Mark of the Hunter Page 3

  Cord chose a spot at the end of the bench next to a thin, sallow man with a dark, drooping mustache that gave him a constant expression of sadness. Looking to be one of the elder drovers, he offered Cord his hand. “Lem Jenkins,” he said. “You come up with one of the herds?”

  “Nope,” Cord replied, “I’m from Kansas.”

  “Well, we ain’t gonna hold that against you,” a broad-shouldered, solidly built young man, sitting across the table from him, said. With a friendly smile, he offered his hand as well. “My name’s Stony Watts. I’m glad to see Mike’s finally hired somebody to help shape up this sorry crew.” He laughed at his attempt at humor.

  “I might have to hire a dozen to shape this crew up,” Mike replied, also chuckling.

  Cord was immediately at ease. Having never worked with a crew of cowhands before, he wasn’t sure what to expect, halfway anticipating the necessity to prove himself before being accepted—and possibly being tested by a resident bully. But that seemed not to be the case with Mike Duffy’s crew. It was a practice not tolerated by Duffy. By the time supper was over, and the three men riding night herd that night departed, everyone made it a point to say howdy. With his positive introduction to Mike’s crew, Cord felt he had taken a step in the right direction. He looked forward to learning the ropes in his new job, and even for a short time forgot the primary reason he had come to Ogallala, to begin a search for Levi Creed.

  When Lem Jenkins got up from the table, he remarked that he was one of the men whose turn it was to ride night herd. “You probably got your own way of doin’ things,” he told Cord. “But if you wanna ride night herd, I’d be glad to show you how we do it here.”

  Cord glanced at Mike Duffy before responding. Mike shrugged indifferently, so Cord replied, “I ain’t got no set ways. Sounds like a good idea to me.”

  “Sounds like a good idea to me, too,” Mike said. “Lem’s a good one to show you the ropes.” So far, Mike was satisfied with the new man’s attitude, especially considering that he volunteered to ride night herd his first night on the job. He had a good feeling about the somber young man, but he sensed there was something deeper driving him than a simple need for a job. He was not discounting the fact that he had briefly considered the possibility of an ulterior motive behind Cord’s request for employment. It would not have been the first time a band of cattle rustlers sent one of their gang seeking a job with a big ranch, only to cut out a large portion of the herd to drive away in the middle of the night. He wasn’t sure why the thought had occurred to him. Maybe it was the cheerless countenance of the young man, or possibly the jagged scar across his forehead. He soon discarded the notion after a few minutes’ conversation with him, however. He might have fooled me, he thought, but if he did, he fooled Will Murphy, too. His boss was a pretty good judge of men.

  “Come on,” Lem said, nodding to Cord to follow him to the kitchen, where Stony Watts and a short, dark-haired man with a bushy beard stood by the stove. “Slop will fix you up with a little somethin’ to keep your belly from curlin’ up before breakfast.”

  Stony turned to grin at Cord when he and Lem walked up. “You get the privilege of ridin’ night herd with me and Lem on your first night. Course, you have to ride with Blackie here, too, so it ain’t all good.”

  Blackie shook his head in mock disgust. “You’re about as funny as a saddle sore on the crack of my ass, Stony. Come to think of it, there’s a right smart resemblance there, too.” They all laughed. “You’re lucky you’re ridin’ with Lem,” he told Cord. “Before the night’s over, the cows will be comin’ to Mike to complain about Stony’s jokes.”

  “Here,” Slop said, handing Cord a biscuit with a slab of bacon in it. “Find you somethin’ to wrap this up in. And don’t pay no attention to them two.” Indicating Blackie and Stony.

  “Much obliged,” Cord said.

