The Deputy - Edge Series 2 (24 page)

But any loud noise he might accidentally make on the rock hard ground over which he slithered like a snake in the night though – that would surely carry to the group sleeping between the remuda of horses and the brush.

Then once again he needed to steel himself against giving way to temptation. For beyond the hobbled horses, close to where the men and the woman rested, breathing deeply, snoring, sucking their teeth and moaning in their dreams, he could see the heap of saddles and accoutrements. Knew there was sure to be food in the saddlebags and water in the canteens. Maybe even liquor of some kind.

But he was able to force his mind away from the creature comforts that were surely available and those that might not be. For as an Indian he knew it was not worth taking extra risks to acquire luxuries he may well crave but did not need. There was danger enough as he reached the quartet of horses and rose to his feet, made soft soothing sounds to the animals as they quivered nervously when the stranger moved among them. But they limited the release of their apprehension to soft whinnying and the scraping of hooves within the confines of their restraints. As he worked with careful haste to release the hobbles of the docile animals Billy cast frequent glances toward the man who was supposed to be standing sentry. This was one of the two Americans, still sleeping as deeply as the others where he sat: legs splayed, back resting against a rock, head tipped forward so his chin touched his chest, his hands curled loosely over the barrel and stock of the rifle angled across his thighs. Every now and then as he worked at the hazardous task, Billy found himself thinking like a white eyes: concerned about the length of time it was taking to achieve his end. But never for very long was he anxious about the passing seconds stretching into minutes: what he was doing would just have to take as much time as was necessary because of the danger involved.

So he had no precise idea of what period of time had elapsed between when he began to release the first horse and when all four were free and he was able to lead them quietly away from the woman and three men sleeping noisily nearby. The animals were calm: the man drenched in fine beads of sweat, every aching muscle in his entire being tensed to react to the first sign he was discovered. But no sign was forthcoming and then it suddenly seemed as if hardly any time at all had passed as Billy peered back over his shoulder. To where the sleeping people were now more than a hundred yards away: and he was able to breathe naturally while the chill night air acted to dry the sweat of tension on his flesh.

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‘You are very fine animals and I am a very fine Navajo brave,’ he said softly. ‘And I think all of us should be richly rewarded for the way we have behaved so well in such danger.’

He grinned broadly then had to steel himself against an almost overwhelming desire to laugh aloud as he swung smoothly astride the bare back of his chosen bay gelding and heeled him into a walk.

There was no need to command the other three to follow for they were schooled to do so and he held down the horses to a slow pace until he estimated he was at least a mile away from the night camp that was no longer in sight. Then he asked for a canter and immediately got it from his mount. And the three loose animals matched the speed for a mile or so more until the mixed breed commanded a halt with a tug on the luxuriant mane of the bay. The two roans and the grey ran on a little further before they pulled up, tossing their heads then looking curiously back at the man for a further command. Billy peered around the broken terrain, paying particular attention to the south: the direction from which he had come with the stolen horses. But if the three men and the woman had already been alerted to the theft and were tracking him they were hidden behind intervening high ground.

He dismounted and led his chosen mount by the bridle to where the other animals waited. Then, still retaining a fast hold on the horse he had chosen he turned the grey toward the north and delivered a heavy slap to its rump. When the animal whinnied and set off at a gallop the pair of roans looked eager to take off after him. But they did not lunge away into the diminishing dust cloud until Billy landed first one and the another cracking flat of the hand slap on horseflesh.

He knew that the bay was anxious to be gone, too, running free into the brightly moonlit night. But after the skittish animal was turned and led for a few yards at an easy walk back southward again he soon became compliant to the man’s wishes. Many of the townspeople of Bishopsburg were suspiciously disapproving of how the new and inexperienced sheriff was handling matters in the wake of the brutal killing of North. And just one bystander – a woman – watched the early morning activity on the street as the group of six men swung up into the saddles of their horses out front of the law office and checked the actions of revolvers and repeater rifles.

They grunted and scowled as they got comfortable: eager to hit the open trail and be getting on with the job in hand. While Elizabeth Straker stood at the open doorway of the family home, clearly tense with anxiety and drained by lack of sleep. 138

Then as the group of two Americans and four Mexicans heeled their horses into a canter toward the start of the south trail other citizens appeared at windows and doorways. Some of the watchers perhaps acknowledging to themselves with a sense of relief that if Alvarez and his reduced band had not chosen to head out with Straker and Edge, then they would have maybe felt duty bound to risk their own lives riding with the posse. An occasional question was called and here and there a word of farewell or good wishes rang out. Responses from the stone faced men were confined to shakes of the head from Straker, glowers from the Mexicans and a glinting eyed non-committal gaze from Edge.

After the taciturn riders had left the town behind them no one looked back as the buildings slowly shrank in the perspective of lengthening distance. Then later there were some laconic exchanges amid the clouds of aromatic cigar and cigarette smoke that went a little way to mask the sour odours of unwashed bodies.

The sporadic talk was at first of the wisdom with hindsight off waiting until first light before they set off. Then concerned with their half formed plan that was simple enough: the alliance between Straker and Edge with the law of Texas behind them and the Mexicans who had a far greater knowledge of the terrain they would cover – particularly if their quarry crossed the border into Mexico.

There were also infrequent caustic references to how each faction comprising the posse had lost the subject it was supposed to be guarding. Until they reached disgruntled agreement that guilt for this negligence could be equally shared even if nothing was to be gained from it.

