Blood Valley Read online

  Mumblin’ a few words that I didn’t learn in Sunday school, I got to my feet, found my hat, and then led Critter over to a little creek. With my bandana, I bathed the bullet wound and packed it with moss, then covered that and secured it best I could with my bandana and a piece of twine from my saddlebags.

  I had some horse liniment with me, most cowboys carry that, for use on themselves as well as the horse, but you just try pourin’ some of that into a raw wound, and you’ll get your butt kicked clear into the next county—quick.

  I ground reined Critter and took me a hike up to that stand of lodgepole pine, right to the spot where I’d seen the sun come off that gun barrel. Took me some scoutin’ around, but I found where he’d laid and then I found the brass he’d ejected from his rifle. And it was just as I’d figured.

  It was a .44-.40, and the only person I’d seen with one of them was that bastard Haufman. I put the brass in my pocket and walked back to Critter.

  I figured I was still some miles from the main house on the Quartermoon, and since I didn’t see no hansom cabs around, that didn’t leave me many options. So, leadin’ Critter, I struck out.

  Damn, but I hate to walk!

  My feet was killin’ me. Me and Critter had hiked and limped along for several miles before comin’ up on a brandin’ site. This was a Quartermoon line shack, with a brush corral and a small remuda. The cowboys watched as I walked up, leadin’ Critter.

  Then they got right upset when I told them what had happened.

  “If you want a posse, Sheriff,” one puncher said. “You got one ready-made.”

  I shook my head. “No point. He’s clear back to town or to home base by now. I’m more worried about my horse.”

  These was cowboys, and horse-lovers, and they could understand that. Every cowhand has his favorite horse, and you get attached to them, and them to you. And while any cowboy will cuss his horse from time to time, you just let someone do a hurt to that animal. Brother, you best get ready to swing or grab iron.

  One of them hands knew a right smart about horse-doctorin’. He said he’d tend to Critter and bring him in later if I wanted to drop a loop on one in their loose remuda.

  Hidin’ a smile, I agreed to do just that. They was good boys, and they’d do whatever they could to help me, but I could damn well rope and saddle my own horse. Out here, a man figures if you’re big enough to tote iron around, you’re big enough to break your own horses, much less saddle one.

  I liked the looks of one of the biggest buckskins I’d ever laid eyes on. He looked like he could run all day and still have bottom left in him. But he had him a mean look in his eyes, and he was lookin’ straight at me.

  “That one,” I said, takin’ the rope from my saddle.

  “Uh, Sheriff,” a cowboy said. “That’s Pronto. We call him Pronto ’cause just as soon as you get in the saddle, you get out of it pronto!, if you know what I mean.”

  I knew. I’d figured him for a horse that was gonna let you know who’s boss. Well, I was fixin’ to show him who was boss.

  “I’ll ride him.”

  The boys, they started wagerin’. Obviously, I had picked me a ring-dang-doo.

  I built me a loop and caught Pronto on the first throw. A couple of hands held him while I got my saddle on him . . . after strippin’ off all the unnecessary gear. As soon as I settled into the saddle, I knew this horse was gonna be a son of a gun!

  I give out with a yell that would have woke the dead, and Pronto, he commenced to jumpin’ and buckin’. Ever’ time he’d go up and then come down, my teeth would rattle. But I’d been breakin’ horses since I was no bigger than a popcorn fart, and he wasn’t about to buck me off.

  Them Quartermoon boys was hollerin’ and yellin’ and whoopin’, enjoyin’ the show. Pronto, he give one more sideways jump and then stopped, swingin’ his big head around and glarin’ at me, as if wonderin’ what in the hell I was doin’ still on his back and grinnin’ at him.

  He give me out one long breath and I could feel him relax under me.

  “Whoo, boy!” a Quartermoon rider yelled. “Here she comes, Sheriff.”

  And the bettin’ got heavier.

  Now when a buckin’ horse does what Pronto just done, one of two things is about to happen. Either they’ve give it up and gonna allow you to gentle them, or they’re fixin’ to carry you where angels wouldn’t go.

  Pronto looked at me lookin’ at him. I patted his neck and grinned at him.

  He showed me his teeth and then bucked me off and tried to stomp on me.

