the Mountain Valley War (1978) (7 page)

"When Hale moves, we will move too. We've got twelve men--"

"Twelve?" Smithers looked around. "I count only eleven."

"Jack Moffit's number twelve," Trent replied. "I gave him a Sharps. Jack is fourteen, and at fourteen many of us have done a man's job. I'll stake my saddle that Jack Moffit will do his bit. I've seen him bark squirrels with a good rifle, and a squirrel's not as big as a man."

He paused. "We will have six hold this place, and six can do it. With the other six, or with four or whatever we need, we will strike back, go after grub ... whatever."

"That's the kind of talk I like," Smithers said. "I've not been a fighting man, but I dislike to think of my property destroyed when they get off scot-free. I am for striking out, but first we've got to think of food."

"Lije and Saul will go after deer. There are no better hunters in these parts. With what they can kill and what we have, we can get by for a few days. Then I will go after food myself."

"You?" O'Hara demanded. "Where will you get food?"

"Blazer. I'm not going to take all that time, either. I'm going across country, across the broken lands."

There was dead silence. Runyon leaned forward as if to speak, then sat back, shaking his head doubtfully. Smithers broke the silence. "I'll go with you," he said.

"Man," Hight protested, "even the Injuns shy away from that country. If there was any way across, I'd say take it, but men have tried, and died trying."

"There were Indians one time, old Indians, who knew a way across, and I think I know how it can be done. If I can do it, I need be gone only a few days at most."

Trent looked over at Jesse. "Do you want to watch Cedar? You and Quince, takin' turns? Don't take any chances, but when they start to move this way, bring us word. You can take that chestnut of mine. He's a racer, and loves rough going."

Jesse Hatfield got up and slipped from the room, taking up his rifle as he left.

"Jack"--Trent turned to Moffit--"you get up in the Eye and keep a good lookout on the Cedar trail. If you see anyone coming, give us a call."

He mounted the buckskin and took the trail for his own place. He knew what they were facing, but a plan of campaign was shaping itself in his thoughts. If they sat still, sooner or later they must be wiped out or starved out, and his own people would lose heart. They must learn to strike, and they must teach Hale that he was vulnerable.

All was still around his cabin when he rode in. There had been tracks on the trail, and he was not worried, as his was a most difficult place to reach.

Leaving the buckskin ground-hitched, he went inside and loaded two sacks with food of various kinds. A couple of slabs of bacon, some beans, rice, and dried apples.

When he had slung them on a packhorse, he crossed to the nail where he kept his guns. For a moment he hesitated. Then he took them down and buckled the gun belts about his hips. Matters had gone too far now, and the time for peace was gone. He stood for a moment looking around the quiet room.

Lonely it undoubtedly was, but there was a peace and a stillness here that meant much. How many times he had sat watching the fire on his hearth, or sitting in the door and watching the shadows grow long over the meadow.

There were a half-dozen head of good saddle stock in the corral, and he drove them out and started them down the trail toward the Hatfields'.

Jackson Hight was the last one to reach the Hatfields'.

He came up the trail on a lathered horse, his face white with anger. "Too late!" he said. "They burned me out!" . He looked at Trent. "I tried, Trent, I honestly did, but there were six of them. I winged one, though!"

Smithers pointed off over the trees. They could see a column of smoke there. "O'Hara's place."

Jesse Hatfield rode in. 'Two bunches comin'. They figure to get here about sunup. I overheard their talk."

"All right, Jesse, you get some sleep. You too. Jack. Parson, you and Smithers stand watch, and Quince, I want you and Bartram to ride with me."

"War you all headed for?" Saul asked.

"Why, I was just sort of thinking about going to market! We'll need some groceries, so I thought we kind of might circle around and pay Leathers a visit."

"Count me in on that," Saul suggested.

"You get some sleep. The three of us will do it, and if we can't, four would be too many. You get some rest."

"I ain't so wearied from chasin' antelope that I can't take the ride," Saul insisted. "It's a bad town, and I can surely make myself useful."

"All right, then," Trent yielded. "I'll not deny we can use you."

There was a burst of light off to the south, then smoke, scarcely visible against the darkening sky. "There goes my place," Smithers commented ruefully, "and I had a good crop of potatoes comin' up, too."

"Don't worry about them," Trent replied. "I'll help you dig them when this is over."

Smithers watched the four men ride away, and shook his head. "He surely makes you believe, doesn't he? Somehow his just saying that makes me feel better."

Parson Hatfield took his cold pipe from his teeth and commenced to tamp it. "He means what he says, Smithers, and when he gets around to telling you who he is, you'll have more cause for believing him. There rides one of the most dangerous men in the country, and from all I hear, he never looked to be, it just come up on him."

"Maybe we can win, after all," Smithers said. "Parson, let's go in and have a cup of coffee."

Chapter
7

Trent led the way at a fast trot. The trail they took was a little-known game trail Lije Hatfield had located that led down off the mountain through aspen groves and into the pines. They rode cautiously, pulling up now and again to listen, and carrying their rifles in their hands for ready use.

They saw no one. It was a wild and broken country they came to finally, with great boulders everywhere and scattered cedar. The town lay not far away now but was still invisible.

Trent slowed the pace with more and more frequent stops. Their success depended on their getting into town unseen. Many of Hale's riders would be out looting and burning, and others would be sleeping. At this hour the town should be quiet. The Mecca and the Crystal Palace closed their doors at two in the morning, so all should be easy going if they took no chances.

Drawing up on a small knoll with the town below them, they could see only two or three lights. None of these were along the street except for one light in a room in the hotel where some drummer sat late over his accounts or perhaps over a dime novel.

