Driftin' (Shad Cain Book 3) Read online

  About an hour after the wagons had come in, a pair of Chinamen came out of the house carrying a couple of large pails each. Lot of folks hire Chinamen for cooks, so that didn’t seem too far out of line, since an outfit this big could use two cooks. The two Chinese came out a half hour later and their buckets seemed empty from the way they were swinging them.

  What on earth they were doing in the barn was a mystery to me. My first thought, was that they had been feeding hogs. But why did it take so long to do that? And why on earth would anyone keep hogs in a nice big barn like that one. You tend to want to keep hogs away from the house and downwind… or at least I would.

  I sat there pondering on those wagons and those two Chinese cooks for the rest of the afternoon and on into evening. There wasn’t much movement going on in the ranch yard. Occasionally someone would come out of the bunkhouse and go into the house or a pair of riders would come in and unsaddle. It was getting a might boring.

  It was getting near on to dark; the dinner bell had rung, them that were there had gone in for supper. Then one by one, they’d gone back to the bunkhouse to play cards or whatever way they spent their idle time. I was about to get up and go put my horse on fresh grass, when the cooks came out the back door again.

  Again, they were carrying two buckets each, and again they went into the big barn. The sun was gone and they hadn’t come out, so I went ahead and moved Bud’s picket pin. When I got back there was a glow from a single lantern in the barn, but the rest of it was dark. Soon the lantern came out, with what I figured to be those two Chinamen.

  Dog had returned with evidence of having his supper, much to the dismay of some forest creature. So I chewed on my Jerky and dried apples washing it all down with lukewarm water from my canteen. Coffee would have been my preference, but a fire was out of the question. Finally, I rolled up in my blanket and went to sleep.

  It was much later when Dog nudged me awake. It didn’t take more than a touch to get me out of it. A man living by his wits in the wild never sleeps like he would with a good woman beside him in a big feather bed. A mountain man who could sleep like that, would find himself taking a long long sleep, which he wouldn’t ever wake up from. Comfort, is one of the many things you give up when you take up a life in wild country.

  Getting my eyes focused I could see that it was still in the small numbered hours… maybe two or three o’clock. Within a second or two my left hand was wrapped around my six-gun, and then I listened. What I heard was far down below.

  Those wagons or some wagons were on the move. I could hear the jangle of trace chains, wood creaking, mules complaining, and iron tired wheels grinding over rock and gravel. Looking down below, I could see, by the light of a quarter moon, the tops of the wagons shaking back and forth over the rough ground. A few lanterns were in attendance to see them on their way. Soon the lanterns moved off in the direction of the bunkhouse, and the wagons were swallowed up by the dark.

  Peculiar…

  Chapter 7

  Early the following morning, I saddled up and rode back to the Bell M ranch, or the Bellem as it was known. His brand was in the shape of a bell with a big M in the middle of it. Max always did have a bit of flair. It was different and not likely to be altered. I guess those are things a cattleman has to think on.

  I wanted to get his take on those wagons, and let him know what I’d seen. One would almost think they were hauling folks around in those wagons, but why? And why would they be so secretive about it. Glazer was making no secret about him hiring a bunch of hired guns. In fact he was pretty much open and above board about it. It was like he was challenging someone to make an issue of it.

  So far, the folks in this stretch of the valley were biting their tongues and not provoking any trouble. They seem to be acting like if you ignore the problem, it will go away. Bell knew better, and surely knew that kind of thinking seldom worked. A body sooner or later has to stand and face the problem or pack up and move out. The trouble with moving out is, the problem doesn’t get solved, and there’ generally another problem waiting for you down the road… and on… and on.

  It was in my nature to not go looking for trouble, but not to look away when I saw it in my path. Nor was it in me to let that trouble run smack into them who couldn’t defend themselves whether I liked ‘em or not. But if they happened to be a friend, then trouble had just better look out.