  • • •

  The night passed peacefully enough, with Lem showing Cord the boundaries of the range the cattle were grazing. They met Stony and Blackie several times before dawn as they circled the herd. It was only necessary to drive a small number of strays back to the herd on two occasions before darkness set in for the night. On the first occasion, Lem suggested that Cord should cut the strays off and push them back to the main herd. Cord managed to get the job done, but with a lot of extra trouble to Lem’s way of thinking. “That horse you’re ridin’ is a cow pony,” Lem told Cord after it was done. “He knows what to do, if you’ll just let him know where you want ’em to go.” On the second bunch, Lem led off so Cord could watch him turn them back. “Ain’t much to it,” Lem said. “Horse does all the work.” As far as Cord ever knew, Lem made no mention of his inexperience working cattle to any of the other men.

  In the weeks that followed that first night with Lem, Stony, and Blackie, Cord developed into a first-rate cowhand. It seemed to come naturally to him, and it suited his lonesome disposition. By the time the crew drove the cattle into the holding pens in Ogallala, Duffy knew he had himself a top hand. Cord soon gained a reputation with the other men as a hard worker, uncomplaining, even when called upon to ride night herd in the brutal winter that followed his first fall in Ogallala. Mike Duffy’s daughter, Eileen, had taken notice of the quiet young man. “He never goes into town with the other men on payday,” she commented. “Is he a religious man?”

  Mike had to think about that. “Well, I never thought about it,” he said, “but I don’t think so. At least he ain’t never talked about his religion.” He paused again, this time to chuckle over his remark. “Course, he don’t say much about anythin’. I don’t think religion’s got anythin’ to do with why he don’t go to town with the other men, though. I think he’s just savin’ up his money.” Mike happened to glance at his wife, who had paused in the midst of drying the dishes Eileen was washing. He immediately picked up on the look of concern in her eyes, causing him to question his daughter. “How come you’re so interested in Cord, anyway?”

  Eileen shrugged indifferently. “I’m not interested in him,” she asserted, emphasizing the word. “He just seems like a nice man—quieter than the others.”

  Mike was quick to warn his daughter. “Well, quiet don’t always mean nice. A rattlesnake’s pretty quiet till he’s fixin’ to strike. Don’t you go gettin’ interested in that man. We don’t know a thing about him before the day he set foot on this ranch. One thing for sure, though, that boy’s got somethin’ locked up inside him that he don’t wanna talk about.”

  “I thought you liked him,” Eileen protested.

  “I do,” Mike said, “but somethin’s eatin’ inside him, and I’d just as soon not know what it is.” For all practical purposes, that pretty much ended all discussion concerning Cord Malone, but it was not enough to curb Eileen’s curiosity—a fact that her mother continued to notice, even if her father did not.

  • • •

  After a winter that Mike Duffy claimed to be one of the hardest since sixty-eight finally gave way to spring, work on the ranch turned to repairs and preparations for the arrival of the herds coming up the Western Trail from Texas. The cabin that housed Mike and his wife and daughter was one of the buildings in need of repair. The job had been given to Stony and Blackie, but Stony recruited Cord to help them, knowing that his quiet friend never shied away from hard work. He justified it by pointing out that Cord was a good bit taller than Blackie and would, consequently, make it easier to hand up shingles from the wagon. So when Cord came in after helping move some twenty-five hundred head of stock cattle to a new range, Stony gave him barely enough time to grab a biscuit before riding down to the boss’s house to work on the roof. Blackie had just returned from Ogallala, where he had picked up the new shingles at the railroad, and Stony was hoping to finish the repair job before dark. As he expected, Cord made no complaint, although he was going without supper. “Don’t worry,” he told Cord. “Mrs. Duffy will most likely offer us some coffee or s
omethin’, and we might even get a peek at Eileen.”

  Cord had paid very little attention to Duffy’s young daughter on the few occasions he had seen her—those times usually at a distance, even though there had been one morning he had been in the barn when she came in searching for some chicken nests. She had wished him a good morning, and he had returned the same. There was no conversation beyond that and he had led his horse outside and ridden off to his assigned work.

