Tall Rider Read online

  I patted him on the neck and said a few soothing words which helped quieten him. Then very slowly I unhitched him and, keeping a firm hold of the reins, swung up into the saddle.

  By now the flatboard was out of sight. I reckoned Calthrop had a good ten minutes’ start on me. But the wheel tracks showed up clear in the sand and soon I was rewarded by seeing a cloud of their dust in the distance.

  I continued to gain on them but figured it would not be a smart move to get too close yet. I was outgunned and on a horse, a sitting target for whichever of them didn’t have his hands full with the reins.

  When I thought I was close enough, I dropped my speed and shadowed them. Sooner or later, they’d have to stop or they’d work the horses into the ground. Meantime, I knew they could see me, because I, too, was laying a trail of dust.

  I had no plan except to keep my options open, which was no plan.

  They kept heading east, away from Berry’s Crossing. Calthrop was being as good as his word and was clearing out. I guessed he was heading for the border into Missouri. Different state. Different jurisdiction. The law couldn’t touch him there for crimes committed in Kansas.

  Under the great canopy of blue sky and scudding clouds, the plain stretched away endlessly. Here and there, the land rose and fell in shallow ripples. At intervals weathered sandstone bluffs reared up like great forts. Apart from them, there was nothing to break the monotony of the rolling plain. After a couple of hours, what I first took to be a blue haze slowly turned into a distant range of mountains.

  Now that Calthrop had cleared out, I reckoned Tom would send Pete or John into town with a message to old man Jebb to get word of what had happened to Army headquarters. A detachment of troopers would be sent to tidy up the loose ends. Until they arrived, Tom and the boys would be more than a match for the gunslingers trapped in the cave. I guessed they’d leave them to fret inside until the fight had gone out of them, and then Harry, who knew most about burrowing through God’s earth, would go in and lead them out, grateful to be alive and in no mood to put up a fight. Fine. But that didn’t get me any further forward.

  Of course, Tom would take off after me. The tracks of the flatboard and my horse were fresh and he’d have no trouble tagging along in my wake. But I’d traversed some stony terrain which didn’t hold tracks like soft going. I didn’t know how good a tracker Tom was. It didn’t look good.

  As I weighed up the situation, that sky got bigger and bigger and I felt smaller and smaller.

  But at the same time, I felt riled as hell. Calthrop had Rusty. I’d only known her a couple of days but I felt somehow responsible for her. I knew she could look after herself in most of the fixes folk get themselves into, but with a man like Calthrop, you never knew what he might do next. I figured she needed help and there was only me now to give it.

  The trail of dust thrown up by the flatboard thinned. I stirred my horse to a canter and then, as the cloud faded altogether, to a gallop. Without their dust, I couldn’t make out where they were at.

  Maybe they’d hit a stretch of gravel and weren’t throwing any up. But maybe they’d stopped. Maybe they’d hit a rock or found water. Maybe they had a good reason for stopping. But maybe the reason wasn’t good.

  Suddenly I had a real bad feeling.

  11

  DESTINY TRAIL

  The going now became more broken but also greener. The country wasn’t open any more. It was a landscape made for snipers, surprises and ambushes.

  By now I’d lost the trail of the flatboard and, hoping to get a sight of it, I climbed a rocky knoll. Reaching the top, I lay flat on my belly and looked over the edge. Below me was a trail which I would have crossed in another half mile if I hadn’t stopped. It ran left to right, curved round a fold in the land and then I couldn’t see where it went after that. But something moved on the road just before it got cut off: a covered wagon bowling along smartly.

  I stood up. It was peaceful and deserted. Then I heard a horse snicker.

  The sound came from a clump of trees which hid a section of the road directly below me. I looked round again, saw nothing suspicious and reckoned the coast was clear. I led my horse down the slope, tethered him to a branch and covered the last hundred yards at a crouching run.

  I needn’t have taken the trouble. The two men were good and dead.