  Scramblin’ out of the way and catchin’ him on a buckdown, I grabbed hold of the saddle horn and swung back onto that hurricane deck. Rakin’ him with my spurs, he got mad and really cut loose. This was one buckskin that had rode straight up out of hell.

  He twisted and turned and went up and come down. It was a damn good thing that I wasn’t tryin’ to ride him inside some stout-built corral, ’cause sure as shootin’, he’d have tried to scrape me off, and I’ve seen cowboys get busted legs when a horse decided to do that.

  There was still fight left in him and he showed me that he wasn’t about ready to give up the battle. Pronto, he threw back his head and screamed just like a puma.

  It took some time, but I finally beat him. Pronto, he decided to give up the ghost. I was plumb tuckered out when he got it through his head he’d met a rider he couldn’t throw off. I didn’t want to hurt Pronto’s feelin’s none, so I didn’t tell him that I’d made a lot of money bettin’ that buckin’ horses couldn’t toss me off. I’d tell him about that later, after we got to know each other some better.

  I stripped the saddle off him and rubbed him down good with dry grass. He seemed to like that. He only tried to bite me twice and kick me once.

  “Your horse is gonna be out of commission for quite a while, Sheriff,” the cowboy lookin’ after Critter said. “But that’s one hell of a hoss you just rode.” He looked at me friendly-like. “Nobody else has ever rode Pronto.” Then he paid me the best compliment one cowboy could give another. “You’re a top hand.”

  “Then why do you keep Pronto around?” I knew the answer before I asked.

  He grinned. “Pronto goes where he wants to go, and he’s sired some fine colts. ’Sides, we like to set strangers on him for some fun.”

  I returned his grin, and we become friends.

  Critter didn’t even look around when I rode out; he’d spotted him a right pretty little mare and was makin’ goo-goo eyes at her, and she was swishin’ around him, actin’ a fool; females bein’ what they are.

  Kinda hurt my feelin’s. But I guess Critter was payin’ me back for spendin’ so much time with Pepper and ignorin’ him.

  I never thought I’d see a horse as good as Critter—and I sure wouldn’t want Critter to know—but Pronto was one hell of a horse. Even after all that jumpin’, screamin’, and buckin’ he’d done just a few minutes past, he didn’t appear to be none tuckered out at all.

  A Quartermoon hand, he seen me ridin’ in and hightailed it to the main house, probably to kid Miss Pepper about her beau comin’ in and to tell Mister Baker that I was ridin’ in on Pronto.

  But Rolf Baker, he was pure western man, he knowed something was wrong, bad wrong, just by lookin’ at me.

  “What happened, Cotton?”

  Steppin’ out of the saddle, I give the reins to a cowhand. The cowboy didn’t look none too thrilled about the prospect of handlin’ Pronto.

  I looked Pronto square in the eyes. “Now, you let him take the saddle off you and rub you down good. You behave, now, you hear?”

  Pronto butted me in the chest with his head and tried to step on my foot. Just his way of sayin’ he liked me.

  As he was bein’ led away, he busted the air with a good one and that sent us all scramblin’ for the porch. Pronto, he must have stuck his muzzle into the camp’s bean pot.

  Sittin’ on the porch of the house, a cup of coffee in my hand, I told Rolf all what had gone down, startin’ o
ut with the details of my talk with Matt Mills and endin’ with my horse bein’ shot.

  “And your horse?” Rolf asked. He could see that I was OK.

  “He’ll be all right. But if it’s OK with you. I’ll borrow Pronto for a time. Me and him get along.”

  “Of course. I’ll give him to you, have the bill of sale ready whenever you choose to leave. But you are spending the night, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, please do!” Pepper said, taking my big rough hand in hers. “We really need to talk some, Cotton. About . . . important things.”

  I began to feel a little trapped, but hell, it was a trap I’d set for myself.

  Her dad give her sort of a queer smile when she said that. Her mother’s smile was more open.

  “Well, sure,” I said. “That’d be real be nice.”

  In the barn, I could hear Pronto kickin’ the slats out of his stall. The cowboy come out of the barn at a dead run, cussin’ and hollerin’.

  Rolf looked at me. “Pronto sets his own rules, Cotton.”

