Goodnight's Dream (A Floating Outfit Western Book 4) (10 page)

‘
We’ve not met afore,’ Chisum remarked
in a booming, jovial tone, as he moved towards the bar. ‘Maybe
you’ve heard Ole Devil speak of me, John Chisum.’

‘
I’ve heard,’ Dusty agreed but decided
that it would not be polite to mention the manner in which Ole
Devil Hardin invariably referred to the bald rancher’s morals and
business principles. ‘We’d have been here sooner, Unc—’

‘
Watch it, Dusty!’ roared a voice from
across by the main entrance.

Oblivious of the man who came into sight and
entered the Demon Rum, Keck started to make his treacherous attack.
Yet he could hardly have overlooked the newcomer if his mind had
not been so fully occupied with the thoughts of escape.

A costly white Stetson with a silver
concha-decorated band added to the new arrival’s six foot three of
height, topping a great spread of shoulders that tapered down to a
lean waist and long, powerful legs. From the tight-rolled green
silk bandana which trailed its long ends down the front of a gray
broadcloth shirt and the elegant cut of the levis pants hanging
cowhand fashion free from the fancy-stitched boots, he was a
wealthy young man and something of a dandy. About his middle swung
a hand-stamped gunbelt of high-grade workmanship with two
ivory-handled Army Colts in the contoured holsters, the butts
flaring out a little for easy and rapid withdrawal. All in all, he
made a fine figure. Golden blond hair framed a face of almost
classically handsome lines, tanned, strong and intelligent. Taken
with his truly magnificent physique, the face made him look like an
old-time Greek-god who chose to wear the dress of a Texas
cowhand.

Dandy the blond giant might be, but he showed
a shrewd judgment of the situation and, despite his size, moved
with considerable speed. Yelling a warning, he thrust through the
batwing doors and took a long stride forward. His hands rose fast
and fingers possessing the crushing power of a closing bear-trap
caught Keck by the shoulder. Pain numbed the man, causing his arms
to drop limply to his sides. Then he felt his feet leave the floor
and he was hoisted bodily into the air. With a surging heave, the
blond pivoted and hurled Keck across the room. Landing on his feet,
Keck still had no control over his body. He twirled around, struck
and went over a table, then collided with some force against the
wall. In his flight from the blond’s hands, he had dropped the
Metropolitan; but would have been in no condition to use it when he
flopped back to the floor after having his progress halted by the
wall.

Due to Ole Devil’s unflattering
comments, Dusty did not entirely trust Chisum. Nor did the
rancher’s employees strike the small Texan as the kind one should
take at their face value. Noticing the too casual manner in which
Chisum and his
segundo
edged away from them after Keck left, Dusty had remained
alert. Although Chisum’s question partly distracted the small
Texan, the yelled warning from the blond giant did not come
entirely as a surprise.

Knowing who had shouted, Dusty still could
not prevent himself from taking a quick look at the door to assess
the full extent of the danger.

Watching and waiting for Keck to make his
move, Venner acted as soon as it began. Grabbing at his Colt,
Venner started to slide it from leather. Just a touch slower to
react, Alden also started his draw.

Certain that the blond giant could deal with
Keck, Dusty brought his attention back to the danger closer at
hand. He saw Venner’s Colt already starting to rise over the lip of
the holster. There would be no time for the small Texan to draw and
shoot, so he did not try. Instead he stepped closer to Venner and
swept his left arm around as swiftly as he could move it. With the
Colt lifting to point in his direction, Dusty’s left hand struck
Venner’s wrist and thrust the barrel so that it no longer pointed
at him. Coming across at equal speed, Dusty’s right hand grasped
the top of the Colt’s frame and continued to turn it inwards. Pain
and the threat of having his trigger-finger snapped caused Venner
to relax his grip and Dusty plucked the revolver from his hand.
Sliding his left hand from the trapped wrist, Dusty laid his
fingers across Venner’s palm and the thumb over the back of fist
towards the base of the knuckles. With a deft twist, he turned
Venner’s elbow towards the ground and bent the captured hand
towards its owner’s chest. Venner let out a croak of pain, bending
his torso backwards in an attempt to avoid the hurt caused by
Dusty’s hold.