  They were lying in their own blood on the verge. One had a hole in his head and the other in his back. Just yards away the army flatboard stood in the shade of the trees. The two horses that had hauled it were happy enough to be taking it easy. They’d found a patch of tasty green grass and were nibbling at it contentedly. There was nobody around except the dead men and there weren’t any boxes of silver dollars on the back of the flatboard.

  A man didn’t need a giant brain to work out what had happened. John Doe and Joe Hick had been jumped and their rig had been stolen. Nor was it hard to guess who’d done the jumping: Calthrop and Nat had switched wagons. They, Rusty and the money were still ahead of me.

  I hitched my horse to the back of the flatboard, got into the driving seat and headed off in the direction the wagon had taken. I didn’t need to go fast and this way I’d rest Tom’s pony. Having a rested mount might be useful later on.

  Now and then from a rise on the road I got a sight of the wagon up ahead, still moving along at the same pace. It didn’t look like Calthrop and Nat were taking the trouble to check if they were being followed. I guessed they figured they’d got clean away.

  By now, the shadows were getting long and I started to worry. How would I keep on their tail once it got dark? As I crested a gentle hill, I stopped and peered into the gathering dusk. The road ran on white and straight for a couple of miles.

  There was no wagon on it.

  But about a mile along, a track turned off to the left. Someone had planted trees along it. For the shade, I supposed. As I watched, I saw a patch of white move between the branches: it was the covered wagon I was chasing.

  My eye followed the line of trees and found a huddle of one-storey buildings: barns and stables and the like. A chimney was visible atop one of them, but no smoke. I couldn’t see any animals either nor hear any of the usual farmyard activity. It was a homestead. But nobody was home.

  I watched the wagon drive into the yard and stop.

  Two men got down and checked the outbuildings. When they were satisfied nobody was about, they returned to the wagon and dragged a third figure from beneath the wagon’s canopy. I saw a flash of red hair. Then they went inside.

  Smoke appeared at the chimney. One of the men came out and wandered into the trees. I heard a shot and saw him come back holding whatever he’d shot, a jack-rabbit, maybe a hare. Then he went inside again.

  By now it was dark enough for me to get closer. I drove the last mile and left the flatboard at the start of the tree-lined branch-off that led to the farm. Although there’d be a moon later, the shadows just now were dense and black. I walked the length of the track and reached the homestead. There was a light in one window.

  I entered the yard. Keeping close to the wall, I worked my way slowly to the lighted window. The glass was misty with dirt. One pane was missing. I peered in.

  Calthrop and Nat were sitting at a table eating the jack-rabbit they’d roasted on the fire which was now dying back. There was no sign of Rusty.

  ‘Should get to the border late tomorrow,’ said Calthrop between mouthfuls.

  ‘Like I said, I know a place where we can cross the river without attracting attention,’ said Nat. ‘Somebody there owes me a favour.’

  ‘Then it’ll be easy street.’

  ‘What about the girl?’ asked Nat.

  ‘We’ll keep her till we get to your friend, the one who owes you the favour. She could be useful if we get in a jam. But once we’re crossing that sweet river, we’ll see if she can swim with a rock tied to her feet.’

  ‘Pass the bottle,’ said Nat. ‘I got a thirst on me.’

  Calthrop passed the bo
ttle, but not before taking a long swig from it.

  I left them to it and worked my way further round the house. I passed several windows, all dark, before coming to one from which there came a faint glimmer.

  Slowly I slid right up to the edge of the frame, looked in with one eye. By the light of a candle I saw Rusty, bound hands and foot, stretched out on a truckle bed.

  I guess I could have gone back and taken Calthrop and Nat right then. But before there was any shooting I wanted Rusty out of that place and away from danger.

  I tapped lightly on the window pane. Rusty took no notice. Maybe she was asleep.

  I tapped again.

  This time she stirred and looked straight at me.

  I held one finger to my lips, but she had too much sense not to know she should keep quiet or else we’d have Calthrop and Nat walking in on what should be a private party.

  I eased the casement open, stepped across the sill, and cut the ropes that held her.

