A Big Sky Christmas Page 7

  The big frontiersman shrugged off the blows, and threw a couple of his own, a left-right combination that landed on the attacker’s gut and chin. Jamie would have hit him again, but a couple arms like thick cables wrapped around him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides.

  “I got him, Keeler!” a harsh voice yelled in Jamie’s ear. It belonged to the tall, lanky man recovered from Jamie’s initial blow. “Teach the old codger a lesson!”

  A vicious grin split the bloody face of the short, piggish Keeler. He laughed, clenched his fists, and rushed at Jamie, obviously intent on dealing out a lot of damage.

  Jamie let him get fairly close, then lifted his right leg and planted his boot heel in Keeler’s belly. The collision made Jamie’s leg bend, but his muscles caught the weight and straightened his leg.

  That sent Keeler flying away from him, and drove him and his lanky captor backward. The man tripped and lost his balance. When he fell, Jamie’s massive form came crashing down on top of him.

  Jamie rolled away, came up on hands and knees, and surged to his feet. All three of his opponents were still on the ground, stunned. A lot of the immigrants had gathered around to watch the battle, although he hadn’t been aware of that while he was fighting. All his attention had been focused on his opponents.

  Some of the people looked excited, as if the brawl were a welcome break from the monotony of their journey. Others appeared to be shocked and upset by the violence.

  Reverend Bradford stood to one side, the usual frown of disapproval on his face. Jamie picked up his hat and slapped it against his leg to get some of the dust off of it. “What’s the matter, Reverend? Fighting bother you just as much as dancing does?”

  Bradford snorted. “To tell the truth, Mr. MacCallister, I didn’t really expect any better of you.”

  Before Jamie could respond to that, Lamar Hendricks hurried up and demanded, “What’s going on here? Someone told me there was a fight.”

  “If you can call it that, Captain,” one of the immigrants said. He waved a hand at the men on the ground. “Mr. MacCallister just whipped all three of these fellows!”

  “Is that right?” Hendricks asked Jamie.

  “Seems they hold a grudge against me because of what happened to Ralston. They ran their mouths some, then jumped me.” Jamie shrugged and nodded toward Keeler. “Well, that fella there is really the one who did all the talking.”

  “Keeler,” Hendricks said, making a little face as if the name tasted bad in his mouth. “I’m not surprised. He’s a hothead and too fond of drink, just like Ralston. It’s no wonder they’re friends. But Ralston swore these men were good scouts.”

  “Maybe they are. You can be good at your job and still be a polecat.”

  Hendricks frowned. “Do you want me to discharge them? I’d assumed they would work for you the same way they were going to work for Ralston, but if there’s going to be trouble between you all the way . . .”

  “That’s up to them,” Jamie said. “I don’t hold a grudge against any man over a little ruckus like this.”

  He didn’t say it, but he reserved his grudges—and his vengeance—for animals like the outlaws who had murdered his wife.

  The three men were groaning and moving around on the ground. Hendricks strode over to them and said sharply, “Keeler! Holcomb! Gilworth! Get up.”

  The three men gradually climbed to their feet and shook their heads as they tried to get their wits back about them. Keeler and Holcomb, the tall, lanky one, glared murderously at Jamie, but big, bearded Gilworth looked sort of confused as he stood there shaking his head slowly.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Hendricks snapped at them. “You had no call to attack Mr. MacCallister.”

  “Ain’t you even gonna listen to our side of the story, Cap’n?” Keeler asked in a whining tone.

  “That’s what I’m doing. Why did you attack our wagon master?”

  “Because he hadn’t ought to be the wagon master!” Holcomb said. “Jeb’s the rightful wagon master, and we’re his scouts.”

  “Not anymore. Mr. MacCallister has the job now, and you’ll work for him and take his orders.”

  “Damned if I will!” Holcomb said.

  “The same goes for me,” Keeler rumbled in his gravelly voice.

  “Then you can gather your gear and get out of here,” Hendricks said with a curt nod. “And since we haven’t left Kansas City yet, you won’t have any wages coming to you.”

