Late for Gettysburg Page 2

  His thoughts ran on and it was not till he began to see cattle on the range that he realized he was on Barbed R property. He had not intended riding that way, but now he was on the Rawley spread he found himself facing a decision. Should he ride on and pay a call? He sat for a while considering the problem. When he had left Jolie the last time, he had determined not to see her again; his way of life ruled out a lasting relationship. What could he offer her? A life on the run was no life at all for a young woman. It was only fair to her that he leave her alone to find someone else. He knew the answer to his question. It would do no one any good to call. Better to accept the situation. Yet his every instinct was to see her one more time.

  He had just about resolved the issue and was ready to start back for town when the decision was taken out of his hands. It was an indication of how lost in thought he had been that he failed to hear the sound of wheels till the buggy was almost upon him. It had come up over the crest of a low hill, which had served to drown the sound. He looked up sharply and his heart skipped a beat. Jolie herself was in the driving seat. She seemed to see him late as she brought the buggy to a sudden halt. She apparently did not immediately recognize the rider in her path, but when she did she gave a cry and jumped down from the buggy. Wyeth slid from the saddle. When they were close she stopped and they both suddenly felt awkward. It was the girl who broke the silence.

  ‘Sam! What are you doing here? It’s seems so long since I saw you. Were you on your way to visit?’

  ‘Yes,’ Wyeth lied.

  She gave him an uncertain look. ‘Have you seen your folks? Are you staying with them?’

  ‘I just got here yesterday.’

  She looked him up and down. ‘You look thin,’ she said. ‘It’s good that you’re here. You need feeding up.’

  Wyeth grinned. ‘Ma’s already started.’

  He didn’t know what to say. Events seemed to have taken a turn of their own. He had not intended riding to the Barbed R. It seemed he had done so unconsciously. Having arrived there, he had not planned on meeting Jolie. Yet here she was. It was as if some kind of providence had been guiding him and he was all unprepared. Apart from that, the way Jolie looked would have floored him. She was more beautiful even than he remembered her. Maybe it was because she looked so natural. She wore a hat but her long auburn hair had come loose and blew in the breeze. She was dressed in a casual riding outfit, which, for all its plainness, only served to emphasize the outlines of her fine figure.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I guess we’re not doing a lot of good standing here. Let’s get on to the ranch house. My father will be pleased to see you. He’s out fixing some fences. That’s where I’ve been, taking his food. But he shouldn’t be too late back.’

  Wyeth nodded and they stood for a moment, hesitating. She turned towards the buggy and he moved quickly to help her into the driver’s seat. As he took her hand she turned to face him and suddenly he forgot all his previous resolves and took her in his arms. She did not resist as her lips hungrily sought his. For a long time they remained pressed together till at last she gently pushed him away. Her face was flushed and her eyes glistening.

  ‘I’ve been dreaming of you doing that ever since you went away,’ she panted.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he began, but she put a finger to his lips to stop him. ‘Don’t say anything. Just hold me tight once more.’

  He didn’t need a second invitation. When they finally drew apart she whispered: ‘Ride alongside me.’

  Wyeth was torn. He wanted to do as she said and ride back with her, but instinctively he held back. In the brief time she took stepping into the buggy and taking up the reins, he wrestled with his emotions. Things had taken such an unexpected turn. He didn’t know how to deal with his feelings. Through it all one thought worried him. Jolie had said that her father would be glad to see him, but he wasn’t so sure. Joe Rawley had been as keen a supporter of the Confederacy as any man and had seen his own share of action during the war. But Wyeth knew that didn’t guarantee him a favourable reception. He was pretty sure that Rawley did not know about the things he had been up to or that he was now a wanted man, but it wouldn’t be natural if he didn’t have his suspicions. Quite apart from that, Rawley, as a father, could hardly approve of Wyeth’s relationship with his daughter. Quickly, Wyeth came to a decision.

  ‘I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to come back with you to the ranch house.’

  The difficulty it cost him in saying the words was matched by the look of pain that blanched her features. It was a fleeting moment and she quickly recovered herself.

