The Sacketts - Lonely On The Mountain Part 8

He smiled. It was not easy, but he did it. Were they lying? He wanted to believe it, but he doubted they were.

"They was comin' north," Cougar said. "G.o.d knows how they got that far, but they was west of the Turtle Mountains, between there an' the Souris River, when the buffalo stampede hit 'em."

"You saw the bodies?"

"No, I never seen 'em. h.e.l.l, there wasn't nothing left. You ever seen a buffalo stampede? Must have been three or four thousand of them.

"We seen some bodies trampled into the torn-up ground. We seen scattered stuff, torn clothing, a busted rifle. Whatever was left the Injuns took, but it can't have been much. And the cattle was scattered to h.e.l.l and gone!"

Once started, Cougar seemed minded to talk, and Orrin kept still. "There was a little creek comes along there. Don't amount to much, but this time of year there might be water enough for a herd. Anyway, they was in there on a small slope to catch what wind there was because of the skeeters.

"Them Sioux, they'd probly been follerin' them for days, watching for it to be right, and they sure did make it work."

"Why were you following me?"

Cougar shrugged insolently. "Just seen you, wondered what you was doin', then heard your name was Sackett. Figured to tell you what happened."

"All right," Orrin replied, "I'll leave your guns down at the store. But stay off my trail. If I catch you following me, you'd better make your fight because I will."

Abruptly, he turned and walked back to the hotel. Gavin was waiting with Mary McCann and Devnet. "What happened?" he asked.

As briefly as possible, he explained. When he had finished, Devnet said, "Then you won't be going west? You'll stop here?"

"I'll go west, ma'am, and if there's no other way, and you're mindful to travel along, I'll take you and Mrs. McCann. It will be rough, and you won't travel fast, but you can come."

"No," Devnet said, "we'll go to Carlton. We will find a way. But thank you." She paused. "But why will you go now? Everything is gone, finished."

"No, ma'am. Those cattle were stampeded, not killed. I'll round up what I can of them and go on west. If I can find anything left of my brothers, they'll have decent burial, and I'll read from the book over them."

"If not, they'll lie out there with their blood fed into the gra.s.s. Ma'am, neither of those boys would feel too lonely out there, for there's Indian blood in that gra.s.s. Good men died before them, and there's mighty few western trails that don't have a Sackett buried somewhere along the route. You don't build a country like this on sweat alone, ma'am."

"But there are Indians! And those cattle will be scattered for miles!"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll buy me some extra horses, and if I can find a man or two to help, I'll do it. We started to deliver a herd to the mines, and there's a Sackett yonder who's needful of our help. I reckon I'll go, ma'am, and if it be that I don't make it, well, there's more Sacketts where we come from."

The track lay along the Dakota side of the Red, and they moved at a good pace. Accustomed through long practice, the second horse followed the first cart, driven by Baptiste, without a driver. The afternoon waned, and the lead cart moved faster.

Orrin Sackett drew up to look back along the trail. He saw nothing, no sign of pursuit, no dust. His mount seemed nervous and eager to be off, so he turned and once more began following the carts, although his horse, without any urging, rapidly overtook them.

The carts were moving at a fast trot, and Batpiste kept looking around at the sky on all sides. "How far?" Orrin called out.

"Soon!" Baptiste replied.

The women rode in the carts, resting on the bedrolls and sacks of gear and equipment.

Kyle Gavin, seemingly indisposed to conversation, had ridden on ahead.

Again and again, Orrin looked about, watching the terrain. He was not about to trust Cougar or his companion, and he had neglected to find out who they represented or why they had an interest in him. Not that they showed any indication of being willing to tell him.

Suddenly, the old man yelled at him, gesturing. At the same time, he heard a long, weird moan rise from around or behind him. He had only time to reach up and pull down the mosquito netting from the brim of his hat, and then they were all about him.

He had seen mosquitoes before but nothing like this. They settled on the horse, five and six deep. Again and again, he swept them away, crushing many at a blow, sweeping others away only to have them return in thousands. Suddenly, ahead of them and through the leaves, they saw lights and a gleam of white. It was the International! The gangway was down, but there was no one in sight. Without hesitation, they drove aboard, and the women scrambled from the carts and rushed inside.

Kyle Gavin disappeared also, but Orrin remained behind, covering the horses with fly nets that helped only to a limited degree. Some deck hands appeared, and the gangway was hoisted inboard, and with a great amount of puffing, threshing, and groaning the International moved from the bank and started downstream.

