things, because Pearlie was too self-conscious to bring up any subject more substantive than the scenery or the weather.

He turned off the main road and up the long drive to Lucy’s house, feeling a sense of frustration and disappointment with himself because he had been unable to let her know how he felt about her, or to feel her out as to how she felt about him. He pulled the team to a halt in front of the steps, then, wrapping the reins around a davit on the dashboard, hopped down from the surrey and hurried around to help Lucy down.

“I—uh—am glad you were able to come over today,” he said.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything in the world,” Lucy replied. “It was great fun.”

“Wasn’t Maria good?”

“Yes, she was wonderful. And she is such a lovely little girl,” Lucy replied.

“Yes. And she is a very sweet little girl, too. Everyone on the ranch just loves her.”

There was a beat of silence, finally broken by Lucy.

“Well, I suppose I had better get on inside.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Thanks for driving me home.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Lucy started toward the porch.

“Miss Lucy?”

Turning back toward Pearlie, Lucy had a big smile on her face. “Pearlie, don’t you think you and I are good enough friends now, for you to call me Lucy? Without the Miss?”

“Uh—yes, I think so. I just didn’t want to be too forward.”

Lucy chuckled. “Pearlie, believe me, no one could ever accuse you of being too forward,” she said.

“There’s a dance Saturday night. Actually, there’s a dance in town every Saturday night.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Will you be going?”

“Why, would you like me to go?”

“Yes. I mean, that is, if you are going anyway. I mean, if you want to go.”

“I will be there,” Lucy said, a little disappointed that he didn’t ask to escort her to the dance.

“Good, good,” Pearlie said. He touched the brim of his hat. “I’ll see you there then.”

Fontana, Colorado

Lucas Keno was at the Brown Dirt Cowboy Saloon in Fontana. It was still too early in the day for the evening trade, so there were few in the saloon. An empty beer mug and a half-full ashtray conveniently placed by the piano provided the only evidence that anyone ever played the instrument. Keno ordered a beer, then found a table and looked around.

There were two people were sitting at the table nearest the piano—a middle-aged cowboy and the only bar girl who was working at this hour. The fact that both of them had only one glass before them, and that the glass was still half-full, indicated that the bar girl either found the cowboy’s company pleasant, or had accepted the slowness of the afternoon.

There were brass spittoons conveniently spaced around the room, but despite their presence, the floor was riddled with expectorated tobacco quids and chewed cigar butts.

The other cowboys who had worked for Jensen during the roundup just passed had gone on to other jobs, and even though he had not been particularly popular with the others, a few of them had even invited Keno to come with them.

“Thanks anyway, but I got me some other plans in mind,” Keno replied.

“What plans you got?” one of the cowboys asked.

“Just plans,” Keno answered.

Keno was vague about his plans because it wouldn’t do for anyone else to know what they were. But before leaving Sugarloaf, Keno had moved fifty head of unbranded Sugarloaf cattle into a hidden box canyon and penned them up inside. His plans were to sell the cattle and get enough money to head down to Arizona or New Mexico or even Texas. It didn’t really make that much difference to him where he went, just as long as he left Colorado.

Keno was here to meet a man who was going to help him carry out those plans, and as he looked up, he saw the man he was to meet coming in through the batwing doors. Toby Jeeter was considerably older than Keno, and his hair and beard were laced with gray. He nodded at Keno, then stopped at the bar to buy a beer before he joined Keno at the table.

“I found a buyer,” Jeeter said.

“Who is it?”

“His name is C.D. Montgomery. He’s a cattle dealer from over in Wheeler.”

“Did you tell him when and where to meet me?”

“He’ll be here to talk to you this afternoon,” Jeeter replied.

“Good.”

“When do I get my money?”

“As soon as I get my money, you’ll get your thirty dollars,” Keno promised.

“You didn’t say nothin’ ’bout me havin’ to wait,” Jeeter said. “You told me to find a buyer and you would pay me.”

“How do you expect me to pay you before I sell the cows?” Keno asked.

Jeeter scratched at his beard, then pulled out a flea. He examined it for a moment, then crushed it between his fingernails. “All right, I’ll wait. But I want fifty.”

“What do you mean? Thirty dollars is a month’s wages and you didn’t do anything for the money. “

“I set up a meeting for you with a cattle buyer. That’s what you asked for.”

