Gather My Horses (25 page)

While he was talking, Fielding was glad not to hear anything from behind the pack string. He hoped Isabel had taken cover.

“Enough of that anyway,” said Adler. “Here's what we're going to do. Tuck that lead rope under your leg for a minute, and pull your gun out of the holster. Don't get anywhere near the trigger. Hold it out at arm's length, and drop it on the ground.”

With slow, deliberate movents, Fielding did as he was told.

Adler continued with his orders. “Now put both hands on the saddle horn, and come down off that horse. When you get down, come around front. I
don't want to have to shoot up everything, but I will if it comes to it.”

The lead rope fell to the ground as Fielding rose from the saddle and dismounted. His rifle stock was out of reach on the other side of the horse, and he wished he had left Foote's pistol in his own saddlebag. He thought of trying to turn the buckskin, but he believed Adler's threat that he wouldn't scruple to put a bullet through the horse.

As Fielding came around the front of the buckskin, he held on to the reins. He could see his pistol ten feet away in the dirt, but he knew it would be fatal if he made a dive for it. Furthermore, dirt in the gun might cause it to jam.

Adler motioned with the rifle, and the gloved hands gave an impression of complete control. “Drop the reins and step over here,” he said.

In that instant, Fielding saw movement beyond where the man stood with the rifle. Isabel had come through the cleft in the rocks where the dark cedar trees grew.

Fielding did not budge. “I don't understand,” he said.

Adler's face tensed as he said, “What part? I said drop the reins, and get over here.”

Fielding still did not move. He heard the click of a revolver, then Isabel's voice.

“You'd better drop the rifle, mister.”

As Adler turned and took a step back, still keeping an eye on Fielding, Isabel came into view. She was holding the .45 with both hands, and she stepped around so that Fielding was not in her line of fire.

“It's a girl,” said Adler, stepping toward her.

“I said drop it.” Isabel held the gun pointed at him, but it wavered.

Adler took another step. “I think I know you,” he said. Then, with a quick backhand swing of the rifle, he knocked the gun from Isabel's hand.

The .45 roared, and the bullet split the air as it passed a couple of yards to Fielding's left. The buckskin jumped, but Fielding held on to the reins. The packhorses were shoving each other and trying to stampede, and both Isabel and Adler were scrambling for the fallen gun. Isabel got her hand on it, and Adler gave her a shove. The pistol clattered out of reach again. As Adler went after it, Fielding pulled the rifle from the scabbard and let the buckskin go.

“Run!” he hollered, hoping that Isabel would remember that she was to get out of the way if a shot was fired.

But she didn't. She picked up a rock the size of both of her hands, raised it, and heaved it at Adler's head. It glanced off his left shoulder but knocked him off course enough that Isabel made another try for the gun. When she did, Adler grabbed her lower leg and gave it a yank.

As she fell on her side, Adler reached for the .45 and got a grasp on it. With the pistol in his gloved right hand and the rifle in his left, he rose and turned, locating Fielding as he did so. The Colt blasted as a concussion of air walloped the left side of Fielding's head.

He knew he had this one second in time, while Adler was standing in the clear. Fielding had the rifle up, and he lined the sights on the center of
the dark gray shirt. Everything came together, and he squeezed the trigger.

The Colt fired into the air as Adler jerked backward. The rifle fell at his side, and the pistol went back with his hand and then fell.

Fielding took slow, cautious steps as he approached the man. A dark circle had appeared on the front of the shirt, and the body made no movement.

Isabel had come to her feet and now stood by his side as she spoke. “Is this one Adler?”

“It sure is. I didn't recognize him at first, because he usually wears a white shirt and a brown vest. But that was just for a second.”

“Is he the last one?”

“I don't know.”

“What do we do, then?”

Fielding cast another glance at the body. “I think we'll leave him here. They'll come looking for him.”

“His horse is tied in back of these rocks,” she said.