  “Yes, sir. I sorta already figured that out.”

  My stomach drawed up some when Pepper said she was gonna do the supper cookin’. I thought at first that was the reason her brother, Jeff, was out with a gatherin’ and brandin’ crew. But Martha said he’d be back in time for supper.

  I didn’t have much time to ruminate on it much. Big Mike Romain come ridin’ up just about that time.

  His face darkened with anger when he spotted me sittin’ in the porch swing, Pepper close beside me . . . real close beside me. When she sat down beside me, the temperature on that porch went up about ten degrees. And it wasn’t just her neither.

  I had been told by Rolf that A.J. had done the same as Matt . . . givin’ Mike ten percent of his spread for his loyalty; so both men had more than a passin’ interest in what happened in the valley.

  I greeted Big Mike cheerful-like, and by doin’ that, forced him to be civil to me. He done so, but man, he looked like he’d rather bite the head off of a live rattler than speak polite to the likes of me.

  In a way, I could understand how come it was he hated me. He’d been courtin’ Pepper for no tellin’ how long, and gettin’ nowheres, and here I come in, and we was cozy in no time.

  “What brings you out this way, Mister Romain?” Pepper asked, stickin’ the needle to him. Hell, she knew perfectly well why he was here.

  I’ll give Mike credit for courage. He looked at Rolf and said, “I would like to speak to you, Mister Baker.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, sir. And in private.”

  “Is something wrong, Mike?”

  “No, sir. I would like to speak to you on matters concerning affairs of the heart.”

  Pepper, she hissed like a snake when he said that. Lookin’ at her, her eyes narrowed down and her face turned pale. I could feel the tension buildin’ deep inside her, pushin’ aside the steam that had already built up.

  Rolf stood up. “Very well, Mike. If you think it’s necessary.”

  “I certainly don’t think it is!” Pepper said, considerable heat in her voice.

  “Now, Pepper,” Big Mike tried to soorthe her. “You know you need a strong hand to steady you at times.”

  “I sure as hell don’t need yours!”

  “Pepper!” Her mother said. “Please remember that you’re a lady.”

  “She’s got her a strong hand,” I said. “And it belongs to me.”

  “Oh, Cotton!” Pepper put her arms around my neck.

  Rolf looked amused at the whole thing.

  Mike was just plain mad.

  “Now, you see here!” Mike raised his voice at me.

  Me? Hell, I just opened my mouth and jumped right in. “And furthermore, Miss Pepper is spoke for—by me! I come out here to ask for her hand in marriage.”

  “Yes!” Pepper hollered, and I spilled coffee all down my britches-leg.

  Damn stuff burned, too.

  “Well, bless Pat!” Rolf said.

  Martha pulled out a little hanky from somewheres and started blubberin’.

  Mike, he glared at me. And I knew at that instant I had made me a powerful, hateful, and deadly enemy. Mike cut his eyes to Pepper. She was practically up in my lap and I was gettin’ plumb flustered about the whole thing.

  When Mike spoke his voice was charged with emotion. “I thought, Pepper, that you and I had reached an understanding.”

  “I never thought that at all,” Pepper told him. “I have told you that while we might be friends, that was as far as it was going . . . ever!”

  Mike’s face was mottled with anger and hate. “I see. Well, it looks as though I have been laboring under a false impression. Quite a long ride for nothing, I suppose.”

  “Not for nothing, Mike,” Martha had stopped blubbering. “Everyone now knows where the other stands, right?”

  “Yes.” Mike struggled to contain his anger. “Yes, of course. And that is always good . . . I suppose.”

  “Why don’t you stay for dinner, Mike?” Rolf asked, the gentleman in him coming to the fore.

  “Well . . . ?” Mike tried a smile.

  “Yes,” Pepper said sweetly ....very sweetly, and I braced myself for whatever. “I’m preparing supper . . . fried chicken.”

  Mike lost his smile. From the look on his face, he’d attempted to gnaw on her bird before, and love or lust or whatever on his part, damned if he was gonna try any more of it. “Oh, well, in that case . . .” Then he caught himself. “I’d better get started back if I’m to make the ranch before dark.”

  “Yes,” Pepper agreed, “I think perhaps that would be best.”