“All right, fifty dollars,” Keno said. “But it better pay off.”

“It will,” Jeeter said. “Montgomery buys cattle all the time.”

True to his word, Jeeter brought Montgomery to the saloon that afternoon. Montgomery was an older man, but his well-kept silver hair, clean-shaven face, and tailored clothes made him a very distinguished-looking figure.

“Keno, this here is Mr. Montgomery,” Jeeter said. “This here is Keno,” he added.

“Mr. Montgomery,” Keno said. “Have a seat.”

Taking out his handkerchief, Montgomery brushed off the chair before he sat down.

“Would you like a beer?” Keno asked.

“Thank you, no,” Montgomery replied.

“I, uh, reckon that Jeeter told you what this was all about, didn’t he?”

“He said you had some cattle for sale.”

“Yeah, I do. Fifty head. I know it ain’t all that much, but it’s all I got at the moment.”

“All right, deliver them to me at the railhead in—” Montgomery began, but Keno interrupted him.

“You’re goin’ to have to come get ’em your own self,” Keno said.

“I’m going to have to come get them? See here, that is most unusual,” Montgomery said. “Most of the time when I buy cattle, they are delivered to me.”

“Yeah, well, this ain’t most of the time,” Keno said. “And you ain’t never got no cattle this good for this cheap.”

“I don’t have any idea how cheap they are,” Montgomery said. “You haven’t mentioned a price.”

“What do you normally pay for cattle?”

“About twenty-five dollars a head,” Montgomery answered.

Keno smiled broadly. The broken and discolored teeth the smile displayed caused Montgomery to glance away in quick but repressed revulsion.

“I’ll sell ’em to you for five dollars a head.”

“Five dollars a head?” Montgomery said, reacting to the price.

“Does that sound good to you?” Keno asked.

“Yes, it sounds very good,” Montgomery replied. “But I don’t understand. Why so cheap?” Montgomery frowned. “Are these stolen cattle, Mr. Keno?”

“There ain’t a brand on a one of them,” Keno said.

“You didn’t answer my question, Mr. Keno. Are these stolen cattle?”

“Five dollars a head,” Keno said. “Do you want them or not?”

“Where are they now?”

“They are safe.”

“Five dollars a head,” Montgomery repeated. “You aren’t going to change your mind later on now, are you?”

“No, I ain’t goin’ to change my mind,” Keno said.

Montgomery was quiet for a long moment as he thought about the situation. Finally, he nodded.

“Yes, I’ll take them,” he said. “When and where do I come for them?”

“Do you know where Sugarloaf Ranch is?”

“Yes, of course I know. I don’t think there is anyone in Eagle County who doesn’t know where Sugarloaf is.”

“All right, you come out there just after noon tomorrow,” Keno said.

“Where exactly should I come?” Montgomery asked. “Sugarloaf is a big ranch. I suppose I could stop by the Big House and ask for directions.”

“No! No, don’t do that,” Keno replied quickly and earnestly. “Look, you know where Old Woman Creek goes into the canyon? It’s at the far west end of the ranch.”

“Yes, I know the place.”

“There’s a little thicket of trees there. You come to the trees, I’ll meet you there. Bring the money with you. Two hundred fifty dollars.”

“You’ll have the cattle?”

“Yeah, I’ll have them,” Keno said.

“Then I will have the money.”

“Say, Mr. Montgomery, is there any way you could maybe pay fifty dollars now?” Keno asked. “Sort of on good faith, so to speak?”

“Can you produce ten cows now on good faith?” Montgomery replied.

“No, how would I do that?”

Montgomery stood up and pushed the chair back up under the table. “Very well, then I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “Good day to you, Mr. Keno.” He looked toward Jeeter and nodded. “And to you, Mr. Jeeter,” he added.

Jeeter chuckled as Montgomery walked out of the saloon. “Did you really think he would give you fifty dollars now?” he asked. “What the hell were you thinking about?”

“I was thinking that if he would give me some of the money in advance, I would be able to pay you thirty dollars right now and save myself twenty more dollars later on,” Keno said.

“Hell, I could’a told you a man like C.D. Montgomery wouldn’t go along with nothin’ like that,” Jeeter said. “He is a very rich man. Rich men don’t do dumb things, and believe me, asking him for fifty dollars before he had ever seen so much as one cow…Yes, sir, Mr. Keno, that was one dumb thing.” Jeeter laughed out loud.

