Luke's Gold

His stay of a couple of days stretched into one of several weeks, as Cade continued to work with the horses, and eventually take over most of the responsibility for breaking difficult animals. It suited Cade fine because it kept his day occupied with the horses, a task he always enjoyed. It also exempted him from performing the other chores delegated to a cowhand at the home ranch. Unlike herding cattle on the open range, there were many chores done while not in the saddle—mending fences, milking, tending chickens, repairing buildings, working the garden, and so on—chores that most cowhands didn’t care for. There were some advantages, however—sleeping in a warm bunkhouse with a kitchen, and the town of Deer Lodge, with its saloons and bawdy houses within walking distance.

The Deer Lodge Valley was a land of lush grass and plenty of water, which made it suitable for raising cattle. Surrounded by mountains that protected the valley from much of the harsh weather, Cade could appreciate why Carlton Kramer had settled here. Life was peaceful for him again. He was seeing Beth at least once every day, and while he took this as happenstance, Ralph Duncan was astute enough to notice the various excuses the young lady found to warrant her presence at the horse ring. He made no comment, finding it amusing and harmless that the two young folks seemed to enjoy each other’s company.

The Bar-K crew was a laid-back group of men, the best that Cade had ever worked with, no bullies and no malcontents. He had made one good friend that he would occasionally go into town with to have a glass of beer. Red Reynolds was close to Cade’s age. A red-haired man from Nebraska, he earned the nickname Skunk when a wayward skunk wandered into the outhouse while Red was performing his morning ritual. The uninvited guest prompted Red to evacuate the outhouse while still in the process of evacuating his bowels, much to the entertainment of the rest of the crew. Ralph Duncan, in a fit of laughter, suggested that since the outhouse was a “two-holer,” they could have easily shared the toilet. An easygoing, good-natured man, Red took the japing without complaint, insisting the only reason he fled was because he thought it was a female skunk. Cade enjoyed the man’s sense of humor, and the two young men became friends almost from the first day. It was a natural friendship, since they were the only really young men in Duncan’s crew.

For the first time in a while, Cade felt that he had found a home base. Working in a well-operated organization, he was content to do his job every day without complications, save that of the unexplained feeling of uncertainty caused by his encounters with Beth Walker. The young lady was troubling to the extent that he wasn’t really sure what their relationship was. She often called upon him to ride with her in the evenings, giving as excuse White Moon’s concern for her safety. She never gave any sign of affection for him beyond that of a friend, and there was never a repeat of the kiss she had given him on their first ride to her “secret place.” Red rode him unmercifully about the evening rides, convinced that there was a reason she never went with anyone else. “You better watch your step, boy,” Red teased. “That gal might be shakin’ out a noose for your neck.”

Cade, in his quiet, imperturbable way, ignored the teasing, which usually frustrated Red. He spent considerable time, however, trying to make sense of Elizabeth Walker, but in the end, he always had to conclude that she was just being her lighthearted self, and that she felt safe with him. Content for the time being, he nevertheless thought about his dream of someday raising horses on his own. Those thoughts always brought back the image of the green, grassy prairie between the Yellowstone and the Crazy Mountains. That, in turn, revived more serious memories and his unfulfilled vow to Luke Tucker. He issued a silent apology to his old friend for the contentment he now felt. He could not avoid a feeling of guilt for this peaceful time of his life. It would not last.

“That’s up to you, I reckon,” Ned replied evenly. He thought about the problem for a minute while they glowered at each other, then said, “Since bushwhackin’ don’t seem to be workin’, maybe I can just call him out—you know, in a fair fight. The way he wears that Colt, it don’t look like he uses it for anythin’ but killin’ snakes.”

“That might be the best way to do it at that,” Slater said, nodding slowly as he thought about it. He had never seen anyone faster with a gun than Ned Appling. “You can’t go to the ranch to do it, though. That would be too obvious. He’s bound to go into town sometime. You go on back to Deer Lodge and wait for him, but dammit, I ain’t payin’ for you to get drunk every night in the saloon.”

“Don’t worry. I aim to be sober when I’m workin’.” He stepped up in the saddle again, and turned his horse toward the barn. “I’ll start back first thing in the mornin’.” He could not understand Slater’s obsession with the Walker girl, but it was immaterial to him. He had killed men over smaller prizes, and it was the killing he enjoyed. There didn’t have to be a reason.