  “That ain’t right,” Keeler insisted. “It’s been four days since Jeb hired us. That’s four days we could’ve been workin’ at some other job.”

  “No, it’s more likely four more days you would have spent lying around whatever saloon or house of ill repute Ralston found you in. Get out of this camp or I’ll summon the authorities.”

  With surly, hate-filled glares, Keeler and Holcomb stumbled off. The crowd parted to let them through. Several of the women looked repulsed by the two men.

  Hendricks looked at the third man. “Well, how about you, Gilworth? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Gilworth took a step toward Jamie.

  The crowd drew back a little, and a mutter of anticipation went through the group of immigrants. They expected to see more fighting.

  Gilworth stuck out his big paw of a hand. “Sorry, Mr. MacCallister. I went along with the others ’cause they got so worked up about what happened to Ralston, but to tell you the truth I was never that fond of the fella myself.” He grinned sheepishly. “I reckon I like a good fight, too. From what I’d heard of you, I figured we’d get one.” He grunted. “Never figured you’d whip all of us, though. I mean, one—”

  “One old man?” Jamie finished for him when Gilworth stopped short in his sentence.

  “Well, yeah. No offense, but you ain’t no spring chicken, that’s for sure.”

  Jamie snorted. “I’m not ready to be put out to pasture yet, either.” Gilworth’s hand was still out, so he gripped it. “Jamie Ian MacCallister.”

  “Hector Gilworth. I’ve heard a heap about you, Mr. MacCallister, and I’m mighty pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “You want to scout for this wagon train and work with me, Hector?”

  “Yes, sir. I’d plumb admire to,” Hector said with a decisive nod. “That is, if you’ll have me.”

  “You don’t make a habit of getting liquored up, do you?”

  “Not when there’s a job to do. Don’t get me wrong, Mr. MacCallister. I like to blow off steam just as much as the next man, but I reckon there’s a time and place for it.”

  Jamie clapped a hand on Hector’s shoulder. “You’ll do—at least until you give me reason to think otherwise. And you can call me Jamie.”

  “That’d be an honor. I’ve heard a whole heap about you, Mister—I mean, Jamie. I won’t let you down.”

  Jamie looked over at Hendricks. “There’s still a problem. We’ll need a couple more scouts, since those two quit.”

  “If you know anyone . . .” the captain began.

  “That’s just it, I don’t,” Jamie said. “I didn’t know a soul in Kansas City until yesterday, and I’ve been a mite too busy to make any acquaintances except here among your bunch.”

  Hector said, “I might know somebody.”

  “Friend of yours?”

  “My cousin. Name of Jess Neville. I don’t think he ever worked as a wagon train scout before, but he’s been a fur trapper and a prospector and a bullwhacker and done plenty of wanderin’ around. Reckon he probably knows the ground between here and Montana about as well as anybody else would.”

  “He’s here in Kansas City?”

  “Yes, sir, and he’s at loose ends. He just quit workin’ for a freight outfit not long ago.”

  Hendricks said, “He wasn’t fired for drinking or causing trouble, was he?”

  “No, Jess is the one who up and quit. He never did like stayin’ in the same job for too long. When we were growin’ up, f
olks said he was shiftless, but I think it’s more like he gets tired of doin’ the same thing.”

  Jamie said, “If you can hunt him up, I’ll talk to him. If I like the look of him, we’ll give him a job, but he’ll have to stay with it until the wagons get where they’re going. He can’t just go wandering off if he feels like it.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll make sure he understands that.”

  “Even if you hire this fellow Neville, you’ll still need at least one more scout, won’t you?” Hendricks asked.

  “That’s right,” Jamie said with a nod. “Hector, let’s go see that cousin of yours, and while we’re at it we’ll see if we can’t come up with somebody else.”

  “I really appreciate you puttin’ so much faith in me, Jamie.”

  Jamie grinned. “I like to think I can size up a fella’s character pretty good, especially after I’ve swapped punches with him. You’ll do. At least, like I said, until you prove different.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” Hector said fervently. “If you want to go hunt up Jess right now, I know where he’s been stayin’.”

