Читать книгу Snake River Slaughter - William W. Johnstone - Страница 9

A colt whinnied anxiously and a horse responded with a whicker. An owl hooted, while the night insects filled the air with their songs. There was no moon, but the night was alive with stars—from the brightest orbs in the heavens, all the way down to those stars which weren’t visible as individual bodies at all, but whose distant presence added to the ambient glow in the velvet vault of sky.

Three young men rode around the milling shapes and shadows that made up the herd. It had been a week now since the seventy-five horses were stolen, and since that time, Tyrone had put out riders every night to keep watch over the horses. Though it would have been more efficient for them to separate, the boring aspects of the task caused the three nighthawks to ride together so they could visit. Prew was one of the riders, and he and another rider were teasing the youngest one.

“What do you mean? Are you trying to tell me you’ve never been with a woman?” Prew asked the youngest one.

The youngest cowboy, whose name was Hank, cleared his throat in embarrassment. “I ain’t never thought I was old enough. And comin’ from the orphanage like I done, I ain’t never really had the opportunity to be with no woman.”

“Hell, you don’t need no opportunity. All you got to do is go into town and visit Flat Nose Sue,” Prew said.

“Yeah,” the other added. He laughed. “And bein’ as you ain’t never been with a woman before, that makes you lucky.”

“How does it make me lucky?”

“Tell him, Prew. How does it make him lucky?”

Prew laughed. “You the one that brought it up, Timmy. You tell him.”

“All right,” Timmy said. “Here’s why it makes you lucky. If you go into Flat Nose Sue’s place and tell her you’re a virgin, why, she’s such a big hearted woman that on your first time, she will let you do it for free.”

“I ain’t no virgin,” Hank insisted.

“What do you mean you ain’t no virgin?” Timmy asked. “You just said you ain’t never been with a woman before.”

“I ain’t never been with no woman before, but that don’t make me a virgin.”

“Sure it does. If you ain’t never been with a woman before, then you are a virgin.”

“Virgins is women, ain’t they?” Hank asked.

Prew and Timmy laughed. “It ain’t only women that’s virgins. A woman that ain’t never had a man is a virgin, yeah, but a man that ain’t never had a woman, why, he is a virgin too.”

“Are you sure about that? I ain’t never heard of no man virgin.”

“And you know all about such things do you?” Timmy asked. “I mean, bein’ as you are so experienced and all.”

“No, I don’t really. I just thought—that is—I didn’t know that men could be virgins too. All right, if that is the case then I guess I am a virgin.”

“So, like I said, all you got to do is, you go into Flat Nose Sue’s place and tell her you’re a virgin.”

“Then what?” Hank asked.

“Then, you don’t have to do nothing. Flat Nose Sue will take care of that little situation for you,” Timmy said. “Right, Prew?”

“Right.”

“For sure?” Hank asked.

“For sure,” Timmy answered. He laughed. “Flat Nose Sue, she’s the oldest one there and she runs the place. So she’ll break you in her ownself.”

“Break me in her ownself? Wait, what do you mean? Are you saying I’d have to uh—do it—with Flat Nose Sue?” Hank asked in a voice that reflected the unattractiveness of the offer. “Didn’t you say she’s the oldest one there?”

“That she is. How old you reckon she is, Prew? Fifty. Sixty, maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe sixty,” Prew answered. “I don’t think she’s any older than than sixty, maybe sixty-five. And if she is any older than that, then it ain’t by all that much.”

“But I’m only sixteen. I don’t want to do it with someone who is sixty, or maybe sixty-five years old. Couldn’t I do it with one of the younger ones?” Hank pleaded.

“You don’t want a young one for your first time,” Prew said. “You want someone who knows what to do so they can break you in proper. Besides, why are you askin’ that? You wouldn’t turn her down, would you? That would hurt her feelings. You sure don’t want to hurt Flat Nose Sue’s feelin’s because if you do that, why, you’ll piss off all the women that’s in the whore house, and they won’t none of ’em have anything to do with any of us anymore. Is that what you want to do?”

“No, I guess not,” Hank replied plaintively. “If she says I’ve got to do it with her, why, I reckon I will. Why do they call her Flat Nose Sue?”