“Come on, Cade,” Red sang out when Cade walked in the bunkhouse door. “Let’s go to Sullivan’s and get us a drink of whiskey. It’s payday, and I don’t want no glass of beer—at least until after I’ve had my drink of whiskey.”

Several of the Bar-K hands were already at the rail in Sullivan’s Saloon when Cade and Red walked in. Seeing their friends at the end of the bar, the two made their way through the crowded room to join them. “Hey, Skunk,” one of the men called out, “what took you so long?”

The playful banter went back and forth for a few minutes more between the cowhands from the Bar-K. Sipping his whiskey slowly, Cade remained an amused spectator while Red tossed his first shot back and tapped the bar with the empty glass to get Sullivan’s attention. The thought crossed his mind that Harvey might be right. At the rate Red was starting the evening, he might have to carry him home. The thought caused a fleeting memory of the times he had been called upon to carry Luke Tucker home after a night of drinking. He didn’t permit the thought to linger, however. He was not in a mood for guilty melancholy tonight.

In the back corner of the small barroom, another spectator watched the lighthearted kidding with more than casual interest. Unnoticed at a small table, Ned Appling sat, his fingers playing idly with his empty glass, his unblinking gaze focused on the quiet cowboy beside the redhead they called Skunk. He ain’t japing with the other men, he thought. Maybe he’s a little bit shy. The thought brought a baleful grin to his face. I’ll let him get a little more whiskey in him—slow him down a little. Taking a harder look at the Colt Peacemaker Cade wore, he could see that it was riding in the holster that evidently came with the weapon, nothing special about it. Ned decided the extra whiskey might not be necessary. He ain’t ever pulled that iron in a gunfight, he thought, and almost chuckled.

At Red’s insistence, Cade let Sullivan pour him another drink. Taking the glass in hand, he turned to watch Harvey and a couple of the boys pulling chairs up to a table to start the card game. “How ’bout you, Cade?” one of them asked.

“No thanks, Nate,” he replied, “I’ll just watch a while.” He was about to explain that he didn’t have much luck when it came to poker when his arm was suddenly jolted from behind, causing him to spill half of his drink. He turned to look into the smirking face of Ned Appling.

Cade turned to face Ned again, puzzled by the man’s behavior. He glanced at the open expanse of bar behind the menacing face. “Mister, nobody’s keepin’ you from orderin’ a drink that I can see. Why don’t you just go on about your business and leave me alone?”

Suddenly a wave of silence swept over the crowded room as the noisy patrons became aware of the incident unfolding at the bar. It came to him then. Cade remembered the man as the one who accompanied John Slater at the ranch. He had only seen him from a distance, but he was sure now that he was the same man.

“Mister, for some reason, you think you’ve got a problem with me. S’pose you tell me what’s eatin’ at you. What is your real problem with me?” Cade asked, his voice calm and steady. “I’m thinkin’ John Slater has somethin’ to do with this.”

“I don’t give a damn what you’re thinkin’,” Appling bellowed. “If you don’t step back and draw that damn gun, I’ll shoot you down where you stand.” With his hand hovering over the handle of his pistol, he stepped back to give himself room.

Still somewhat amazed to find himself in this standoff, Cade quickly assessed the situation. A quick glance told him that he might be in real trouble—the way the man’s gun holster was slung to provide quick access, tied down to his leg, the holster itself, heavily oiled with a piece in the front cut away for minimum interference. Cade realized that this was his profession. Knowing he had no chance in a gunfight with Appling, he stepped after him as Ned backed away, crowding him. Pushing his face up close, Cade whispered loudly, “If you don’t turn around and get outta here, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Before he could draw the weapon, Cade’s free hand clamped down hard on Ned’s gun hand, holding the pistol firmly in the holster. With his other hand, he splashed the remainder of his whiskey into the surprised man’s eyes. Appling jerked his head back from the stinging alcohol, and before he could open his eyes again, Cade planted a hard right hand that landed beside the point of his chin. Ned’s knees buckled, and he grabbed the bar with his free hand to keep from falling, giving Cade time to pull his own weapon. A sharp rap across the bridge of Ned’s nose was enough to send him on down to the floor, too groggy to know what had happened. Cade reached down and took Ned’s pistol from him, then grabbed him by his heels and dragged the half-conscious man out of the saloon.

While this was taking place, the entire saloon had remained caught in stunned silence. As Cade came back inside, the room filled with noise again as Bar-K hands and everyone else suddenly recovered their voices. “Goddamn,” was all a shocked Red Reynolds could utter.

Cade stood there, holding both guns for a long moment. Of all the patrons in the saloon, he, more than anyone, knew that it wasn’t over. It wasn’t a coincidence that Ned Appling was in that saloon tonight. He was sent there to call Cade out, and he would be back. Dick Sullivan moved up beside Cade then and cautioned in a low voice, “I think maybe it would be best if you called it a night, and maybe you’d better use the back door.”

“Yes, sir,” Cade replied. “I expect you’re right.” He could appreciate the fear the saloon owner had of the beaten man coming back to look for Cade and shooting up his saloon. He turned to find Red standing behind him. “It’s all right, Red, I was thinkin’ about going back to the bunkhouse, anyway. I’ll see you later.” He laid Ned Appling’s pistol on the bar and left.

Outside, Cade stood at the back door of the saloon for a few minutes, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark. The rowdy din of the patrons in the saloon provided a steady hum through the rough plank door behind him as he listened for any unusual sound in the dark. Looking left and right in the narrow alley that ran between the buildings and the creek behind them, he could see no sign of anyone lying in wait. Sensing no immediate danger, he stepped out of the shadow of the door and started walking back to the ranch.

Glancing briefly down the side alley between the saloon and the dry goods store and seeing no one, he passed behind the store, and walked out to the street on the other side. Pausing again to scan the main thoroughfare, he saw nothing but a few horses tied out front of the saloon. The street was empty all the way down to the south end where the Montana Territorial Prison stood. It occurred to him then the irony of a planned assassination in the very shadow of the prison. He wondered if the man who had come to kill him had ever been a guest at the notorious institution.

It could be, he told himself as he walked along the dark road, that he had jumped to the wrong conclusion regarding the incident in the bar. Why would a man of John Slater’s obvious wealth and apparent standing hire a common gunman to eliminate a rival suitor? It didn’t make sense, especially in light of the fact that Cade was no suitor at all. Maybe, he thought, Appling just had a burr under his saddle and felt like a fight. He remembered then the challenging stare from Appling the first time he had seen him. Thinking about it now, he was surprised he didn’t recognize the man right away in the saloon tonight. Still, Appling was Slater’s hired hand. Cade could not discard the possibility the fight was at Slater’s bidding. Jealousy was a disease shared by rich men as well as saddle tramps.

He was almost back to the bunkhouse when he heard the sound of hooves on the road behind him, pounding hard in a full gallop. He turned just in time to hear the snap of a bullet as it passed beside his head a split second before the crack of the rifle. Instinct saved him from the second shot as he dived into the bushes by the side of the road, rolling over and over when he hit the ground, desperately searching for some form of cover. A low mound was the only reasonable protection he could find at the moment. He crawled behind it, pulled his Colt from the holster, and prepared to return fire.

Suddenly taking form in the darkness, horse and rider appeared, bearing down on him with rifle blazing shot after shot that ripped the grass on the mound, pinning him down on his belly. The horse was almost upon him when he heard the click of Appling’s firing pin on an empty chamber. With angry determination, Appling drove the horse on, attempting to trample Cade, who rolled away, out from under the pounding hooves. As soon as he was free of the danger of being trampled, Cade raised his pistol and fired at his assailant who was galloping away in the darkness to reload his rifle. Given the opportunity, Cade scrambled to his feet and ran for the bunkhouse.

Too far committed at this point to worry about the close proximity to the ranch, and enraged beyond caution, Ned jammed more cartridges into his rifle, wheeled his horse and galloped back toward the mound. Catching a glimpse of the fleeing man in the darkness, he turned the horse sharply and chased after him.

Running for all he was worth, Cade rounded the corner of the bunkhouse and made for the shed built on the back. Spotting the barrel standing in the corner between the bunkhouse and the shed, he headed straight for it. In almost one continuous motion, he leaped up on the barrel and pulled himself up on the shed roof. There he crouched, his heart pumping in a desperate effort to supply the oxygen his lungs screamed for. In a few seconds’ time, the dark horse-man rounded the corner of the building. Kneeling on the short roof of the shed, Cade was face-to-face with the man in the saddle for a brief instant before he pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed into Ned’s chest at point-blank range, knocking him over to one side as his horse galloped on. Cade leaped to the ground and ran after him. Slumped in the saddle, Ned’s body sagged from side to side as his horse gradually slowed, finally coming to a stop. Cade approached cautiously, his pistol aimed at Ned’s back, but the wounded man never looked back. After what seemed a long time, the rifle dropped from Ned’s hand and he slid off to the side, landing dead on the ground, a bullet through his heart.