  Without saying a word, she rubbed her wrists and ankles to restore the circulation. Then she was ready to go.

  We skipped out the window, felt our way along the wall as far as the yard gate and were about to head down the tree-lined track back to the flatboard, when the house door opened and a patch of light spread across the yard.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ said Nat. ‘I won’t stable them, though. I’m too bushed. But they ought to have a feed if they’re going to pull the wagon for us all that way to the Missouri tomorrow. And while I’m about it, I’ll get another bottle from the wagon.’

  We froze in the shadow of the wall while Nat opened a couple of barn doors before finding some hay and a pitchfork. It took him about ten minutes to feed the horses. He got a bottle from the back of the wagon, then went back in the house and shut the door.

  We moved out of the yard and when we were under the trees and it was safe to talk, I told Rusty about how I’d followed her. I also explained the plan I’d thought up while I’d been waiting for Nat to finish his chore with the horses. I thought she’d say I’d be a fool to risk it. Instead, she said she’d help: with two, it would be quicker.

  What I’d thought was this. Why should Calthrop and Nat get to keep $25,000 that didn’t belong to them? Like Harry, I’d never seen that amount of money in one place, but I recalled what Tom had said and pictured it looking more like a small hillock than a mountain. Mountains are hard to shift, but it don’t take giants to move hillocks.

  We went back to the stolen rig. I climbed over the duckboard. Inside it was blacker than the back of a grate. I felt around with my hands and located clothes, a coil of rope and a wicker-covered gallon jug which was about three-quarters full, I hoped, of water. I pulled the cork and sniffed: it did. I took a pull, for I was dry. I fumbled around some more until I found a wooden box, something the size of a cartridge box. I located another, then a third, until I counted twenty-five. Each had a handle on top for carrying. I lifted one. It was lighter than I thought it would be. I’d have thought a thousand bucks in silver dollars would have weighed more.

  There was no way we could move the wagon without attracting attention. We’d have to manhandle the boxes back to the flatboard.

  I passed out the first to Rusty who took it and set it on the ground. Then I got a second and lifted that out too until in the end, all the boxes were all lined neatly in a row, like soldiers.

  I picked up one in each hand and started back towards the flatboard which was 2 to 300 yards down the tree-lined track. Rusty got hold of a box and followed. The first three we stashed on the back of the army flatboard which then I backed up the track maybe a couple of hundred yards. This made some noise but we were too far from the house for it too matter. Then we loaded the rest of the boxes. At the last minute, I remembered the water-jug.

  All this took some time.

  Before we got away, I went back to the rig, unhitched the horses, tied them with Tom’s pony to the back of the flatboard which I walked back to the road, making as little noise as possible. When we got there, I jumped aboard and took us out of there. After a mile, we disappeared over the rise from which I’d first seen the branch-off to the homestead. I knew we’d made it. I gave the horses their head.

  The moon was well up and we made good progress. I aimed to put as many miles between us and them as I could before they woke up and figured out what had happened and decided what to do about it. I didn’t underestimate them. The first thing they’d do would be to get hold of something to ride. Rusty said she’d heard horses nearby, maybe in a neighbour’s field. It was safest to assume she was right. I reckoned we had at most a six-hour start.

  Joe Hick and John Doe were still lying on the grassy verge where they’d been shot. I’d been hoping they’d been found and that there’d be law waiting to question anybody riding by. We could have done with some help. But there was only us on the road.

  The moon was high enough for me to recognize the knoll from which I’d first seen the road. I turned off it and headed back towards Berry’s Crossing the way I’d come.

  The horses which had pulled the flatboard from the canyon were tiring badly. I stopped, turned them loose and switched to the ponies from the rig Calthrop had stolen. Then we went on our way again.

  The sun came up and we were raising up plenty of dust. We were leaving trail as easy to see as the Milky Way on a starry night. From time to time I checked back of us. I didn’t see any riders coming after us.