To eat supper was impossible. Mosquitoes drowned themselves in the coffee, buried themselves in the melting b.u.t.ter, crawled into the ears and the eyes. Devnet Molrone and Mary McCann had already given up and disappeared. Orrin followed.

In his small stateroom, there were mosquitoes, too. He succeeded in driving many outside by waving a towel, then got under the netting on his bunk. Dead tired, he slept, awakening in the cool of morning to find no mosquitoes about.

Shaving was all but impossible, but he worried through it, swearing more than a little. From the porthole he could see green banks sliding past.

After a while, in a clean shirt, he emerged on deck. From the pilot he learned the International was one hundred and thirty-odd feet long but drew only two feet of water. There were few straight stretches on the river, for it persisted in a fantastic series of S curves that seemed without end. Some of the curves could barely be negotiated, and the longer Mississippi boats would have had no chance here.

Returning to his cabin after a quick, pleasant breakfast, Orrin checked his guns once more. Soon they would be in the little frontier post of Pembina. He must make new plans now. Without his brothers, he must do what needed to be done alone or with what help he could secure.

Tell and Tyrel gone! His mind refused to accept it.

William Tell Sackett, that older brother of his, the quiet, steady one, always so sure, so strong, so seemingly fearless.

Tyrel, younger than he as he was younger than Tell, but Tyrel was different, had always been different. And perhaps the best of them all with a gun. Gone!

No, he'd not accept it, not until he found some tangible evidence of their death. Yet, at the same tune, his experience told him the risk they had run, the dangers to be expected, the attraction of such a herd of cattle moving through Sioux country.

Nonetheless, he must plan as though they were gone. He must plan to round up the cattle, scattered though they might be, and deliver them himself.

He would, of course, need help. Baptiste seemed willing to go along, but he was only a cart driver. What he would need would be cowboys or some of the mtis, who were handy men at anything. They, however, would be busy with Riel and the pending rebellion.

Pembina a" he must see what could be done there. And there were a couple of men aboard the International who might be interested.

Devnet Molrone did not appear on deck, and Kyle Gavin seemed preoccupied. Orrin walked along the upper deck, watching the sh.o.r.eline and the river ahead, although rarely could they see the river for more than a few hundred yards, if that far.

Twice he saw deer, once a small herd of buffalo. He saw no Indians.

There were few pa.s.sengers aboard. Three men and a woman bound for Pembina and a tall, lean young man for Fort Garry. There was also a portly, middle-aged man in a tweed suit.

"This Riel," the latter said distastefully, "who does he think he is? How dare he? He's nothing but a b.l.o.o.d.y savage!"

"I understood he'd studied for the priesthood," the young man protested, "and worked for some paper in Montreal or somewhere."

"Balderdash! The man's an aborigine! Why, he's part Indian! Everybody knows that!"

"One-eighth," the young man said.

"No matter. Who does he think he is?"

"From what I hear," Orrin suggested mildly, "he simply stepped in to provide a government where there was none."

"Balderdash! The man's an egotistical fool! Well," he said finally, "no need to bother about him. The army will be here soon, and they'll hang him. Hang him, I say!"

The young man looked over at Orrin and shrugged. After a bit, he walked forward with him. "A man of definite opinions," Orrin said mildly.

"I know little enough about Riel except some poetry of his that I've read. Not bad at all, not bad. But he seems a reasonable man."

"If they give him time," Orrin commented. "It would seem some at least have already made up their minds."

"You're headed west, I hear?"

"British Columbia, but first I've got to round up some cattle and find, if I can, the bodies of my brothers, who are said to have been killed in a stampede."

"Dash it all! I am sorry! I heard something to that effect." He glanced at Orrin. "Going to the gold fields?"

"Eventually, if we get the cattle."

"I would take it as a favor if you permitted me to come along."

"You?" Orrin glanced at him. "I will carry no excess baggage. If you come with me, you will work and be paid for it. You will ride, round up cattle and drive them, and if necessary, fight Indians."

"I'm your man. It sounds like great fun."

"It won't be. It is brutally hard work, and a good chance to be killed."

"I understand Miss Molrone is going with you?"

So that was it? "She may change her mind. Right now she is headed for Carlton House and may go no further. If it is she whom you're interested in, I would suggest you go to Carlton House."

Pembina would soon be showing up around a bend.

