the Quick and the Dead (1983) (6 page)

"You got no time to study out here. You see, and you act. Only you don't shoot at movement. You never squeeze off your shot until you know exactly what you're shootin' at. Tenderfeet, they shoot at anything that moves. They kill cows, horses, dogs an' each other.

"Out here we kill just what we need to live, just like a wolf does, or a bear. Not to say they won't kill once in awhile just to be killin', but they're animals, boy, you're a man ... or about to be one.

"Look yonder ... see anything?"

"No, I ... well, there's something dark, right close to the ground."

"Them's buffalo, an' they ain't close to the ground, they're feedin' in a hollow or gully. But we ain't huntin' buffalo right now. Your pa'd try to carry the hide, and he ought. Trouble is buffalo bides weigh heavy, mighty heavy, an' you have more truck on that wagon than the Israelites fleein' Egypt."

Vallian reined his horse around, glancing at the grass. "Injuns," he said, "and the same ones."

Tom looked, but the plain before them was empty. Vallian pointed at the grass, some distance ahead.

"There! Where the grass has been pressed down. They passed by here, heading west."

Tom could see nothing but as they rode nearer he could distinguish a difference in the shade of the grass, and then he could see that some of the grass had been pressed down. The two lines left by the travels were clearly indicated.

Another travois had dragged along, almost in the same tracks as the first.

"Fifteen, anyway. We seen eight bucks an' there would be some women and kids."

"How can you tell?"

"Boy, anybody can see that. They passed after dew-fall. You got to keep your eyes open. You can't just ride along lookin' at pretty colors like your pa does."

"My pa's all right. You leave him out of this or say it to his face, and if you do, you'd better think twice. He was a boxer in school."

"I seen some o' them boxers. I whupped one down to Natchez one time. Your pa's all right, boy, only he's come west with a wife and child, and if he's wishful of keepin' them alive he's got to learn new ways. New ways of thinkin', mostly."

He led the way down the slope. "We ain't after buffalo, so we'll just amble along. We should fetch up some antelope soon." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I seen 'em come an' go. I been ridin' this land since I was half your size, fightin' Injuns an' huntin' with em--"

"You fight them and yet you're friendly with them?"

"Why not? Nobody fights all the time. We've fought a time or two, an' good fights they were, too. Sometimes we set over a fire and talk of the fool mistakes we made, or almost made. Not that you get a chance to make many mistakes when you're fightin' Injuns."

He pointed suddenly. "There! Pronghorns ... must be fifteen to twenty of them. Come on, we'll circle around and come up downwind of them ... but we got to stay out of sight, too, because they can see."

He rode down the slope ahead of Tom, a tall man, easy in the saddle. The mustang was smaller than the sorrel, but quick. The horse moved easily, taking the opposite slope as if it were not there, riding across the back of the knoll where they had seen the antelope.

At the crest of the low ridge he drew up, and then edged his horse closer until he could see over the top of the hill. The antelope were no more than one hundred yards away. He backed off, dismounted, and edged forward. Lifting his rifle he held on his target for a long instant until Tom thought he would never fire. Suddenly the rifle leaped in his hands, but instantly he shifted his muzzle a few inches and fired again.

Before moving he extracted the two cartridges and fed two more into the rifle. Letting Tom lead his horse, he walked up to the crest of the rise. Both antelope were down, the rest of the herd disappearing in the distance.

"Keep your eyes open, boy," Vallian said sharply, "and don't do no moon-gazin'. If you see anything move, even the grass, you speak out, d'you hear?

"If you're goin' to live in this country you got to learn that you don't cover country by just settin' up on a horse. You keep your eyes open or some Injun'll be settin' on the horse and you'll be dead."

"Mr. Vallian? Couldn't you have gone around that knob yonder and come up closer to them? To the antelope, I mean?"