  We were now reaching terrain where tall bluffs rose out of the flat plain. The flatboard began to bounce around, for the trail here was uneven. I dropped our speed but even so we still hit a rock hidden just under the surface. Not too hard, but hard enough to break the front axle. The flatboard didn’t turn over and Rusty and me got off with a no worse than a bad shaking. But both rig ponies broke legs and I had to shoot them. That left us in the middle of nowhere with $25,000, no food or water and just one horse – Tom’s pony – between us.

  I looked around. Behind us, still no sign of Calthrop’s dust. Ahead, the plain rolled away until it merged with the sky. To our right stood a towering sandstone bluff with a litter of great boulders around its foot.

  ‘Listen, Rusty, we got a choice. We can get on Tom’s horse and get out of here. We’ve got a good start on Calthrop and half a chance of making it if we go now. But he and Nat will follow our trail and find the flatboard for sure, and the money.…’

  ‘I wouldn’t want that,’ said Rusty. ‘Not after all the killing he’d done to get it.’

  ‘Then we move the money, bury it under the bluff yonder. If we do it fast, we might still get out while we’ve still got an edge.’

  I didn’t care to think what would happen if we didn’t keep that edge.

  It took us more than an hour to hide the twenty-five boxes among the boulders at the foot of the bluff that towered high above us. We put them in a shallow hole we scooped out and covered them with sand. It was thirsty work and without the water from the wicker-covered jug it would have gone hard with us.

  We were all set to ride out of there on Tom’s horse when Rusty suddenly gave a shout and pointed back the way we’d come. In the distance was a cloud of dust thrown up by a party heading in our direction. It had to be Calthrop and Nat. They’d picked up our trail. We had no choice but go to ground. With two of us on one horse, they’d soon run us down.

  I fetched Tom’s pony and tethered him out of sight among the rocks. Here we had some cover, but we’d be exposed if they got round our flank. I looked for a way up the bluff. I didn’t like the idea much, since it would mean leaving us without an escape route. But it was all we had.

  The rock was badly weathered. At times it crumbled under hand or foot, but there were also firmer horizontal ledges, vertical funnels and even small platforms where we could stop and watch what was going on below without being seen. I left Rusty on one of these while I tried to go higher. I wanted somewhere less accessible. It took me some time to climb another thirty feet, but I was rewarded by fi
nding a wide ledge directly above the platform where Rusty was keeping watch. I leaned over to tell her how to get up and join me, but she shushed me and pointed down. What I saw made me duck my head.

  Calthrop and Nat had almost reached the flat-board. They dismounted and hitched their horses to it. One glance was enough to tell them it was full of nothing. No runaways, no boxes full of army money. Suddenly they both stiffened. I’d heard it too.

  Tom’s horse had snorted.

  Realizing they made a plumb target, they took cover behind the flatboard. I guessed by now their guns were out and they were looking for something to shoot at.

  They stayed where they were for five, ten minutes. When nothing happened, they reached out carefully and unhitched their horses, then keeping the ponies between them and the boulders as a shield, they moved slowly towards the bluff. Then they were cut off by the overhang and I lost them. But if I couldn’t see them, I could hear them. They searched the rocks. First they found Tom’s horse, then our tracks.

  Though they talked in whispers, the sound carried and I caught enough here and there to have an idea of what they were doing. Calthrop ordered Nat to climb the bluff after us while he stayed on the ground in case it was a trick and we suddenly broke cover and took off on their horses.

  I poked my head over the edge and tossed a pebble to get Rusty’s attention. When she looked up, I made signs for her to climb up to where I was. Nat would be up on her quickly. I crept back the way I’d come up, thinking to meet her and hand her up the tricky part of the climb. But I was too late. Negotiating a shoulder of rock, I glanced down and my blood froze.

  Rusty stood at the bottom of the ten-foot tall funnel or chimney which I’d climbed with some difficulty. Behind her I saw Nat’s head then his shoulders then the rest of him, including the gun which appeared in his hand. He grabbed her by the hair.

  ‘Rube, I got the girl!’ he shouted.