the Quick and the Dead (1983) (3 page)

"McKaskel, you take the first watch. Listen, learn the sounds that are natural to the night, and you'll hear most of them in the first hour or so. Any other sound you hear is likely to be them.

"You watch my horse. Those are city horses you've got, so you don't have to pay them much mind. My horse will have his ears up as soon as he hears them coming, and he'll hear them before you do.

"He's mustang--wild stock--and all his young life he had to listen for varmints that might attack him, so he's not likely to miss much. About one o'clock by that watch of yours, you wake me up."

With his saddle for a pillow he lay on his groundsheet and rolled himself in a blanket. Within minutes, he was asleep.

Duncan McKaskel sat down by his wife. "They'll find our fire," he said, "I am sure there will be some smoke. That should take some time, and we may hear them."

"He's a strange man," she said.

"Ssh! He may be awake."

"No, he's breathing evenly. I am sure he's sleeping." After a moment, she added, "We can learn from him, Duncan. He knows so much that we'd better know."

"Yes," he admitted, "I suppose so. The kind of education we have doesn't count for much out here."

After awhile Susanna dozed, and McKaskel got up and moved out, closer to the horses. They were cropping grass in the small circle they had chosen for a camp. For the first time he walked all around it, and shook his head in irritation at himself. He should have seen this place at once. The fallen tree barred all approach from one angle because one end was up against some rocks, the other was near the edge of the bluff. Around that tree there was a good deal of old bark, dried leaves and branches.

Behind them was a thick grove of trees, so thick that a man could push through it only with considerable noise. On the other side were the fallen trees, broken brush and old stumps of a deserted beaver pond. The position was not sheltered from gunfire except near the fallen tree, but it was difficult to find or approach by night.

Vallian had seen the place at once, which indicated how much could be learned by observation. A man had tosee , not just look.

McKaskel listened, but heard no other sounds than those of the night. He moved carefully, trying to walk without sound, and not to remain in one place too long. He was thinking, trying to understand this new world and to draw on what he remembered from his reading that might help. He sat down on a log and rested, listening.

Several times his eyes almost closed, and after a moment he got up and moved around again, going around the circle of their camp, listening for any new sound. He heard nothing, and when his watch was over he went back to camp and spoke softly to Con Vallian.

The frontiersman was immediately awake. "Time," McKaskel whispered, "and all's quiet."

Vallian sat up and tugged on his boots, slung his gunbelt around his lean hips and took up his rifle. "Get some sleep," he said quietly. "They know you're a tenderfoot and they'll be looking to steal your horses, fast. When they don't find them they'll try to get into your camp."

"Wake me. I'll be ready."

Duncan McKaskel stretched out on his blankets. He was tired but he would rest only for a moment. He had to be ready to help, and after all, who was this man to whom they were trusting themselves? He might have plans of his own. Yet even as he thought it he did not accept the idea. He closed his eyes and slept.

A hand on his shoulder awakened him. It was very still. He felt Susanna stir, but although he knew she was awake, she made no sound, listening as he was. He took up his gun, warning himself that he must be careful not to shoot the wrong man.

Shoot a man? He was startled to realize that he had accepted the idea with no accompanying sense of guilt. Was this what environment did? Or was it his subconscious acceptance of practical necessity?

Susanna watched him move away, then sat up, suddenly aware that Tom was already gone.

Gone?Gonewhere?

She got up quickly, then stood still, realizing she wore a light-colored dress. Gathering up the blanket that had covered them, she gathered it quickly around her. She had no gun but there was a stout stick nearby, and she knelt down and felt for it. Her hand found it and she straightened up. Something stirred among the leaves near her and she tightened her grip.

There was another faint stir, and then a shadow loomed near, a shorter, broader shadow than either of the men in her camp, wider than her son. Whoever it was had a rancid, unclean odor of one long unbathed.

She gripped the stick, which was about two feet long and a good three inches around, in her two hands. She drew it slowly back. The man was unaware of her, but soon would hear her breathing. She swung the stick at his face with all her strength.

The stick struck with a dull smack, and the man cried out, staggering backward. She struck again, over his head this time, and the man grabbed out frantically, scarcely aware of what he did. Dropping the blanket from her shoulders she thrust the stick at his face and he grabbed it.

Instantly, she kicked out, her foot striking his kneecap. He staggered, lost his grip on the stick and fell. She struck wildly, missed, then hit him again, probably on the arm or shoulder. In the deeper darkness toward the ground she could not see. She was panting with the effort.

Suddenly she heard a shot ... lighter in sound than Duncan's rifle, then two more. There was a moment of silence, then the heavy bellow of the rifle and silence.

Something was crawling in the brush. For an instant she thought of following, then recovered her blanket and waited where she was.

There was movement from within the camp and someone loomed nearby. The smell this time was of pine and buckskin.

"You all right?" It was Vallian.

"I hit one of them ... several times."

"Prob'ly more'n we did. What did you hit him with?"

She lifted the stick. "With this. I hit him in the face the first time. With both hands." She was startled to realize she was speaking with some pride. What sort of person was she becoming, anyway? "I hit him hard."

He touched the stick. "Reckon you'll do, ma'am. You surely did hit him. There's blood on that stick."

She gasped and let go. The stick fell to the leaves. "I didn't know. I didn't realize--"

"You done just right." Suddenly he said, "Your boy is with the horses. He done all right, too. He was over there holdin' tight to 'em before things started. That's a good boy."

"Duncan? Where is Duncan?"

"He's yonder ... with the boy. We won't have no more trouble this night. You all should get some sleep."