The further they pushed on through the rising heat across the open country of sun baked Texas to the south of Bishopsburg the less they talked: this as each man became infected with the malaise caused by the discomfort of the ride. But, with the exception of Straker, they were used to going without the home comforts: perhaps even derived a degree of pride from not allowing their companions to see just how much the deprivation irked. None was about to smile in the face of adversity but neither was he ready to bitch out loud about it. So they simply indulged in a great deal of glowering up at the dazzlingly bright sun of advancing morning: and some in theatrically noisy spitting through the rising dust and much mopping of sweat off heavily bristled faces. It was close to noon when they spotted three loose horses in the distance off to the south west of the way they were headed, still following the distinct tracks of four riders. After the animals emerged from out of the distorting shimmering heat haze as something more than dark coloured shapes and were seen as a grey and two roans, Edge said: 139

‘You fellers want to keep tracking the sign? I need to take a closer look at those horses.’

Alvarez allowed: ‘
Si, senor.
You go ahead.’

Straker was totally indifferent, interested solely in the tracks on the ground he was sure would lead them to the killers of George North.

Edge tugged on the reins to turn his mount and dug in his heels to command a gallop. Angled off to the right, down into a shallow depression that scored the terrain from out of the north east toward the south west. The ground beneath the fast moving horse was hard and dusty, scattered with small rocks; an occasional large boulder and some clumps of dried out brush.

The animals heard his approach from some way off and they raised their heads where they were cropping on an area of yellow grass near a patch of stunted mesquite. One of the roans snorted in alarm while the other two returned to grazing. Edge reined his mount down to an easy walk, his final doubts that these animals could be wild mustangs gone. Closer still he saw they were bridled and a few moments later as he halted and swung down from the saddle and led his horse toward the others he confirmed the suspicion he had when he first saw them at a distance. The grey had been Rubio Rodriges’s mount and was ridden into and out of Bishopsburg by Isabella Gomez last night. The two roans had been under Morton Bryce and Don Harvey. Which meant that the bay on which Jose Martinez had left town – which was Edge’s own horse – was still missing.

The loose horses submitted without complaint to having lengths of lariat rope tied to their bridles then moved off obediently behind Edge when he was back in the saddle and started in the direction that would intercept the way taken by the posse. When they met up some fifteen minutes later Straker said:

‘You see, Alvarez? I called it right. They’re the horses that were ridden by the bastards who broke Martinez out of jail last night and killed the sheriff just for the hell of it. It looks like your mount is still missing, Edge?’

Edge grunted and dug out the makings as the slightly hunch backed Sanchez asked:

‘Why do you think they were running loose?’

The short and skinny, bad complexioned Diego shrugged. ‘There is no point in making guesses, Pedro. Whatever has taken place it does not alter what we must do?’

‘That’s right.’ Straker pointed toward the sign they were following. ‘The tracks are exactly the same as they always have been. So whatever happened it was to the south of here.’

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Alvarez and Sanchez relieved Edge of the lead lines of the two saddle-less horses and the posse moved off again: rode at an easy pace until sometime after midday a halt was called for their first meal of the day. When it came as a welcome surprise of Edge and Straker that the surly Zamorra turned out to be a fine cook of basic trail rations.

‘This is real good,’ the new sheriff complimented after he tasted a couple of spoonfuls of thick soup ladled into his bowl by the tall and gaunt Mexican.

‘My wife taught me how to cook good,
senor,’
Zamorra growled with a curious expression that was maybe comprised of a smile or of partly pride suppressed behind a manufactured scowl: like he was embarrassed because he was not familiar with accepting praise. ‘I have cooked better meals in worse places than this.’

This revelation sparked some disjointed talk among the naturally garrulous Mexicans, eager for conversation after the taciturn morning ride. And there were even a few mild jokes exchanged amid rueful reflections on the old days spent at home with families in a distant village across the Rio Bravo.

Straker showed no interest in what was being said, his mind obviously elsewhere. And from the way he spent so much time peering morosely into the heat shimmered south it was clear he was concerned only with the job they had to do in the present. Cared nothing about events from other people’s pasts while he continued to brood on the violent and unnecessary death of George North.

When the new sheriff called time on the late nooning there were no complaints about the short duration of the meal break as the men saddled up to hit the trail again. It was an hour later when they reached the scene of Billy Injun’s theft of the four horses. Rode up to the stand of mesquite and at first saw it simply as the site of a camp with evidence of a fire and the debris left by the people who had eaten and spent the night here.

It was not necessary to warn anybody to stay clear of the area of disturbed ground until it was confirmed for sure that this was where Morgan Bryce, Don Harvey, Jose Martinez and Isabella Gomez had eaten a hot supper and bedded down. And a man had arrived on foot later and stole their horses.

Edge and Alvarez volunteered to make a wide sweep of the surrounding country. And found where the horse thief – after he had taken the animals away from the camp on foot – rode one and led the other three to a point where he urged the loose animals into a bolt that finished where Edge captured them.

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They also found the sign that showed where the thief who kept a mount to ride had set off again to track the same quarry as they did. Which meant the mystery man either intended the fugitives no immediate harm – or did not have the means to hurt them. There was no evidence of violence during the theft for there were no blood stains or expended cartridges on the dusty ground.

After they resumed their ride southward there was a lengthy silence while each man pondered the strange matter of the mystery horse thief. Until Alvarez rode up alongside Edge who was at the head of the group and said: