Luke's Gold (13 page)

Astonished by the question, Cade took a moment to answer. “Hell, Levi, I wasn't dead, I just passed out, I reckon, but I sure as hell wasn't dead, or I wouldn't be here right now, would I?” Loco began to stamp nervously, eager to be on the move again. Cade held the gray gelding back a couple of seconds while he smiled and tapped his forehead in farewell, and then he was off, following the shorter trail down, now that Loco was unencumbered with the travois. He had intended to leave that morning, but it was already midday by the time he finally got started.

Levi stood with his arm around his wife's shoulders, watching until Cade dropped below the rocky shelf and disappeared in the trees. “He seen the other side,” he assured Willow. “He just ain't supposed to tell anybody about it.”

Dorsey Braxton pulled up at the edge of the trees that bordered the Gallatin River, surprised by the scene he had come upon at the riverbank. “Look what I found,” he called back to his two brothers, who were following behind him. Being the eldest, Dorsey usually led. He and his brothers had spent more than two years, off and on, combing the mountains between the Absarokas and Virginia City, looking for the man who shot their younger brother. Their lack of success in finding the man and the Blackfoot woman did nothing to discourage Dorsey's lust for vengeance, and he kept coming back to the valley of the Gallatin. He was convinced that this was the most likely country Levi Crabtree would have picked to hide in.

“Damn,” Cobb Braxton uttered when he pulled even with his brother and saw the remains of two bodies. “Looks like somebody had a little piece of bad luck. The buzzards didn't leave nothin' but rags and bones.”

Gentry Braxton guided his horse around his two brothers and dismounted to take a closer look at the pile of rocks that was Luke Tucker's grave. “Reckon what's so special 'bout this one?” He started pulling rocks away until he had made a hole big enough to see what they guarded. “Another dead one,” he announced. “The buzzards didn't get to this one, but the worms are doin' a pretty good job.”

“Anything on him worth takin'?” Cobb asked.

“Hell, I don't know. I can't see that much. If you wanna see him, you dig him out. He's smellin' too rank to suit me.”

“Does it look like that bastard we're after?” Cobb asked.

“How the hell do I know? I ain't ever seen the son of a bitch. Franklin's the only one that saw him.” The youngest of the four brothers might have gotten a good look at Levi Crabtree moments before Levi shot him, but Franklin was dead when they got to him.

“How long you reckon he's been dead?” Dorsey asked. Something else had caught his eye at the edge of the clearing.

“Hard to tell,” Gentry replied. “Two weeks, maybe.”

“About the same as these marks cut in the dirt, if I had to guess,” Dorsey said. The hoofprints were barely discernable, but there were two reasonably sharp marks left by what surely must have been a travois. “Somebody hauled somethin' or somebody away from here. Wonder what it was?”

Cobb and Gentry came over to take a look for themselves. “I don't know,” Gentry answered his brother after studying the two deep marks left in the sandy soil, “but it sure looks like there was a shoot-out here over somethin'.”

“I'm thinkin' we oughta find out if we can see where these tracks lead,” Dorsey decided.

Since there was no better suggestion from either of his brothers, they set out along the trail left by the two poles of the travois. After this much time, it was no easy trail to follow, but there were enough areas of soft dirt here and there to leave occasional imprints to tell them they were still on the trail. Leading away from the river, the riders paused when they lost the tracks in a wide field of shell rock at the base of the mountain.

“This don't make sense,” Cobb snorted. “Ain't no horse gonna pull a travois up that mountain.”

“Look around, dammit,” Dorsey snapped. “They sure as hell went somewhere.” He had a feeling about the bodies they had happened upon. Maybe it had nothing to do with the man who killed Franklin. On the other hand, it fit right in with the picture of a man hiding out in these mountains, bushwhacking some innocent souls, and scurrying off up to his secret camp with the plunder.

After a frustrating thirty minutes of searching the rocky outcropping, they were rewarded when Gentry discovered a pair of ruts leading through a thick forest of firs that led to a meandering game trail just wide enough to accommodate a horse pulling a travois. “By God, he did go up that mountain,” Dorsey pronounced solemnly. “I aim to see where this leads to.” His mind was beginning to work on the possibility that the rider of the horse pulling the travois and the man he'd hunted for more than two years might be one and the same. He could envision a scene where this squaw-stealer had bushwhacked the men whose bodies they had just left and hauled off the spoils on a travois. There were two unanswered questions. What happened to the victims' horses—and why the one rocky grave? Maybe, he thought, he would find the answers at the end of the trail they were now following.

Late afternoon found the three brothers high up in the mountains with still no sign of human existence. “It's gonna be gettin' dark before long,” Cobb complained, “and we ain't seen nothin'.” The trail had led almost to the top of the mountain and now started down.

“Dammit,” Dorsey snapped, “somebody hauled a travois up here. He's gotta be goin' somewhere.”

“Hell, maybe it ain't even a travois,” Cobb commented. “There ain't enough tracks to tell for sure.”

“Yeah, Dorsey,” Gentry chided, “maybe it's a deer with a peg leg.” His remark caused him and Cobb to chuckle.

Their elder brother chose not to appreciate the humor in the suggestion. He was about to say so, when he suddenly paused and sniffed the air. “I smell smoke,” he said. All three looked around them, searching for a telltale column of smoke.

“There!” Gentry exclaimed, pointing to a thin ribbon of smoke on the mountain next to them.

“We're on the wrong damn mountain,” Cobb complained.

Not ready to admit he had led them up a false trail, Dorsey frowned and peered through the maze of juniper ahead. “I ain't ready to turn around yet. Them tracks was left by a travois, and they lead to somethin'.”

