The Vengeance Seeker 2 Page 8

  “You should be!” Betsy seethed. “You and your father! You almost killed my father too. He’s in there now, exhausted! And now you bring us cattle you’ve rustled and hope all will be forgotten! Is that it?”

  Joshua obviously had not seen Betsy. Wolf saw the boy’s hat tip as he looked down in the direction from which Betsy’s scathing words had come.

  “Sorry, Ma’am,” he said. “I’m real sorry about what happened to your father.”

  “Betsy,” Caulder said quietly, “Joshua was not at the stage with the rest of the Snake Bar riders. I am sure that if he had been, there would have been no shooting.” Wolf looked back to Josh’s lean shadow. “Light and rest your bones. That must have been some ride. Driving cattle by moonlight ain’t the easiest way to do it.”

  Josh sighed and his dark figure lifted in his stirrups, then disappeared behind the bulkier shadow of his mount. “Thanks. I could sure use a cup of coffee.”

  Wolf looked down at Betsy. “Think that could be arranged, Betsy? This fellow has come a long way to bring us back what was taken from us.”

  Clearly flustered, she said hesitantly, “I … I could put a pot on.”

  “I’d be much obliged, Ma’am,” Josh said.

  She turned then and hurried ahead of them back into the cabin as Wolf climbed down off the rail and walked with Josh across the yard.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m doing this,” Josh said.

  “Not really. I had a good friend once who told me that one of the best ways to get rid of an enemy was to make him a friend. Of course I was too hot-tempered to believe that then. But I can see now it makes sense.”

  Josh had stopped in his tracks. Wolf turned to look at him.

  “What’s wrong, Josh?”

  “That friend—the one who told you that. Was ...was it a woman, Wolf?”

  Wolf considered a moment. Josh had been sixteen when his mother had left him; but she had done her job well in that little time. Like Wolf, Josh remembered the spirit that animated his mother. “No,” he lied. “It wasn’t a woman. An old cowpoke I hung around with in Brownsville.”

  Josh started up again. “Oh,” he said. “I was just wondering. Fact is, that’s just why I brought these critters back, Wolf. I want to be your friend—and Pike’s, too. This range is big enough for both of us—Snake Bar and the Double B.”

  They were inside the cabin by this time and Betsy, in the act of placing cups down upon the table, glanced up at Josh as he uttered those words. In that instant glance, however, Wolf caught more than relief at what Josh said. Between the two of them, he realized, something very basic had been communicated. And looking at them both in the ruddy glow of the coal-oil lamps, Wolf understood the attraction at once.

  Betsy’s anger had flushed her cheeks, caused her eyes to sparkle. Her thick, darkly red hair she had let out just before leaving the cabin to talk to Wolf; and now it spilled down almost to her waist, coiling and shimmering in the lamplight. Josh’s face was clean-shaven, sharply defined in the stark light, his fine, sensitive brows arching quizzically over his alert dark eyes. And he was smiling as he looked at Betsy.

  Wolf, he’s got the finest most honest smile ...

  The glance each took lasted but a few seconds and then Betsy went back to the stove for the coffee pot and Josh sat down beside Wolf at the table. He grinned at Wolf.

  “This was the easy part. Now all I have to do is ride back tonight and tell my father what I’ve done.”

  Betsy began to pour the coffee. As they reached for their cups, she placed a plate of biscuits, a slab of butter and a pitcher of cream before them.

  “It would be nice,” she said, “if your father would follow your example. My father would be pleased to hear your father echo your words. There really is enough range for both of us.” She glanced at Wolf. “Isn’t there, Wolf?”

  “It depends on how big your appetite is.” Wolf looked at Josh. “Your father appears to have a very large one.”

  “I know. But someday the Snake Bar will be mine. So I think I should have something to say about its boundaries now. Anyway, there’s still plenty of time if you can keep Pike from stirring things up with the other ranchers and keep him low for a while.”

  Wolf shook his head and sipped his coffee. “No one can tell Pike to stay low. And the other ranchers have the right to do anything they can to protect themselves. Do you think you could get your father to allow Pike to do business with Obermeyer or Gibson? That might help.”

