The Sacketts - Lonely On The Mountain Part 15

"Where's Tyrel? Where's Orrin? Those boys are somewhere, and if they're alive, they'll have some stock. I'd bet on it."

"Orrin now, he's turned lawyer, but he can still read more'n law books. He can read sign. He's comin' along a trail where he knows we're supposed to be. He's going to be lookin' for sign, and he will learn as much from what he doesn't see as what he does. If he doesn't find cattle sign where he expects to find it, he will start hunting for it."

"Orrin's a good hand on a trail, and he will know as much of what happened as if we'd left a written-out guide for him."

"What we've got to study on is what's wrong at the other end? What happened to Logan? Why can't he help himself? Who's threatening to hang him? What's he need the cattle for?"

"Seems plain enough," Cap said. "If he can't help himself, he must be sick, hurt, or in jail. Knowin' something of Logan, I'd say he's in jail. He's too mean and tough to be hurt."

"You may be right. Some of those Clinch Mountain boys are rough. Nice folks, but don't start nothing unless you want trouble."

"What's he need the cattle for?"

"G.o.d only knows! The folks up there need them for beef, that's plain enough. They've probably hunted the country until all the game's been killed off or fled, and minin' men have to eat."

"You thought about gettin' cattle in over the trails?" Cap asked. "You an' me, we've covered some rough country, but mostly we just walked or rode over it. We never tried to move no cattle along those trails."

"There's trails up yonder where if a man makes a misstep, he can fall for half a mile. Same thing goes for a cow."

We were in the sand hills now, and water was scarce. Somewhere ahead of us was the elbow of the Saskatchewan or what the Indians called "The River That Turns." The cattle began to labor to get through the sand; at times, some of them stopped, ready to give up. We found no water, and the heat was almost unbearable.

Cap came to me, mopping his brow. "We got to find water, Tell. We've got too few horses, and they're about played out. On a drive like this, we should have three or four horses per man, at least."

"I wish we had them."

All day they struggled through the sand hills, and only as dark was closing in did they find a small lake that was not brackish. Many of the cattle walked belly deep in the water to drink.

Lin had a fire going when they bunched the cattle on a nearby flat. Leaving Cap and Brandy with the cattle, I headed in for camp with Gilcrist riding along. The boys had done a great job with the cattle, and they deserved credit. Even Gilcrist had done his part, and I said so.

He glanced at me. "Didn't know you noticed."

"I don't miss much," I said. "You did your share."

"You've got some good hands."

"Cap's worth two of any of the rest of us. He's forgotten more than the rest of us will ever know."

They were pulling up at camp, and as I swung down, Gilcrist asked, "You serious about goin' all the way through?"

"Never more serious."

"You'll never make it, Sackett. n.o.body's ever taken cattle into that country. n.o.body can."

A moment there, I stopped, my hands on the saddle, and I looked across it at him. "There's some folks who hope we won't make it, and they want to keep us from making it, but they don't know what they're up against."

"Maybe you don't."

"We had a run-in with some of that outfit. Let me tell you something, Gilcrist. If they want to stop us, they ought to stop sending a bunch of tenderfeet to do it. Just because a man can shoot, it doesn't turn him into a fightin' man. If we had started to fight back, there wouldn't be a man of that bunch alive. It scares me to think what would happen if that bunch of thugs happened to run into a war party of Blackfeet!"

Gilcrist dismounted. He started to speak, then changed his mind. Walking along, I picked up sticks for the fire, then walked around gathering what fuel I could.

Lin glanced at me when I dropped the fuel. "The Indian boy came in. He says there is somebody following us. A big outfit."

Lin was picking up the western lingo. He started slicing meat into a pan for frying, and he said, "The Indians had not seen the outfit, just heard them and seen their dust."

"Dust?"

"A lot of it."

Gilcrist came in and sat down. "You say somebody was coming?"

"Indians," I told him. "Somebody saw some Indians."

I surely wasn't lying about that. How much he'd heard, I didn't know. Soon the boys started coming in.

Gilcrist was looking across the fire at me. "I'd no idea you were the Sackett who rode with the Sixth. They used to say you were good with a gun."

"You hear all sorts of stories."

Cap spat into the fire. "Them ain't stories. You can take it from me, Gil, an' I've seen 'em all! There ain't anybody who is any better!"

Gilcrist started to speak, stopped, then said, "You ain't seen 'em all. You ain't seen me."

"I hope I never do," Cap said dryly.

Gilcrist stared at him. "I don't know how to take that."

Cap smiled. "I just hate to see a man get killed," he said. "You or anybody else."