Timmy and Prew both laughed.

“That’s right, you ain’t never seen her, have you?” Prew asked.

“No. I told you, I ain’t never been to no whore house nowhere before.”

“Well, sir, they call her Flat Nose Sue ’cause she’s done got her nose broke so many times by drunk cowboys and the like, that when you look at her sideways, it purt’ nigh looks like she don’t have no nose at all,” Prew explained.

“Oh,” Hank said, even more dispirited than before.

“But she don’t look all that bad when you are lookin’ at her from the front,” Timmy said. “’Ceptin’ for how old she is,” he added.

“Tell you what,” Prew said. “Why don’t we all go into town first thing in the mornin’ after we get off work? Seein’ as we’re goin’ to be ridin’ herd all night, it’ll be early in the mornin’ and there won’t hardly be nobody else there. We can have our pick.”

“Except for Hank,” Timmy said. “He don’t get his pick, ’cause he’ll have to lay with Big Nose Sue.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be free,” Prew said.

“You lucky dog,” Timmy said, reaching over and striking Hank playfully on the shoulder. “You’re goin’ to get it for free.”

“Yeah, I’m just real lucky,” Hank said without enthusiasm.

The colt whinnied again.

“Sounds like one of the colts might have got somewhere it shouldn’t be,” Hank said. “I’ll go take a look.”

Prew waited until Hank rode out into the darkness, then he laughed.

“We got that boy so up tight that right now you couldn’t drive a straw up his ass with a ten pound sledge hammer,” Prew said.

Timmy laughed, then asked, “You sure Flat Nose Sue will go along with it?”

“She said she would,” Prew answered. “This is going to be funnier than all hell.”

“Yeah, I reckon so. But it’s sort of a dirty trick when you think about it. Lord I hate to think of breakin’ him in with Flat Nose Sue. I mean, she could turn a fella off women for life,” Timmy said.

“She ain’t really all that bad,” Prew said.

“How do you know?” Timmy asked. Then he laughed out loud. “I’ll be damn. You’ve had her, ain’t you?” He laughed and slapped his hand against his leg. “I can’t believe you’ve actually had her. Does Jenny know that?”

“What’s Jenny got to do with it?”

“I thought you was kind of sweet on her. You always hangin’ out with her at the Sand Spur.”

“She’s s’posed to hang out with me. That’s her job.”

“It’s the job of all the girls in the Sand Spur, but she’s near ’bout the onliest one I ever see you with.”

“Maybe you got it backward,” Prew teased. “Maybe she’s sweet on me.”

“Ha! I can see that,” Timmy said.

Suddenly, their banter was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot coming from the darkness.

“What the hell is Hank shootin’ at?” Prew asked.

“I don’t know,” Timmy answered.

“Hank? Hank, what is it you are shootin’ at? A cougar?” Prew called out.

“Hank? Where you at?” Timmy called. “What the hell? Where’s Hank? How come he ain’t answerin’ us?” Timmy asked.

“Maybe we’d better go see what’s goin’ on,” Prew replied.

Timmy and Prew were both wearing guns, and though sometimes in town they liked to wear them low and kicked out in the way of a gunfighter, neither of them had ever done anything but take a few pot shots at a rabbit now and then. Nevertheless, both men drew their pistols, then rode out into the darkness to check on Hank.

Before they had gone too far, gunshots erupted in the night, the herd of horses illuminated by the muzzle flashes.

“Rustlers!” Timmy shouted.

“Let’s get out of here!” Prew said.

Firing their own pistols, even though they had no target, the two young men tried to run, but within less than a minute, both had been shot from their saddles, and once again, the night was still.

Sitting quietly in his saddle after having dispatched a few other riders to take care of business, Poke Terrell saw one of those riders, Sam Logan, appear from the darkness.

“What was the shooting?” Poke asked.

“It was just like you said. She’s got night riders out watchin’ over her herd.”

“How many of ’em was there?” Poke asked.

“They was three, but we took care of all of ’em.”

“Good. Now, round up seventy-five horses, and let’s get out of here.”