Once there, he could begin recruiting, but instead of the two men he had hoped to get, now he would need at least four and preferably more. This young man a" what was his name? He might prove to be just the man he needed.

Kyle Gavin came forward to stand beside him, watching the blunt bow part the river waters. Huge elms hung over the river, extending limbs out from either side until they almost met above the river. Here and there along the banks were clumps of willow, some grown into trees of some size.

"Dev a" , I mean Miss Molrone tells me you've had bad news? About your brothers, I mean?"

"Yes, the man called Cougar told me they were dead. That they had been killed. I'll believe that when I see it."

"I am sorry! I must a" well, I have to admit I heard the same story, but I just hadn't a" I mean, I couldn't bring myself to tell you."

Orrin glanced at Gavin, his eyes cool. "I prefer to know such things. The sooner the better."

"You're still going west?"

"Why not? I still have a herd to deliver. Their death, if dead they are, changes nothing in that sense."

"But your cattle are gone! Scattered to the winds, and probably many of them have been killed. What can you do?"

"That we will see, Mr. Gavin. A cousin of mine is waiting for the delivery of those cattle. He will not be disappointed."

Gavin stared at him in obvious disbelief. "But you don't seem to understandl You're over two thousand miles from there! You have no cattle! You have n.o.body to help! The same Sioux who killed your brothers will be waiting for you, and further west there are Blackfeet! You don't have a chance!"

"Even," he added, "if Riel does not requisition your carts and supplies. And if he does not demand them, the army certainly will. Such things are in short supply."

"We will manage."

Suddenly, there was a blast from the whistle. Orrin Sackett turned, pulling his hat brim down. Pembina was just ahead.

Chapter XI.

Pembina had little to offer. A customhouse, a trade store, and a scattering of cabins. The oldest settlement around, its fortunes had varied with travel and the fur trade, but now Fort Garry and the village of Winnipeg were attracting settlers that might otherwise have been drawn to Pembina.

Orrin Sackett wasted no time, for the International would be there for but a short stay. He walked up to the trading post and looked around quickly.

Only a few men were present, at least two of whom he immediately catalogued as drunks. He started to turn away when he stopped and looked again at the man at the end of the bar. He had his hat pushed back, and an impudent grin touched his lips. "Howdy!" he said. "You all still rustlin' for men?"

"How are you, Shorty? Yes, I am." He paused. "You travel fast."

"It's a mighty poor horse that ain't faster'n that steamboat, what with all the curves in that river. I beat you by a whole day." Shorty emptied his gla.s.s. "Word gets around that you won't be needin' any hands. They say your cattle were stampeded and your brothers killed. They say you're wiped out."

Orrin pushed his hat back. He glanced at the bartender. "A beer," he said, "and give Shorty whatever he's drinking."

He waited for the beer, took a swallow, and then said, "I never seen a herd so scattered that a man couldn't round up some of them, and as for Tell and Tyrel, they don't kill very easy. I've seen 'em shot at, I've seen 'em wounded, I've seen them days without food or water, and somehow they always came through.

"Regardless, we gave our word to deliver cattle, and deliver them I will if I have to round up a herd of buffalo and drive them through."

"I've got just one man, Shorty, an' old cart driver named Baptiste. We've got two cartloads of grub an' gear, and I'm rustling for men and horses."

"Out west there, they've got some mighty mean Sioux, some meaner Blackfeet, and some grizzlies that will stand higher than a horse and heavier than a bull. They've got mountains where n.o.body ever drove a cow critter before, and there may be some men along the trail who'd like to stop us. What d'you say?"

"Sounds like my kind of a deal." Shorty tossed off his drink. "Finish your beer. I know a man who's got some horses."

Two hours later, Orrin owned six new horses. Shorty stood back and watched him, an amused smile on his face. Orrin pa.s.sed by dozens of horses to choose the six he finally bought.

"You done yourself proud," Shorty said. "You got yourself six of the best. But you get to roundin' up stock on the plains, and six horses won't last even two men no time at all."

"We'll have more. What I need right now is men."

"Tough. Usually, you could find all you wanted. These mtis ain't cowpunchers by a long shot, but they can ride, and they can shoot, and you find quite a few who are fair hands with a rope. And they're workers, every durned one of them."

The steamboat whistled. "Shorty? You want to meet me in Fort Garry with these horses?"

"Surest thing you know. But you watch your step. That's a mighty touchy situation there."

He had no doubt of it, yet there was nothing to do but to go ahead and cope with the situations as they occurred.