Trent chose dusty lanes where a hoof would be unlikely to strike a stone, and he led the way past barns and corrals, weaving a careful way through outlying dwellings and garden plots toward the main street. Long since, knowing upon what a slender thread his existence hung, he had taken the time to notice these streets and lanes, mapping every exit in his mind.

He had also taken note where the barking dogs were apt to be, and his route avoided them. There was always the risk that some late rider might come upon them or some householder might step outside in time to see them.

King Bill, secure in his power, would never suspect the nesters of trying to enter his town or approach his ranch. He would be expecting them along the overland route to Blazer, and without doubt that was observed. That they would ride right into the heart of his domain, he would never believe.

"Bartram," Trent whispered, "you and Saul take the packhorses behind the store. Keep them quiet, but don't try to get into the store or anything. If something goes wrong and there's shooting, get out of town, and get fast. Don't worry about us. It will be every man for himself."

He turned in his saddle. "Quince, we're going to get Leathers."

"Why not just bust in?" Saul asked. "We can find what we need."

"No," Trent said, "he's going to wait on us, and we are not only going to pay him but we are going to get a signed receipt. We are not thieves. There will be big trouble over all this, and when inquiries are made, I want us to have coppered every ace. Let him do the unlawful things, we'll stick to the safe side and be able to show we did.

"We will get him down here and we will pay cash on the barrel head for everything we get."

Leaving their horses with the others, they soft-footed it to the storekeeper's home, not over a hundred yards off. Quince, big as he was, moved like a ghost through the night, and several times Trent had to look around to make sure he was actually with him.

There was no moon. There were stars, and a few scattered clouds. The store buildings along the street were ominously dark against the sky.

Reaching the white picket fence around Leathers' home, he did not make the mistake of opening the gate, which would probably creak, but simply stepped over the fence.

There was a faint smell of lilac in the air, and the grass was damp. They paused when in the shadow of the porch and listened. A mockingbird sang interminably in a tree across the street, but there was no other sound.

Ever so gently he lifted one foot and put it down carefully on a step. Lifting himself with the muscles of the other leg, he took up the other foot and put it down cautiously. There was no sound. Inch by inch he worked his way across the porch and into the house.

Two people slept inside, Leathers and his wife. His wife was a fat, comfortable woman, and was one of those who idolized King Bill Hale. To her he was all a man should be, and she was much impressed by his swagger, his grandiose manner, and his style of living. He was, she was convinced, a great man.

Once, shortly after his arrival in Cedar, Trent had been in this house. He had come to get Leathers to return to the store, as he needed supplies after-hours. As his was a large order, Leathers was pleased to comply. Therefore Trent had some knowledge of the layout of the rooms.

The door he now opened gently was to the kitchen; from there a door led to a hallway, and from it a door to a living room, rarely used, and the bedroom. In that room Leathers would be sleeping with his wife.

Once inside the kitchen, he paused. Leathers kept a cat, but no dog, for which he was profoundly grateful. He moved quietly into the hall and paused to listen to the breathing in the next room. He could distinguish the slow, heavy breathing of Elsa Leathers and the jerky, somewhat erratic breathing of Leathers himself. The kitchen and the hallway smelled faintly of onions and homemade soap.

Drawing a large handkerchief from his pocket, he tied it across his face. Leathers would soon know who he was, but he hoped the immediate shock of a masked man would keep him silent. Then he slid his six-gun into his hand and stepped through the door into the bedroom. For an instant Elsa Leathers' breathing caught, hesitated, then continued. He heaved a sigh of relief. If she awakened, she would surely start screaming and all his carefully worked-out plans and his long ride would go for naught.

Alongside the bed he put the cold muzzle of the gun under the storekeeper's nose. Almost instantly his eyes opened. Trent saw the man's eyes turn toward him, then focus on what must be only a tall black figure in a flat-brimmed hat, masked and with gleaming eyes and a pistol.

Trent leaned down and whispered, "Get up quietly!"

Very carefully Leathers eased out of the bed. Trent gestured for him to pull on his pants and the slippers that lay alongside the bed. Then he indicated the door. Ever so softly, Leathers preceded him through the door.

Once outside, he turned on Trent. "What's the matter? What d' you want me for?"

"It's just a matter of groceries. You open your store and give us what we want, and you may live until morning. In fact, you step light and do what you're told, and you won't have any trouble at all. Make one squawk, and Til bend this six-shooter over your head."

"Take it easy, now! I ain't going to say a word. Just you hold off, now." He buckled his belt and hurried toward the store, with Trent and Quince at his heels. Quince paused only long enough to pluck a blue cornflower from the garden and tuck it into an empty buttonhole of his shirt.

Leathers fumbled with the lock on the store door. "If my wife wakes up and finds me gone, I ain't responsible for what happens."

"Don't worry over it," Trent replied coolly. "You just fill this order as fast as you can, and no monkey business. And you'll lose nothing by it. I want an itemized list, and I'll pay you for every cent of it."

"You mean this isn't a robbery?"

"No." Trent pulled down the handkerchief. "I am simply buying supplies. It isn't a robbery, and it won't be a shooting if you hurry!"

He motioned to Saul, who came forward. "As soon as you an' Bart get four horses loaded, you let Bart take them to the trail. Then, even if somebody shows up, well have a part of what we need. You stay, and then leave with the next four."

"What about you and Quince?" He gestured toward his brother, who was standing just inside the door keeping an eye on the street.

"We'll follow and cover your retreat. We will be right behind you."

Leathers worked swiftly. There was a dim light from a lantern he lit in the back room, but not much was needed, as Leathers knew the location of everything. Nor was Trent worried about what he might do. The man was frightened, and they represented the immediate danger, Hale only a later danger but one that might be explained away.