  “You be careful, Mike,” I told him. “My horse was shot out from under me a couple hours ago. There’s a back-shooter out there.”

  He gave me a sharp look. “I suppose a man in your position would tend to make a lot of enemies, Sheriff.”

  “That might be true. Oh, something else. I had me a nice long talk with Matt Mills this mornin’. He sure is a nice feller—we reached an understandin’ about things.”

  That shook Mike. He took a step forward, putting one boot up on the steps. “That’s . . . very interesting, Sheriff. What did you two find to talk about?”

  “Official business,” I said mysteriously, and wouldn’t say no more.

  He stared at me. Hell with him. Let him stew awhile. Do him good. If I could work up a little suspicion between the Rockinghorse and the Circle L, that’d be fine with me.

  “Ladies, Rolf, I’ll take my leave now.” He spoke around his hate and anger.

  Him not speakin’ to me didn’t hurt my feelin’s none a bit. But I wanted to needle him just a tad more.

  “Oh, Mike!” The big man turned around. “Do me a favor, huh?”

  “What is it?”

  “Tell Haufman the next time I see him, I’m gonna run him out of the valley, or kill him. The choice is his to make. I thank you in advance.”

  “Why would I see Haufman? He doesn’t ride for us. We picked names out of a hat and he . . .”

  He shut his mouth, realizin’ too late that he’d let the cat out of the bag.

  With a low oath, he whirled around, mounted up, and galloped out of the yard. I felt sorry for Mike’s horse, ’cause until he calmed down, Mike was gonna take his anger out on the animal.

  Pepper grabbed both my hands and held on. Good thing I’d put the coffee cup on the porch floor. “Oh, Cotton! I’m so happy for the both of us. Aren’t you?”

  It was only then that I really realized that I was engaged to be married! Lord, have mercy! I swallered hard and mumbled something. I disremember exactly what.

  Pepper give me a wet kiss right on the mouth and I got all flushed-up.

  Damn, but I was warm. It was gettin’ kinda late in the season for longhandles. I was gonna have to get me some of them regular drawers.

  Rolf, he pried me a-loose from Pepper and shook my hand. Martha, she give me a little peck on the cheek.

  A puncher come
runnin’ up. “What’s all the hollerin’ about, boss?”

  “Pepper just got engaged, Buck!”

  “You don’t say!” Then he had to come up on the porch and pump my arm like he was fillin’ up a bucket. “We’ll have us a regular shivaree here pretty quick then, Sheriff. I’m happy for you.”

  Then he ran off to the bunkhouse to tell ever’body he could find.

  “Oh, Pepper!” Martha took my place in the swing. “We have so much to talk about. Just the two of us.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “We’ll plan the wedding for the fall. It’ll be so lovely that time of year.”

  “Fall, hell!” Pepper hollered. “Damned if I’m waitin’ until fall.”

  “Now, you listen to me, young lady!” Martha raised her voice. “This wedding is going to be done in a proper manner. Just like it would be back in New Hampshire.”

  “Damn New Hampshire!” Pepper met her mother’s tone. “This is Wyoming Territory.”

  Me and Rolf beat a hasty retreat off that porch, leavin’ mother and daughter a clear battleground. The feathers and the hair was about to start flyin’. Pepper, she wanted to make it legal as quick as possible. Inside, she was hotter than a pot of Mexican chili.

  And don’t ask me now I know that. It wouldn’t be gentlemanlike for me to reply.

  Chapter 11

  Jeff Baker rode in during the late afternoon and had time for a bath and a change of clothes ’fore supper—dinner, they called it—was spread out on the long and fancy table in the dining room. First time I ever et under a chandelier. With that many candles, I kept frettin’ about the drippin’s fallin’ into the soup. Course, I didn’t say that out loud. I’m dumb, but I ain’t stupid.

  And my, I never seen so much food in my life.

  I picked at my food until I could get me several good looks at how the others was handlin’ all the knives and forks and spoons. I never knowed how the gentry eat before. Looked kinda awkward to me, but I following right along and tried to pick up the hang of it.

  There was a fork for this plate and a spoon for that bowl and two or three more instruments for something else. I never knowed eatin’ could involve so much work.