The next afternoon

When Lucas Keno saw the cattle buyer approaching, he rode out of the copse of trees and down the little hill to meet him.

“Mr. Montgomery, it’s good to see you again,” Keno said. “Do you have the money?”

“I have the money, two hundred fifty dollars. That’s what you asked for,” Montgomery said. “Where are the cattle?”

“They’re right back here in the—” Keno began, but when he turned around he saw Smoke Jensen along with Pearlie and Cal riding up behind him, having just emerged from the same copse of trees where he had been waiting for Montgomery.

“Jensen!” Keno said.

“Keno,” Smoke replied.

“Uh—Mr. Jensen, this here fella is C.D. Montgomery,” Keno said quickly. “If you want to know where some of your cows have been goin’, well, he’s been buyin’ ’em from the thieves that’s been takin’ ’em. I just smoked him out for you.”

“Did you now?” Smoke asked.

“Yes, sir, you can check him out for yourself. He’s got the money right there in his hand. Two hunnert ’n fifty dollars. That’s what I told him I wanted for the cows—just to see if he would take the bait, you see.”

“Here is your money back, Smoke,” Montgomery said, handing the money over to the ranch owner. “I appreciate the loan.”

“Thanks, C.D. I appreciate you coming to me about this,” Smoke said.

“Your money?” Keno asked, looking at the exchange. “What do you mean your money? What’s goin’ on here?”

“C.D. is a friend of mine,” Smoke said. “When you went to him with the offer to sell him fifty cows for five dollars a head, then told him to meet you on Sugarloaf, he came straight to me.”

Keno glared at Montgomery, his eyes flashing intense anger and hatred.

“Why, you sorry son of a bitch!” Keno said. He went for his gun, but before he could draw it, Pearlie moved his horse quickly toward him, and the action knocked Keno from his saddle.

Keno fell heavily alongside his horse; then started again to reach for the pistol he had just dropped. A shot sounded out and Keno’s pistol was knocked across the ground, the wood on the grip shattered by the impact of the bullet.

“Don’t push it any further,” Smoke cautioned. Smoke was holding a pistol. A small wisp of smoke curled up from the barrel.

“All right, so what are you going to do now?” Keno asked, getting up and brushing his hands together. “Are you plannin’ on takin’ me into town and throwin’ me in jail?”

“No,” Smoke said. “You didn’t do anything. You were plannin’ it, but you didn’t do it. Be on your way, Keno. And don’t bother to ever come back to Sugarloaf.”

“You don’t have to worry none about that,” Keno said. “If I don’t never see this place again, it’ll be too soon.”

Remounting his horse, Keno glared at Montgomery, Smoke, Pearlie, and Cal.

“Here, I believe this is yours,” Cal said, handing Keno’s pistol back to him. “I hope you don’t mind, I took out all the bullets.”

Continuing his hateful glare, Keno stuck the empty pistol down into his holster, then turned his horse and rode away.

The four men watched Keno for a moment to make certain he was leaving. Then Smoke turned toward Montgomery. “C.D., how about having lunch with us? I’m sure Sally can come up with something worth eating.”

Cal laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Smoke asked.

“Your sayin’ you’re sure Miss Sally can come up with somethin’ worth eatin’. That’s what’s funny,” Cal said. “Why, Miss Sally is that good a cook, she could stew a boot and it would be good.”

“A boot?” Montgomery said.

Smoke laughed. “Don’t worry, C.D. It’ll be more than a boot, I promise you.”

“It sounds good to me,” Montgomery said. “I’d love to join you.”

“Come on, Cal,” Pearlie said. “What say me and you get these cows back where they belong?”

“I’m right behind you,” Cal answered.

“More mashed potatoes, Mr. Montgomery?” Sally asked, holding up a bowl of the white, steaming viand.

“Yes, please, and a little gravy, too, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Sally said, “Sugarloaf is so far out that having a guest for a meal is actually quite a treat for us.”

“Trust me, Mrs. Jensen, with the way you cook, it’s a lot more of a treat for the guests,” Montgomery said, holding out his plate for seconds.