  On this afternoon, knowing that Mike was not around, Stony made it a point to knock on the door, telling Cord and Blackie that it was the proper thing to do to let the ladies know they were going to work on the roof. His real purpose was the chance for an opportunity to get a look at Eileen. When he returned to tell his two partners what success he had, he was grinning from ear to ear. “Mrs. Duffy said she’d put some coffee on after a while, when we was ready to take a rest.” He looked at Cord then and winked. “I saw her,” he said. “She was standin’ in the kitchen door, lookin’ at me while I was talkin’ to her mama. I swear, she’s lookin’ fine. She’s got herself a fair-sized pair of chest warts since last summer, ’cause somethin’ was makin’ that apron poke out in the front.” His mischievous chuckle brought a like reaction from Blackie, but an unintentional scowl from Cord.

  “Whaddaya doin’ eyein’ the boss’s daughter?” Blackie said, enjoying the mischief. “I thought your true love was big ol’ Flo down at the Crystal Palace. Now, there’s a real pair of chest warts, and Flo will let you see ’em for two dollars.”

  His remark brought forth a chuckle from Stony. “Well, now, that’s a fact. The trouble is, Flo will let you see ’em, too, if you’ve got two dollars, but I’d pay a heap more’n that to take a little peek at Eileen’s.”

  “Ha,” Blackie huffed. “You ain’t gonna get a look inside that bodice for a year’s pay.”

  “Let’s get it done,” Cord finally interrupted, and climbed up on the roof. Stony’s harmless remarks were not meant to vilify the young lady. He knew Stony well enough by then to know he would never do anything to disrespect the boss’s daughter. It was just typical male bluster, but Cord was suddenly chilled by the reference to her body, and his thoughts were drawn back to the little regard his father had shown for his mother’s feelings. The peaceful months he had spent working for Mike had dulled the intensity he had left home with, and the vow he had made to avenge his mother. It now surfaced once more to remind him never to forget. “Hand up that hammer,” he ordered Blackie.

  “Damn,” Stony swore softly, surprised by Cord’s sudden irritation, “what did you say to him?”

  “Nothin’,” Blackie replied. “I reckon he just wants to get this roof fixed.”

  Working at a pace set by the determined quiet man, ripping up rotted shingles and replacing them with new ones, they repaired the weakened places in the roof in about half the time calculated. When they started throwing their tools down into the bed of the wagon, Muriel Duffy came out to take a look. “Knocking off already?” she asked while she stared up at the roof, shielding her eyes from the sun still high above the horizon.

  “Done finished,” Stony replied as he hopped down from the roof.

  “Well, my goodness,” she said. “I expected it would take you till dark. I just made some fresh coffee I was fixing to offer you, and some sugar cookies to go with it.” She interrupted herself to call back inside to her daughter. “Eileen, see if those cookies are ready to come out of the oven.” Turning back to the three workers, she said, “I guess, if you’re not in a hurry to get back, you can take a little time for a cookie.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Stony answered for the three. “We’ve got time for a cookie, all right.” He favored her with a warm smile.

  Eileen came out the door then, carrying three coffee cups in one hand, and the large coffeepot in the other. “We don’t have a big tray,” she explained as she set the cups and the pot down in the wagon bed. She grabbed Cord by the elbow. “Come on, you can help me bring out the cookies and some dishes.”

  “I doubt we’ll need any dishes,” her mother quickly remarked.

  “Well, he can carry out the plate of cookies,” Eileen countered, and continued on toward the door with Cord still in tow. She was still curious about the quiet young stranger with the cruel scar across his forehead, and she didn’t expect many opportunities to observe him up close. She smiled at Cord and asked, “You can do that, can’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied dutifully, unaware of the game of wits being played between mother and daughter.

  Taking no chances with her daughter’s immaturity, Muriel followed them into the cabin. In her mind, there was no reasonable explanation for Eileen’s interest in the strangely serious young man, so she had to credit it as just that, immaturity. She had shown not the slightest awareness of any of the young men hired by her father before this seemingly aimless stray showed up at the ranch. Muriel’s concern was to make sure no foolish mistakes were made before Eileen got over her fascination, so she planted herself between Cord and Eileen when they got to the kitchen. “Go ahead and pull them out of the oven if you think they’re done,” she instructed her daughter. When Eileen pulled the pan out, Muriel quickly slid the cookies off onto a plate and handed it to Cord. “There you go,” she said, and nodded toward the door. “I hope you and the boys enjoy them.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Cord said, still without a clue, “I’m sure we will. Thank you, ma’am.”