"I ain't goin' to get killed."

Cap smiled again. "I helped bury twenty men who thought the same thing."

It was a quiet night We ate and turned in, all of us dog tired. The stars were out, bright as lanterns in the sky, but n.o.body stayed awake long. Those days, when a man works from can see to can't see, he just naturally pa.s.ses out when he hits the bed. It was long days of hard work and no chance for daydreaming when the cattle were dry and wanting water.

Only Cap and me, we set late by the fire. I was thinking of what was to come. As for him, I didn't know what he was thinking about. Or didn't until he said, "You want me to ride back and see who that is? It may be trouble."

"Not you. Anybody but you. A body can always find another cowhand but a good cook? No way you can find another cook without a miracle."

There was a-plenty to consider. We were down to our last coffee, and as for other grub, we'd been making do on what we could rustle for days. Looked to me like we would have to strike north for Fort Carlton and lay in a stock of grub. It was going to throw us back, but I saw no way out of it.

Carlton was due north. Thinking of that, I wondered, but not aloud, about trying to go west from there. Traveling in strange country like this, where I knew nothing of the rivers. If there was a practical route west from Fort Carlton, we might lose no time at all.

"All right," I said to Cap, 'we'll swing north."

"You want I should have a look at who that is comin' up the line?"

'I'll go."

"You're tired, man. You need rest."

"Why, you old buffalo chaser, you say I'm tired? What about you?"

"You lose me, you ain't lost much'. You get lost, and we're all up the creek."

Well, I got up and roped me a horse. "Stand by for trouble, Cap," I told him. "I think we've got it coming."

With that I rode off west. It was dark when I started, but that was a good night horse I had between my knees, and we found a trail that left the creek and went up on the bluffs. Off to the east, I spotted a campfire.

Down a trail through the forest, winding down where darkness was, winding among the silent trees. Only the hoof falls of my horse, only the soft whispering of night creatures moving. Now I was riding where danger might be. I was riding where a man's life might hang in the wind, ready to be blown away by the slightest chance, yet I will not lie and say I did not like it.

That horse was easy in the night, moving like a cat on dainty feet. He knew we were riding into something, he knew there might be the smell of gunpowder, but he liked it, too. You could sense it in the way he moved. A man riding the same horse a lot comes to know his feelings and ways, for no two are alike, and I was one to make companions of my horses, and they seemed to understand. They knew we were in this together.

Time and again, I drew up to listen. A man can't ride careless into wild country. The banks of the river had an easier slope below the elbow, and some gra.s.sy tongues of land pushed into the river. There was a rustling of water along the banks and a dampness in the air near the river. My horse p.r.i.c.ked his ears, and we walked slowly forward. I heard no unnatural sound, smelled nothing until I caught a faint smell of wood smoke, and then a moment later an animal smell.

Cattle! I drew up again. There was much brush, almost as high as my head, but scattered. Suddenly, sensing something near, I drew rein again.

There were cattle near, and a large herd. I could smell them and hear the faint sounds a herd will make at night, the soft moanings, s.h.i.+ftings, click of horn against horn when lying close, and the gruntings as one rose to stretch.

Well, right then I had me a healthy hunch, but what I wanted was to locate the fire. I reined my horse over and rode him around a bush, speaking softly so's not to startle the cattle, which, after all, were longhorns and wild animals by anybody's figuring.

The fire was off across the herd, and I glimpsed a faint glow on the side of some leaves over yonder, on a tree trunk. So I let my horse fall into the rhythm of walking around the herd, just as if we were riding night herd ourselves, which we'd done often enough.

From the way my horse acted, I didn't figure these were strange cattle, so when I saw the fire ahead, I rode over and let my horse walk up quiet.

Tyrel, he was a-settin' by the fire, and he never even raised up his head. He just said, "Get down, Tell, we've been a-missin' you."

So I got down and shook his hand, and we Sacketts was together again.

Chapter XIX.

"You got yourself some cows," I said.

"Seems as though. We've had some losses. Right now we're a few shy of having nine hundred head. We lost cattle in the stampede, and we lost a few head in the sand hills. All of them are worn down and beat."

"We've got thirty-two head, last count," I told him. Then I asked, "How you fixed for grub?"

"A-plenty. Orrin came along with his carts. Trouble was we under-guessetimated the size of the carts and the appet.i.tes of the boys. We'd about decided to go into Fort Carlton to take on more grub."

"Suits me. We've been wishful for coffee the last couple of days, and as for grab, we've been fixin' to chaw rawhide."