“Well, we should let it go.”

He followed her through the gap in the rock, then around to the back of the dome. When they came to the horse, he recognized it.

“See this?” he said. “A dark horse, with no white markings. Black slicker tied on back. This fellow Adler was fitted out for work.” Fielding untied the horse, then knotted the reins and slipped them over the saddle horn. “Whoever comes for Adler will find the horse. I didn't think to look for Pence's until much later.”

As Fielding and Isabel walked back to the trail, she asked, “And now?”

He held the rifle at his side as he looked around. “We pick up our things, gather the horses, and get going again.” He stopped and let his eyes meet hers. “Isabel, I'm sorry you had to see this.”

“Sorry? Tom, he had every intention of killing you.”

“Well, he didn't get to. I have you to thank for that. I'll tell you, I'm not used to having someone stick up for me.”

She put her hand around his neck and said, “You do now.”

The song of the meadowlark made the plains seem like a benevolent place as Fielding led the two horses from water back to camp. Isabel's full, dark hair cascaded around her shoulders where she crouched to roll up the gear tent. She pushed up from the bundle and brushed her hands against each other. Her eyes were shining as she met Fielding, close, and put her hand on his waist.

After the kiss, he said, “If you'd like to hold these horses like a good wrangler, I can start getting them ready.”

She gave him a lingering smile as she took the first lead rope. “This is a nice-looking one,” she said. “I like the coloring on him.”

“It's called a dun. Some of these others have a dark mane and tail, but this one's got these other dark spots as well—shadowing on the neck and shoulder, dark ear tips, shadowy face, and of course this stripe running all along the back. Plus the dark hocks and barring on the knees.”

“I like him.”

“So do I. He's a good horse, never gives any trouble.” He handed her the other lead rope. “Here. I'll get a brush.”

As he went to work on the dun, with Isabel standing close by, words came easy. “Like I said yesterday, I've had some setbacks. This is hard business, losing three horses the way I did. Always lookin' over my shoulder. But I got myself into it.”

“You haven't had much help.”

He shrugged. “Not worth complaining about. I think I just have to accept my losses, go back to the valley, and decide on what to do next.” He met her eyes. “I don't know what your father will say.”

“I'm old enough to be on my own. He can't take the key and lock me up. And besides, he knows that I know that he wouldn't stick with you but just looked out for himself.”

Fielding did not speak for a moment. He didn't mind having that kind of an advantage, but he didn't want to say it out loud. So he said, “I've done what I could. And going back to the other point, I think I've had enough of being in the middle of this whole mess. But I need to see what things look like when we get back.”

When they had all the horses fitted out, they set off across the grassland. After coming down the switchbacks late in the afternoon the day before, they had ridden six or seven miles on a gentle downhill slope between two lines of hills. They came to water at dusk. Now in broad daylight, Fielding picked out the landmarks again and set a course across country. He led four horses and let the sorrel travel on its own. Isabel rode next to him.

They traveled southeast, leaving the town of Wheatland well to their left. Their path took them through rolling plains country, treeless except for the watercourses. By early afternoon they came to
the hills overlooking the valley, and Fielding began to feel apprehension creeping into him. When they came to Antelope Creek about a mile north of his customary camp site, they stopped to rest in the shade and let the horses water.

Isabel crouched at the water's edge and washed her face with small handfuls of water. When she stood, she still looked fresh in spite of several hours of sun and dust.

She came to stand by him. “You look worried,” she said.

“I don't know what to expect.”

She smiled. “I'll talk to him first. Don't fret.”

“Oh, it's not just that. It's this bigger thing as well. I don't know how much trouble Cronin wants to go to.”

“He ought to be running low on thugs, shouldn't he?”

Fielding let out a weary breath. “You'd think so, but there's always more to be had.”

“You're not worried about Cedric, are you? I think the worst he would do would be to hit someone with a hairbrush.”