  Josh frowned. “I don’t think so. Not if it means barbed wire. Pike was the one who ordered it, I understand. I don’t like barbed wire myself, Wolf. It’s the end of the open range, freedom of movement. I understand just how my father feels about it—and I share it.”

  Wolf shrugged and broke a biscuit and began to spread butter over it. “Then don’t expect Pike or any of us to keep our heads down. If Double B wants to fence off its valley, it should be able to do so—no matter what you or your father think about it.”

  Josh smiled and nodded. “I know that too.” He reached for his second biscuit and looked across the table at Betsy.

  “You could sure teach Cookie something. These are real fine, Ma’am. Could I have a few to take back with me?”

  “Her name is Betsy, Josh,” Wolf said with a smile.

  Betsy had been more than pleased at Josh’s request. “Of course, Josh,” she said. Then her face grew impish. “But don’t you dare give any of them to your father—or that foreman of yours.”

  “It’s a deal,” said Josh, laughing. “And thank you, Betsy.”

  As Betsy got up to wrap some fresh biscuits for him to take, Josh looked at Wolf. “Thanks for the hospitality, Wolf. I appreciate it.”

  “Thank you for bringing back the beef. Pike was complaining at the rate his herd was disappearing. I imagine there are a lot more animals out there with crooked brands.”

  Josh got up. “If there are, I’ll see that they get back where they belong. That much I can do.”

  Wolf got up and went to the door with Josh. “That’s a beginning, Josh.”

  Betsy caught up to them at the door and handed Josh the biscuits. He took them and touched his hat brim in thanks. “Hope to see you again, Betsy,” he said.

  Flushed, Betsy said, “I bake lots of biscuits—and cakes and pies too. Just you bring back our cattle and I’ll have you fat in no time.”

  “I’ll remember that,” he said.

  Wolf walked with him in silence out to where Josh had left his horse. As Josh swung into his saddle, he looked down at Wolf, a question in his eyes.

  Wolf knew what Josh wanted to ask him. He also knew he could not—would not—answer it. Though Wolf had known and loved Josh’s mother, to tell Josh that would force him to tell other things as well—and turning Josh against his father was something Kathy had been dead set against.

  Josh must have sensed that Wolf would not tell him what he wanted to know. The question in his eyes faded. Looking bleakly down at Wolf, he said:

  “Someday I’ll find out who you really are, Wolf—and who sent you. I hope it’s before one or the other of us stops a bullet.”

  He pulled his horse around and disappeared into the night, the ghostly herd parting in his wake. Wolf watched him ride off, then moved back to the cabin to say goodnight to Betsy before retiring to the bunkhouse.

  As he neared the cabin, he could hear Betsy softly humming a ballad to herself.

  Seven

  Wolf arrived in Willow Bend the next morning a little after ten. It was already pretty hot and he was dry from the ride. He rode in to town on Snake Valley road, turned left on Main Street and rode into Abe Forbush’s livery next to the hotel.

  Forbush drifted out of the stable’s rear darkness and looking closely at him—at the patch and the scar—then said, “Third stall back.” Wolf gave his horse a small drink at the street trough at the livery entrance, removed his gear and hung it up. He stood a moment in the stall, his hand resting on the swea
ty neck of his black, considering idly what it should be first—Obermeyer’s or The Palace.

  Deciding it would be more politic to make his pitch to Obermeyer with no trace of whiskey on his breath, he left the stable and bent down over the drinking trough’s feed pump and let the water roll into his throat and fill up his belly until it would hold no more. It had been a long dry ride.

  Wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand, he slapped his hat back on and walked over to Snake Valley Road, along the sidewalk past the sheriff’s office and into Obermeyer’s. The place was cool and smelled of clean, honest things newly minted, not yet soiled and ready to be put to good use: shovels, buckets, hammers, nails, leather harnesses. He stood for a moment and took a deep breath. He had always loved visiting hardware stores with his father when he was a boy. The trouble was, as his father always grumbled, a man could spend a fortune in one of these places if he didn’t keep a firm grip on himself.

  “Yes, can I help you?”

  Wolf turned. Helen Obermeyer was regarding him coolly, quizzically. When he turned to face her and she saw who he was her face paled.