"Come daylight," Tyrel said, "we'll move the herd on some fresh gra.s.s and go into camp. Give you boys a chance to catch up on your eating."

"How you fixed on ammunition? We've been ridin' scared of a fight."

"We've enough."

The coffee tasted good. We sat by the fire, comparing what had happened to each of us, and we studied some about what Logan's trouble could be.

"Whoever it is that wants our hides," Tyrel said, "is from below the border. At least, those I've talked to. Looks to me like ol' Logan stumbled into something and he's thrown or is about to throw some trouble their way."

When I finished my coffee, I went to my horse and mounted up. We'd picked a place for meeting that he'd scouted the day before, and I rode back to our camp.

Brandy was standing guard, and I told him of the morning move. "All quiet here," he said. Then he said, "Mr. Sackett? I ain't been punchin' cows long, but there's something that puzzles me. Most of what we've got here are steers, so why do you call them cows?"

"Just a manner of speaking, Brandy. Lots of places you never hear cattle called anything else but cows."

Well, I went in and bedded down, resting easy for the first time in days. Tyrel and Orrin were alive and close by, and tomorrow we'd join up with them. Most of my years I'd lived alone and rode alone; even when I was with other folks, I was usually a man alone. Now my brothers were close by, and it was a comfort.

They'd come a long way. Tyrel had married well and had him a nice ranch.

Orrin's marriage hadn't worked out, but he had studied law, been admitted to the bar, and had been making a name for himself in politics. He was the best educated of us all, and he'd never let up on learning.

We bunched our cattle on a flat among some low hills, and our boys all got together. I noticed Gilcrist had headed for the Ox as soon as the two outfits stopped, and they had them a long talk. Fleming rode nearby a couple of times but did not stop, yet I had an idea they spoke to him.

We started on at daybreak and pushed the cattle at their usual gait For the first couple of hours, we let them take their time, kind of spread out and grazing; then we moved them along at a steady gait until noontime.

We rested them at noon while we took our turn at coffee and some beef; then we started again with two to three hours of grazing and two to three hours of steady travel until we bedded them down. Driving that way was good for twelve miles a day or better, and we could still keep them in good shape. Naturally, we varied the drives and the grazing in relation to the gra.s.s and water.

Me, I was worried. It was unlikely whoever wanted us stopped was going to give up, and the chances were we'd find some tougher men next time.

Also, the country ahead, according to old Baptiste, who had covered it, was rougher and wilder. So far, we had seen few Indians and had no trouble since our meeting with High-Backed Bull, far away in Dakota.

Yet Indians know no borders and roamed where they would, although each tribe had an area it conceived as its own hunting grounds until pushed out by some stronger tribe.

Fort Carlton, or as some termed it, Carlton House, was several days to the north. Leaving there, we must strike westward for the mountains, moving as rapidly as possible considering the condition of the cattle. All this had once been known as Prince Rupert's Land, a vast and beautiful area now in dispute because of Louis Riel's move to set up a provisional government.

We knew little or nothing of the dispute, having learned but the barest details, and had no wish to become involved in something that was clearly none of our business. We had heard there were a few Americans, and no doubt some Canadians as well, hungry for land for themselves or land to sell, who hoped to somehow profit from depriving the mtis of their lands.

Lin was now the cook, and Baptiste handled the carts and helped with the cooking.

"Have care!" he warned me. "Blackfeet and Cree are fighting, and this is the way they come! They will steal your horses!"

It was a good warning, and we took care, for we had too few horses as it was. We hoped to get more at Carlton, but Baptiste shook his head to indicate doubt.

"Few horse! Many no good!" He paused a minute, then glanced at me. "You ride ver' good. There is a place where some wild horses run, but grizzly bear, too! Much big grizzly! Ver' mean! A place called Bad Hills!"

Day by day, we edged farther north, the length of our drives depending on the gra.s.s. In some places, rains had fallen, and the gra.s.s grew tall, but we found stretches where gra.s.s was poor and water hard to find. There were salt swamps and bare, dry hills. Buffalo we saw in plenty, and there was no question about meat. We found buffalo and occasionally a deer or bighorn sheep.

There were wolves always. They clung to our drive, watching for the chance to pull down any straggler, and several times they succeeded. One of the younger steers went into a swamp to test the water a" it was salt a" and became mired. Before its frightened bawling could bring us to help, the wolves were upon it.

Tyrel heard and came in at a dead run. His first shot caught one wolf atop the luckless steer and another fled, yelping wildly and dragging its hind quarters. We were too late to help the steer, and Cap put it out of its misery with a bullet.