"Boy, you listen now. Once an antelope sees you, you've either got to shoot, or try movin' up right at him, straight and slow. If an antelope sees something, then sees it disappear, he'll be gone. When we'd have come out from behind that knob they'd be a mile off an' travelin'.

"An antelope has eyes like a field glass. He lives on these prairies and he knows 'em, his eyes are made for seeing long distances. He can hear, too. You can stalk a deer, but you don't get much chance with an antelope.

"They are all curious, almighty curious. You can lie up and toll 'em right up to you with a slow moving cloth on a ramrod or something that shines or sparkles. You can even get 'em close with a bare hand or foot, wiggling your fingers or toes."

"They make a track like a deer."

Vallian spat. "No more like a deer than mine's like yours. To a tenderfoot, maybe. Antelope track is shorter than a deer track, broader and rounder at the heel, an' sharp at toe. You study 'em. You'll be able to tell the difference."

Tom's eyes kept turning, studying the prairie all around. Vallian was a hard man, and he did not want to draw his anger, for obviously he was impatient with ignorance and poor observation.

"Could you teach me to be a frontiersman?" he asked suddenly. "I'd like to learn."

"I ain't running no school. You keep your eyes open, watch what you're about and if you live long enough you'll learn, but you'll keep on learning. There's no end to it, boy. I've lived all my life on the frontier and I don't know the half of it.

"The trouble is, this here's a school where the Injuns conduct the examinations. Injuns or the wild country itself."

"You skinned only one antelope."

"That's right, boy. I'll shoot meat for 'em when they're in trouble, but I'll be damned if I'll skin it, too."

"Them?"

Vallian gave him a disgusted glance. "Injuns, boy. Them Injuns we seen the other night. Now you keep your rifle in your hands. Don't wave it around, just hold it easy-like."

"I don't see any--"

There were three of them, and they rode out of a hollow Tom had not even seen, and drew up, facing them. Vallian gestured at the antelope lying on the grass, then pointed with his forefinger, bent it and drew it to him as if hooking something in. "Means 'take' or 'catch,' " he said. "In the tribe Indians share their meat."

"Are we in their tribe now?" Tom asked.

"If they were a war party they'd kill you just as soon as they'd a chance. No, we ain't of their tribe, but they need meat. They'd share what they had with us, even though they might take our scalps after."

They rode slowly away, and Tom turned his head to stare back. The Indians were cutting up the meat, paying no attention to them. After a bit Vallian started to lope his horse.

Suddenly, Vallian said, "Boy, awhile back you stuck up for your pa. That's good. I like loyalty in a man."

"He's a good man," Tom said.

"I reckon he is, or your ma wouldn't have married him. Some women I'd not say that of, but your ma is a canny woman. You listen to your folks, boy. They'll learn you right. 'Cept about injuns and wild country. Then you listen to me."

Now they could see the white top of the wagon. It was where they had left it, and they could see the lift of smoke from the fire.

"You pa, now, does he know all about them old Greeks? Achilles, an' them?"

"Yes, he does. He can read Greek."

"Sure enough? I reckon that keeps him right busy out here, doesn't it?" They were nearing the wagon. "You know them stories, boy? About all that killin' an' fightin'?"

"I know some of it. Pa knows it very well." Tom was suddenly curious. "Do you know those stories?"

"Used to hear 'em, long time back." He hesitated.

They rode up to the fire.

"Ma!" Tom was excited. "Mr. Vallian killed two antelopes, and we met those Indians again!"

Duncan accepted the meat Vallian handed him, and glanced at it. "That's not much meat for two antelopes, Vallian."

"I left one for the Injuns," Vallian did not look around as he uncinched and removed his saddle.

"That was kind of you, Mr. Vallian," Susanna said.

Vallian looked at her. "I didn't think kind, ma'am, I just left it."

Chapter
VII

Doc Shabbitt studied the tracks, then glanced over at the Huron. "What do you make of it?"

The Huron said nothing. He rode his horse in a small circle, studying the tracks. "There is another one," he said, "a man who rides alone."