He moved away in the darkness, leaving emptiness behind. She stood there, holding the blanket around her, feeling the sudden damp chill of the night. Yet she no longer felt secure lying where their bed had been. Taking their canvas groundsheet she drew the bed closer to the wagon.

The wind was stirring, and she looked up. The sky was overcast and the wind rising. The canvas cover on the wagon flapped in the wind.

Duncan came out of the darkness. "Susanna, you'd better sleep in the wagon. I'll sleep under it. It may rain."

She had not liked sleeping alone in the wagon, the space was cramped and she could not see what was happening, but now she was grateful. The darkness was no longer comforting.

"Are you all right, Duncan?"

"Yes, I am. Tom's already under the wagon again."

"Where ishe ?"

"I don't know ... around somewhere."

"Duncan? I am glad he's here."

He was silent. Was he thinking that she doubted his ability? She had not meant it that way, but two men were better than one.

"So am I." he said quietly.

It was not until she was in the wagon and almost asleep that she realized she had said nothing about hitting that man. She chuckled suddenly. Duncan would be shocked ... and surprised. After all, a well-brought up young lady did not go around clubbing men in the darkness.

Surprisingly, she slept, and when Duncan touched her arm to awaken her the sky was gray. "Tom's still asleep, but Vallian thinks we should move."

She had not undressed, so she smoothed out her skirt as much as possible and put on her shoes. A fire was going, and Vallian had made coffee. He was squatting near the blaze, warming his hands. He looked around at her. "You look even better in the morning," he said, "Fine thing in a woman."

"What do you know about women in the morning?" she spoke sharply, and without thinking.

"More'n you'd want to hear, I expect. I ain't always lived in the far out lands."

"Are they gone? Those men, I mean?"

"Doubt it. You got too much they want, but the farther out you get the more they'll be likely to leave. Too much chance of Injuns."

"What about us?"

He shrugged. "You seem willin' to take the chance. I've knowed folks to cross all the way without seein' ary an Injun, and others had a fight ever' day. You face things when you get to 'em."

"You don't think we'll make it, do you?"

He shrugged again. "You got a chance."

They ate a quick breakfast and drank coffee. Tom awakened when they were hitching the mules and ate the bacon and bread that had been saved for him.

Con Vallian mounted his horse and took a quick scout through the trees. "Nothin' close by," he said, "Let's roll 'em!"

The wagon moved out, with Duncan handling the mules, his rifle beside him. Tom rode in the back, keeping an eye on the horses. Vallian scouted on ahead.

"I'm sorry to say it," Duncan spoke suddenly, "but there's something about him that irritates me."

"He's a conceited boor."

"Maybe. But he knows this country, Susanna, and he knows how to get along in it. We must take advantage of every minute, and learn from him."

"He moves like a cat."

"Yes ... yes, he does."

"He said you did very well in the settlement. He spoke well of you."

"He said that?"

They left the trees behind, moved out upon the bald plain. At least, Susanna thought, they can't approach us here without our seeing them. They will have to come out in the open.

Con Vallian had disappeared. She looked around. He was gone--vanished from sight.

"Duncan! What happened? Where did he go?"

He stared, peered around the edges of the wagon cover toward their rear ... nothing. "Well, I'll be damned!"

Suddenly their wagon topped out on the edge of a long slope. Before them the country was spread out--miles upon miles of pale gray-green grass and exposed ridges of red sandstone. No trees, no brush ... a few clumps of prickly pear on a slope, and far off a herd of antelope and a few distant black spots.

There, well down the slope before them was Vallian, sitting his horse and looking the country over. Suddenly Susanna was frightened. An army could have hidden here and she would never have guessed ... or an Indian war party.

Duncan McKaskel drew up and looked out over the wide space before them. They would camp down there tonight, and for days afterward. It was frightening.

He shuddered suddenly, and put his hand on hers. "My God," he said softly, "to think of all that! And if anything happens to us there's nobody to help. There's no doctor, no hospital--"

"We knew it would be that way, Duncan," she said quietly. "We talked about it."

"That's just it. We talked about it. But we did notknow ! There is no way one can know without seeing it, feeling it."

"I wonder how many have died out there? Where nobody knew?"

"Many have died, Susanna, but more will come. There are always people who hope, who wish, who dream."

He gathered the reins and spoke to the mules. They hesitated, leaned into their collars and be slapped them with the reins. The wagon started, and rolled on.

Susanna's eyes went far ahead, to a small, moving dot. He must have turned slightly because the dot went from black to a kind of brown as the sun hit his buckskins.

"We are not quite alone, Duncan," she said quietly. "He is out there. Vallian is there."

"Yes," his eyes were somber, his lips unsmiling. "Yes, he is."

Chapter
IV

The "settlement" was a couple of log houses and a barn. In one of the houses there was a bar, a table, and a few crudely-made chairs. Further out there were a few abandoned lean-tos and dugouts. It was in low land near the river, inclined to be swampy.

Doc Shabbitt tilted the jug over his tin cup. He was a fat, sloppy man with small eyes and a mean, petulant mouth.

"They wasn't alone!" he said again. "They had somebody with 'em!"

Dobbs was a thin, duly man in ragged buckskins. "There was three of them," he insisted. "I scouted their camp, an' we all seen 'em when they come up from the river. It had to be either the woman or the boy who killed Lenny."

"That city woman?" Shabbitt spat. "I'll kill her. If she killed my boy--"

"She's mine." Red Hyle was a powerful man with a sullen look about him. "I done tol' you that. You lay a hand to her before I tell you an' I'll stretch your hide, Doc."