Fielding laughed. “That might be. But never rule him out. I wasn't thinking of him, though. Cronin got Adler from somewhere, and there's more like him. That's Cronin's style, keep himself in the clear.”

Isabel put her hand around Fielding's neck and kissed him. “I think he's got to be running out of steam.”

“We'll just have to see.”

As they crested the last hill northwest of the Roe place, a hawk rose from the grass with a snake in its talons. The bird flapped away with the pale
underside of the reptile trailing in the air. Isabel and Fielding looked at each other and smiled.

Down the hill and into the yard they rode. Isabel went into the house by herself as she had said she would. A few minutes later, she came out.

“I think you can come back either later today or tomorrow,” she said. “He's not in a good mood, but I don't think there's anything to worry about.” She smiled at Fielding but did not come close as she took the reins of her horse from him.

“That's all right,” he said. “I'll take these horses back to the place where I stay, and then I've got a couple of other things to do.”

Fielding set up his camp and put out his horses for a while as he got cleaned up. The afternoon shadows were beginning to stretch out when he gathered the horses. He saddled the bay for himself and led the white horse bareback.

He rode into Selby's place in less than half an hour. A breeze riffled in the young cottonwoods as Selby came out and met him in the yard. After the preliminary greetings, Selby asked how Fielding's trip had gone.

“I had some trouble,” Fielding answered.

“With your horses? With the weather?”

“With some of the Argyle men. First it was Foote, and he left. Then it was Pence, and Adler after that. I had it out with both of them.”

Selby stared and did not speak. His ruddy face looked as if he had things to say and was holding them in.

Fielding went on. “I've had time to think about
it, and I've decided I've had enough of these kinds of problems.”

Selby nodded, and his light blue eyes held on Fielding. “I don't blame you. It hasn't been easy on anyone.”

A wave of resentment came up, and Fielding stifled it. The less said, the better.

Selby spoke again. “I think everything's going to blow over, though.”

“I wouldn't know. If they wanted to get even for Mahoney, they might for these other two as well.”

“Oh, I don't think anyone's interested in gettin' even at this point.”

“How's that?”

Selby's eyes opened wide. “Oh, I guess you haven't heard yet.”

“No, I haven't. I just got back, and you're the first person I've talked to.”

“Well, big doin's,” Selby began. “This comes by way of Ray Foote.”

“I would have thought he went home.”

“Well, he was goin' to, but Cronin asked him to go out on one little job before he drew his pay.” Selby moistened his lips and continued. “Seems that Cronin had heard about the wild man livin' out on Richard's place, and Cronin didn't like it. He wanted the Magpie for a line camp. So he went out there with Ray and Cedric alongside.”

“That must have been a good show of force.”

“Not so much. According to Ray, the crazy man came out of the stable, and as soon as he found out who Cronin was, he went into a rant about how Cronin had had a man killed and was trying to
steal his place. Cronin said somethin' high-handed, and the crazy man reached inside the door of the stable and came out with a shotgun. He blew Cronin right out of the saddle, and those other two lit out at a dead run.”

“Whew!” said Fielding. “Just like that.”

“How I heard it. They got up a party to go out there later, and the crazy man was long gone. They brought back the body, of course.”

“When did this happen?”

“Yesterday.”

“Huh.” That would have been about the time Adler made his way into the mountains.

Selby's face brightened. “So like I said, I think things are going to blow over.”

Fielding tensed again. “Well, that's fine. But I've still had enough. I'm going to get my things together, and I might not be long for this place.”

Selby glanced at the white horse, and with a dubious tone he asked, “Did you come for your tent?”

“Not right now. I've got to pick up a saddle in the livery stable in town, and I can tie the tent onto it when I come back through.”

“Oh.”

“But I did come for something.”

“What's that?”

“Richard's two horses. I think I should leave them where he would want them to go.”

Selby's eyes widened. “Where would that be?”

“With Leonora.”