"Bring Me His Ears" Part 12

"He'll be captain if we has th' say-so," replied Hank. "Only thing, he's a mite too easy with th' fools; but thar's goin' ter be less squabblin'

about obeyin' orders this trip than ever afore. We'll see ter that."

While they discussed matters pertaining to the caravan, and ran bullets, listening to the gossip of the smith's customers, they saw Uncle Joe and his two wagoners driving his mules toward the shop to have them re-shod.

They shook hands all around and soon Uncle Joe, grinning from ear to ear, told them that he was going out with the caravan. He was as tickled as a boy with a new knife.

"Just as I feared," he said in explanation. "I couldn't find any trader that was takin' any of his women folks along; so there was only one way out of it. I got to go. An' I don't mind tellin' you boys that it suits me clean down to th' ground. Anyhow, all I wanted was an excuse. I got a light wagon for Patience an' me an' our personal belongings, an' I'm goin' to drive it myself. Bein' th' only woman in th' caravan, fur as I know, it'll mebby be a little mite hard on her. Reckon she'll git lonesome, 'specially since she's so danged purty."

When the laughter died down Hank Marshall, s.h.i.+fting his cud to the other cheek, looked from Uncle Joe to Tom and back again.

"Wall," he drawled, "I war puzzled a little at fust, but now I reckon I'm gittin' th' hang o' this hyar thing. Tom war sh.o.r.e h.e.l.l-bent fer ter go out ter Oregon this year." He paused, scratched his head, and grinned. "Reckon I kin drive them mules all by myself. 'Twon't be as though it war th' fust time I've done it."

After a little good-natured banter Tom and Hank left the smithy to look after their affairs, for there was quite a lot to be done. The next few days would be busy ones for them both, but especially so for Tom, who was expected to share his company between Patience, Hank, and Uncle Joe.

As they swung up the street Hank edged to cross it, pointing to Schoolcraft's corral. "Might as well be gittin' th' mules afore thar all run over an' th' best took. If he kin skin me in a mule deal I'm willin'

ter abide by it."

"Not there," objected Tom. "I've had some trouble with him. I'll play pack animal myself before I'll buy a single critter from him."

Hank shook with silent laughter. "_That's_ whar he got it, huh?" he exulted. "Cussed if he warn't trimmed proper. I might 'a' knowed it war you as done it by th' way it looked." He shook again and then became alert "Thar he is now; an' his friends air with him. Keep yer primin'

dry, boy."

"I reckoned I could shake a laig," said a voice behind them, and they looked over their shoulders to see Jim Ogden at their heels, and close behind him came his partner; "but you two kiyotes plumb made me hoof it.

What's yer hurry, anyhow?"

The little group in front of the corral gate s.h.i.+fted in indecision and looked inquiringly at the horse-dealer. There was a difference between stirring up trouble between themselves and Tom Boyd for the purpose of manhandling _him_, and stirring it up between themselves and the four trappers.

Schoolcraft said something out of the corner of his mouth and the group melted away into the little shack at the corral gate. He remained where he was, scowling frankly at his enemy.

"Looks like they war a-fixin' ter try it on us," growled Hank, returning the scowl with interest. "Let's go over an' say how-de-do ter 'em. This here town's been too peaceable, _anyhow_."

"What's th' trouble?" asked Ogden, curiously, his partner pressing against him to hear the answer.

"Ain't none," answered Tom. "Thar might 'a' been, but it's blowed over."

"Wall," drawled Ogden. "Ye never kin tell about these hyar frontier winds. Yer th' partisan o' this hyar expedition, Tom. We'll foller yer lead. It's all one ter us whar ye go; we're with ye."

Schoolcraft, knowing that trouble with these plainsmen would almost certainly end in serious bloodshed, shrugged his shoulders and entered the shack; and after him, from behind the corral wall darted the slender Mexican.

"Thar!" exclaimed Tom, pointing. "See that greaser? Keep yer eyes skinned fer him. He's bad medicine."

"Looks like he war fixin' fer ambus.h.i.+n' us, hidin' behind that wall,"

growled Hank.

"He's got a fine head o' hair ter peel," snorted Zeb Houghton, whose reputation in regard to scalp lifting was anything but to his credit.

The fingers of his left hand closed involuntarily with a curling motion and the wrist turned suggestively; and the Mexican, well back from the dirty window of the shack, felt a rising of his stomach and was poor company for the rest of the day.

The four swung on again, Ogden and his partner soon leaving the party to go to their quarters, while Tom and Hank went on along the street and stopped at another horse-dealer's, where they bought two riding horses and eight broken-in mules, the latter covered with scars. The horses were broken to saddle and would carry them over the trail; two of the mules were to carry their necessaries and the other six their small stock of merchandise, which they now set out to obtain. In procuring the latter they were very fortunate, for they found a greenhorn who had paid too much attention to rumors and had decided at the last moment that trail life and trading in the far west did not impress him very favorably; and he sold his stock to them almost at their own terms, glad to get out of his venture so easily. They took what they wanted of it and then sold the remainder at a price which nearly paid for their own goods. Leaving their purchases at Uncle Joe's wagons under the care of his teamsters, they went to his hotel to spend the night.

After supper Hank, who had shown a restlessness very foreign to him, said that he was going out to take a walk and would return soon. When Tom offered to go with him he shook his head, grinned, and departed.

The evening pa.s.sed very pleasantly for Tom, who needed nothing more than Patience's presence to make him content, and after she had said good night he accompanied her uncle to the bar for a night-cap. As he entered the room he thought he saw a movement outside the window, down in one corner of the sash, and he slipped to the door and peered out. As he cogitated about scouting around outside he heard Uncle Joe's voice calling to him over the noise of the crowd and he made his way back to the bar, drank to the success of the coming expedition, and engaged in small talk with his companion and those around them. But his thoughts were elsewhere, for Hank had been gone a long time.

