More than a dozen horses thundered down the main street of Thimble Creek. Mud squished beneath their hooves and splattered high on their hocks. The sun was barely peaking over the horizon. Only slivers of light beamed into the gray sky above.
No sooner had Harvey Trask and Peso Martin gathered the men from The Big Dollar to form a posse, the afternoon before, the rain had come fast and furious. Being close to town they had taken refuge in the saloon to wait out the storm before setting out after the Wildcats.
Simon Price was furious. He stomped about his office at the bank wringing his hands. “You’re not getting that money back while you and your men are drinking and hanging out at the saloon.”
“Not much we can do until the rain lets up,” Peso protested. “The Wildcats are gonna have to hole up someplace too. They won’t get far. We’ll be on their trail as soon as the storm lets up. Trailing should be easy after the rain.”
“Just make sure they don’t get away and don’t let your men get too liquored up.” Price warned him sternly.
Now, as they rode out of town at barely daybreak, Peso Martin was angry. He didn’t like being bullied about by Simon Price. He was angry, too, at his men. They had imbibed too much the night before and were hardly alert for posse duty, just as Price had warned him against. Damn that Price, anyhow, Peso thought. He always had to be right.
Well, he may have let his men get out of hand, but one thing was certain. Drunk, tipsy, or hung over, they were going to bring that money back and every one of the Wildcat gang was going to be brought back dead, slung over the back of a horse.
“Where’s my horse?” Rap Brown rasped angrily, gazing at the horses bunched up in front of the cabin. Jeremy was holding the reins of all six horses. He had gone to the stables and readied all of their horses while Chief Henry had gotten some breakfast for them all before starting off on the trail. The sun was halfway up over the horizon by the time they were ready to mount up.
“Butler took him,” Jeremy said.
“Took him? What d’ya mean, he took him?” Rap bellowed.
“What do you mean, what d’ya mean, he took him? If you don’t understand plain English, maybe Chief needs to tell you with Injun talk.”
“Dandy man took ‘em you horse, paleface,” Chief grinned.
“But he took my horse,” Rap moaned. “He’s the best horse we got.”
“Guess ‘em dandy man know ‘em that too. Now you no got ‘em best horse.”
“Will you stop that stupid lingo?” Rap blustered. “What the hell am I supposed to ride?”
“I saddled one of Larry’s horses for you, Rap. He said he didn’t mind as long as we could bring him back sometime.”
Rap looked over the horses and saw one that didn’t look familiar to him. He was scrawny with scraggly brown hair, mane and tail. His chest was narrow and he looked gaunt. He was a bit sway backed and had aged beyond his prime.
“That?” Rap snorted. “You expect me to ride that overgrown rat?”
“Either that, or you ride double with Chief,” Jeremy snickered.
“Just don’t snuggle too close behind me,” Chief said. “I’ve never been quite sure of you.”
“I ain’t ridin’ double with no one,” Rap growled. “Especially no fake Injun.” He stepped forward and snaked a set of reins out of Jeremy’s grasp. They were the reins to Jeremy’s roan. “You think you’re so gol’ darn funny, Jeremy. You can just ride the rat. I’m ridin’ the roan.” He climbed into the saddle and settled himself. He smiled with victory and self satisfaction. “’Course, he’s not as good as my gray.”
“Seems to me, you ain’t got a gray.” Jeremy climbed onto the borrowed horse
The others gathered reins and climbed into the saddle.
Dandy Jim Butler kept checking his back trail. He knew that he was leaving a clear trail behind as he pushed the big gray steadily westward. The previous night’s rain had left the ground muddy. There was nothing he could do about it, except put as much distance behind him as possible.
At first it had been easy to check his back trail, but as the sun rose higher in the sky, he found himself looking into its bright rays. Though not intense enough to blind him, it was still enough to blot out any sign of riders behind him. He turned the gray northward, putting the sun to his right.
Each time he checked his back trail, he had satisfied himself that there was no one back there. After an hour on the trail, he slowed the big horse to a walk and took a drink from his canteen. Then he pulled the horse to a halt and dismounted. He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and poured some water into it. He then swabbed the big gray’s nose and rubbed some of the liquid on his tongue. It had not gotten hot yet today, so the lack of water was not yet crucial, but he knew they would have to find some water for the horse later on. For now the swabbing would have to do.
As he hung the canteen back over the pommel and started to climb into the saddle, he took one more look to the trail behind him. It seemed to startle him at first, although not surprised. His eyes squinted as he stared into the distance. At first it was just a movement that he noticed and then as he focused his eyes, he could make out the dark shapes of horses and riders a quarter of a mile back.
Damn! Had they gotten on his trail already? He had hoped that he had gotten a better start than this. He climbed into the saddle, took up the reins, and not wanting his followers to know he had spotted them, he prodded his mount into a trot and rode off nonchalantly.