  Fully aware of her mother’s concern, and finding it amusing, Eileen caused him to pause at the door when she asked a question. “Papa said you were from Kansas. Is that right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Where in Kansas?” Eileen persisted.

  “Moore’s Creek.”

  “I guess you still have family there. What brought you up here to Ogallala?” She could see right away that it was going to be difficult to pry conversation out of the stoic young man.

  “I needed a job,” was all he offered.

  She gave up for the time being, but his reluctance to talk only increased her curiosity. Her mother and father’s suspicions that an unwillingness to talk probably meant he had something to hide was not shared by Eileen. To the contrary, she saw honesty in the somber face, despite the granitelike features and the scarred forehead. She gave her mother a smile and held the door open for Cord, stood in the open doorway for a moment to watch Stony and Blackie assault the plate of cookies, then returned to the kitchen to clean the pan and mixing bowl.

  “Honey,” Muriel said, “you need to leave that boy alone. He’s got trouble written all over him.”

  Eileen only smiled in response and went on with her cleanup.

  Chapter 3

  The summer came with the first herds driven up from Texas arriving in Ogallala during the second week of June. There were few opportunities for even chance encounters between Eileen and Cord since the men were busy moving the Texas longhorns to graze on Willard Murphy’s range to fatten up before shipping them to the markets. Long days, with many nights camping out on the prairie, gave Cord little time to think of much beyond watching the cattle. Stony, Blackie, and usually Slick never hesitated to ride into Ogallala whenever the opportunity presented itself, but Cord never accompanied them, causing Stony some concern. He had grown to like the private young man, and he feared that, if Cord didn’t blow off some steam from time to time, he was going to explode one day like a cartridge in a campfire. Cord would give him one of his infrequent smiles and assure him that he just wanted to save his money. “I swear,” Stony predicted, “you’re gonna swell up like a tick if you don’t take a drink of likker once in a while. Ain’t that right, Blackie?”

  “I swear, Cord,” Blackie confirmed.

  The campaign to get Cord to the saloon amused Lem Jenkins. “You oughta leave him be,” he told Stony. “He’s got more sense than the rest of us—helluva lot more than you and Blac
kie.”

  Cord held to his resolve throughout the summer, but when it finally wound down and Mike Duffy’s crew drove the last shipment into the pens at the railroad, he allowed that he could celebrate the season with a round of drinks with Stony and Blackie. Overjoyed that his friend was finally going to let off some steam, Stony proposed a visit to the Crystal Palace to start with, and a follow-up at the Cowboy’s Rest if the Crystal was unsuccessful in providing the added pleasures that accompanied drinking. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you, and probably do you some good, if you was to visit with ol’ Flo or Betty Lou upstairs. You know, to make sure everythin’ is workin’ like it’s supposed to.”

  Stony’s serious advice almost made Cord smile. “I ain’t figurin’ on spendin’ my money on any of the fine ladies in the saloon,” he replied, and maintained that he was limiting his drinking to a couple of shots of whiskey. Stony hoped he would change his mind once the fun started. Leaving the cattle loading chutes, the three friends walked their horses down the short main thoroughfare, known as Railroad Street, to the Crystal Palace.

  Although most of the Texas drovers had departed the town on their way back home, there were still four cowhands lagging behind to enjoy the pleasures offered by the bartender and the prostitutes at the Crystal. Without the usual summer crowd of cowboys to compete for the services of the ladies, the four drovers commanded the attention of all three remaining prostitutes—their sisters in sin having already gone to Omaha for the winter. Judging by the loud conversation and the raucous laughter, the Texas crew was well along with their last celebration before leaving town. Clyde Perkins, tending bar, offered a “Howdy” when he saw the three local men walk in.