  By mid afternoon, I was back at the ranch and had my feet under Dori’s table shortly after that. As pretty as she was, the woman could sure cook up a pile of grub a man could dig into.

  Dori sat down with us when we went to talking things over, which didn’t bother me in the least. And I didn’t think Max had any problem with it either. I was never one to keep things from a woman for fear of upsetting her. That may be the case in some high society places, but not on the ragged edge of the continent. The women out here were frontier women. Many had come across the mountains in wagons. They’d seen death along the way. They may have lost children or a good friend to arrows or fever or thirst. Dori had been raised on a Texas panhandle within a few miles of the Injun Nations. And I’d bet that Miss Dee Wells was as tough as any man in this valley… she’s had to be.

  I poured out the story of what I’d seen and what I hadn’t seen. Those wagons bothered me more than anything and I think Bell felt the same way.

  “I can’t get over the feelin’ that those wagons were full of people… People that they didn’t want anybody to see, but why not? Why would they make it such a big secret…? The man’s openly hiring gunfighters and back shooters, why would he be so skittish about this bunch?”

  “When I realized the only thing those wagons were fit for was haulin’ people, the first thing that came to mind was… women. Beggin’ your pardon, Dori, but it’s the kinda thing a big tough outfit like that is likely to do.”

  “Don’t fret on my account, Cain… I’m a big girl; I know what the world is like. That would be the first thing I’d have thought of. What makes you think it isn’t what was happening?”

  “Well mostly because there never were more than a half a dozen men there for the whole time the wagons were in the barn… and the wagons left shortly after midnight. The only ones I saw goin’ out there were the Chinese cooks.” I told her.

  “Now those wagons can’t go anywhere in this country without leavin’ a trail. And I intend to follow it and see what that bunch is really up to… right now, they’re biding their time. I have a notion they’re gettin’ set to move.”

  “The Adams ranch is the closest one to the Glazer spread,” Max said, kinda thinking out loud, “and they’ve been hit the hardest by the rustling.” Then he realized he said that much out loud he went ahead and said, “Floyd Adams has gotten several offers to sell out, and each offer is less than the one before.”

  “Cain, they’re settin’ up to hit the Bar over A… and soon… it might be a barn burnin’ or an all out attack on the place… and he’s got a wife and three kids in that cabin. Cain… we’ve got to get them out of there.”

  “I’m goin’ back up that way shortly. But if I was part of this bunch of ranchers, I’d be findin’ a way to defend myself…. Remember, even a rat’s nest has a back door. The way everyone is spread out, there’s not much chance of help comin’ in time to save a barn or a house… think about it.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it. Here, we’d fall back to the bunkhouse because it’s made of logs. I don’t think many of the others have given it much thought… I’ll be ridin’ out tomorrow to shake some folks up… We need to get organized.

  I picked up some supplies from Dori’s larder and left again. I wanted to do a little tracking and find out where those wagons went, and the only way to do that was to follow ‘em. But the light was fading by the time I’d reached the Adams’ Ā, so I just pulled into a small grove not far from the ranch yard.

  These folks were right in the line of fire. It might open up tonight, tomorrow night, or a week from Thursday… but it was
coming. Glazer or someone working for him was acting a fool with more money than brains… or they had a use for gun hands and hired back shooters.

  Making a cold camp, I settled down to spend the night and maybe keep someone down there from getting hurt or killed. If nothing happened tonight, I’d just mosey down in the morning and meet the Adams’s. If I can get them thinking along the lines of defense, they just might be able to survive. I didn’t want to get too close in case they had dogs about. I could keep Dog quiet, but ranch dogs would surely set up a howl.

  It was full dark and I’d had a few little cat naps, while relying on Dog’s senses of hearing and smell to wake me if anything was to happen. I’d been propped up against a tree and had just woke up from a little snooze when I sensed Dog at my right shoulder. He was staring out into the dark, and he’d just started that low rumbling deep in his chest. I reached over and laid my hand on his shoulder. He relaxed.

