My Foot's in the Stirrup . . . My Pony Won't Stand (Code of the West) (17 page)

“But you found out about Cabe.”

“Yeah. Now we’re trailin’ him and all the sneak thieves and rustlers of Laramie County.”

“Sort of feels like two years ago in Bisbee. Another place you and me better not visit again. Where are we headed, Tap? We goin’ to take on that whole gang?”

“Cabe left with Banner, and Banner’s runnin’ that crew of horse thieves and rustlers at Platte Crossing and up Lone Tree Canyon. I’m guessin’ Cabe and Banner made some sort of deal with the Texas herd. So if you’ve got the time, maybe we could go to North Platte Crossing and nose around . . . to scout what’s going on. Then up to Lone Tree and maybe swing out to Nebraska to find the Texas beef.”

“I’ll tell you what I want, Mr. Tapadera Andrews. I want to be part of the crew that pushes those cows back to the To
bblers in Texas.”

“Sounds good to me. I just want to make sure Banner and Cabe get stopped.”

“Who’s this Miss Selena you kept askin’ about?”

“She’s a friend of Pepper’s .
 . . no, not really a friend. She and Pepper used to work dance halls together.”

“Is she ‘pretty as a prairie on a spring day’?”

Tap chuckled. “You still usin’ that same old line?”

“It don’t ever fail.”

“She’s a pretty girl who’s had a hard life and is runnin’ with a rough crowd. If you ever get close enough, watch out for the sneak gun and the long-bladed knife.”

Lorenzo grinned. “Sounds like my kind of woman.”

“We’re goin’ after rustlers and murderers, not
señoritas
. If we let them hide in a hole with a gang to back ’em up, we aren’t goin’ to flush ’em out too easy. The quicker we catch up with them, the fewer guns they’ll have.”

“They’ve got a head start. You don’t think Cabe and Ba
nner will just be sittin’ around this Shaver’s Crossin’, do you?”

Tap slipped his rifle back into the leather scabbard. “I think Cabe and Banner will shoot each other in the back first chance they get.”

“And you want to stop them from doin’ that?”

“I want someone to pay for shootin’ Tracker in the back. And I want to make sure those Texas beef get turned around.”

“It don’t have anything to do with a little vengeance and gettin’ even for stringin’ you along?”

Tap’s only answer was a glare.

After dark they set up a cold camp on Old Woman Creek. Within minutes the mosquitoes discovered them with vicious delight. Tap led a retreat to a knoll overlooking the creek.

“We hobble the horses up here,” Odessa complained, “and them nighttime silhouettes will be mighty easy to spot.”

Tap glanced through the evening shadows back at the brush along the creek. “If we leave ’em down in the thickets, the mosquitoes or the Indians will carry them off.”

“You think there’s Indians out here? I thought they all had to be back on the reservation.”

“Leavin’ horse bait would be one way to find out.”

“You figure those two you ran off will double back for that r
eward money?”

“Not until they report to Shaver’s Crossing. But I do think we’ll need to stand guard all night.”

“You know,” Odessa continued, “there might not be anyone after us nor any Indians in these hills. . . . You think maybe we’re gettin’ a mite distrustful in our old age?”

“Nope.” Tap’s reply rang with authority. “And we aren’t old, Lorenzo.”

“Shoot, Tap, how many of the boys we used to pal with are still alive?”

“They died young, that’s all. I’ll take the first watch.”

Tap sat cross-legged in front of his saddle and stared through a darkening sky at the creek below. Soon all he could see were two shades of black and a blanket of stars. From time to time he could hear the horses whinny and shuffle their hobbled hooves.

There were no sounds of rustling wind.

No babbling brook.

No lonely coyote howl.

Nothing.

Tap calculated it must have been just past midnight when he o
bserved a light flash in the distant western hills. His head was slumped on his chest as he leaned back against his saddle. His eyes blinked open as he waited for another flash.

One, two, three vertical and two silent horizontal ones. So far away I can’t even hear the thunder.