  “Oh, it’s mister ...?”

  “Caulder. Wolf Caulder, Ma’am.”

  “Oh, yes. You’re with the Double B.”

  Wolf nodded. “Is your father in?”

  She didn’t have to answer. Obermeyer appeared behind her in the aisle. He was dressed in dark pants and white shirt. A pencil was behind one ear. The man’s shoulders were still impressive, but the keen eyes were troubled as he recognized Wolf and guessed immediately the nature of his errand.

  “Come into my office, Mr. Caulder,” he said, turning and disappearing behind a counter piled high with wooden buckets.

  As Wolf started after the man, Helen spoke up. “How is Mr. Hanson?”

  He stopped and looked at her, smiling. “Pike’s fine. He was up most of yesterday.”

  “And ... Betsy?”

  “She’ll settle in, I’m sure.”

  “I hope so. Please convey to her how sorry I am for what happened and tell her I will try to get out and see her.”

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  Wolf found it difficult not to stare at the woman. Her hair had a golden sheen that seemed to catch every light in the store and her cool blue eyes seemed designed to draw a man into them—deep into them. She looked quickly away from his eyes as Wolf found himself probing more deeply than he had intended. She was wearing a long dress past her ankles, one whose sleeves covered her arms all the way to the wrists; and despite the heat, she was wearing a heavy apron over the dress. Still, she looked as cool and fresh as a mountain stream.

  “Perhaps you could ride back out with me this afternoon,” Wolf suggested.

  She colored swiftly at the boldness of Wolf’s offer. But he could tell she was pleased. “Oh, no. We expect to be very busy this afternoon.”

  Wolf smiled and touched his hat to her, then walked on down the aisle after Obermeyer. The tall German was waiting at the end of a back counter in front of a wall of nail bins.

  “In here, Mr. Caulder,” Obermeyer said, leading the way into his small office in the back.

  Obermeyer closed the door after them and moved behind his cluttered desk. “Sit down, Mr. Caulder,” he said, indicating a straight-backed wooden chair by the desk.

  Wolf sat down. “I suppose you know why I am here,” he said to Obermeyer.

  “Of course, Mr. Caulder. You made it quite clear the last time you were in here just what you thought of me for obeying this ... this injunction of Mr. Blackmann’s.” Obermeyer’s eyes regarded Wolf harshly and without fear. He was obviously not about to beg forgiveness for having bent to Blackmann’s will.

  “You can understand,” Wolf said, smiling slightly, “how upset both Pike and I were at the time to learn what Blackmann had done.”

  Obermeyer leaned back in his chair. Wolf’s smile had eased the tension considerably. “Oh, of course. Yes, I quite understand.” The man shook his head in sympathy. “This man, Blackmann, is a hard and ruthless man.”

  Wolf nodded. “And that means he don’t have much sense when it comes to business.” He looked closely at Obermeyer. “I understand that shipment of barbed wire and fence posts came in a couple of days ago—just after Blackmann gave his orders.”

  Obermeyer hesitated for only a moment “Yes, it did come in.”

  “It’s all sitting back there in your warehouse.”

  “That is true, Mr. Caulder.”

  “You’re going to have to ship it back, looks like.”

  Obermeyer frowned. “Yes.” The thought gave him no comfort. “I suppose so.”

  “At a loss, if you figure in the shipping and handling in addition to the freight charges.”

  Obermeyer shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Just what is your point, Mr. Caulder?”

  “Instead of shipping it back to St. Louis, ship it out to the Double B.”

  The man frowned intently. “You know I do not dare do that.”

  “Not openly.”

  Interest appeared in Obermeyer’s face. The hostility began to slacken and he leaned forward. “Just what do you mean?”

  “Throw me out of here in a few minutes—especially if you’ve got customers or witnesses that can bring back the tale to the sheriff or any of Blackmann’s people. Make a big show of it. Then tonight I’ll ride in and with your help load your wagon with whatever we need, including the barbed wire, and ‘steal’ the supplies.”

  “Steal the supplies?”

  “Of course.”

  Obermeyer was having no difficulty at all in following Wolf’s proposal. It obviously had appeal to the man. But would it be enough to fool Blackmann? This had to be his concern at the moment.