Nor did the small Texan forget that Alden
also posed a threat. Still retaining his grip on Venner’s hand,
Dusty lashed his right arm out and up. Just as Alden’s gun cleared
leather, the butt of the Colt taken from Venner smashed under his
jaw. The force of its arrival snapped Alden’s head back. His eyes
turned glassy, the Colt slid unfired from his fingers and he
collapsed limply to the floor.

Seeing what had happened,
Targue reached for his gun. Without waiting to discover what side
the
segundo
aimed to take in the affair, the Kid prevented him from
doing it. Out flashed the bowie knife. Almost of its own volition,
the clip-point of the eleven-and-a-half-inch blade lined on
Targue’s belly ready to drive home should the need
arise.

‘
Ain’t no call for you to cut in,’
drawled the Kid. ‘Now is there?’

No fool, Targue knew just what
the Kid meant. So the
segundo
allowed his gun to slip back into its holster. He
felt however, that his actions called for some kind of
explanation.

‘
I thought Cap’n Fog might need some
help,’ Targue said.

‘
He don’t,’ the Kid pointed out
unnecessarily and returned his knife to its sheath.

After striking Alden down, Dusty shoved at
and released Venner’s hand. Staggering back a few steps, the man
glared his fury at the small Texan.

‘
Do you want any more?’ Dusty
asked.

Throwing a look at Chisum for guidance,
Venner thought that he saw the bald head give a quick negative
shake. Which meant that any further action he took would be without
the rancher’s support. So he gave a shrug and replied, ‘Naw!’

‘
What’s coming off, Dustine?’ Goodnight
demanded.

‘
Best ask Mark here what started it,’
Dusty replied, indicating the blond giant who came towards them. ‘I
don’t reckon you’ve met Mark Counter, Uncle Charlie. He’s riding
for the OD Connected.’

‘
You’d be kin to Big Rance, I’d say,’
Goodnight commented, shaking hands with the blond and eyeing him
from head to toe.

‘
Sure am, Colonel,’ Mark Counter
agreed. ‘I saw that yahoo over there fixing to throw lead your way
and stopped him.’

‘
The wall stopped him,’ corrected the
Kid. ‘Way you threw him, I thought he’d keep going until he had to
swim the Pecos.’

‘
Shucks,’ Mark grinned. ‘I only gave
him an itty-bitty push.’

‘
I’d hate to see you give somebody a
hard shove, that being the case,’ Goodnight remarked, wondering how
Mark came to be working for the OD Connected instead of on his
father’s Rover C spread.

Despite Big Rance Counter
owning a large ranch in the Big Bend country, Mark had accepted
Dusty’s offer of employment at the conclusion of the small Texan’s
mission into Mexico. Mark and the Kid had helped Dusty to carry out
the task given to him by the U.S. Government. On their return to
Texas, the blond giant had decided that sticking with his
two
friends
offered better possibilities of fun and excitement than returning
to help his father and three older brothers to run the family’s
ranch.

During the War Between the States, Mark had
gained a reputation for courage and as being something of a Beau
Brummel. His unorthodox taste in uniforms had been much copied by
the young bloods of the Confederate States Army, to the annoyance
of crusty senior officers. Back at his old trade of cowhand, he
tried to dress well under all conditions. A top hand with cattle,
Mark was becoming spoken of for his exceptional strength and skill
at roughhouse brawling. Just how good he might be with his matched
Colts received much less attention, but Dusty and the Kid knew him
to be very fast and accurate.

‘
Well, Mr. Chisum,’ Dusty
said, turning to the rancher. ‘Way that Keck
hombre
acted, it looks
like he knew all along that he was wide-looping the lady’s
cattle.’

‘
Damn it, yes!’ Chisum
agreed.

‘
You’d not know anything about that,
though?’ asked the Kid innocently.