He kept his mount moving at a steady pace, hoping not to give it away that he had spotted his pursuers. Occasionally, he would turn his head from one side to the other, casting a furtive glance out of the corner of his eye, trying to get a glimpse of who was behind him. This was totally unsatisfactory. He could never get a good look this way. Finally he had to risk a quick look backward.
His heart leaped in his throat and he began to panic. The riders behind him were much closer now and moving faster. They didn’t seem to care if they were seen and Butler now knew he dare not try to pretend he didn’t know they were back there anymore. With a sudden rush he kicked his horse in the flanks, whipped him across the neck with the reins and leaned forward in the saddle as the horse jumped forward and sprang into a gallop.
“You think he saw us? “ Bud Gorman shouted to Frankie. They were riding side by side. The clatter of the horses’ hooves and the rushing air blowing past them as they rode made it necessary for him to shout in order to be heard.
“Of course, you moron,” Frankie shouted back. “Look he’s hightailing it!” He drummed his heels against his pony’s sides and spurted forward. “Let’s go!” He shouted without looking back at his trailing companions, who followed suit and spurred their mounts forward at a greater speed.
Butler urged the big gray forward, pushing him to full speed. The horse had long strong legs and when they stretched out to full length, his speed was exceptional. From time to time, the dandy half turned in the saddle and saw his pursuers had picked up the pace and were closer than they had been the last time he looked back. They were close enough now to tell there were only four of them. Probably not Kitty and her gang for there were five of them and these riders looked young. He remembered the boys that had held up the Wildcats, the previous afternoon. It could be them, he thought. But why were they after him? Did they know he had the loot? How could they? Unless, he thought. Maybe they had been watching him when he left the nester’s cabin with the saddle bags. That must be it, he thought. Why else would they be coming after him so fast?
A shot rang out behind him. He felt nothing stirring the air around him. He glanced back again. This time he saw a puff of smoke from the lead rider’s pistol, just before he heard the sound of the shot. Again, no bullet came near him. Of course not. The riders were too far away. They were out of pistol range.
“What are you firing for?” Bud yelled at Frankie. “He’s out of range!”
“I know! I know!” Frankie answered back angrily. “I know what I’m doing. Hur
ry it up!” He pounded his heels harder into the horse’s ribs and raked his sharp spurs across its flanks. The mount snorted in pain and his stride shortened.
Up ahead, Butler angled the gray off to the right, riding down a slight incline that led to a large grassy meadow. As he dipped below the horizon, he knew he was momentarily lost from the view of his pursuers. If he could find some cover some place, he could hole up and rest his mount some. But, he saw nothing but the wide open expanse of gramma grass before him. At the far end of the meadow, the terrain began to slope upwards. He could see trees in the distance lining the top of the slope. Only the tops of the trees could be seen indicating that the land must fall away sharply. A hill on the other side! He headed toward it, glancing back briefly to see the young riders cresting the rise just before the meadow, behind him.
With any luck, he could be on the other side of the hill before him and once again be out of sight of his followers. He urged the gray to greater speed and he took the rising slope easily. A moment later, they were on the downward slope on the other side. The grass was still wet here and the horse with smooth iron shoes, half slid down the bank. The gambler leaned far back in the saddle, loosening the rein and giving the horse his head.
At the bottom of the embankment was a large dry basin. Large boulders were strewn about and the walls of the embankment were lined with scrub pine and brush. There were plenty of places to hide here. He passed up the rock boulders and headed for the trees. He needed to hide the horse and feared that the rocks would not give enough cover.
He had just ridden into the brush, dismounted and still holding the reins, turned the gray facing the trail through the basin, when Frankie and his gang topped the rise and started their descent into the basin. They had slowed their mounts and were being careful not to slide too much on the wet grass.
Butler clamped a hand over the gray‘s muzzle, hoping to stifle any sound he might make. He watched the four boys as they rode into the basin. He saw them halt, looking about them, trying to decide where their quarry may have gone. He could see them arguing among themselves. Apparently, each one of them had a different idea as to what the gambler may have done. Had he hidden someplace close by or had he ridden on?
They must have decided on the latter, for they lifted their reins and pushed their mounts onward across the basin.
Dandy Jim held his breath as he waited and watched the foursome ride by, cross the basin and take the trail out. They soon disappeared from view and the sound of their horse‘s shoes on rock died out. Dandy Jim waited a few minutes more to make sure they were gone. He dare not wait too long though, for they may decide he was not ahead of them and had been hiding back here.
Gingerly, he led the gray out of the brush, careful to make as little sound as possible. He gazed down the trail out of the basin and saw nothing moving. The air was still with no sound, not even the chirping of a bird.
Satisfying himself that the gang of young hoods was gone, he gathered up the reins, stepped lightly into the stirrup and swung gently into the saddle. He neck reined the gray to turn him back the way they had come. If he could just get over the hill and out of sight before the boys returned, he might evade them for now.
He had just ridden out into the center of the basin when he heard the clatter of hooves along the trail. The boys were on their way back and Dandy Jim would be caught in the open if he didn’t find another place to hide fast!
Chapter Fourteen