Tap glanced up and could still see a canopy of stars.

This is crazy, Lord. I should just go home. What am I doin’ chasin’ down Cabe and Banner? I don’t know for sure who shot Tracker. I don’t know what went on back in the cedars, nor do I have any authority to do anything. Used to be I’d just trail after someone and do what I thought was right. But it always felt more like vengeance .
 . . or a grudge . . . or just a way to prove myself.

I guess I’m mainly mad. Mad at bein’ slicked. Mad at m
yself for fallin’ for that talk about runnin’ a big ranch. Mad because I can’t seem to find a peaceful job and leave my past behind.

Yep, I ought to just ride back to Pine Bluffs and forget Cabe.

That’s what I ought to do.

In a couple nights I’d be in Pepper’s arms instead of out here on the prairie.

“Is that storm headed this way?” Odessa’s low, quiet voice broke the stillness and caused Tap to slip his hand onto the trigger of his rifle.

“Looks like it’s kind of stuck on those hills.”

“Grab yourself some sleep. I’ll take a shift,” Odessa offered.

It was too warm to crawl into a bedroll, so Tap leaned his head back on his saddle and closed his eyes.

At least I can rest a bit. Won’t be able to sleep much. Too much flashin’ through my mind. Too many plans. Too many disappointments. Too many . . .

The first crash of thunder sounded like an explosion right above his head. Tap’s eyes flew open. He rolled to his hands and knees when the second blast hit. It was raining hard, and his hands and knees hit mud. The blinding light revealed sha
dowy outlines of men standing in a circle not more than twenty feet from him.

Hard men.

Angry men.

Well-armed men.

The thunder rolled again. Someone fired a shot that ripped into his left leg. A sharp pain flashed up to his hip. Tap rolled in the mud and the dark and grabbed for his Colt, but the gun was missing. When he lurched to his knees, another flash of lightning revealed the men now only a few feet away. Rain streamed down his face and soaked clear through his shirt. He fumbled for his rifle, cocked it, and fired in the dark, but it wasn’t loaded. Instead of a flash of gunfire, there were only laughs and curses.

Grasping his bullet belt, he couldn’t find any cartridges at all. He clutched the rifle by the barrel and swung it wildly at the approaching men. Someone kicked his wrist, and he dropped the rifle in the mud. The rain continued to pour. The mud oozed between his fingers. The pain in his leg made him want to scream. A thick-legged man kicked his arms out from under him, and he fell facedown in the mud. He reached out for the swinging boots, but someone jammed a boot heel in his back and a cold, wet gun barrel into his ear.

“You’re a dead man, Andrews,” a voice sneered.

The flash of lightning revealed a crowd of at least a hu
ndred angry men. He couldn’t see faces. Just boots and britches and gun barrels.

“Andrews, do you hear me?”

Tap struggled to keep his mouth out of the mud as he gasped for air.

Not here .
 . . not like this . . . I haven’t even seen the baby. Not now.
“I can’t . . .” he tried to mutter.

“Tap, Come on. Wake up.”

His eyes blinked open. A shadowy figure hovered above him. It wasn’t raining, but his shirt was wringing wet. His left leg ached, twisted under the full weight of his body. He pulled his Colt out of the holster.

“It’s me—Odessa. You’re dreamin’, partner. R
elax.”

Andrews peered through the dar
kness. "Is it rainin’?”

“Nope. Come on, put that gun back. You’re awake.”

“Lorenzo?”

“I’m here.”

“I guess I had a nightmare.”

“That’s a mild way of puttin’ it.”

“Is it still clear?”

“Yep.”

“Then let’s ride.”

“It won’t break daylight for a couple hours.”

“I’m not in the mood to sleep.”

“You ever pitched that horse at night?”

“Nope.”

“Me either. I reckon we’ll end up in the rocks or ca
ctus.”

“I’m pullin’ out for Pine Bluffs, Odessa. You can stay, go, do whatever you want.”