“Mr. Montgomery, do you know a man named Byron Davencourt?” Sally asked as she spooned the potatoes on to his plate.

Montgomery looked up in surprise. “Why, yes. As a matter of fact I do know Byron. Quite well, in fact. Why do you ask?”

“I read in the newspaper that he has signed a contract with the U.S. Army to supply beef,” Sally said.

“Well, I’ll be. So, the deal came through for him, did it?” Montgomery said. “I knew that Byron was working on it. Good for him, I’m glad he was able to pull it off.”

“The reason I’m asking is, that’s going to take a lot of beef, isn’t it? I mean for him to fulfill the contract?”

“I’ll say it’s going to take a lot,” Montgomery answered. “As a matter of fact, if there is any problem at all with the deal Byron has, it’s going to be in managing to buy enough cows to fill the contract.”

“Do you think Mr. Davencourt would be willing to pay a premium price for the beef? Say, more than you can pay right now?”

Montgomery looked up at Sally, then chuckled. “Well, now,” he said. “And here, all this time, I thought we were just having a friendly conversation. You are looking at the business side of it, aren’t you?”

“C.D., anyone who knows us knows that Sally is the one who has the business head,” Smoke offered. He cut a piece of meat and shoved it into his mouth.

“I can see that,” Montgomery replied. He smiled at Sally. “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Jensen, I expect ole Byron will have to pay a little extra in order to get all the cows he needs.”

“The paper said he’ll be shipping out of Frisco,” Sally said. “So, I expect that means that anyone who plans to do business with him would probably have to take their cows there.” Walking over to the pie saver, Sally removed an apple pie.

“I expect so,” Montgomery agreed. “Oh, my!” he said, his eyes growing large with anticipation and appreciation when he saw what Sally brought to the table. “Apple pie? I do believe I have died and gone to heaven.”

“I know that you have bought cattle from us in the past. I hope you would not be put out if we sold to Mr. Davencourt,” Sally said as she cut a particularly generous piece of pie and put it on a plate for Montgomery.

“Oh, heavens, no, Mrs. Jensen,” Montgomery said. “As I told you, Byron is a friend of mine. I want to see him succeed. Besides, I know we will do more business together.”

“Would you like a piece of cheese on top of the pie?” Sally asked.

“Oh,” Montgomery said, his eyes rolling up in bliss. “You are an angel.”

That night, as Smoke lay in bed with his hands laced behind his head, he was looking at Sally. Sally was sitting at the dresser, brushing her hair, the action lighted by a single candle. Just outside the window, rustling aspen leaves caught the moon and sent slivers of silver through the night. Some of the moonlight spilled in through the window, and it glowed silver in the folds of Sally’s silken nightgown.

“I’ll ride down to Frisco sometime next week and see this man Davencourt,” Smoke said. “If he is needing beef the way Montgomery says he is, then he’ll probably take at least fifteen hundred head.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have let all the cowboys go just yet,” Sally said as she continued to brush her hair.

“We had to let them go now,” Smoke replied. “Most of them already have other jobs lined up that they need to get to. If they didn’t get there in time, they’d lose out. Why do you think we shouldn’t have let them go?”

“If we do sell some cattle to Byron Davencourt—”

“It’s not if, it’s when,” Smoke said. “We will sell him fifteen hundred head. I’ve no doubt about that.”

“All right, let’s say we do sell him fifteen hundred head. So, the next question is, how are we going to get them over to Frisco?” Sally asked.

“Up to fifteen hundred head is no problem,” Smoke said. “Pearlie, Cal, and I can take them over.”

“Are you sure? Sally asked. “Maybe you ought to take Juan and Carlos with you.”

“No need to take Juan and Carlos away from their families. I’m sure Pearlie, Cal, and I can do it,” Smoke replied. “Now, I have a question.”

Sally turned toward him and as she did so, the silk nightgown clung to her figure, beautifully displaying every curve.

“What is your question?”

“Do you really want to talk business now? Or would you rather—” He left the question unfinished.

“Would I rather what?” Sally asked. But her flirtatious smile told Smoke that she knew exactly what he was talking about.

Returning her smile, Smoke folded the bedsheet back in invitation. “Would you rather—not talk?” he asked.

Sally leaned over the dresser, blew out the candle, then crossed the room to crawl into bed with her husband.

“Does this answer your question?” she asked.