“Maybe,” Cobb muttered begrudgingly. He was not so sure. He looked at Gentry, who shared his lack of faith in the tracks, and shook his head. They were accustomed to following their older brother's lead, however, so there was no vocal objection from either.

Half an hour later, when rounding the base of a rocky cliff, Dorsey was vindicated. A narrow hogback joined the two mountains, and the trail led across it. “I knew it, dammit,” Dorsey crowed. “It's a good thing you two half-wits have me to tell you what to do.”

 

Levi walked from the edge of the clearing carrying an armload of wood for the fire Willow had built between the cabin and the lean-to where he kept his horse. She often cooked outside during the summer months. It was cool up this high, but cooking inside sometimes made the cabin too warm. He dropped his armload down next to the fire and started to add a couple of pieces onto the flame. “What's the matter, girl?” he said, pausing to listen. The bay mare had heard something. He strained to listen, thinking it might be a mountain lion or a bear. It wouldn't be the first time a mountain lion ventured this close to the cabin. Glancing back toward the door, he saw Willow coming out with the meat to cook. “Honey,” he called back to her, “fetch my rifle when you come. We might have a visitor.”

Lying on their bellies, concealed by a thick stand of pines, the three stalkers watched the man tending the fire beside the cabin. “Whaddaya think, Dorsey?” Gentry whispered. He waited for a few moments. When his brother failed to answer, he said, “There ain't no real way of knowin' if he's the one we're after or not.”

Dorsey was about to agree, but he was of a mind to bush-whack the man kneeling by the fire anyway, although he doubted there was much to gain in the way of plunder. Just as he started to speak, Willow emerged from the cabin carrying a rifle and some meat. “Now there is,” he said, responding to Gentry's comment. “Lookee yonder!”

“That's her!” Cobb blurted in a hoarse whisper.

“Keep your voice down!” Dorsey scolded, a sly grin forming behind his whiskers. It was her, all right. There was no doubt in his mind. He was not a patient man, but he had patiently searched for over two years for the man who killed his youngest brother. The Indian woman was of no real concern to him, but she was his property, bought and paid for, and he had been equally determined to find her. He would probably cut her throat once he and his brothers were through with her. Ignoring Cobb and Gentry's anxious expressions, he took time to enjoy the moment he had been looking forward to for so long. “All right,” he finally whispered. “Be careful, and don't hit the woman. We ain't done with her yet.” He pulled his rifle up and aimed it.

“What is it?” Willow asked, bringing the rifle.

“I don't know,” Levi said, “maybe nothin', but somethin's makin' Bess nervous.” He turned to take the weapon from her when the late-evening air was suddenly shattered by the crack of a rifle. In the process of rising from one knee, Levi was struck in the shoulder, the shot spinning him around to drop at Willow's feet. She screamed and dropped down beside him. “Git in the cabin!” Levi gasped desperately as she tried to help him up. A couple more shots snapped close beside them to strike the cabin wall with a solid
thunk-thunk
. With Willow trying to support him, Levi crawled to the cabin door under a hail of angry lead. Splinters of wood were sent flying as they just made it inside the door and Willow slammed it shut and barred it. Levi took only a moment to examine his wound before crawling over to the window. Dorsey's bullet had caught him in the left shoulder. The shoulder felt numb at that moment, and he motioned Willow away when she started to tend to it. “It ain't that bad,” he said. “I can still shoot. Stay low to the floor and get me that box of cartridges.” She immediately went to fetch them.

“There are not many left,” she said, her voice trembling with fright.

It was a fact that Levi already knew, but he sought to reassure her. “They may be enough. We can make it pretty hot for them to try to break in here. They might decide it ain't worth the trouble.” He eased his head up to a corner of the window, trying to see where their assailants were hidden. With no way of knowing for sure who was attacking them, he could only speculate. He felt sure they were not Indians. The Indians on the other side of the canyon were Crow, and friendly. Simple logic told him that it was not a party that just happened upon his cabin on this remote mountaintop. It made more sense that it was someone who had come specifically to find him—and he feared who that someone might be. A few minutes later, his fears were confirmed.

“Hey, you in the cabin there,” Dorsey Braxton's deep voice boomed out. “You know what we come for. You might as well come on outta there, and maybe we'll let you go. We just come for the woman.”

“You go to hell,” Levi replied. It wasn't very likely he'd be excused for killing their brother. He told Willow to crawl over beside the fireplace where the stones might better shield her. “Keep an eye on that back window in case they sneak around behind,” he said. She nodded and did as he instructed, pausing under the window long enough to reach up and close the shutters.

Outside, Cobb and Gentry moved a little farther away from Dorsey in case the man inside had pinpointed their older brother's location by the sound of his voice. “Too damn bad you missed him with that first shot,” Cobb complained. “Hell, he was settin' right there waitin' for it.”

“He moved, dammit,” Dorsey blurted, “just when I pulled the trigger. I didn't see any better shootin' from you two.” All three had been overly cautious trying to target the wounded man as he struggled to seek cover—none wanting to hit the woman and spoil the sport they planned to enjoy with her.

Dorsey called out again. “Mister, you ain't got much sense. We've got you cornered. You ain't got no place to go.” The cook fire caught his eye then. “There's a nice little fire goin' out here. We just might decide to burn you outta there.”

“Why don't you just do that?” Levi called back. “I got a clear shot at that fire and the first one that tries to get across the yard from them trees you're hidin' behind is a dead man.” He ducked quickly away from the window seconds before a volley of shots ripped into the shutter and the frame.