  “You’re wondering if Blackmann will go for it?”

  Obermeyer nodded.

  “It doesn’t really matter what he believes. We will have the wire we need, the supplies. You can protest publicly at our thievery. But it will be too late for him to do anything about it. And if he moves against us, he’ll find he won’t be dealing with just the Double B.”

  “I will be paid in cash for these supplies?”

  Wolf smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

  “It is a dangerous course you pursue, Mr. Caulder. If Blackmann decides to move against you, it could bring open warfare.”

  Caulder nodded. “That’s right, Obermeyer. But tell me, just how much business does Snake Bar bring you?”

  “Very little.”

  “Gibson gets it all?”

  “Most of it.”

  “It’s your survival that’s at stake here as well, Obermeyer. If you back our play, every small rancher and farmer in the area will be beholden to you. Gibson will be finished. You’ll be back in business.”

  Obermeyer leaned back in his chair again to consider the plan. It obviously had great appeal to the man. But Wolf suspected that the profit motive was not his only reason for considering what Wolf proposed. There was more to the man than that.

  “All right,” Obermeyer said abruptly. “We’ll do it. As you say, that barbed wire is doing me no good taking up valuable space in my warehouse. But I don’t like Blackmann thinking he can come in here and tell me who I can do business with. Helen doesn’t either. To take orders from men like Blackmann is not why I left the Fatherland. It was to escape such men. Yes, we will do it.” Then he looked shrewdly at Wolf. “Do you have the details of this so-called robbery worked out?”

  “For that I’ll need your help.”

  “Ah, just so. You will.” Obermeyer got up quickly and went to the door. Opening it a crack, he looked out. Satisfied that the two of them were in complete privacy, he returned to his desk. “Now, Mr. Caulder, listen closely ...”

  Ten minutes later Obermeyer left his office, saw Helen with a customer and noticed Sheriff Dundee outside his building, his eyes on the entrance to Obermeyer’s.

  He went back for Wolf and the two of them emerged onto the sidewalk in front
of the hardware store a moment later. Wolf whirled on Obermeyer the moment he cleared the store, his eyes flashing, his face cold with fury.

  “You’ll regret this, Obermeyer!” he cried.

  Obermeyer held up his fist and shook it in Wolf’s face, his voice trembling with rage. “This is my store! You cannot threaten me in my store!”

  “Damn you! You’ll sell to Double B or you’ll wish you had!”

  Helen appeared in the doorway then, her face ashen. She reached for her father. “Dad!” she cried. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Get back inside!” Obermeyer shouted at her. “This is not your affair. I can handle this dummkopf!”

  Wolf’s hand dropped to the butt of his Colt. Helen gasped. Abruptly, Wolf swung away and stalked off down the wooden sidewalk past the sheriff’s office. Dundee was on his feet by this time, watching closely. But he made no effort to stop Wolf as Wolf strode angrily past.

  Fifteen minutes later—after a similar scene in Gibson’s general store—Wolf strode into The Palace.

  The place was quiet. A few men were playing cards in the rear of the place and Slade Hamner was busy polishing glasses at the far end of the bar. Wolf was mildly disappointed. He would have liked to have a bit more of an audience for the show he was about to put on. As Slade hustled down the bar to take his order, Wolf turned and, resting his elbows on the bar, looked unhappily over at the four men playing cards.

  “Any of you men ride for the Snake Bar?” he called heavily.

  The four men spun to face him, saw who it was—then abruptly quieted themselves. “No, sir,” one of them said. “We’re just passing through.”

  Wolf spun back around to face Slade. “Whiskey!” he barked.

  As Wolf pulled his drink toward him, he was rewarded with the sight of Dundee striding through the batwings. The man’s eyes found Wolf at once and he started across the floor toward him.

  “This man causing a disturbance?” he asked Slade as he stopped beside Wolf.

  Before Slade could answer, Wolf threw his drink in the sheriff’s face, caught him a sledging blow in the midsection, then finished him off with a roundhouse right to the point of his chin. The sheriff’s eyes were glassy as he spun backward down the full length of the bar, then collapsed unconscious to the floor, his face up, mouth open.