"If he's with them he surely ain't ridin' alone," Ike commented.

"He is not always with them. He rides up, he rides away. He was not with them many miles back, and he rode up to them from the west."

"Who d' you reckon?" Booster asked.

"Aw, it's just some Injun, beggin' flour! We cut their sign back a ways."

"I don't like it," Purdy said quietly, "whoever shot Lenny must be around somewhere, and I don't think it was that woman or the boy. I think somebody else is in this."

"Injuns," Ike insisted. "Why would he ride off thataway? Those Injuns are not far off and one rides over now and again to beg ... maybe fixin' to kill the lot of them. We surely ain't the first to see those horses nor that woman."

"Injuns don't care what a woman looks like," Ike scoffed. "They don't care one bit."

"Neither do you, Ike," Boston Pangman said, grinning. "I remember a time or two--"

Ike looked around. "You got a big mouth, Pang. You surely do."

Boston Pangman looked at him, then shut up. After a minute he said, "I was just funnin', Ike. No offense."

Ike Mantle said nothing. He rode around, studying the tracks, and then without a word started off along the trail. Doc Shabbitt scowled, then followed him, riding a little faster to get ahead.

If a man was a leader, he had to lead. Ike had no business starting off like that, but then, Ike paid no attention to anyone or anything.

Doc Shabbitt glanced around at the others who were now following. He rubbed his horse's neck. "I'd like to get shut of this bunch," he said aloud.

The riders closed in around him. "They'll be on the Arkansas," Dobbs said. "We'll come up to them there."

"He's well-fixed," Booster said. "No man goes out on the prairie with a load like that unless it's valuable. He's got mules, and they cost twice to three times what oxen cost, and them's good horses. Matched sorrels like that, you can make yourself a deal with them."

"Maybe just women's stuff," Purdy argued. "We don't know that he's got anything worth the trouble. You know how womenfolks are."

"I know how they are," Doc Shabbitt said. "I really do."

"You wait an' see," Purdy insisted. "They wouldn't be carrying gold. Folks come out here to get it, they don't bring it with them. All they'll have will be women's fixin's."

"You figure that if you want," Doc Shabbitt said. "I think there's gold in that wagon."

Red Hyle had said nothing. He was slouched in the saddle, just letting them talk. Purdy glanced at him. What about that now? Was he as fast as Red? Sure. He'd never seen anybody he couldn't outdraw. But supposing, just supposing, that he was not? Supposing it came to a showdown and Redwas faster?

He'd be dead.

The mules had lost weight, but they were still pulling. So far the prairies had been soft only in spots and the wagon had moved well, but they were climbing steadily. Not much, just barely enough to feel, but the mules knew it. So did they, when they got down and walked ... and these days they walked most of the time.

The road had improved, and the drive to Cottonwood Creek had been only sixteen miles, although the grade was noticeable and the grass had been good. They had arrived early and the mules had time to graze comfortably before being brought in close for the night. The following day the drive had been long and hard, but there, too, at Turkey Creek, the grass was good. There was no fuel and they cooked with buffalo chips and wood brought from earlier camps.

On the first day Con Vallian had disappeared, riding off with only a wave of the hand. Nor did they see him again during their camps at Cottonwood or Turkey Creeks. Susanna found her eyes constantly seeking for him. "I wonder where he is?" she asked suddenly. "Where does he camp?"

"There's no telling. He's like an Indian, Susanna. One day he will ride off and we will not see him again."

"I suppose so."

Tom turned toward them from the back of the wagon. "He thinks those men ... the ones back at the settlement ... he thinks they are following us."

"I doubt it," Duncan said, "they'd not follow us this far."

"We killed one of them," Susanna said. "Maybe they are vengeful men."

"It's hard to believe," Duncan McKaskel stared at the horizon, "there was actually a man killed. Why, I never even saw a man killed before! Come to think of it, I did not see that one killed."