  As the two big men, one young and one old, were leaving the wagon camp, they passed a group of children who stopped playing to gaze up at them in awe-struck admiration. Jamie spotted the Bradford twins among them and paused to say, “Abigail, that was you who called out that warning to me a little while ago, wasn’t it?”

  The little girl looked embarrassed and didn’t say anything, but Alexander replied, “It sure was, Mr. MacCallister. She just beat me to it, though. I was about to yell for you to look out when Abby did it.”

  “I appreciate the two of you looking out for me,” Jamie told them. “How about we make the two of you honorary wagon train scouts?”

  Their faces lit up with grins. Abigail said, “You mean it, Mr. MacCallister?”

  “I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean,” Jamie said. “But that’s a serious job I’m giving you. You’ve got to keep your eyes open for trouble, and if you see anything that doesn’t look right, you come find me or Mr. Gilworth or Captain Hendricks and tell us about it, all right?”

  They nodded solemnly in unison, and Alexander promised, “We sure will.”

  Jamie lifted a hand in farewell, and he and Hector walked on.

  Hector said, “Those are cute kids. The preacher’s young’uns, ain’t they?”

  “That’s right.”

  Hector made a face. “I probably shouldn’t say it, but I’m not all that fond of their pa.”

  “Can’t argue with you there,” Jamie said. “Come on, let’s find your cousin.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Hector Gilworth led Jamie to a rundown hotel on one of the side streets. “I know the place has seen better days, but I reckon it’s all Jess can afford right now.”

  “There’s no shame in a man being poor,” Jamie said. “There’s been plenty of times in my life when I didn’t have two pennies to rub together.” He didn’t mention that these days he had more than two pennies to his name . . . a lot more. This was one of many situations in which he’d found himself where how rich he was didn’t matter one blasted bit.

  They went up stairs that sagged a little under their weight and down a dusty hallway to the door of Jess Neville’s room. Hector banged a fist against the panel and called, “Jess? You awake in there? It’s me, Hector.”

  Jamie heard shuffling footsteps on the other side of the door. It swung open, and a man slightly below medium height peered out at them with bleary, confused eyes. He had thinning brown hair, a couple day’s worth of beard stubble, and looked thoroughly unimpressive.

  Jamie didn’t smell liquor, though, so he was willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt and figure that his bleary eyes came from being sleepy, not hungover.

  “What time is it, Hector?” the man asked as he dragged fingers through his hair.

  “Sun’s been up a couple hours,” Hector replied.

  “Well, the sun may have been up, but I ain’t.” The man frowned at Jamie. “Who’s this big old galoot?”

  “Jamie Ian MacCallister,” Jamie introduced himself.

  Vague recognition stirred in Jess Neville’s eyes. “I think I heard of you, mister. Can’t rightly recollect what it was that I heard, though.”

  “He’s the new wagon master for that bunch of immigrants I signed on with,” Hector explained.

  “What happened to that fella Ralston?” Neville asked.

  Hector pointed at Jamie with a thumb and grinned. “Mr. MacCallister—I mean, Jamie—happened to him. Ralston started a ruckus with him in the Bella Royale, and he wound up with a broken leg.”

  “Ralston did?”

  “Yep. You don’t see Mr. MacCallister hobblin’ around with a broken leg, do you?”

  Neville shook his head. “This early in the mornin’, I don’t trust my eyes not to be playin’ tricks on me, so it don’t matter what I see. What is it you want?”

  “The other two fellas who were supposed to be scouts up and quit because of what happened to Ralston. I thought maybe you’d be interested in one of the jobs.”

  Neville hadn’t invited them into the room, but that was all right with Jamie. He could look past the man’s shoulder and see that the room was sparsely furnished with a chair, a rickety table, and a bed with grimy sheets that were so tangled they resembled a rat’s nest.

  Neville put a hand on the door like he was about to shut it and said, “Dadgum it, Hector. You know I just quit that bullwhackin’ job a few days ago. I ain’t ready to go back to work yet.”