"Uncle Joe, how long have you known your wagoners?" he asked.

"Long enough to know 'em well." The trader regarded him quizzically.

"Not worryin' about your merchandise, are you?"

"I'm wondering where Hank is."

"In some trapper's rendezvous; he'll show up in th' mornin' with nothin'

worse than a headache."

"I'm not treating him right," soliloquized Tom. "A man shouldn't forget his friends, especially when they're as close as Hank is. I'm goin'

lookin' for him. Good night."

Uncle Joe watched him push his way directly through the crowd, leaving a few scowls in his wake, and pop out of the door; and the older man nodded with satisfaction. "A man shouldn't, Tom, my boy," he muttered.

"Stick to them that's stuck to you--always--forever--in spite of h.e.l.l.

That's good medicine."

A tour of the places where trappers congregated was barren of results until he had reached the last of such resorts that he knew, and here he found Enoch Birdsall and Alonzo Webb, who welcomed him with such vociferous greetings that he knew they had nearly reached the quarrelsome stage. To his inquiries as to the whereabouts of his partner they made boisterous replies, their laughter rattling the windows.

"Ol' beaver's settin' a-top his house--no, 'tain't no house. Settin'

a-top yer pile o' goods cached with Cooper's--you tell 'im," yelled Alonzo, slapping Enoch across the back and nearly knocking him out of the chair. "You tell 'im, Ol' Buff'ler!"

"Prairie hen on his nest is more like _him_," shouted Enoch, returning his friend's love tap with interest, whereupon Alonzo missed twice and fell to the floor.

"Prairie hen on yer nose!" yelled the prostrate trader, trying to swim toward his partner. "Thar ain't no prairie beaver as kin knock me down an' _keep_ me thar! Stan' up like a man, ye polecat! An' I kin lick _you_, too!" he yelled, as Tom avoided his sweeping arm and hastened toward the door. "Better run! Better run! Git 'im Enoch, ye fool!"

Tom did not reach the front door, for with astonis.h.i.+ng speed and agility for one so far in his cups Enoch, taking up the quarrel of his friend, whom he presently would be fighting, leaped from the table, vaulted over a chair, and by some miracle of drunken equilibrium landed on his feet with his back to the door and swung both fists at the surprised plainsman. Tom's eyes glinted, and then twinkled. He had few better friends than these two quarrelsome traders and, stepping back, he leaped over the prostrate and anything but silent Alonzo and darted out through the back door, laughing at the furious squabbling he left behind.

Reaching the corner of the building, he fell into his habitual softness of tread and slipped along the rear of the shacks on a direct course for the place where his and Cooper's merchandise was stored.

Schoolcraft's corral loomed up in front of him and he skirted it silently. He almost had reached its far corner when a Mexican's voice, raised in altercation inside the inclosure, caught his ear and checked him, balanced on one foot.

"For why he do eet?" demanded the Mexican, excitedly. "I tol' heem that he mus' leeve Tomaz tr-rade goods by themselves. He ees goin' to Santa Fe weethout for-rce; an' now eet ees all spoil! For what he do eet? Bah!

For hees revenge he say. What ees hees revenge like Armijo's?"

"Oh, shut yer mouth an' stop yer yowlin'," growled a gruff voice. "Eph allus knows what he's a-doin'."

The poised listener outside the corral paused to hear no more but was off like a shadow, his stride a long, swinging lope, for he was too wise to dash at full speed and waste fighting breath for the sake of gaining a few seconds. He made his devious way across a plain studded with wagons, piles of freight and heaps of debris, and before he reached his objective the sounds of conflict singled it out for him had he been in any doubt.

The open wagon-shed loomed suddenly before him and he made out a struggling ma.s.s on the ground before it, his partner's grunted curses and the growls of Cooper's wagoner saving them from his attack. He went into the ma.s.s feet first, landing with all his weight and the momentum of his run on a crouched man whose upraised arm was only waiting for a sure opening. The knife user grunted as he went down, and his head struck the edge of a wagon-wheel with such force that he no longer was a combatant. Tom had fallen to his knees after his catapulting impact and when he arose he held a squirming halfbreed over his head at the height of his upraised arms. One heave of his powerful body and the human missile flew through the air and struck two of the half-breed's friends as they sprang to their feet in sudden alarm. They went down like tenpins and before they could gain their feet again Tom dropped on one of them, his knees squarely in the pit of the man's stomach, his right hand on the throat of the other, while his left gripped his adversary's knife hand and bent it steadily and inexorably back toward the wrist.

"Th' little bobcat's j'ined us," panted Hank, crawling onto the man he now rolled under him. "Tom Boyd, Armijo's pet, with his fangs bared an'

his claws out. Take _this_, you----!" he grunted as his shoulder set itself behind the smas.h.i.+ng blow. "How ye makin' out with yer friend, Abe?" he asked of the other rolling pair.

It seemed that Abe was not making out according to Hank's specifications, so he crawled over to help him, and reached out a hand.

It fastened onto a skinny neck and clamped shut, whereupon Abe rolled victoriously free and paused to glower at his victim. His surprise, while genuine, was of short duration, and he shook his head at the cheerful Hank and then pounced onto the man who had been used as a missile, and pinned him to the ground. In a few moments the fight was over, and the victors grinned sheepishly at each other in the semi-darkness and re-arranged various parts of their clothing.

"I saw somethin' smash inter th' waggin wheel an' sorta reckoned you war some'rs 'round," panted Hank. "Then I saw somethin' else sail inter th' air an' knock over two o' th' thieves. Then I knowed ye war hyar. Me an' Abe war doin' our best, but we war beginnin' ter slip, like fur at th' end o' winter."