‘
You’re damned right I didn’t!’ Chisum
answered. ‘I haven’t had the time to go through that herd Pitzer
brought in, have I, Charlie?’ Before an answer could be given, he
went on, ‘Damn it! If they have took her cattle, they deserve all
they’re going to get. Take ’em to the sheriff and have ’em jailed
until it’s settled, Targue.’

‘
Sure, Uncle John,’
the
segundo
answered.

‘
We’ll amble along ’n’
help him, huh Mark?’ suggested the Kid. ‘Them three
pelados
might be too much
for him to handle on his lonesome.’

‘
They might at that,’ Mark
agreed.

‘
Take your horses along,’ Dusty told
his companions. ‘Then we’ll go out and help Uncle Charlie cut the
herd when you’ve done it.’

Although Targue frowned, he raised no
objections to the two Texans accompanying him. Scowling around, he
called to a group of men at a faro table and asked for help to tote
the two unconscious hardcases down to the jail. Venner seemed on
the verge of making a comment, but caught Chisum’s eye and kept
quiet.

Knowing that he could leave the safe delivery
of the trio in Mark’s and the Kid’s hands, Goodnight suggested that
the rest of the party should escort Dawn out of the saloon. Chisum
said that he would collect his brother Pitzer and some of the men
from Sadie’s brothel, then meet the others at the herd. Watching
him go, Dawn let out an indignant snort.

‘
Do you reckon he knew that they’d put
our cattle in the herd all along?’ she asked.

‘
I wouldn’t want to go so far as say
that,’ Dusty replied. ‘Time we got around the canyon and caught up
to them, your stock was mixed in with the herd.’

Not wanting a public discussion about Chisum,
Goodnight decided to change the subject. Starting towards the front
doors, he remarked, ‘I’d heard that the Kid threw in with you,
Dustine. It’s a good thing.’

‘
It is, for everybody,’ Dusty agreed.
‘After his pappy was killed, he didn’t cotton to the smuggling game
and I reckoned that the OD Connected could use him.’

‘
He got out of that game in time,’
Goodnight said. ‘It was all right while they were running supplies
in the War, but after Appomattox what they were doing became
smuggling again. Sooner or later he’d’ve killed a revenue officer
and been on the run.’

Dusty nodded. Smuggling in time of peace and
on the Rio Grande was a tough, dangerous business which could
easily have seen the Kid driven into a life of real, serious crime.
Texas was a far safer place for law-abiding folks with Sam Ysabel’s
son in gainful, honest employment.

‘
Anyways, Lon’ll be real useful on this
drive you’re planning, Uncle Charlie. So’ll Mark, he’s real good
with cattle. And we’ll see how it’s done.’

Listening to the men, Dawn
wondered what was so special about the next trail drive Goodnight
planned to make. Since the War ended, he had been taking cattle to
various Army posts. More than that, most cowhands already possessed
experience in moving stock from place to place. So she wondered why
the OD Connected needed to send its
segundo
and two men to learn how to handle a herd
on the trail. There were other things of interest to the girl, what
prices the cattle fetched from the Army and could anybody sell to
the soldiers. Yet she could not think how to satisfy her curiosity
without causing offence. Not knowing what to say, she took the
wisest course and kept quiet.

Looking at the small Texan as they left the
saloon, Dawn tried to reconcile his appearance with his reputation.
Like most girls in Texas, she had always thought of Dusty as the
tall, handsome, dashing cavalry leader who ran the hated Yankees
ragged across the Arkansas battlefront. It came as something of a
shock to meet him. Then she recalled how he had seemed to loom over
the others when facing Keck and the two hardcases, and the speed
with which he had moved when dealing with them. A man like Dusty
Fog could not be judged in mere feet and inches. Came trouble, he
stood tallest of them all.

Going to collect her
bayo-tigre,
she noticed that
the white and bloodbay stallions had been taken from their places.
When Dusty walked up to and freed the big paint, she guessed that
the other two horses which had so interested her must belong to his
friends. Thinking back to the stories she had heard of the Ysabel
Kid, she remembered that he was said always to ride a white
stallion credited with being a very effective second set of eyes,
ears and nostrils for him. From the little she had seen of the
white, she figured the tales might have some basis of
truth.