  “You mean you ain’t completely out of money yet.”

  “Same thing, ain’t it?” Neville tried to swing the door closed.

  Hector wedged a big, booted foot between the door and the jamb. “Here’s the thing, Jess. We’re in sort of a bind. We need a couple scouts, and like I told Jamie, you know the country.”

  Neville frowned. “Where is it those pilgrims are goin’ again?”

  “Montana Territory. A place called Eagle Valley.”

  Neville scratched at his patchy beard as his forehead furrowed in thought. “I think I’ve heard of it. Wouldn’t rightly know how to find it, though.”

  “Cap’n Hendricks has a map. He’s the fella the rest of the immigrants elected to be in charge.”

  “I know where it is,” Jamie said. “I can get the wagons there. It’d be a lot easier with some good help to scout out the trail, though.”

  “Well, you could get an argument about whether or not I fall into that category, mister.” Neville squinted up at him. “Did this big ol’ grizzly of a Gilworth tell you that I’m just about the laziest human bein’ on the face of the earth.”

  Jamie glanced at Hector and said dryly, “No, I don’t reckon he mentioned that.”

  “Well, he should have. It ain’t that I don’t do my work. I do, and you can ask anybody I ever drew wages from about that. But when I ain’t workin’, I’m not of a mind to do much of anything except take it easy. That seems to rub most people the wrong way.”

  “You do your job and I don’t care how much you sleep,” Jamie declared. “That’s not any of my business.”

  “Now, see, that’s a reasonable attitude. Most folks I work for, they just ain’t reasonable.”

  “I’m not most folks,” Jamie said flatly.

  Neville glanced up and down Jamie’s tall, rugged frame. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  “You want the job or not?” Hector asked.

  “Now, don’t rush me, don’t rush me. That’s another problem folks have these days. They’re in too much of an all-fired hurry all the time. It don’t hurt to just slow down and ponder things for awhile ’fore you make up your mind.”

  “The wagon train’s leaving at first light tomorrow,” Jamie said. “We don’t have any time to waste. If you’re not coming with us, Neville, we’ll need to find somebody else.”

  “Well, if you’re gonna put it that way . . . I promised my aunt Sadie
, his mama—Neville nodded at his cousin—that I’d look after ol’ Hector here. He’s big as an ox, but he ain’t much more’n a babe in the woods, you know what I mean?”

  “Blast it,” Hector said. “I been around. You make it sound like I’m some sort of tenderfoot, Jess.”

  Neville ignored that outburst and went on. “I reckon I can come along. Can’t stay here in Kansas City, that’s for sure. If I did, I might have to take a job clerkin’ in a store or something else that’s inside. I can’t hardly abide havin’ walls and a roof around me all the time.”

  “You won’t find many walls and roofs on the prairie between here and Montana Territory,” Jamie said.

  Neville grinned. “No, that’s sure enough true.” He put out his hand. “Count me in, I reckon, Mr. MacCallister.”

  “Call me Jamie.” As they shook hands, Jamie went on. “I don’t suppose you know somebody else we can hire as a scout.”

  “I surely don’t. Sorry.”

  Hector said, “Get your possibles together and come on over to the wagon camp today. You can stay there tonight. Might as well save the cost of this hotel room, and that way there’s no chance you’ll sleep too late.”

  “Leavin’ at first light, you said?” Neville winced a little. “I sure do hate to hear that, but I’ll be there. And my word is good.”

  As they were headed back downstairs, Jamie asked Hector, “Is he telling the truth about his word being good?”

  “Yeah. Jess has got his faults, no doubt about that, but he’s honest as the day is long. If he tells you he’ll do something, you can count on it.” With a note of worry in his voice, Hector asked, “What are we gonna do about findin’ another scout?”

  “We’ll just have to look around, maybe check in some of the saloons and hash houses. If we don’t find anybody”—Jamie’s brawny shoulders rose and fell—“I reckon we’ll start out with three scouts, counting me, instead of four. Maybe somebody who’s already part of the wagon train would take the job. Some youngster, eighteen or so, who’s traveling with his folks.”