Charley Crow had worked out the mix of tracks he’d found. He judged the freshness and the way one set merged with another, giving him an indication where the different parties had moved. He had spent some time on his haunches, inspecting the overlapping hoof prints until he was satisfied he understood. He backtracked and found the cave where the body of Vasquez still lay. He stood over the dead man more than a little sorry the Mexican was gone. Vasquez might have been part of Gallman’s gang, but he was still a foreigner in the eyes of the others, just as Charley Crow was. A part of the group who was still apart. When he left the cave Charley Crow cast around and found where Lagrange and Stringer had ridden a different route that would eventually take them to the trading post run by the man named Elijah Kramer. The way they had ridden would got them to Kramer’s ahead of the pair they were following.
Charley Crow took the direct route. He was curious that there was no sign of Lagrange or Stringer returning from Kramer’s place. It was a new day and they should have been on their way back to rejoin Gallman. Unless they had run into more than they could handle. He accepted the pair were well able to look after themselves—yet it was possible something might have happened to them. He didn’t like to think that way. On the other hand Charley Crow knew bad things could happen, so he rode with his bow in his left hand, with a nocked arrow—just in case.
He rested his pinto and took time to taste some of the rum from the bottle he always carried with him. There were times he admitted his liking for the drink was not wise. As with much of his race Charley Crow was easily affected by it if he took too much, but he always felt he could conquer that weakness. As he rested he took another couple of swigs from the squat bottle, enjoying the warm feeling that spread through his body. When he put the bottle away he ignored the slight hesitation in his movements and mounted up again before moving off.
~*~
He sighted the trading post from his concealed position in a stand of timber and brush. The trading post stood open and exposed, the creek flowing some way behind it. Charley Crow tied his pinto, then eased through the greenery and settled down to study the layout.
Smoke rose from the post’s chimney. There were horses in the corral. Charley Crow’s attention was drawn to a pair. His keen eyes identified them as the ones ridden by Lagrange and Stringer. If the horses were here it told the Indian the riders were as well.
Figures appeared, stepping outside the post.
Charley Crow instantly recognized Elijah Kramer. He had seen the man many times before. There was a bandage wrapped around Kramer’s head. The unmistakable shape of a young woman appeared. She was talking to Kramer.
A second man appeared. Tall and leanly muscular, he wore a tied down Colt and carried a Winchester rifle in his hand. He spoke briefly to the woman and Kramer, crossed to the corral and saddled up a chestnut mare. Kramer handed him a sack he tied behind his saddle and led the horse out. Charley Crow studied the man’s face, a faint stirring at the back of his mind. It came to him after a minute or so.
He was looking at Bodie.
The bounty man known as The Stalker.
Some years back Charley Crow had seen the man at a rendezvous on the banks of the Green River. He had heard talk the bounty man was on the lookout for a known killer. Charlie Crow’s interest had been surpassed by his need to make his own deal for furs he’d trapped and he forgot about Bodie, though he did learn later that the wanted man had been shot and arrested by the bounty man. Last heard Bodie was taking his prisoner back to Laramie. Charley Crow had never crossed paths with Bodie. Now it was looking as if he might.
Watching now and seeing the horses belonging to Lagrange and Stringer, Charley Crow saw the man looking at the tracks his friends had made riding into the trading post. Bodie, still talking to Kramer, gestured back and forth as they talked. After a time Bodie spoke to the woman, mounted his chestnut and picked up the tracks that showed where he and the woman had left on their approach to the post.
He was going after Gallman and Wilkerson. Retracing the way he and the woman had rode in by. Bodie would follow those tracks to where Gallman had broken off and headed up into the mountains. The bounty man was no fool. He would follow those tracks until they led him to the high camp where Gallman would feel safe. Only Bodie was not to know there were two more men there to side Gallman and Wilkerson. He would be facing four men—not two.
Charley Crow waited until Bodie was well out of sight, the timber hiding him from sight. That didn’t worry him. He would let Bodie ride away and follow him. Let the man hunter believe he was riding alone. Then Charley Crow would deal with him. He would show Gallman the way it should be done.
By a warrior.
By Charley Crow of the Absaroka tribe. Always.