  Rifle in hand I was up and on the move in the direction he had been looking. He was by my side every step of the way. About twenty five long slow strides later, I heard the jingle of harness and a horse blow. I got real low and found some cover behind a tree and listened.

  “Klel, how you want to do this? Lacy made you boss, so you call it, and we’ll do it… even if it’s stupid.”

  “Dagget, your big mouth is gonna get you killed one of these days, so just keep it shut… We’re gonna slip past the house from behind and toss a couple of torches into that big haystack… We ain’t here to kill anyone… this time. The boss just wants to send a message.”

  “Like I said,… you’re the boss.”

  “Paine, you got the torches?”

  “I got two and Mosebey got the other two.”

  “Alright, we’ll be real quiet and light that thing, and then we can slip off before they know what’s happenin’…. But we’ll have sent a message to the whole crowd.” Klel said.

  “I’ve got a message from the whole crowd.” I said, “And that’s for you to turn around and get the hell out of here, before I start emptying saddles.”

  Two flashes of light, a lot of noise, and two slugs slammed into my tree. Those flashes weren’t twenty feet away and gave me two fine targets. A man on horseback is at a big disadvantage in a firefight. As fast as a horse can run ain’t a scratch to how fast a man can move from a dead start. So those two flashes were sitting ducks up there. All I had to do was brace that rifle against my hip and ratchet off three rounds.

  Suddenly there were two horses running away with flapping stirrups, and two others riding as hard as they could in the opposite direction. Dog and me went to where the two men lay. The first one was dead, and the other one wasn’t going to last till morning.

  “What the hell’s goin’ on out there?” came a call from the house.

  I turned around toward the speaker, and there he stood in the middle of the door with a light behind him. Fool!

  “Floyd Adams… put that light out. You’re a perfect target.”

  The light went out, and in about a half minute he yelled again, “Who’s out there? What’s all that shootin’ about?”

  “Name’s Cain… I’m a wolfer and I work for the Bellem… Run across some gents who were aimin’ to burn your haystack…. I’m comin’ in so hold your fire… I just saved your hay, so don’t make me regret it.”

  With the trees behind me he wouldn’t be able to see me. All he knew was where I’d been, so I moved a little to my left and walked toward the house. I came to the corner of the house and walked along the front to just beside the door before I spoke.

  “There were four of them.” I said.

  “Wha!” he said, “I didn’t hear you come up.”

  “I heard ‘em talkin’ out by the grove…. They was fixin’ to send you a message. I told ‘em to go on back to where they come from, but they opened fire. There’s two down one dead … other won’t last long.”

  “Get your pants on and help me load ‘em up and send ‘em home… It’s safe to light a lantern now… In fact bring it along.”

  He stepped back and in a few seconds the room was lit. I slipped through the door and closed it. Adams had gone back into another room to get his pants and boots on. Over in the far corner was a woman with three youngens. She was trying to hold all three at once with a blanket wrapped around them. The oldest, a boy about twelve wasn’t inclined to be wrapped in that blanket, and he finally worked his way out of it.

  “Ma’am, can you shoot?”

  He looked up at me. She was a sweet looking woman, but I sure didn’t see her as someone who would stand at the window and shoot it out with raiders. She would stand in front of her children and protect them with her own life, but I doubted if she could take one.

  “N..no… I’m afraid of guns… I always have been.”

  “I can shoot.” The oldest boy said. “I shoot rabbits all the time.”

  “Good man.” I told him. “You may have to grow up quick, you just stand your ground, and you’ll be fine.”

  Adams came back in stomping into his boot. He took another lantern and started to light it, but I told him not to until we got out there. We walked without talking in the dark until we reached the fallen men. They were both dead. One of their horses had returned, he lit the lamp and we hefted the men up with one over the saddle and the other behind the first. Using the raider’s own rope, I tied them on good and snug.