“Say Poke, I heard that these here horses is worth a hunnert dollars apiece,” Logan said. “How come we only been getting’ twenty-five dollars apiece for ’em?”

“Because to us, twenty-five dollars apiece is all they are worth.”

“Why is that?”

“This here is the only horse ranch in the county. You want to take ’em in Medbury to sell, do you? Or maybe to Glen’s Ferry or King Hill?”

“No. More’n likely the horses would be recognized there.”

“Then don’t you think it would be better to sell them to someone who will give us twenty-five dollars a horse and not ask questions? Poke asked.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Logan said.

“Maybe you aren’t as dumb as I thought.”

Out in the dark, Jason Prewitt crawled on his stomach until he reached Timmy.

“Timmy! Timmy!” he said, whispering as he shook the body. He was afraid to speak any louder because he was afraid he would be heard.

Helplessly, Prew lay in the dark and watched the rustlers round up the horses, then take them away.

“Son of a bitch,” he said to himself. “That’s Poke Terrell.” Prew reached for his pistol, but his holster was empty. He had lost his gun somewhere in the dark.

Not until they were gone did he get up. Favoring the wound in his shoulder, he found his horse, and rode back to the big house to report the robbery.

Mrs. Wellington wasn’t going to like this. She wasn’t going to like it at all. The only reason there were nighthawks out at all was to prevent just such a thing from happening. At least, that’s what they were supposed to do. But they failed.

The next day

“I arranged for Timmy’s body to be sent back to Missouri where his family is. He’ll be goin’ out on tomorrow’s train,” Tyrone Canfield told Kitty. Tyrone Canfield had been foreman of Coventry on the Snake for eighteen years, long before Kitty had married Sir Thomas Wellington. Thomas died three years earlier, but, at Kitty’s request, Tyrone had stayed on as her ranch foreman.

“What about Hank?” Kitty asked.

“Hank, being raised in an orphanage and all, I done like you said,” Tyrone replied. “I made arrangements to bury him in the cemetery in town.”

“Not in Potter’s Corner?”

“No, ma’am, he’ll have him a spot right in the middle of the cemetery.”

“Good.”

“You’re a fine woman, Mrs. Wellington. You’ve always had a soft spot in your heart for orphans.”

“Yes, I have,” Kitty said, without further explanation.

“How is Prew?” Tyrone asked. “The doctor was just comin’ out when I left to go into town.”

“The wound was in his shoulder and the doctor got the bullet out. He said Prew will be all right if the wound doesn’t fester,” Kitty said.

“We lost another seventy-five horses,” Tyrone said with an expression of frustration in his voice. “Prew saw them this time, and he said he was sure that the leader of the bunch was Poke Terrell. I told that to the sheriff but he won’t do anything about it.”

“Who is Poke Terrell? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of him,” Kitty said.

“No, he is not the kind of person you would likely meet,” Tyrone said. “He is a scoundrel who hangs out in the Sand Spur Saloon. They say he used to belong to the Idaho Auxiliary Peace Officers’ Posse. If so, that doesn’t speak very well for him or the posse.”

“Does Marshal Sparks know that Terrell is the one who has been stealing my horses?”

“I told him that Prew said he saw him.”

“Is the marshal going to arrest Terrell?”

Tyrone shook his head. “No ma’am. For one thing, he says that an identification, made in the dark, wouldn’t hold up. To tell the truth, Mrs. Wellington, I think the marshal would like to do something about it, but it is just too overwhelming for him.”

“If you ask me, the whole thing is just too overwhelming, not just for Marshal Sparks, but for all concerned,” another man said, coming into the room then. “I have told Kitty that the best thing she can do is sell all the horses off, now. In fact, I think she should sell the land too.”

“Hello, Mr. Kincaid,” Tyrone said.

“Tyrone,” Marcus Kincaid replied with a nod.

“Sell the land to who, Marcus?” Kitty asked. “To you?”

“If you would like to sell it to me, I would be happy to buy it,” Kincaid replied. “After all, it was my land long before it was ever yours.”

“It was never your land,” Kitty said with the long suffering sigh of someone who had been through this argument many times before. “It was Tommy’s land, to do with as he saw fit, and he saw fit to leave it to me.”