“Whoa, partner, what’s happenin’ here?”

“I’ve got to go check on Pepper. I’ll turn a report in on Tracker, Cabe, and Banner. The sheriff can trace it down.”

“What about that Texas herd?”

“You don’t have to go with me, but I’m leavin’. You want to chase stolen cattle, go right ahead.”

“Wait, I didn’t say I wasn’t goin’ with you. I just didn’t figure you for quitting when the trail is still hot.”

Tap stumbled to his feet and felt a deep, painful throb in his left leg. He struggled to keep from collapsing. “Maybe we’ll wait for da
ylight. Let’s fix some coffee.”

“What about the need for a cold camp?”

“I need coffee worse.”

“Yeah,” Odessa replied, “maybe you do.”

They didn’t say more than two words to each other for the next hour as they huddled around a scroungy, little fire and sipped on coffee that had been boiled in their cups.

In the colorless morning light, Tap glanced over at Odessa. His eyes were closed, his left hand holding his tin coffee cup and his right hand on the grip of his .45. “Let’s ride, partner,” Tap a
nnounced.

Odessa sat up and tossed his cold coffee on the glowing coals of the campfire. “Where we headed?”

“Shaver’s Crossing.”

“But I thought you said you were goin’ home.”

“I think my memory just slipped a cog there in the night.”

“That’s a mild way of sayin’ it.” Lorenzo laughed. “For a while I figured I was going to have to shoot you before you shot me.”

Tap left the hobbles on Roundhouse as he saddled up. “We’ve got to see if Cabe and Banner are at Shaver’s. If they aren’t, we might have to ride up Lone Tree Canyon.”

“You figure out how we’re goin’ to take on a couple dozen men?”

“Nope. Are the Texicans with the herd drovers or gunfighters?”

“I hear Tracker got rid of his gunmen when they crossed into Colorado. Except for a couple of malo hombres, I hear he’s got mainly a cowboy crew.”

“Then all Banner has to do is ride over to that herd and jump the cowboys.”

“Or pay them off. We need a better plan than we had at Runnin’ Water.”

“How did I know some drunken gambler was goin’ to take potshots at you?”

“I did like the way you got that man Owen to break my pony for me. Don’t suppose he’d do that ever’ time I mount, do you?”

Tap shook his head and laughed. “I don’t know what’s more stupid—you and that roan, or me and this gray.”

“We’re both so bullheaded no decent horse would put up with us.”

An hour before daylight they reached the North Platte. The horses had protested the night ride, but both men managed to stay in the saddles. They made camp in the brush after they swam the horses across the river. A small fire dried their clothing. After a rest Tap and Lorenzo rode east until they could see Shaver’s saloon/general store. There were no lights. Three horses stood asleep in the corral, but Tap couldn’t make out much in the shadows.

“All right, Mr. Tapadera, what’s the plan?”

“I go in the front door, and you in the back.”

“That’s a great plan. We tried that last time, r
emember?” “Then reverse it. I'll go in the back door. You in the front.”

“Now that’s a good plan.”

“You promise not to shoot anyone before I get in the building?”

“You promise not to dally around visitin’ with the neighbors this time?” Odessa challenged.

“I’ll be there. Only thing that bothers me, there’s not many horses in that corral.”

“You think they all left?”

“Maybe, but they might have left a few.”

“What if the doors are braced?”

“You too old and feeble to bust down a door?”

“Nope. I just don’t want no surprises.”

A bullet ripped bark from the cottonwood next to Tap. When they heard the report, smoke rose from the gun barrel pointed at them from the front door. Both men dove behind the trees.

“You’re right, partner. Don’t worry about the front door. It’s open.” Odessa fired one shot into the thick wooden door and crouched back down.

“Which one of us was goin’ to take the front door?” Tap joshed. “Take the bottom hinge. I’ll take the top.”

Both men fired off three quick shots. The big, thick wooden door tumbled off its hinges and into the store.