  I picked up two Colts and a Henry and gave them to Adams. “You give that rifle to your boy and teach him how to use it. And you ought to get yourself a big old loud mouthed dog… This is only the beginnin’ so don’t let up. Bell should be over sometime tomorrow to talk to you about makin’ this place defendable.” With that I gave the horse a slap and sent it home.

  Chapter 8

  Morning found me in the saddle heading back above the Glazer headquarters. There was a good deal of moving about down below. There had to be twenty or so men milling around, and some were moving from group to group. I had the devilish notion to start banging away at ‘em and watch the mice scatter. For once smarter side of my head took control and made me get rid of that notion. It would have been fun to watch but that wouldn’t end well, and I knew it

  I figured that to be the results of last night’s fracas at the Adam’s spread. Men were coming in but none were going out. I reckoned they had a little more respect for Floyd Adams this morning. Who would a thought a little simple, hard working rancher would have dropped two tough hired guns…. The world is full of strange things.

  As much as I’d have loved to sit here all day and watch the mice run around down below, I wanted to see what happened to those wagons. So I abandoned my perch and moved along to the north. I stayed up above the valley floor. I couldn’t see the wagon tracks from where I was, but I could see where they could go and where they couldn’t.

  The high country was no place to take a wagon unless those mules were more than half mountain goat… which I doubted. So I kept looking out across the valley to see if there were any trails going west or northwest. I had crossed the south fork of the Kaweath some while back, but I’d yet to cross the north fork. I’d have to go down there, so I’d be able to take a good look around for wagon tracks. I might even have to do some backing up, but that’s the way of things.

  When I got to the north fork, sure enough I had to move downhill. It took me a bit to find a way down. I finally found a game trail that wound its way through rocks and some mighty old pines to the river. It was only a couple of hundred feet down from where I’d been, but it was steep and rocky. A man on foot wouldn’t have a problem, but that trail wasn’t designed for anything as big as a horse. So I led Bud and let Dog pick the path.

  At the bottom the stream came through a wide flat area and ran back into the cut quite a ways before it showed signs of coming from higher up. So I was able to ride for several miles. The banks were mostly gravel and had a definite slant toward the stream. Lightweight wagons like the ones I was following wouldn’t leave mu
ch of a trail in that rough gravel. But with the slant being steeper at some places than others, the left side of the wagons would dig in deeper in places. And the mules would churn up the gravel tugging them along.

  I could hear the water coming down from up above, so I knew they would have to leave the stream soon. I was looking for a cleared trail leading off to the right and up into the hills. But what I found were two empty wagons. The mules were gone, the drivers were gone, and whatever was in the wagons was gone.

  Looking inside the wagons told a story that didn’t make any more sense, than anything had since I left San Luis Obispo. Those wagons were cheap made and not built for comfort or weight. The canvas covers were pulled down and tied into rolls. The floor was covered with filthy straw, and the way it was matted down, I’d guess that up to twenty people had been on it for many days. There were several chamber pots under the wagons. They’d been emptied but there was no question what had been in them.

  If Glazer was bringing in more gunfighters, they sure weren’t traveling in style. And it looked like as of two nights ago, they were traveling on foot. I found the well traveled trail leading up slope and into the forest. It looked to be too steep for mules to pull, so I figured the drivers rode and the mules assisted those climbing with ropes. Looking at the tracks, I couldn’t find anything but mule tracks and flat soled shoes. Moccasins? I didn’t really think so. A moccasin shows a lot about the foot especially in soft dirt. It’ll show where the weight is the greatest, usually on the ball of the foot.

  Those shoes showed no more about the foot than a high heeled boot. The soles were cut from one piece of material, most likely leather. The strides were short and shuffling… A Chinaman’s slipper? I’d bet a hundred dollars on it. Who else would willingly travel like that, to a job where they make a few pennies a day to pay off their immigration debts? Debts that few will ever finish paying off. All the while they will starve themselves to send money back home, so their families can come over without debt.