Within seconds, Cade was joined by a couple of men from the bunkhouse; one of them was Ralph Duncan. Up at the main house, a lantern appeared on the porch, the family having been awakened by the shots. In a few minutes, Carlton Kramer came down to the bunkhouse to investigate. He got there just as Cade finished telling Duncan what had happened, and why there was a dead man lying between his bunkhouse and barn. “Are you sure that’s the same man?” Kramer asked, then held his lantern close over the body while Duncan rolled it over. “That’s the same man who was with Slater, all right,” he said, answering his question himself. Then he turned to Cade. “Why would he come gunning for you? Have you had a run-in with him before?”

“Well, not since about a half hour ago in the saloon,” Cade answered. “He tried to start somethin’ with me then. Before that, I haven’t had any dealin’s with the man. Some of the men were there. They can tell you the straight of it.”

“I’m thinkin’ it’s up to me to carry his body over to Slater’s place—since I’m the one that shot him.” In truth, Cade would just as soon drag the body down to the pig lot and let the hogs enjoy him. There was no doubt that Appling had specifically targeted Cade. He had never seen Ned before that first day when he had accompanied John Slater to the Bar-K. He had to be sent by Slater, so Cade wanted to dump the body at Slater’s front door and face the man. “I’ll tote him over there in the mornin’,” he said.

“Nothing for you women to worry about,” Kramer assured them. “Evidently a man who works for John Slater made an attempt on Cade’s life, and Cade shot him. I’m fairly satisfied it was a case of self-defense. I’ll know for sure in the morning when I talk to some of the boys who witnessed the trouble.”

Kramer paused for a moment while he studied the young woman’s face. “You know that for a fact, do you?” he asked. When she hesitated to answer right away, he continued. “There is very little anybody knows about that young man except he has a knack for handling horses. He just showed up one day, from nowhere, heading nowhere. He seems nice enough. I like him, too. But it’s about time somebody warned you to be a little more cautious in your choice of friends.”

Taken aback, because she never expected a lecture from Carlton Kramer, Elizabeth was speechless for a moment. She looked at Cornelia for support and received nothing more than raised eyebrows telling her that she agreed with her husband. “Well, I know he wouldn’t hurt anybody unless he had a very good reason,” she said, then excused herself for bed.

Back in her bed, under a heavy quilt, she did not fall asleep right away. Her thoughts were of the quiet, sometimes brooding, young man who had so recently ridden into her life, and she questioned the suddenness of her interest in him. She could not rationally explain her attraction to him, and, too, she could not deny it. At times it came to her, to lie heavily upon her mind, and she would try for a while to make sense of it. Then, like this night, she would eventually give up trying to solve her weakness for Cade Hunter. He just needs someone to take care of him, she told herself as she finally drifted off to sleep.

The solid cloud cover that had moved over the valley and darkened the nights for the past week suddenly became restless. A cold wind swept down from the northwest, stirring the clouds into an unsettled state of agitation, bringing early snow flurries skipping across the Flint Creek Mountains to lightly blanket the prairie grass with silver. Cade saw it as a warning from Old Man Winter that he would be visiting the valley in earnest before long.

With Red’s help, Cade lifted Ned Appling’s body up across the saddle of his horse and tied his hands and feet beneath the horse’s belly. “He’s already a little stiff,” Red commented, “I thought we were gonna have to crease him across his behind to bend him, but he ain’t board-stiff yet.” He finished tying off the body, then walked around the horse to stand by Cade while he secured a lead rope to his saddle. “Maybe I oughta ride over there with you, you know, just to keep you company. We don’t know nothin’ about that crew of Slater’s. I ain’t ever run into any of ’em, to tell you the truth. Folks say he’s runnin’ cattle into that stretch of land on the other side of Clark Fork, so I expect he’s got a crew.”

“I expect Duncan would appreciate you helpin’ move those cows in closer to the lower range,” Cade said. “I can take care of myself.” Red shook his head, concerned. Cade could readily see the reluctance in his friend’s face. “I’ll be careful,” he said, trying to reassure him, then climbed into the saddle.