  ‘When will I see you?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know. You must understand—’

  ‘I don’t want to understand. I want—’ She stopped and then looked up at him imploringly. ‘Come and see me again if you can. Before you go.’ He turned away and swung himself into the saddle. The steeldust sidled a few paces.

  ‘Sam Holland, you just make sure you take care of yourself,’ she said. The next instant she flicked the reins and the buggy went trundling away, its wheels raising a thin cloud of dust. He sat his horse for a time, not moving until the buggy was out of sight. Then he touched his spurs to the steeldust’s flanks and set off slowly down the trail in the opposite direction.

  He hadn’t been riding for long when he saw a small dust cloud coming up on his right. He took a quick look around. There was a draw a little way ahead marked by a few willow trees and he rode into their shelter. After a time a lone rider appeared. He seemed to be heading towards the Barbed R and Wyeth relaxed, confident that he was in all likelihood a Barbed R ranch-hand. He remained in concealment till the rider was out of sight. Seeing the man come by served to remind him that just lately he had been getting a little careless. Maybe it had been a bad idea to come on this visit. Maybe it was self-indulgence. He needed to sharpen up, get back in action. That was the way to salvation. That way, he might numb the pain that gnawed at him since he had torn himself apart from Jolie. He would stay for just another day or two. He owed his mother at least that. He felt a stab of remorse. She had obviously been hoping he might stay longer. It would be difficult to leave, but it had to be done.

  He already had a vague plan in mind, something he had been considering for a while: the Cold Creek stage. His old comrade in arms, Rattlesnake Jack, had heard a rumour that the stage regularly carried bullion for the bank at Cold Creek, money which would be used to pay Federal soldiers. In fact, Rattlesnake had the information from an employee of the stage company itself. He would get back to the old-timer and work out the details with him. Hell, it would be good to see him again. The oldster was as quick and deadly as a rattlesnake with a gun or a knife, but that wasn’t how he had earned his soubriquet. He had done that the day he seized an axe and chopped off the two fingers of his left hand that had been bitten by a rattlesnake. Wyeth was already feeling better just thinking about him. With a last glance around, he moved out from the shelter of the trees and started back for Winding.

  Chapter Two

  Shelby Holland glanced out of the window of his shop the morning following his brother’s arrival. It was early and the streets were quiet so he was surprised to see the stranger who had been in his shop previously already up and about and making his way down the dusty street. He watched as the stranger turned into the livery stables. Just then the bell tinkled over the door and he had to move away to serve a customer.

  As he entered the stables, the stranger took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the comparative gloom. The ostler appeared from somewhere at the back.

  ‘Howdy,’ he said. ‘Come to check your horse?’ There was no reply. ‘Sure looks like it’s goin’ to be a hot day.’

  The stranger ignored him and wandered down the line of stalls. His own horse looked up as he passed but he didn’t stop. Instead his eyes fell on a big black steeldust a couple of stalls further on.

  ‘That’s a nice horse,’ he said.

  ‘Sure is.’

/>   ‘Does it belong to somebody in town?’

  ‘That horse? Nope. Belongs to a fella came by just recently. Say, you’re a stranger in town yourself, ain’t you? Stayin’ at the Alhambra?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Well, it’s a nice town. You visitin’?’

  The stranger did not reply. He examined the horse more closely.

  ‘Sure is goin’ to be a hot day,’ the ostler drawled. He came closer. ‘Name’s Wellman,’ he said, ‘Amos Wellman.’ He held out a hand. The stranger did not take it. The ostler hesitated a moment before dropping his outstretched arm. It was clear that the conversation was at an end. Turning on his heel and brushing past the ostler, the stranger walked slowly out of the stables and into the sunlight. The ostler was right. It was already hot out in the street. He needed a drink. He began to walk in the direction of the Horseshoe saloon but when he got there it was closed. Instead he made his way further down the street to Sloane’s eating house, went inside and ordered coffee.