“He left the land to you after only one year of marriage,” Kincaid replied. “He was you husband for one year, he was my stepfather for twelve years.”

“He was never your stepfather.”

“He was my stepfather in all but name.”

“I will admit that after he married your mother, he treated you as his own son, but he never adopted you. Anyway, why are you complaining? It isn’t as if he abandoned you. Even before he died, he divided all of his holdings in two, and gave you half.”

“Yes, including all his money in England which he gave half to me, and half to you,” Kincaid said. “That would have been over half a million dollars for each of us. But the family back in England has prevented either one of us from collecting our rightful inheritance.”

“Then your anger should be with those in England, not with me.”

Kincaid held up his hand. “Kitty, Kitty, I don’t want to fight. We’re on the same side here. I just heard that you had another episode of rustling, and I came out to see how you are doing. And to be honest, I am also suggesting that you may have taken a bigger bite than you can swallow.”

“So you are willing to come to my rescue, right, Marcus?”

“In a matter of speaking. Just think about it, Kitty. If you sold everything to me, just the land mind you, I’m not interested in the house, you can keep the house, why, you would have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your life.” Kincaid chuckled. “That would show the Wellingtons back in England that neither one of us need them.”

“And you would do what? Get rid of the horses and raise cattle?”

“You have to admit, that raising cattle is a lot more practical,” Kincaid said.

“I appreciate the offer, Marcus, I really do,” Kitty said. “But raising horses was a dream that Tommy and I had together. If I don’t follow through with it, I would feel as if I had let him down.”

“I’ve only got one more thing to say,” Kincaid said. “I happen to know that you have a considerable loan against this place. I am sure that you know that if you can’t pay off the loan, you are going to be faced with losing everything. And I’ll tell you the truth, Kitty, I don’t see any way on earth you are going to be able to pay that loan.”

“I have no intention of defaulting on the loan. I will pay it.”

“How?”

“I’ll pay it,” Kitty said.

“By July fourth? That is when your loan is due, isn’t it? July fourth?”

“Yes.”

“That’s just over a month from now.”

“What if I am a few days late with my payment? It isn’t going to make that much difference,” Kitty said.

“What makes you think that?”

“Think about it, Marcus. The bank wants the money I owe them. They don’t want the ranch. Anyway there’s no problem. I have a contract to sell some horses in Chicago. Once I deliver those horses I will have more than enough money to pay off the loan, and I’ll have the property, and the horses, free and clear.”

“You have a contract to sell horses in Chicago?”

“Yes.”

“But even so, how many horses can you sell in Chicago?”

“My contract calls for five hundred.”

“Five hundred? That’s a lot of horses. Who would buy five hundred horses?”

“The U.S. Army,” Kitty replied with a satisfied smile. “So you see, Marcus, there is no problem. I will get the bank paid off.”

“In time?”

“Yes, in time. That is, assuming I have no problems in getting the horses to Chicago.”

“Ahh, well, therein is the rub. Kitty, I don’t want to be the naysayer here, but just what makes you think you are going to be able to get your horses to Chicago? You haven’t even been able to protect them when they are on your own property.”

Kitty walked over to a table and picked up a copy of The Boise Statesman. “Did you read this article?” she asked, showing the paper to Kincaid, and pointing to the article in question.

“About the shootout over in Wyoming? Yes, I read it. What about it?”

“Read the last sentence,” Kitty said. “The one that says Matt Jensen is a friend of what is right, and a foe of those who would visit their evil deeds upon innocent people.”

Kincaid read the sentence, then he laughed out loud.

“What is so funny?” Kitty asked.

“Do you really think Matt Jensen, this—hero—will come to your rescue, wearing shining armor and riding on a white horse?” Kincaid asked.

“Well, not the shining armor, and maybe not even the white horse. But yes, I really think he will come to help me.”

“What makes you think that he save the day?”

“Because he is Matt Jensen,” Kitty replied.

Marcus Kincaid left the house then, laughing out loud at Kitty’s innocent naïveté about someone she had only read about in the newspaper.