  He had only taken a couple of sips when the door opened and the marshal appeared. He came across to the stranger’s table and, pulling out a chair, sat opposite him. For a moment neither spoke. The waitress approached the table but the marshal shook his head. When she had gone away, he turned to the stranger.

  ‘Let me introduce myself,’ he said. ‘I’m Marshal Snider.’ The man did not reply. ‘I take it you got a name?’

  The man gave the marshal a hard stare. ‘Gray,’ he replied.

  ‘You got business in Winding?’

  ‘What’s that to you?’ Gray responded. ‘I ain’t breakin’ no laws.’

  The marshal grinned. ‘Now that’s just where you’re wrong,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We got an ordinance in Winding that says you have to check in your guns when you hit town. For as long as you’re in town. Introduced it myself. I couldn’t help but notice you’re carryin’ side arms.’

  ‘I didn’t see any notice.’

  The marshal ignored him. ‘I guess you won’t have any objection to handing them over. You can collect ’em when you leave town.’

  Gray looked out of the window. The street was busier. A number of people were passing one another along the sidewalks; horses were tethered at some of the hitch-racks and further down the street a wagon was drawn up outside the County Courthouse. The marshal observed him closely. He knew the type. What was he doing in Winding? He wasn’t concerned because the man wasn’t going to be staying long. Gray seemed to be wrestling with some thought. Finally, reluctantly, he turned back and, drawing his guns, handed them to the marshal.

  ‘I’ll take care of ’em,’ Snider said. ‘Like I say, you can collect ’em when you leave town.’ He got to his feet and strode to the door. ‘Oh, and by the way,’ he said, ‘That’ll be by noon tomorrow.’

  Wyeth did not mention anything of his meeting with Jolie Rawley to his mother and they both seemed to go out of their way to avoid any controversial subjects. They spent the day together until his sister and brother returned later. Shelby had left the store early for once to spend more time with his brother. As they sat together that evening Wyeth was content to listen to Shelby and Kate as they talked about their day.

  ‘It’s kinda funny,’ Shelby said. ‘I had a fella in the store yesterday. I’d never seen him before. I figured he must be just passin’ through. Then I took a look out the window this mornin’ and there he was, walkin’ down the street. Since then I’ve seen him a few times. He was sittin’ on a rail outside the Horseshoe saloon when I came past on my way here, talkin’ with another man.’

  ‘Sounds like he’s just wasting time. Maybe he’s waiting to meet someone,’ Kate remarked.

  ‘He don’t look the type.’

  ‘What type does he look like?’ their mother asked.

  ‘A bit mean. He was carryin’ side arms when he came by the store.’

  ‘In that case, the marshal will be havin’ a word with him,’ their mother said.

  ‘I guess he must be stayin’ a while because he’s puttin’ up at the Willow House. I suggested it myself. I ain’t sure now whether that was a good idea.’

  Wyeth had been listening without saying anything. Now he turned to his brother. ‘Why do you say that?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, like I said, he looked mean.’

  ‘Mean?’

  ‘I don’t know. Like a weasel. I didn’t like the look of him. Come to think of it, I didn’t like the look of the fella I saw him talkin’ with, either.’

  ‘Well, we don’t have to worry about him,’ their mother said. ‘If there’s anything not right about him, Marshal Snider will deal with it.’

  ‘He’s a good man, this Snider?’ Wyeth asked.

  ‘Very good. The town has been real peaceable since he took over.’

  The conversation took a different turn and the subject of the stranger was forgotten. Only Wyeth was left with something to ponder.

  Night fell. In his room at the Willow House, Gray was pacing up and down. His encounter with the marshal had left him fuming and nothing had happened during the course of the day to make him feel any happier. All day he had hung about town, hoping to catch a glimpse of Wyeth, but without success. Now his hand was being forced. It seemed the marshal had taken an objection to him and wanted him out of town. If he was true to his word, that meant he had to be gone by noon tomorrow. Maybe he was bluffing? No, there was something about the marshal that told him he wasn’t the type to bluff. If he told someone to be gone by a certain time, he meant it. Which meant he had to act quickly. So what was he to do?

  After a time he suddenly stopped and sat on the bed. He had come to a decision. He knew that Wyeth was definitely in town because he recognized his horse. It was a good horse. What would happen if it disappeared? Wyeth wouldn’t be likely to just let it go. He would come looking for it. All he had to do was take the horse, leave a clear trail and then set himself up to drygulch Wyeth when he showed up. The only problem would be stealing the horse, but that shouldn’t be too difficult. He could carry it out tonight and have plenty of time to set himself up for the kill. It was a pity the marshal had his guns, but he still had his rifle. He could even double back to town early in the morning after he had set himself up and collect the guns from the marshal. Yes, he liked the irony of it. The more he thought the plan over, the better he liked it. It made a lot of sense, too, to carry out the killing away from town. He had envisaged the option of taking a pot-shot from an alley, but when he thought about it, there were too many chances, too many imponderables to a scheme like that. Things could go wrong; there could be awkward consequences. No, this was much better. This way he had complete control. He could meet Wyeth at a place of his own choosing and he knew just the sort of setup he wanted.

  Quite early the next morning, Wyeth paid a visit to the Willow House. He was met by Magenta Kirkwood.

  ‘Sam,’ she said. ‘How long have you been back?’

  ‘A coupla days. I’m just visitin’.’

  She stood back to regard him. ‘You look as handsome as ever. Your ma must sure be glad to see you. Come on in. What brings you to the Willow House, anyway?’

  When Wyeth mentioned the stranger who had been in his brother’s shop, Magenta nodded.

  ‘I agree with Shelby,’ she said. ‘I can’t say as I took to him. Not that I’ve any cause for complaint. He paid up in advance and if he’s decided to go already, that’s his prerogative.’

  ‘He’s gone?’ Wyeth queried.

  ‘Well, I presume he has. He didn’t come down this morning and his room is empty. Not that he brought much along with him, anyway.’

  ‘Mind if I take a look?’ Wyeth said.

  ‘Why sure. But what interest would you have in him?’

  ‘None at all. I guess what my brother had to say just kinda got me intrigued.’

  Magenta led the way up a flight of stairs and stopped outside an open door on the landing. ‘Go right ahead,’ she said.
br />   Wyeth stepped into the room. There was a faint smell of tobacco and something else stale, but there was nothing to see. He walked across to the window and looked outside. The square was coming to life and round a corner down the main street he could just make out his brother’s shop. Magenta had come in behind him.

  ‘Did he say much?’ Wyeth asked.

  ‘I never spoke to him at all. He didn’t spend much time in his room. He was out most of the time.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Wyeth said. Magenta looked at him with a slightly puzzled expression but he didn’t want to be drawn into further discussion. He made his way down the stairs and took his farewell.

  ‘Give my regards to your ma,’ she said.

  Wyeth walked away, thinking. His time with the cavalry and then on the run had taught him to be vigilant. He had developed something of a sixth sense, and it told him that there was something suspicious about the stranger. Whatever the man’s business, it probably had nothing to do with him. It must only have been by chance that the stranger had been in his brother’s shop. No one knew that Wyeth’s real name was Holland. Still, it was wise to be cautious. It was only later, when he went to the livery stables and found his horse had gone, that he became really convinced.

  He didn’t waste any time. It was lucky that his mother had gone into town. It meant he didn’t have to spend time explaining. Quickly, he hired a horse, returned for his guns and then rode out of town. There were a limited number of ways to go. Putting himself in the place of the horse thief, he figured out which was the most likely. He would want to get away quickly and find cover. That meant going the opposite way Wyeth had taken to get to the Barbed R. The trail was less marked and led away from the river towards the broken country known as the Brakes. He rode that way and was quickly rewarded by picking up the steeldust’s sign. All his cavalry training came to his assistance and he knew his horse well; it was easy to trace her hoof prints. Too easy. Alongside them were prints made by another horse. Whoever had taken the steeldust was making no efforts to try and cover his tracks. Maybe he was just in too much of a hurry. But Wyeth suspected there was something more afoot.